Nestled in the rugged foothills of the Sword Mountains, south of Phandalin, the dwarven stronghold of Axeholm once stood as a proud bastion of craftsmanship and defense. Built nearly five centuries ago by the Stonefury clan, Axeholm served both as a fortress and a refuge for dwarves who mined the rich veins of ore that ran beneath the mountains. Its heavy gates of Iron and steel, reinforced with runic wards, were said to be unbreakable—crafted to withstand any siege from orc or dragon alike.
For generations, Axeholm prospered. Dwarven caravans moved between the fortress and Neverwinter, trading fine weapons, armor, and gemstones. Its warriors kept the roads safe, and its masons were sought across the North for their skill.
However, you don't remember reading what happened to the dwarves or why they abandoned their home.
The stout warrior turns to the rogue. His face grim, he says, "To flee from a pursuing danger... I haven't known dwarves to leave such masterful architecture behind like this. Maybe this is abandoned for good cause."
Meiranods to Zephyros. "Given the stark warning, plus the fact they left in the first place, it must have been quite a danger. We can only hope that with time that danger has lessened some with time." She hopes perhaps it even just went away. "We at least should give it a look." She glances back to the others, waving them to come join them. "I suppose I could try to help you lift the beam if you've recovered enough to try it. Well, once everyone's here of course."
Alisande telepathically commands Ozymandias to inspect the ruined room, and if there is nothing of interest beyond the broken furniture, she has him swiftly return. When her sight and hearing is restored to her, she looks mildly startled and impressed by the fact the war veteran has already managed to breach the portcullis with the aid of Lyra and Felagi. "Well, that will do too."
The tall woman sweeps over to the portcullis with long strides and stoops under the gap. Unable to hear Meira's earlier questions due to her absorption in her familiar's senses, Alisande nonetheless updates the company. "While reconnoitring the far side of the bastion, our intrepid little pathfinder has uncovered a potential avenue of escape, should we need it, via one of the chimneys. The chamber itself is in a state of curious disrepair - there are all manner of broken cots and splintered tables in there, as if it were the site of great disaster or considerable violence. Two fortified and locked doors remain, leading south and west."
Alisande ponders Rasziel's query as to whether she knows anything about the fortress of Axeholm, whilst also studying the arrow slits and holes in the ceiling above for potential dangers. She regards the beam barring their progress deeper into the stronghold, and cocks a brow at the dwarven script. "Ah, how splendid. Why settle for a genuinely informative warning, when you can commit to a theatrically foreboding message rendered in blood instead?"
"Oh! Zephyros did all the hard work,"Lyrareplies with a chuckle, then adds, "I literally only lifted a finger." She waits for Meirato translate the message written in red, but even before the rogue can speak, the cleric is already fidgeting nervously with her side braid. That message won't be a welcoming one, right? And no, as it turns out, it isn't. "Oooookay,"she muses. "I'm not worried. Not even a little bit. No. Nope, nope."
Still, she nods when Meirasays they have to give the place a look. This is what they came here to do, after all. Looking around, the halfling asks, "So it's either using the chimneys or lifting this beam? No other options to enter? Wouldn't it be lovely if there were some kind of secret little back door that would let us in without having to climb the chimneys or go through the front door?" she asks, laughing nervously.
(OOC: Just in case—there isn't some kind of back door, or service door, or something, right? Perception: 14)
Ozymandias doesn't find anything of value or use in the stone room with ruined furniture. When returning to the group, Ozymandias does peak inside the arrow slits that dot the upper floor of the fortress and lets you know the area above you is covered in webbing.
Thinking back on the wide variety of books you've read, one does come to mind regarding Axeholm. The book is called, 'Axeholm A Tragedy of Fates'
Nestled in the rugged foothills of the Sword Mountains, south of Phandalin, the dwarven stronghold of Axeholm once stood as a proud bastion of craftsmanship and defense. Built nearly five centuries ago by the Stonefury clan, Axeholm served both as a fortress and a refuge for dwarves who mined the rich veins of ore that ran beneath the mountains. Its heavy gates of mithril and steel, reinforced with runic wards, were said to be unbreakable—crafted to withstand any siege from orc or dragon alike.
For generations, Axeholm prospered. Dwarven caravans moved between the fortress and Neverwinter, trading fine weapons, armor, and gemstones. Its warriors kept the roads safe, and its masons were sought across the North for their skill.
But about a century ago, disaster struck. A mysterious plague—believed by some to have been carried by goblins from the Underdark—swept through the stronghold. The disease spread swiftly, claiming nobles and miners alike. Fearing the contagion would reach neighboring dwarven settlements, the surviving Stonefury's sealed the gates with magic, iron, and steel. Then abandoned their ancestral home, leaving the dead and dying entombed within.
Since that grim day, Axeholm has remained sealed, its halls silent except for the occasional echo of stone shifting or the whisper of wind through the mountains. Locals near Phandalin speak of restless dwarven spirits and the clang of ghostly forges that ring out on moonless nights. The book tells a legend about a dwarven Paladin of Bahamut named Lord Kithran Emberforge who was sealed inside with the dead and dying, choosing to stay with his dying love, a moon elf woman named Vyldara who was an ambassador to the dwarves.
Lyra,
You perceive that you could enter the fortress through one of the many arrow slits, but your companions wouldn't be able to follow unless they shrunk to your small size.
Rasziel,
Nestled in the rugged foothills of the Sword Mountains, south of Phandalin, the dwarven stronghold of Axeholm once stood as a proud bastion of craftsmanship and defense. Built nearly five centuries ago by the Stonefury clan, Axeholm served both as a fortress and a refuge for dwarves who mined the rich veins of ore that ran beneath the mountains. Its heavy gates of Iron and steel, reinforced with runic wards, were said to be unbreakable—crafted to withstand any siege from orc or dragon alike.
For generations, Axeholm prospered. Dwarven caravans moved between the fortress and Neverwinter, trading fine weapons, armor, and gemstones. Its warriors kept the roads safe, and its masons were sought across the North for their skill.
However, you don't remember reading what happened to the dwarves or why they abandoned their home.
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights. DM for Dragons of Icespire Peak Pbp
The stout warrior turns to the rogue. His face grim, he says, "To flee from a pursuing danger... I haven't known dwarves to leave such masterful architecture behind like this. Maybe this is abandoned for good cause."
Meira nods to Zephyros. "Given the stark warning, plus the fact they left in the first place, it must have been quite a danger. We can only hope that with time that danger has lessened some with time." She hopes perhaps it even just went away. "We at least should give it a look." She glances back to the others, waving them to come join them. "I suppose I could try to help you lift the beam if you've recovered enough to try it. Well, once everyone's here of course."
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard ||
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer || Bronnryn Hethgar, Cleric
Alisande telepathically commands Ozymandias to inspect the ruined room, and if there is nothing of interest beyond the broken furniture, she has him swiftly return. When her sight and hearing is restored to her, she looks mildly startled and impressed by the fact the war veteran has already managed to breach the portcullis with the aid of Lyra and Felagi. "Well, that will do too."
The tall woman sweeps over to the portcullis with long strides and stoops under the gap. Unable to hear Meira's earlier questions due to her absorption in her familiar's senses, Alisande nonetheless updates the company. "While reconnoitring the far side of the bastion, our intrepid little pathfinder has uncovered a potential avenue of escape, should we need it, via one of the chimneys. The chamber itself is in a state of curious disrepair - there are all manner of broken cots and splintered tables in there, as if it were the site of great disaster or considerable violence. Two fortified and locked doors remain, leading south and west."
Alisande ponders Rasziel's query as to whether she knows anything about the fortress of Axeholm, whilst also studying the arrow slits and holes in the ceiling above for potential dangers. She regards the beam barring their progress deeper into the stronghold, and cocks a brow at the dwarven script. "Ah, how splendid. Why settle for a genuinely informative warning, when you can commit to a theatrically foreboding message rendered in blood instead?"
Ozymandias' Perception: 15
History: 22
Perception: 13
"Oh! Zephyros did all the hard work," Lyra replies with a chuckle, then adds, "I literally only lifted a finger." She waits for Meira to translate the message written in red, but even before the rogue can speak, the cleric is already fidgeting nervously with her side braid. That message won't be a welcoming one, right? And no, as it turns out, it isn't. "Oooookay," she muses. "I'm not worried. Not even a little bit. No. Nope, nope."
Still, she nods when Meira says they have to give the place a look. This is what they came here to do, after all. Looking around, the halfling asks, "So it's either using the chimneys or lifting this beam? No other options to enter? Wouldn't it be lovely if there were some kind of secret little back door that would let us in without having to climb the chimneys or go through the front door?" she asks, laughing nervously.
(OOC: Just in case—there isn't some kind of back door, or service door, or something, right? Perception: 14)
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Alisande,
Ozymandias doesn't find anything of value or use in the stone room with ruined furniture. When returning to the group, Ozymandias does peak inside the arrow slits that dot the upper floor of the fortress and lets you know the area above you is covered in webbing.
Thinking back on the wide variety of books you've read, one does come to mind regarding Axeholm. The book is called, 'Axeholm A Tragedy of Fates'
Nestled in the rugged foothills of the Sword Mountains, south of Phandalin, the dwarven stronghold of Axeholm once stood as a proud bastion of craftsmanship and defense. Built nearly five centuries ago by the Stonefury clan, Axeholm served both as a fortress and a refuge for dwarves who mined the rich veins of ore that ran beneath the mountains. Its heavy gates of mithril and steel, reinforced with runic wards, were said to be unbreakable—crafted to withstand any siege from orc or dragon alike.
For generations, Axeholm prospered. Dwarven caravans moved between the fortress and Neverwinter, trading fine weapons, armor, and gemstones. Its warriors kept the roads safe, and its masons were sought across the North for their skill.
But about a century ago, disaster struck. A mysterious plague—believed by some to have been carried by goblins from the Underdark—swept through the stronghold. The disease spread swiftly, claiming nobles and miners alike. Fearing the contagion would reach neighboring dwarven settlements, the surviving Stonefury's sealed the gates with magic, iron, and steel. Then abandoned their ancestral home, leaving the dead and dying entombed within.
Since that grim day, Axeholm has remained sealed, its halls silent except for the occasional echo of stone shifting or the whisper of wind through the mountains. Locals near Phandalin speak of restless dwarven spirits and the clang of ghostly forges that ring out on moonless nights. The book tells a legend about a dwarven Paladin of Bahamut named Lord Kithran Emberforge who was sealed inside with the dead and dying, choosing to stay with his dying love, a moon elf woman named Vyldara who was an ambassador to the dwarves.
Lyra,
You perceive that you could enter the fortress through one of the many arrow slits, but your companions wouldn't be able to follow unless they shrunk to your small size.
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights. DM for Dragons of Icespire Peak Pbp