Storm King's Thunder

// if there's nothing else to do in the interim //

Flint spends the rest of the day secluded in the temple second guessing himself and going over the details in his head. He'll find a cot for rest and prepare his spells for the following day which he spends selecting acolytes and teaching them what they'll need to do. He'll otherwise wait for the appointed time.

“I think you and I should be able to handle this ourselves,” says the elder dwarf proudly, “Else we would have to call for aid from the Hall of Moradin’s Forge, all the way over in Adbar. It’d take far too long, not to mention be very speedy. A copper saved is a copper earned, you know. I’ll have some acolytes standing by to assist us, of course.”

Ink, seeing that the ceremony will be postponed until the following day, tells the others that he'll be retiring for the evening at the inn closest to the temple.

He rents a private room for the evening and, once ready, turns in for the night. By candle light he reads the book on the Shadow Weave. Suddenly, a thought occurs him.

Ink places the book down. He casts sending and asks the target of the spell, "Out of curiosity, did the scimitar return to you?" 

Don waits until the elder is alone and approaches him.

"May I have a word please sir."

Matrix pulls Flint to the side after arrangements have been made, "Flint, if it's alright with you I'd like to sit in during the ritual. If something goes wrong it might be a good idea to have someone who is good at nonlethal combat there."

Quote from jr_el_leon >>

Ink places the book down. He casts sending and asks the target of the spell, "Out of curiosity, did the scimitar return to you?" 

 Ink hears a familiar grating voice inside his mind, its tone alien, "The wizard, is it? Still alive, then. Interesting that you would reach out to my mind...." 

Quote from Hardcopi >>

Don waits until the elder is alone and approaches him.

"May I have a word please sir."

 "Please," says the dwarven priest, ushering Don to one of the stone benches in the place of worship. "How can I be of service, son?"

"I have seen many miracles in my life and I need another. My friend recently died and I don't believe it was his time. I think he has more that needs to be done. Is it within your power to bring him back?" Don sighs. 

Quote from Awaypturwpn >>

Quote from jr_el_leon >>

Ink places the book down. He casts sending and asks the target of the spell, "Out of curiosity, did the scimitar return to you?" 

 Ink hears a familiar grating voice inside his mind, its tone alien, "The wizard, is it? Still alive, then. Interesting that you would reach out to my mind...." 

 Ink replies using sending.... "You are unique and alien to the norm, hence I am curious. I regret how things unfolded - we added to your legion. So - the scimitar?" 

“Bringing the dead back to life is not an easy task,” says the priest to Don. “It is a rare ability, granted only to the most faithful, and it extracts a great toll in material wealth as well as physical strength. When did this tragic event take place, my son?”

“Such as it is,” replies the disembodied voice to Ink.  “Come visit and see for yourself. I have a new home thanks to you.”

Quote from Gimpster >>

Matrix pulls Flint to the side after arrangements have been made, "Flint, if it's alright with you I'd like to sit in during the ritual. If something goes wrong it might be a good idea to have someone who is good at nonlethal combat there."

 Flint nods "should'na  be need fer  that but ah won't deny ye. Thar's  benches where ye can watch from."

Matrix will sit in the corner in a meditative stance while the ritual commences

Quote from Hardcopi >>

"I have seen many miracles in my life and I need another. My friend recently died and I don't believe it was his time. I think he has more that needs to be done. Is it within your power to bring him back?" Don sighs.

 Quote from Awaypturwpn >>“Bringing the dead back to life is not an easy task,” says the priest to Don. “It is a rare ability, granted only to the most faithful, and it extracts a great toll in material wealth as well as physical strength. When did this tragic event take place, my son?”

 If Dontontion is straightforward with the priest, he will eventually learn that the powerful resurrection spell needed to raise Marav back to life is out of his power, but can certainly be performed by the Head Hammer of Citadel Adbar, as long as he had a good reference and was able to pay the high cost associated with the spell.

Quote from Awaypturwpn >>

“Such as it is,” replies the disembodied voice to Ink.  “Come visit and see for yourself. I have a new home thanks to you.”

 Ink replies (last 3rd level slot), "I suspect it was always yours, we only woke you up. So - the scimitar... With you, yes? Need to learn how to craft such works."

After the response, if any, Ink will return to reading his book before resting for the evening. He will make sure he is at the temple at first light, awaiting Flint's arrival, in anticipation of the ritual ceremony. 

Ink is met with an ominous silence after the third casting of the spell. 

As the party gathers outside the Altar room at the appointed time, Flint approaches the High Hammer and hands him gems worth 300gp.

Flint looks to the High Hammer: "With yer permission...?" The High Hammer nods and gestures towards the Altar Room.  Flint leads the procession into the room.

"Crownsguard, we'll have ye standing there" Flint indicates a position on the dais towards the back "and Ink, ye'll be here, and ye'll walk ta here when ah call ye, then back."  Flint points to a spot on the floor before a marble pedestal and another at the top stair on the front of the dais.

Flint then begins a slow march towards the dais while the High Hammer falls in step beside him with 3 acolytes following.  Upon the dais, the two clerics turn and face front while the acolytes move to their positions at the edge.  Flint calls "Prepare the Dais!"  All the dwarves begin a wordless hymn of praise to Moradin which continues throughout the ceremony.  The three acolytes move about the dais lighting braziers while Flint beseeches Moradin.  "Moradin, Father o' Dwarves, attend if ye will! We mean ta rid th' world o' a heinous evil. Take th' spirit we release 'ere taday an burn it in yer smelter that it may ne'er return."

All the braziers lit, Flint calls "Prepare the Altar!" Four dwarves in smithy garb enter from the side of the dais with a large replica of Moradin's Anvil suspended on poles.  They slowly march the anvil to the center of the dais and place it on its pedestal, they collect the poles and leave the way they came while Flint and the High Hammer equip themselves with ceremonial thongs and smithy hammers.

Flint looks to Ink "Bring the Objects!" Ink is met at the top of the stairs by the acolytes who collect the Warhammer and Paired Swords and quickly place them upon the altar.

"Begin the Rite!" Flint gets a sense of trepidation as he grasps the Warhammer with the tongs while the acolytes bless all who are present. The clerics cast banishment in unison and strike hammers to their objects to complete the spell.

Crownsguard has also extended his arms in Blessings toward those practicing.

Ink walks up whispering a quick prayer to Corellon Larethian, imploring him to work with Moradin and the Dwarven pantheon to banish the threat of Orcus present in the weapons.

Ink pulls out [magicitem]"Be Destroyed" (Warhammer, +1)[/ magicitem], the warhammer, the unnamed rapier, and finally, [magicitem]Taste Blood (Shortsword, +1)[/ magicitem] and [magicitem]Taste Undeath (Shortsword, +1)[/ magicitem]... the last two there is the slightest of hesitation from Ink as he hands them over. 

Ink then returns to where he was previously standing. 

(apparently tooltips don't work for home brew...) 

Don thanks him and files away the information and excuses himself for the night.

Quote from DarthAvarice >>

As the party gathers outside the Altar room at the appointed time, Flint approaches the High Hammer and hands him gems worth 300gp.

Flint looks to the High Hammer: "With yer permission...?" The High Hammer nods and gestures towards the Altar Room.  Flint leads the procession into the room.

"Crownsguard, we'll have ye standing there" Flint indicates a position on the dais towards the back "and Ink, ye'll be here, and ye'll walk ta here when ah call ye, then back."  Flint points to a spot on the floor before a marble pedestal and another at the top stair on the front of the dais.

Flint then begins a slow march towards the dais while the High Hammer falls in step beside him with 3 acolytes following.  Upon the dais, the two clerics turn and face front while the acolytes move to their positions at the edge.  Flint calls "Prepare the Dais!"  All the dwarves begin a wordless hymn of praise to Moradin which continues throughout the ceremony.  The three acolytes move about the dais lighting braziers while Flint beseeches Moradin.  "Moradin, Father o' Dwarves, attend if ye will! We mean ta rid th' world o' a heinous evil. Take th' spirit we release 'ere taday an burn it in yer smelter that it may ne'er return."

All the braziers lit, Flint calls "Prepare the Altar!" Four dwarves in smithy garb enter from the side of the dais with a large replica of Moradin's Anvil suspended on poles.  They slowly march the anvil to the center of the dais and place it on its pedestal, they collect the poles and leave the way they came while Flint and the High Hammer equip themselves with ceremonial thongs and smithy hammers.

Flint looks to Ink "Bring the Objects!" Ink is met at the top of the stairs by the acolytes who collect the Warhammer and Paired Swords and quickly place them upon the altar.

"Begin the Rite!" Flint gets a sense of trepidation as he grasps the Warhammer with the tongs while the acolytes bless all who are present. The clerics cast banishment in unison and strike hammers to their objects to complete the spell.

 The day of Uktar 15 is a cold and unforgiving morning. Frost has formed on the ground where you walk towards the solemn ceremony in the temple of Moradin. 

The acolytes have prepared a basin of holy water as a precaution, a stone bath just large enough to fit one medium-sized creature.

...

When Flint and the temple cleric strike the weapons in the forge-shaped altar, ethereal flames leap into existence, seeming to consume the weapons in holy light. 

While you stand watching, in less than a second, streams of black ichor burst from the weapons and rise above the flames. You hear many otherworldly screeches as the ichor violently twists and turns on itself, forming a chaotic, writhing mass 15 feet in the air. 

At this point I’d like an initiative roll from everyone! Anyone with a roll of 14 or higher can act immediately.

Streams from the ichor lance out and strike each of the three acolytes, sending them all sprawling to the ground.