Lira does not spot any traps. The corridor opens into a cavernous room. A river of lava splits the room in half as it flows across the space and enters a wall on the other side. It is 4 feet across and clearly, the dwarves built the room around it. Several small foot bridges cross the 4 foot molton stream at various points. At the far end of the room is a shimmering magical wall. The room is lit by the orange magma and magical sconces.
you cannot see quite well enough to see what is beyond the magical wall.
In his efforts to better understand war, and thus combat, Iólinder is finds himself torn. He sees the need to watch the tunnel he currently peers into, but can also hear his allies as they find and explore the secret tunnel, and doesn't want to leave them separated.
Feeling that "secret" trumps "obvious" he leaves Zazi at the tunnel, telling the bat to quietly follow anyone coming out of three tunnel,.
He then heads to the rest of the group bear the secret tunnel.
“Oh, elves, humans. Greetings, thank goodness. Not more kobolds.” A sort of scratchy dry voice comes from the dwarf, as dust or steam escapes his mouth.
He smiles, “ I am Thalgar, Thalgar Ironfist.”
In the cold stillness of the chamber, Thalgar Ironfist sat motionless upon a heavy stone chair. His broad frame was wrapped in ancient dwarven platemail, dulled by centuries but still intact—engraved with faded runes and scorched by old forgefire. Dust clung to the armor like a second skin, yet it radiated a quiet strength.
His beard, long and silver, spilled over his chestplate, matted with soot and grime. His gauntleted hands rested on his knees, stiff with age and silence. He hadn’t moved in an age, yet he seemed far from dead.
His eyes—piercing and emerald green— Unblinking, ageless, wise.
"Hail, Thalgar Ironfist! I am Zarbyn," and gesturing to the others present, "and these are my traveling companions. Can you help us? We may have to find and rid this place of more than Kobolds!"
Zarbyn moves up closer to the magical wall.
"Do you know how many Kobolds are here? And if there's anyone... or anything else with them?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."
— The message of Eilistraee to all decent drow.
"Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance.”
“Indeed. I did see them and in fact asked them to get me something from the mine. There were six of em, 4 caster types and two dumb looking males in armor.”
”I suppose I could send you on the same errand since they will likely fail anyway based on their skills. Are you familiar with the tragic story of my mine, Drakar’s Hold and of the Anvil of Nhaalek?” His green eyes glow with sadness and power, a sort of anger deep within.
“And, have you heard of my brothers and sisters' demise?”
He looks you all over, his keen eyes noting every detail, expertly assessing strengths and weaknesses.
Apparently Lev had spaced off for a bit, following the rest of the group in silence. However when the dwarf begins to speak he snaps back to the present, a frown tugging at his eyebrows.
"You sent the kobolds on an errand?" He sets the butt of his glaive on the ground, leaning on it for a moment as he eyes the ancient dwarf. "I have not heard of your mine, but I was never given the luxury of listening to stories so that is no surprise to me."
He doesn't have much desire to listen to a story now considering everything they do seems to be on a time limit, but he stays quiet on that matter. There must be a reason beyond rambling that Thalgar would bring up the tale of his mine.
Vydar watches with interest as Lira figures out the dwarven mechanism, then follows the group into the lava lit room. He frowns at the dwarven figure, has this dwarf somehow bound himself to a statue? Or is that really the dwarf himself? Thalgar Ironfist.... hmmm He tries to remember if he's heard or read anything about this dwarf before.
History: 20
Arcana: 25 nat 20 (trying to figure out if the dwarf has any kind of spell on him)
“Well yes, I have offered the little witches a trade of sorts.” The dwarf says, stroking his long gray beard. The magical cube that he sits within continues to glow with magical energy all around him.
“You see, I have something they need and they can retrieve something I need.”
He seems imprisoned and or sheltered by a cube of force. He has been here for a very long time, and seems not entirely mortal.
Vydar has indeed heard tales of this place.
Deep within the Icefinger Mountains, the long-forgotten dwarven stronghold of Drakar’s Hold lies buried beneath centuries of snow and stone. Within its dark halls rests the Anvil of Nhaalek—a relic of immense power, said to be cursed by ancient gods. It can forge weapons that defy the laws of magic and death itself.
The hold is silent now, abandoned after the dwarves who lived there vanished under mysterious circumstances.
Thalgar Ironfist, a legendary dwarven armorer who has made powerful weapons for the gods. But these tales are 100s of years old.
Iolinder has also heard of this armorer and weaponsmith. It is said he assisted Telak in making two powerful weapons. The Arm of Telak and the Spear of doom.
Iólinder catches up and sees the others talking to the imprisoned dwarf. He sees there attention focused in the ancient bearded one, and turned his attention to the rest of the room... Particularly any exits or hiding places. Hearing that the kobold coven did cube through here he moves Zazi to entrance of the room he just entered.
He then says a silent prayer to Telak for guidance and focuses his attention on tracking the coven and watching towards the path they took.
(Lol) 7. Nat 1+5 with a +1 from guidance
perception or survival, same result.
Iólinder stares ahead, eyes glazing over as the rock and stone disappear from his mind and trees and sky from his memory overtake his vision.
'i am no creature of dark stone. I belong among the winds and rustling branches of the forest. Neither am I meant for war, yet I stalk after it like a jaded predator hungry for a fresh kill. Telak help me, I'm losing myself.' his mind reels as his vision clears.
He remembers why he's here, the stakes of failure, and resets his resolve while guarding the far exit.
The dwarf smiles. “I don’t know if the gods can protect or assist you in this place. The rock above is thick indeed. They certainly haven’t answered my call.”
This place was once called Drakar’s Hold. I was the chief armorer here. My clan mined for ore. A lucrative venture to be sure. One day a wondrous anvil appeared In our forge. I have never seen its equal. The Anvil of Nhaalek, they called it. It allowed us to forge weapons and armor of immense power.
He swallows, as if his throat is bone dry. “The master of this hold, Drakar was our leader. One day an ancient group of strange elves entered and asked that a sword be crafted for them. The leader had a rather strange name, Malbordus. He wanted the weapon made with some of ingredients. The items providedwere tainted. I protested, again and again but to no avail. The weapon was forged. When in the hands of Drakar, he was different, almost like a different person. People started dying in mysterious ways Accidents of all sorts. I kept arguing, begging to destroy the sword. Eventually Malbordus returned for his prize. He wanted not only the sword, but the now tainted anvil.To destroy it, I threw it down the pit within, into the molton lava below. But it didn’t work.
His eyes glow as memories seem to flood him.
“The elf cursed me and trapped me here with his demon magic. While I watched in horror, Malbordus and my master killed all within. None escaped. I have been here since, trapped in this prison.”
He reaches out to punch the walls and is pushed back as a bright electrical shock waves hit the him.
Lev only
The shock is so great for a moment his skin seems to disappear and his skeletal frame is all that is seen by Lev (like an X-ray)
“I beg you, if you can return the Anvil of Nhaalek to this chamber, I believe the barrier that holds me can be broken. Then, I can finally find peace with my brethren.”
The strange dwarf looks at Amdaeng and Lira thoughtfully.
"Indeed, it is in the lava, but I know both its location and a way to extract it. The actual Anvil will be cool to the touch. The heat of the lava does not affect it at all."
Zarbyn's curiosity gets the better of him when he hears there is a way to retrieve the anvil from the lava and he steps forward, "You know of a way for us to get the anvil out of the lava?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."
— The message of Eilistraee to all decent drow.
"Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance.”
— A basic prayer.
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Lira does not spot any traps. The corridor opens into a cavernous room. A river of lava splits the room in half as it flows across the space and enters a wall on the other side. It is 4 feet across and clearly, the dwarves built the room around it. Several small foot bridges cross the 4 foot molton stream at various points. At the far end of the room is a shimmering magical wall. The room is lit by the orange magma and magical sconces.
you cannot see quite well enough to see what is beyond the magical wall.
In his efforts to better understand war, and thus combat, Iólinder is finds himself torn. He sees the need to watch the tunnel he currently peers into, but can also hear his allies as they find and explore the secret tunnel, and doesn't want to leave them separated.
Feeling that "secret" trumps "obvious" he leaves Zazi at the tunnel, telling the bat to quietly follow anyone coming out of three tunnel,.
He then heads to the rest of the group bear the secret tunnel.
Lira cautiously approaches the magical wall, trying to discern whether it is dangerous or not.
Arcana: 9
As Lira draws closer, her sharp eyes see it is not a wall, but a six, floor, roof. a cube, some 10x10x10.
within sitting on a sort of thrown chair is a life like figure of a dwarven smith, (sitting Conan style)
“Oh, elves, humans. Greetings, thank goodness. Not more kobolds.” A sort of scratchy dry voice comes from the dwarf, as dust or steam escapes his mouth.
He smiles, “ I am Thalgar, Thalgar Ironfist.”
In the cold stillness of the chamber, Thalgar Ironfist sat motionless upon a heavy stone chair. His broad frame was wrapped in ancient dwarven platemail, dulled by centuries but still intact—engraved with faded runes and scorched by old forgefire. Dust clung to the armor like a second skin, yet it radiated a quiet strength.
His beard, long and silver, spilled over his chestplate, matted with soot and grime. His gauntleted hands rested on his knees, stiff with age and silence. He hadn’t moved in an age, yet he seemed far from dead.
His eyes—piercing and emerald green— Unblinking, ageless, wise.
Amdaeng instructs Ning to stay where she is, not trusting the lava bridges one bit....she follows carefully behind Lira to try and assist.
( Help Action)
"Hail, Thalgar Ironfist! I am Zarbyn," and gesturing to the others present, "and these are my traveling companions. Can you help us? We may have to find and rid this place of more than Kobolds!"
Zarbyn moves up closer to the magical wall.
"Do you know how many Kobolds are here? And if there's anyone... or anything else with them?"
“Indeed. I did see them and in fact asked them to get me something from the mine. There were six of em, 4 caster types and two dumb looking males in armor.”
”I suppose I could send you on the same errand since they will likely fail anyway based on their skills. Are you familiar with the tragic story of my mine, Drakar’s Hold and of the Anvil of Nhaalek?” His green eyes glow with sadness and power, a sort of anger deep within.
“And, have you heard of my brothers and sisters' demise?”
He looks you all over, his keen eyes noting every detail, expertly assessing strengths and weaknesses.
Apparently Lev had spaced off for a bit, following the rest of the group in silence. However when the dwarf begins to speak he snaps back to the present, a frown tugging at his eyebrows.
"You sent the kobolds on an errand?" He sets the butt of his glaive on the ground, leaning on it for a moment as he eyes the ancient dwarf. "I have not heard of your mine, but I was never given the luxury of listening to stories so that is no surprise to me."
He doesn't have much desire to listen to a story now considering everything they do seems to be on a time limit, but he stays quiet on that matter. There must be a reason beyond rambling that Thalgar would bring up the tale of his mine.
Vydar watches with interest as Lira figures out the dwarven mechanism, then follows the group into the lava lit room. He frowns at the dwarven figure, has this dwarf somehow bound himself to a statue? Or is that really the dwarf himself? Thalgar Ironfist.... hmmm He tries to remember if he's heard or read anything about this dwarf before.
History: 20
Arcana: 25 nat 20 (trying to figure out if the dwarf has any kind of spell on him)
“Well yes, I have offered the little witches a trade of sorts.” The dwarf says, stroking his long gray beard. The magical cube that he sits within continues to glow with magical energy all around him.
“You see, I have something they need and they can retrieve something I need.”
Vydar
He seems imprisoned and or sheltered by a cube of force. He has been here for a very long time, and seems not entirely mortal.
Vydar has indeed heard tales of this place.
Deep within the Icefinger Mountains, the long-forgotten dwarven stronghold of Drakar’s Hold lies buried beneath centuries of snow and stone. Within its dark halls rests the Anvil of Nhaalek—a relic of immense power, said to be cursed by ancient gods. It can forge weapons that defy the laws of magic and death itself.
The hold is silent now, abandoned after the dwarves who lived there vanished under mysterious circumstances.
Thalgar Ironfist, a legendary dwarven armorer who has made powerful weapons for the gods. But these tales are 100s of years old.
Iolinder
Iolinder has also heard of this armorer and weaponsmith. It is said he assisted Telak in making two powerful weapons. The Arm of Telak and the Spear of doom.
Iólinder catches up and sees the others talking to the imprisoned dwarf. He sees there attention focused in the ancient bearded one, and turned his attention to the rest of the room... Particularly any exits or hiding places. Hearing that the kobold coven did cube through here he moves Zazi to entrance of the room he just entered.
He then says a silent prayer to Telak for guidance and focuses his attention on tracking the coven and watching towards the path they took.
(Lol) 7. Nat 1+5 with a +1 from guidance
perception or survival, same result.
Iólinder stares ahead, eyes glazing over as the rock and stone disappear from his mind and trees and sky from his memory overtake his vision.
'i am no creature of dark stone. I belong among the winds and rustling branches of the forest. Neither am I meant for war, yet I stalk after it like a jaded predator hungry for a fresh kill. Telak help me, I'm losing myself.' his mind reels as his vision clears.
He remembers why he's here, the stakes of failure, and resets his resolve while guarding the far exit.
The dwarf smiles. “I don’t know if the gods can protect or assist you in this place. The rock above is thick indeed. They certainly haven’t answered my call.”
This place was once called Drakar’s Hold. I was the chief armorer here. My clan mined for ore. A lucrative venture to be sure. One day a wondrous anvil appeared In our forge. I have never seen its equal. The Anvil of Nhaalek, they called it. It allowed us to forge weapons and armor of immense power.
He swallows, as if his throat is bone dry. “The master of this hold, Drakar was our leader. One day an ancient group of strange elves entered and asked that a sword be crafted for them. The leader had a rather strange name, Malbordus. He wanted the weapon made with some of ingredients. The items provided were tainted. I protested, again and again but to no avail. The weapon was forged. When in the hands of Drakar, he was different, almost like a different person. People started dying in mysterious ways Accidents of all sorts. I kept arguing, begging to destroy the sword. Eventually Malbordus returned for his prize. He wanted not only the sword, but the now tainted anvil.To destroy it, I threw it down the pit within, into the molton lava below. But it didn’t work.
His eyes glow as memories seem to flood him.
“The elf cursed me and trapped me here with his demon magic. While I watched in horror, Malbordus and my master killed all within. None escaped. I have been here since, trapped in this prison.”
He reaches out to punch the walls and is pushed back as a bright electrical shock waves hit the him.
Lev only
The shock is so great for a moment his skin seems to disappear and his skeletal frame is all that is seen by Lev (like an X-ray)
“I beg you, if you can return the Anvil of Nhaalek to this chamber, I believe the barrier that holds me can be broken. Then, I can finally find peace with my brethren.”
As Iolinder looks around he sees but one opening A sort of open area in the back of the hall, some 7 feet tall.
Amdaeng had listened in horror, " Um, is the anvil IN the lava ? Because I don't think we can DO lava. Can we?"
"I can freeze a little of it...maybe," Lira murmurs.
The strange dwarf looks at Amdaeng and Lira thoughtfully.
"Indeed, it is in the lava, but I know both its location and a way to extract it. The actual Anvil will be cool to the touch. The heat of the lava does not affect it at all."
Zarbyn's curiosity gets the better of him when he hears there is a way to retrieve the anvil from the lava and he steps forward, "You know of a way for us to get the anvil out of the lava?"