Everyone,

The party spends the next hour resting in the throne room of Axeholm. Zephyros sits upon the throne puffing on his pipe while the rest of the group gathers around and gives the battle-hardened veteran some good-natured grief for it. Even Lyra joins in on the fun. She runs up to the throne before offering a formal curtsy, saying, "Milord Ironheart, your majesty is honorable and noble... and and... oh, I can't help it!" She runs and jumps on Zephyros' lap and continues, "I would like a pony, and some more of those delicious potions Adabra makes... and hmm, oh I know, a..." She whispers into Zephyros' ear. She glances at Meira before turning back to the warrior, and ends with a laugh and jumps down off the warrior's lap.

Zephyros,

Everyone,

You have benefited from a short rest. While resting, please give me a perception check.

What would you like to do now?

"You did well. I was impressed." Alisande nods courteously as Meira lowers her voice, her lips quirking into a small smile. "If mountain-shaking dragons are as amenable to your gifts of oratory as doleful undead knights, we may not require Axeholm at all."

During the respite in the party's campaign to secure the fortress, the mage sits down and pores over her spellbook, a hefty white tome bound by some peculiar shell-like material whose conch-like spiral patterns are interrupted by several golden stars.

Perception: 20
ACTION: Arcane Recovery. Restoring one level 2 spell slot. 
ACTION: Ritual cast Detect Magic.

Zephyros smiles as the others joke about him being a lord. "Heh... no way. I'm a grunt. Always was... always will be." He says in response. Though the last word is muffled by the "Oof." he lets out as Lyra jumps into his lap. He laughs with her as she whispers in her ear, giving a smile to Meira as well. 'It's nice laughing again.' the warrior thinks after the recent events had been so sad.

As Zephyros begins to feel better, he looks around the throne and the rest of the room for anything of value. Once the search is complete. The bearded warrior wearing a red cloak begins opening the doors around the throne room to get his bearings in the fortress and help determine their next direction.

Perception from earlier: 19 or new roll 7 =(

Meira smiles at Alisande's praise. "Thank you. I only wish that were the case. I'm afraid that the times we've had a chance for face-to-face discussion with the dragons we were not afforded much opportunity for oration."  She does catch sight of Lyra joining Zephyros at the throne then jumping on his lap. She laughs softly at the antics. Although. when the halfling starts to whisper and looks in her direction, Meira does look a bit disconcerted as she wonders what it was about. 

As everyone takes time to rest, she pulls her dulcimer from her back and finds a place to sit, back up against a wall. Quietly she plucks the strings of her instrument, humming to herself now and then. Other times singing a few lines softly to herself. It's unclear what she is doing, more starting and stopping than actually singing.  Anyone coming close to her might catch a hint of the song Vyldara had sung. Though it's not the same.  Finally, she starts to strum her dulcimer more firmly, the music now quite clear. And then she begins to sing in a clear voice.  The song seems to borrow from the sad melody from before, but the tone is changed to a bit more upbeat. And those listen carefully might catch how the words are borrowed from that but cast anew: 

'Remember old Lord Kithrin,
And Vyldara, elf maiden fair.
In Axeholm their love did begin,
Though sorrow enveloped the pair.

 Wakened now the dwarven dead,
Their grief unchained, they now will fade.
We who now enter where they bled,
Find safe harbor in halls they made. 

Stone and star, the lovers' hearts,
Chains now unbound and each departs.
Ash and ember, heart and flame,
They now move past what they became.

O silver moon, remember her,
In mountain's heart, beneath the sea.
Let no soul lost to sorrow's keep
Lie alone in endless sleep.

And though he broke his honored vow,
May his redemption be earned now.
And fires blaze as stone halls fill,
For life endures - it always will.'

Performance for song: 16
Perception: 6

Rasziel finds a seat by himself in the large throne room, seeming content with the team's progress so far, even allowing himself a small chuckle as the mirthful halfling hops into the bearded lord's lap. He then finds Meira's song quite soothing with it's rewritten message of hope. It remained to be seen if the fallen paladin would indeed earn his redemption though, or if he would once more be led astray. He occasionally finds himself casting curious glances over at the red-haired lady and her hefty white tome .

Perception with help from Azazel: 18

((I had forgotten who had actually tied the rope LOL))

Gareth is amazed that the encounter with Lord Kithran hadn't turned into a fight. "You could charm a miser out of his last coin. Should we start calling you Meira Silvertongue now?" says the ranger with a grin. "Well done. And you as well, Lady Alisande."

Although the healing potion from earlier had done much to restore him, Gareth doesn't say no to a quick rest and he finds a spot to sit cross-legged with his back to one of the pillars. As Meira begins to sing, the ranger smiles. It was a lovely song with a hopeful tone. Perhaps Lord Kithran could indeed earn redemption for what he had done. "Meira, what are you doing running around with us? You should be a star in Neverwinter by now," Gareth says, only slightly teasing.

Even as he rests, Gareth keeps glancing around the throne room. He's not entirely convinced Kithran's skeletal warriors won't make another appearance and with much less friendliness than before.

Perception - 21

Lady Alisande pauses in the revision of her spells, watching Meira's performance along with the rest of the company. Ozymandias glides around, orbiting the dulcimer player, rapt by the moving ballad.

When eventually the song reaches its conclusion, Alisande claps delicately and nods in firm agreement with Gareth. "I quite concur. I daresay when your adventuring days are behind you, the noble houses of Neverwinter will be tripping over one another to offer you patronage."

Finishing her song, Meira slowly stands as others come over to speak with her.  She shares Gareth's grin as he praises her persuasive ability with Lord Kithrin. When he mentions she should be a star in Neverwinter, she stands a bit taller.  "Oh? Really?" she starts to say. She seems quite pleased.  

Then, after Alisande offers her comment, she is positively beaming. "Nobles offering patronage? Do you really think?" It's hard for Meira to hide how impressed she is with all this. "I mean, I just threw that together. And it wasn't my best performance."

Alisande,

While taking a break from studying your book, you can't help but notice a signet ring near your foot covered in dust and grime.

Zephyros,

As you stand from the throne, you notice a golden bangle in the seat of the throne that appears to be worth a bit of gold. While exploring the various doors attached to the throne room, you see a dinning room to the west with a large stone-carved table in the center flanked by two wooden benches on either side. Above the table hangs two iron chandeliers. Heading further in, you see an additional door leading to an attached kitchen. The kitchen has all the trappings one expects to find in a dwarven kitchen, including metal dishware, utensils, and drinking mugs. A stone sink is equipped with a faucet that seems to still be in working order. Back in the throne room, you see two doors in the northern wall that flank the double doors used by the undead as they left. They lead to defensive rooms on both sides of the hallway. Each room has two ballista aimed at arrow slits that overlook the central hallway to the throne room.

Meira,

Lyra walks over to join you as you begin to pluck the strings of your instrument. She sits next to you and rests her head against your side as you sing. As you finish, Lyra says, "How wonderful! I really like your version of the song. Maybe it can be the second verse to Vyldara's song and I agree with the others. You are going to be famous someday. Just don't forget about us little people when you do."

When the song is over, you glance around the room and spot a small leather pouch nestled under a discarded shield.

 Rasziel,

While the group rests, you can't help but see a curiously out of place stick of wood resting on the mantle of the fireplace. Upon closer inspection, you believe it to be some kind of wand.

Gareth,

You don't see any undead warriors returning, but among the discarded weapons that litter the floor of the throne room, you see a longsword still in its scabbard leaded against the corner of the room. It appears to still be in great condition compared to the other rust covered weapons that lie ruined around the room.

 Everyone,

You all feel rested and are ready to continue your exploration of Axeholm. Where would you like to go next?

Updated map of explored locations:

Meira had simply let Lyra rest against her as she played around with her instrument and then sang the song.  She had been very careful to not disturb her too much when she stood to speak to the others.

When the halfling makes her remarks, she spins around to look at her. Meira, for perhaps the first time, looks just a tiny bit embarrassed by the attention, blushing ever so slightly. "I would love to be a performer. I am here though because singing and music never quite seemed to pay all my bills the way I'd hoped." She stands now with her head held high though. And as she notices something across the room, she almost seems to strut as she walks over to have a look. She deftly leans down to pick up the shield and then the pouch beneath it. She first examines the pouch. 

Alisande takes a slow sip from her water-skin as she does a round of the throne room, thoroughly enamoured by the ancient runes inscribed upon the pillars and the mosaics etched upon the floor. Her pearlescent spellbook rests under one arm, while her mind wanders through the gaps in Vyldara and Kithran's accounts of the fall of the dwarven fortress. What were the sins of Axeholm? What exactly did they find when they dug too deep? Why did they hide from their own children? 

Duke Ozymandias darts about in excited leaps, chasing the phantom sounds of mice that she conjures for her familiar's amusement. As the baby tressym disturbs a clump of dust, a glint of something shiny catches her eye. She strides over and stoops down, extending her senses into the subtle weave of arcane fields that are a product of the ritual she completed a short while earlier.

"Now then... whatever do have we here?" The bladesinger murmurs. If the signet ring appears safe to touch, she lifts it into the palm of her hand.

Perception: 24 (with a Nat 20!)

Rasziel merely nods in agreement as the others praise the stylish bard, although he wondered just how expensive her lifestyle was to draw her into the dangers of an adventurer, or perhaps she too had yet unrevealed reasons for being here. As the young dark-haired purple-robed man notices what turns out to be a magical wand having being left and forgotten on the mantle of the fireplace he lifts it into his hand for closer examination.

Zephyros catches the glint of sparkle on the throne's seat as he stands to explore the various doorways. Picking the golden bangle up and cleaning off the dust, he says, "Hey Meira, this should help you look the part when you become a rockstar!" He tosses the bangle to the rogue.

As Zephyros Ironheart explores, he uses the opportunity to refill his waterskin in the kitchen. After tasting the water and making sure it's safe, the bearded warrior tells the others about the source of water. "Anyone needing water can find it in there..." Pointing to the west towards the kitchen. 

After everyone has regathered, Zephyros lights a new torch and heads out the northern double doors, intent on tracking the the undead warriors to their destination. If they have left the fortress, he turns west to explore the rooms there.

Survival: 21

Meira catches whatever it is that Zephyros is throwing her way. She interrupts what she was doing to take a look at it too before returning her attention to the other items. 

Gareth gets up and walks over to the sword that he noticed. It seems a lot finer than any of the other discarded weapons lying about. He picks it up and examines it before returning to the others. The ranger follows Zephyros' lead in refilling his waterskin, although he is a bit hesitant after all the talk of the plague earlier. He follows the stalwart human man in his search for the remaining undead.

"Good idea to make sure those undead have done what Kithran commanded and aren't just waiting in ambush for us," Gareth remarks. "Also, I have a feeling we still haven't seen the whole run of this place yet. We need to make sure we clear it out before we have any of the villagers come here."

Alisandi,

The signet ring is safe to hold and once it sits in the palm of your hand, you notice it bears the marks of the Stonefury clan - A hammer encircled by a mountain. The ring's features stick out so much that you immediately recognize this ring might have been used to stamp wax seals, or possibly even inserted into a keyhole for some unknown and forgotten lock.

 Rasziel,

While you're unsure of its intended use, you're positive this is a magical wand that still hums with the weave. The wand is roughly two feet long and slightly crooked, as though it never fully agreed with the laws of straight lines. Its shaft is fashioned from a pale, polished wood that shimmers faintly, changing hue with the light—ivory one moment, lavender or sea-green the next. No grain runs true; instead, the wood seems to swirl in on itself like frozen smoke. Bands of mismatched metal ring the wand at uneven intervals: copper chased with runes that don’t quite align, silver etched with stars, a dull gold band that hums softly when held. None of the sigils repeat, and some appear half-finished, as if their creator was interrupted—or distracted—mid-thought. At its tip sits a multifaceted crystal bulb, cloudy at first glance but alive when watched closely. Colors ripple within it like oil on water, and tiny sparks leap and vanish without warning. The handle is wrapped in cracked leather dyed a riot of faded colors, warm to the touch regardless of the surrounding temperature.

Zephyros,

The water from the faucet is clean and quite refreshing. It even produces hot water, which surprises you. You toss the golden bangle to Meira and move to the double doors to wait for the others as they search the room.

Meira,

As you pick up the discarded shield you notice it has the image of a platinum dragon engraved upon the front and though quite dusty and grime covered, seems to be in serviceable condition. The leather pouch underneath it begins to crumble at your touch as the leather cracks and falls apart. However, as it does, you find 3pp 4gp 5sp 1cp. You catch the golden bangle and look at it. It appears to be a mundane golden bracelet with a crisscross pattern, almost at if it's two bangles weaved together into one.

 Gareth,

You pick up the longsword. Its scabbard is forged of blackened steel, reinforced with thick dwarven rivets and etched from throat to tip with angular runes worn smooth by time. Traces of gold inlay depict hammers, mountains, and a crowned anvil. Dust coats it heavily, yet the scabbard bears no rust, as if the years themselves failed to find purchase. When the blade is drawn, it comes free with a low, resonant ring that echoes faintly through the throne room. The longsword’s blade is broad and straight, forged of bright steel that shows no pitting despite centuries of abandonment. Dwarven runes march along the fuller, clean and precise, and the edge catches the torchlight a little too eagerly. There is no glow, no obvious enchantment, yet the sword feels perfectly balanced in the hand, as if it subtly corrects the wielder’s grip and stance. It carries the quiet dignity of dwarven craft: not flashy, not boastful, but enduring—made to serve a king, and still ready to do so once more. You have found Oathward. I have added it to your inventory.

 Everyone,

You follow Zephyros out the northern double doors. It doesn't take long for the warrior to find tracks in the dust covered floor. Some of the tracks appear to be from you adventurers when you first arrived. However, the bearded veteran is able to tell friend from foe. One set of tracks lead back out the main entrance, the prints distinct from the others. Several more tracks lead to the western wing of the fortress. These tracks are much more chaotic and varying. It's clear the skeletal warriors diverted west. You follow the tracks westward and see them turn north up a long hallway. Three more doors adorn this initial room in the western wing. One to the south, one to the west, and one to the north.

Do you keep following the skeletal tracks up the northern hallway? 

Meira takes a moment to try and dust off the shield a bit, taking a look at the dragon upon it. "This shield looks interesting. Might be nice if cleaned up, but I really don't know how to use a shield. So, if anyone wants this one..."  She sets it aside as she finds the coins that had been in the crumbling pouch. "We'll have to split up these coins later," she says, slipping them into her pouch, but making a note of the amount.  Finally, after a quick look at the bracelet, she slips it on her left wrist, trying to decide if she likes the look. Or if it moves too much. But if it's comfortable, she'll probably just keep it on for now.  

As Zephyros proceeds out, Meira follows right behind.  Before she goes, she takes up the shield, slinging it across her back against her pack. "Suppose it makes a good souvenir if nothing else," she mutters to herself. With the fighter picking out the path, she just keeps an eye out for any signs of danger. (Perception: 18) 

Realizing the wand he had found was magical, Rasziel nods to himself and walks over to the red-haired lady. "I found this on the mantelpiece, I believe it is magical but I'm sure you can find out more about it? You would perhaps even wield it on your adventures?" He suggests with a small smile. 

As the bearded soldier leads on, Rasziel follows at the back of the group. He would always stay cautious, and although he sincerely doubted the undead dwarven lord would have his guards lay in ambush there might well be other threats that still lingered in the ancient halls of Axeholm.

Perception with help from Azazel: 11