"Killing the Baron will likely bring the wrath of his lords down on top of us," Aiden begins slowly. "Which would make our situation even worse." He looks up at the gesticulating dwarf. "Bründir, leaving now won't solve our problem. We need to wait here for the elves, and then we can head back to Sheercleft."

He looks to Vark. "Did Lady Evelyne say if the baron had forces on the way to Sheercleft right now?"

Thurston, who has entered the room in the last place, replies now to Aiden.

"Ok, not kill him but what about smash his head just to put some common sense on it? I always thought that Sheercleft was in dwarven territory and it belonged to the dwarves. Didn't his King recognized us as the saviors of the town and put it under our protection? Maybe we need to appoint some of us as the oficial leader of Sheercleft? In that case I name Bründir to do it. He is te wiser and the most leader material among us. Is this stupid Baron starting a war between dwarves and humans? If this Baron would have the balls I would challenge him to a face to face combat, but if he didn't came to help the city when the goblins raided it... " Thurston opens his eyes and straights in the chair he was sitting. "wait... the goblins... and the maginobi... Didn't say Seid something about that evil wizards to have support in the court of Breanne or something like that? Do you think that they are trying to reclaim Sheercleft using this Baron instead of goblins? Or maybe this Baron is one of them? " he turns to Aiden " In that case we are going to really need to kill him, right Val?"

“Well uhm... y-yes she did.” Vark responds to Aiden. “But we can go as soon as we meet her warriors and we’ll beat the Baron there... at least I’m pretty sure we will.”
Upon hearing Thurston’s opinion, Vark nods in enthusiastic agreement. “Actually, Thurston is right, well... mostly. The baron could be part of the Mabinogi, for all we know they could be pulling all the strings in Breanne. Lady Evelyne made it seem like we had to pick a side, so let’s side with the dwarves. Bründir,” he turns to the dwarf now with an earnest look. “I don’t know if you were serious just now but... maybe we could name you the lord, or baron or whatever, of Sheercleft. I don’t think anyone there would argue... and Seid could help! He is a noble after all, he knows that kinda stuff, and he would maybe be good at talking the situation out with the Breannians so we don’t end up in open warfare. And he can keep an eye on things while we all go check on Aury.”

Bründir fervor subsides to reason, but his body doesn't seem to stop so quickly. Still pacing, he considers the idea, "Ne'er thought I'd be a lord. Hated it, actually. Too stuck on titles an' status. Some do good fer a city, but seems like it's a show t'brag about." Working through possibilities now has the dwarf pacing in honest contemplation, and not on thoughts of single-minded retribution, "Khaz a Gungron likes us, so that helps. Kadrin, though, we should talk to. Two dif'rent kings, but helps t'be friends with neighbors. My ma's from there, too. Hope that doesn't bite our asses, though. Dwarf from a hold livin' without a name's not a good thing. Oh! Dumdrengi's from there, too! That might help more, though."

"And for what's worth you have Rikkazarik's wielder support too!" says Thurston enthusiastically. "Can't wait to reach the part we hit that Baron in the face..." he says to Val in lower voice while the others keep talking and making plans.

"Better to have all ready to leave this place once the elves come here right? let's gather our things!!"

"Hard t'argue when someone's holdin' yer history in their hands!" Bründir gives a laugh to Thurston. "I've never wanted t'be a lord, but if it means home's safe, I'll do whatever I need to." Bründir excuses himself to pack his things and head to the stables to prepare Stonebrow.

Once all travel preparations are done, the dwarf stops by the kitchen once more and gathers all he can carry himself. Making the trip once more to the dungeon, he finds expectant eyes turned toward him. Some are now more attentive and less suspicious than his last meeting. "I've got some news and some other news, dependin' on how ye see it all. First, my group's movin' out. We've got other trouble to attend to, an' need t'get on. Second, th' elves'll be coming shortly as new owners of this land. I'll personally tell'em ye've all given over peacefully and have been cooperative, if even a bit helpful. Should make'em a bit more lenient fer ye. Show'em ye mean good, an' they may treat better." There's a lingering regret in the dwarf, wishing he could have seen at least one freed and become a turned ally like Seid. 

Many of the prisoners suddenly begin paying a lot more attention to Bründir's words once he mentions the elves' imminent arrival. The dark haired boy who previously spoke with both Bründir and Valaith moves close to the bars where dwarf can see him.

"Wait! Please don't leave us here for the elves. I answered your questions. We can work! Please, we'll do anything. We'll prove ourselves. Just don't leave us at their mercy."

Bründir scratches his head, a gesture of hesitation and doubt he had not meant to show, "Yell understand if me an' mine have some trust problems after th' last day or so. They prob'ly wouldn't want all ye walkin' free as we go. Le'me talk to th' elves when they get 'ere. Fer those willin', there's mines an' labor in th' mountains." The dwarf pauses to think on his own words, "Banditry's a serious crime....tryin' t'summon a dragon goddess even worse. Don' think I'm tryin' t'get any of ye off th' hook here. I'm just not one t'kill people who've given up."

A groan of disappointment runs around the dungeon like a wave, but none of the prisoners are in any position to do more than sit tight and hope for the best.

When dawn comes, the Acharnost stand armed and armoured before the teleportation circle at the base of the fortress's central tower. Seven specific runes on the ring begin to light up blue one after the other, until a swirling circle of gold and cyan energy forms in the middle, perpendicular to the band of sigils that rims the edge. The energy spreads and flattens, coalescing into a disc of golden light that stands on its side.

A few moments later, the first rank of elves steps through, resplendent in armour that gleams like burnished gold. They wield curved glaives that look almost too slim and fine to be real weapons and shields forged from overlapping layers that give them the appearance of the leaf of Wydrioth's crest. Two further ranks pass through the portal and the soldiers fan out, scouring the surrounding area for potential foes and forming a shield wall around the circle at the top of the pyramid. Archers follow and then a single, male wood elf in a breastplate with a sword on his hip. Now satisfied that there is no immediate threat, the shield wall parts to let him through.

"Ai, Acharnost!" He greets Sheercleft's gathered heroes in elven, removing his helmet to shake loose a long mane of light brown hair. "I am Finglas, captain of Wydrioth."

The elf approaches the group and offers his hand to shake.

"My lady tells me that you won a great victory here."

Thurston steps and shakes Fingla's hand.

"Welmet Fingla's I am Thurston Barnatson. We managed to stop the three sisters that had this fortress as their base of operations. We have cleaned as much as we were able to but I do not discard that there could be some resistance groups so proceed with caution. Some of their former followers are in the dungeon. I am sorry but we are in some hurry to go back to our village. "

 Bründir steps forward to shake the elf leader's hand. With his fine Dwarven armour and sword, he almost looks to be the elf's rank equal across racial lines. "Aye, an' I'd be lyin' if I didn' say it felt good, even great. We first set out fightin' these bastards 'fore we even know who or what they were. Feels like th' end of a story as another's startin'."

Finglas nods in understanding as Thurston briefs him on the situation, shaking hands with each of the Acharnost when they approach him.

"The Marquise warned me that you would wish to depart with haste. Perhaps one of you could give my lieutenant and I a short tour while you ready your horses?"

"Sure! " starts Thurston "I can show you the parts that we alread... wait a minute horses? We do not have any" says a little bit confused the Norscan "Did you bring horses for us with you?" he asks clearly confused. 

Finglas frowns.

"It's a long way back to Sheercleft on foot, but no, we did not bring horses. Not yet, anyway. The gate is still open," he notes, gesturing behind him, "perhaps you could petition her Ladyship for mounts? Or, failing that, purchase them from the stables yourselves, if you have the coin?"

"Oh, yes that's a good idea." Vark chimes in. "Uhm, I guess I could go while you take a tour of Morloth." With a nod of approval from Finglas and the others, Vark hefts the Bag of Holding over one shoulder and steps through the shimmering portal to Wydrioth.

Aiden looks at the others and shrugs. "I'll go with him. We'll be back soon with horses." With that, the cleric follows Vark, stepping through the portal.

Upon stepping into the softly glowing yellow disc, the same vibrant energy fills the travellers' vision for a few moments, until they find themselves emerging into a large, circular wooden hall. The architecture is obviously elven, with a high, vaulted ceiling, whose arches have grown naturally from a tree's branches. The central section of the floor appears to have been made from one enormous disc of wood and has the sigils of another teleportation circle inscribed upon it.

A large number of soldiers are arrayed around the edges of the room, apparently preparing to travel to Morloth. The portal faces a large arch that grants access to the room and stood mid-way between the two is a black-robed elf clutching a runed, silver cube in the palm of one hand.

"Who would enter the Skycrown Sanctum?" He challenges, when he sees that the new arrivals are not soldiers of Wydrioth, drawing the attention of many of the surrounding troops, whose hands stray to their weapons.

As Vark steps through, his eyes are wide with wonder as he takes in the new location. His glance lingers on the circle at his feet as he suddenly thinks to memorize the address, then his eyes jump to the silver object in the elf’s hands. It takes a moment to register that the man has asked for identification as his brain is too busy recalling bits of arcane trivia. “Oh- Uhm- V-v-vark Galestone, and Aiden, of the Acharnost. Uhm... is Lady Evelyne available right now? We have a request... I promise it won’t take long.”

Aiden carefully keeps his hands away from his weapons as the guards shift warily. Vark's introduction mollifies them, at least a little bit, so he remains silent, offering the black-robed elf a nod and a smile.

The tension in the room dissipates a little, once Vark identifies himself and Aiden. The robed elf continues to hold the cube outstretched towards the teleportation circle, but lowers his other hand.

"Ah, mae govannen, Acharnost," he tells them with a relieved smile. "I am Morben, son of Gildor. I can have word of your arrival brought to my mother, but my father might be more immediately available, if that would suit your purpose?"