...with your beautiful golden hair?
After making their way through a myriad of traps, and fighting their way past multiple massive beasts, the party are in the library of Clan Melair, deep in Undermountain. They are still short three keys and they seem to be at a bit of a loss...
Starring, in order they sit around the table:
Rodin Halfbeard, (played by Lorne) the dwarven axeman, known around the room for his trend-setting hairstyles.
Venmir, (played by Brett) an elven clergyman, who once located some empathy, but it didn't last.
Nyvan, (played by Jason) an elven knight, but for how long?
Sigurd, (played by Iain) a travelling swordsman, the ever-mistrustful.
Nandrin the Naughty, (played by Hilton), the elven mage, who has given up begging.and The DM, (played by Alex), who loves to comment in blue. And writes this blog. He's also a bit of a git and likes to make life difficult for his players.
The party is back to full strength, and deep in the dungeons of Undermountain, looking for the children of Blagothkus and Esclarella.
The heroes stood in a huge library. Instead of scrolls and books, it was full of carved stone tablets, hundreds of years old. It was written in a script which seemed almost dwarven, but not quite - obviously an archaic script. Rodin spent quite a lot of time looking at tablets, but he couldn't work it out. The party decided to split up and look through the various levels in the library, to see if they could find some kind of secret they might have missed before.
Venmir found himself on the lowest level. As he checked a wall, he heard a faint click, repeating, coming from the the doorway they had entered from. He turned to face the doorway, fearfully retreating to the far wall. Nandrin ran down to meet Venmir, and hide behind him.
The sound got closer and closer, and then a strange figure walked through the doorway. Dwarf height, wearing the robes of a priest of Dumathoin, his hood covered his head entirely and he shuffled forward into the room. The clicking came from his staff, which he used as a walking aid.
After a long moment, he reached up and lifted back his hood. Instead of eyes, he had deep dark pits, but he kept his gaze locked onto Venmir's. his skin was a light gray in colour, but his clothes were clean - vestments of the Dumathoin priesthood.
"You have done well, thank you." his voice was deep and resonant, but it sounded old and frail at the same time.
Venmir and Nandrin were puzzled.
"Errr, hello. Who are you?" asked the cleric,
"I, am Bandaerl. High Priest of Dumathoin these last five hundred years. And you are?"
"What do you want?"
"I came here to thank you. What is your name?"
"Thank us for what?"
"My apologies, high priest!" said Sigurd as he got to the bottom of the stairs. He introduced himself.
"Ahh, how polite. Someone who can introduce himself." The others quickly followed with their names,
"We are looking for a key," said Sigurd, "to open the door to the prison."
"I have it. And you may use it." said the old dwarf, "and I want to take you to meet the King - he would like to thank you himself."
"Of course..." said Sigurd, and they followed the dwarf from the room.
The high Priest walked through the trapped tunnels, without hesitation, the traps not going off. They paused, but followed, and found the traps had been deactivated. He took them back to the previous room, then opened a secret door, leading them into a wonderfully decorated hallway. He tapped his cane on the floor and a doorway opened in one wall. Behind it was nothing but blackness and fetid air. He urged them all forward - and they all moved. Except Sigurd.
"What is this?" he asked, mistrustfully.
"To meet the king, we must go down. Quickly now, we must all descend as one." said the old dwarf.
"No way!" said the swordsman, as he pulled out his blade.
"So untrusting." said the priest, ignoring the blade being waved about. "You can wait here. You are not welcome."
The others followed the priest, and found themselves in a wide room, and were soon joined by Bandaerl.He clicked his staff again, and the floor moved down, taking them into the depths, while Sigurd stood - and fumed...
---------------------------------
The floor came to a rest before a gilded archway. Beyond the archway was a sarcophagus bathed in a shaft of pure white light. Bandaerl stepped forward, and motioned for them to do the same. The mithral is perfectly polished, and King Melair’s likeness is carved so perfectly they almost believed he lay there on a bier only lightly coated in metal.
A shimmering effect briefly clouded the glinting metal and the ephemeral figure of King Melair stood before them. Bandaerl bowed deeply, the king less so. The specter turned to the party and smiled.
“You are the valiants who helped protect the legacy of the Melairkyn. Were you not worthy, Dumathoin and our everloyal Bandaerl would not have brought you here. You have our thanks. You stand as friend and ally to me and my clan. Would any of you wish to become one of the clan Melairkyn?"
"Uh, ok!" said Nyvan, and he was quickly joined by Nandrin. Rodin and Venmir kept quiet, the latter shaking his head gently.
Melair smiled broadly and asked Nyvan to remove his armor, disarm, and kneel.
“May Dumathoin always smile on you, for you return life to my clan. May Clangeddin always guard your back, for your service in battle does us proud. And may Moradin always gift you with good dwarf-sense and fierce dwarf-strength. Rise, and be known as Melairkyn!”
During the king’s litany, the Nyvan was engulfed in a shaft of light and swiftly transformed into a dwarf, with soft golden silky hair, and a beard as soft as sunlight, prime for braiding. Rodin looked on, amazed. The others looked on, aghast. Nyvan leapt into the air, cheering and whooping.
"Now it's your turn!" said King Melair, looking at Nandrin.
"Erm...I've changed my mind, your highness. With Nyvan at the helm, I'm sure your clan will thrive!"
"Very well, elf." intoned King Melair.
"Nyvan Melairkyn, rise and give greeting to your King. I think it only fair you are suitably attired for your role as the new lord and leader of Clan Melair." and he waved a hand, and Nyvan found himself clothed in a fine mithril shirt. He picked up his sword and shield, and hefted them in his now more powerful grip.
The king turned to Rodin.
"And what manner of dwarf are you?" he asked, puzzled at Rodin's hairstyles.
"Well, I'm not a fucking city dwarf..." he mumbled in reply.
"Sorry, I missed that? Anyway. Your hair is not becoming a true son of Moradin. I will help where I can." and waved his hand in fron of Rodin's half-bearded face and head. With remarkable speed, Rodin found himself in possession of a full head of hair and a massive bushy beard - on both sides of his face. A tear rolled down his grizzled dwarven face and he bowed in gratitude.
"And now I must return. Remember, my child, the importance of your role in the return of my clan!" as he stared into Nyvan's eyes.
"For Clan Melairkyn, my king." said Nyvan, as the King faded away. The others stood around, amazed that Nandrin hadn't asked for any magical items.
"Follow me!" said Bandaerl and he lead them back up the lift. "You can come to my home and I will give you the next key."
They walked into the passageway, Nyvan hanging back in order to surprise Sigurd.
Sigurd looked somewhat furious as the others walked out. Nyvan strutted out last.
"Where is Nyvan, and what is that beast with the beautiful golden hair like an angel?" asked Sigurd.
"It's me!" shouted Nyvan. "I am now a dwarf, and the Lord of Clan Melairkyn!"
"Excellent. One less elf." said Sigurd, as he walked off.
Nyvan stood for a while, posing, before he followed the others through the doorway.
-----------------------------------
They followed Bandaerl back to his cavern home, where he gave them the key. He directed them to Johanna for the last key. He appeared somewhat sad as he sent the adventurer's forth, but they never noticed.
Johanna was waiting in her library.
"Oh hello, boys. What have you been up to?" she asked.
When they explained they were there for the key, she immediately burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably. They all stood around, looking uncomfortable. A few minutes later, the sobbing continued unabated and eventually Sigurd put an awkward hand on her shoulder.
"There, there." he patted her gently.
A little while later, she stopped crying and explained.
"Bandaerl has been my only companion and friend for the last 20 years. He is as sweet a dwarf as anyone could be. Well, for a lich." Sigurd gulped as he remembered how close he had been to tripping up the old fool after his humiliation outside the tomb.
"He had lived for 600 years, and he was waiting for the new son of Melairkyn to arrive. And once he had, " she said, looking at Nyvan, "then his time on this plane was over. He's dead now...." she burst into tears again.
After some time of rather weak consolation, the party convinced Johanna to accompany them, and to act as a recorder of Nyvan Melairkyn's chronicles, as he sought to rebuild the clan.
She gave them the key and they headed for the key chamber.
The massive metal door opened before them as they inserted the keys. Behind it was a corridor leading off into the darkness...
-----------------------------
They found a series of corridors and portcullises before they opened up into the prison itself. One of the doors from the main room had a light underneath it. The characters burst through the doorway and found themselves in a prisoner's room. Behind a cage on the far side sat a man in a loincloth. His hair was long and he had a scraggly beard. His clothes born the runes of Sune, the goddess of Beauty, and his shield hung on the bars in front of him. The room stank of garlic, and bulbs of it hung from the bars.
“Quickly, someone grant me the courtesy of a dagger, and the rest of you go keep watch that the huntress does not trap us all here!” he cried.
"What? Who are you?" asked Sigurd.
"We don't have time for that! Give me a dagger. Now! Please! And keep watch - she'll be back!"
Venmir went and watched the doorway. Nandrin stepped forward and offered the man a dagger before Sigurd could stop him - and he tried. The man grabbed the dagger and started to trim away his beard and cut at his hair. The party were surprisingly patient and waited nearly an hour for the man to finish his job. By that time, he was clean-shaven and ready to talk.
He explained how he had been travelling the Undermountain to hone his skills and find some ugly monsters to smash, when he had been captured by a drow he knew onlu as the Huntress. He'd been stuck in the cave for months - and he wasn't sure she wasn't a vampire, so he kept the garlic there, just in case. The party offered to take him with, but he decided to stay in the cage.
"Safer!" he said.
The party headed off in the direction suggested by the priest.
They found themselves in a long corridor. At the end was a landing, and atop the landing was an older man in black robes. He wore a black skullcap, carried a staff with a small skull mounted on it, and magic swirled about his fingertips as he started to cast a spell. The party ran down the hall, and Venmir's arrows arced across the corridor - slicing through an illusion! the party grumbled, and carried on their way after the mage disappeared.
Rounding the corner, they faced another corridor over 100 foot long. Another torch guttered weakly by the small set of stairs at the end of this corridor, and it lit the face and form of a different wizard! The blue-robed young woman had floorlength red hair, many rings on each hand, and she carried a jet-black quarterstaff in her hands. “So, my illusion didn’t warn you away, did it? Well, perhaps this will!” She raised her arms, held the staff high, and her voice lowered in incantation. They charged forward again, and once more were annoyed to find it was nothing but an illusion. They carried on.
As they rounded another corner, they saw another long corridor, with a huge hellhound standing atop the now-familiar small set of stairs. It roared and began stalking down the stairs to satisfy its hunger on the party!
"Ignore it!" shouted Sigurd, before charging forward, just in case. Rodin and Nyvan held back. Venmir and Nandrin prepared magics, but before they could do anything, the beast ran forward and spewed flames all over Sigurd, who disappeared from view for those behind him. Rodin and Nyvan got a fright, then charged forward. They arrived to find Sigurd singed and angry.
The beast was huge and it's claws and teeth slashed across the melee heroes, and they fought bravely - yet Nyvan was somewhat puzzled when one of his spells didn't work. After several seconds of furious combat, the creature reared back and breathed fire across them all. When the flames cleared, Sigurd and Nyvan lay on the floor. Rodin, Venmir and Nandrin piled the rest of their power into attacking the beast, and laid it low, just as both Sigurd and Nyvan were bathed in a soft glow of white light, and then they stood to their feet, almost unwounded.
There was a brief discussion about what had happened, but they couldn't work it out. They decided to carry on regardless. First, Nyvan started one of his legendary pep-talks, to encourage his companions to greater feats of strength in the name of heroism. He was mostly ignored (and due to all the smart-arse comments, no-one was allowed to take any bonuses from his use of paladin power!)
The next doorway lead to a huge room, and in it was a handful of ogres, guarding to huge cages in which were two large humanoids - but clearly children. They had found the cloud giant's children!
On the other side of the room stood a female drow hunter. She smiled as she languidly lifted her bow and notched a black-feathered arrow. The ogres charged the heroes.
Nyvan went for the Huntress. Rodin and Sigurd charged the ogre who was poking the children with a stick through the bars, while the rest of the ogres split up and attacked all the heroes bar Venmir. by the time Nyvan reached the Huntress, she had already slammed arrows into Venmir and Rodin. She dropped her bow and pulled out two wicked shortswords and smiled. Nyvan grinned his new dwarven grin and swung his blade - but his grin faded when his request for assistance from Corellian Larethian fell on deaf ears, and his paladin powers failed (someone suggested he pray to Moradin, Floradin and Boradin).
The ogres were tougher than they thought, leaving Nyvan facing the drow alone for several moments. While Nyvan had initially been confident, he found the drow to be a slippery opponent, not only moving between his sword-blows like a ghost, but also slamming her shortswords into him almost at will.
An ogre fell. Rodin turned his attention on the locks on the cages, while the others watched him on confusion. Rodin shrugged, and spent several seconds hitting the locks while his compnaions fought the bad guys. When the locks were broken, he shouted, "Fight for your freedom!" but the giants ignored him and stayed in the cells.
He eventually turned, and the others were fighting the ogres still, apart from Nyvan, who had succumbed to the whirling blades of the drow and lay on the floor. Venmir and Nandrin sent their strongest magics at her, and she fled, leaving only a couple of ogres to fight the party. They were quickly dispatched - and the heroes stepped back - as Nyvan once more was bathed in a glow, then clambered unsteadily to his feet. He glanced down at his chest, then looked up at his companions, and smiled.
"You can't keep a good dwarf down!" (this was the DM's line!)
No comments:
Post a Comment