[3.5E] Heretic's Bane Icewind Dale

Heretic's Bane - Icewind Dale Group

Soulhammer Halls Group

Katasi – Amur Faer Wed – Gnomish Abjurer
Yuki Akuma – Raltise Calmblade – Human Psychic Warrior 2/Soul Knife 3
Tharar Greenleaf – Kelith Firestorm – Favored Soul of Kossuth
BChilders – Magnum Rurik – Cleric of Clangeddin
Paper Bard – Duergan Whurkin – Dwarven Fighter
Butch – Hjalmar – Dwarven Paladin
Diamurd – Bunduk Steelsmith – Dwarven Fighter/Ranger
SyennaMage– Arman Madero – Mage


Hundlestone is a small town astride the Northern Means; the only route through the Spine of the World to Icewind Dale making it a strategic location. Sitting inside a rocky valley and flanked by the imposing Spine on the east and west, it is surrounded by two stone walls. The town is home to about 1200 persons, mainly dwarves and gnomes, but some humans as well. Some travelers and passing merchant caravans pass through on their way north. During the warmer months, it is a bountiful valley full of game and flowers but those months are at a close and always far too short. Hundlestone is also notable for running some mines working the Spine worked by seasonal miners, many coming from Fireshear and Mirabar to the south and leaving before the snows come. Some of these mines actually go deep enough to connect into the Underdark. This has created a small but constant requirement for mercenaries. It also used to attract adventurers looking for Underdark experience, most of whom are somewhat mad.

The newly established Jilker Patriarchate has arrived in Hundlestone. The dwarves and the Ten Towns have become concerned about the vulnerability of the town with the rise of the Dark Arrow Kingdom of orcs and organized Frost Giant activity. It was also centered in any Luskan designs on the North. If it fell into the wrong hands, any route to the Ten Towns would be severed except through Ironmaster’s often iced in harbor. The Ten Towns, particularly Bryn Shander, depend on the pass to for their own supplies and scrimshaw trade. As winter sets in around Hundlestone, a delegation from the Patriarchate and Bryn Shander has arrived to discuss Hundlestone’s winter defenses and a separate dwarven initiative. The Patriarchate wants to try and find or create an Underdark passage from the north to Hundlestone using its Underdark access for a year-round connection. The trickiest issues of contention are the caravan tariffs levied by Hundlestone on all caravans that pass through the area and tempers have already flared on the issue. The delegation includes a detachment of Forgemark and regular infantry and several loaded wagons. While here, it is the intent of the group to tend to a nearby dwarven shrine as well. Additionally, the last caravan of the season is expected within the week. It is vital to the Ten Towns to get through the winter. Included in the caravan is a dwarven contingent led by a Reclaimer bringing several dozen young dwarven children destined for Sunderhelme and a traditional education hopefully leading them to the priesthood. Several other recruits are to be expected. While the journey has been long, it’s most dangerous ground may lay ahead as it passes through the Spine of the World. The caravan’s already large escort has been supplemented by another Forgemark detachment.

The delegation is lead by Forgesmith Tolrin Jilker, a cousin of Patriarch Hignar Jilker. While an accomplished cleric, he is overly trust and needs to spend more time away from his holy water. The Iron Knight Barus Clinkscales is in charge of the 32 soldiers that accompanied the Forgesmith. The party is part of the delegation. Their task has been broadly defined as assisting Forgesmith Tolrin, keeping the King’s cousin alive and keeping the Ten Towns delegation in line.

Morning has just come and your days are about to begin. While the soldiers stay in a nearby warehouse, the party is staying at a gnomish run inn, the Goblin’s Groin. It’s worn placard outside shows a gnome with his boot on a goblin’s groin holding up a mace.

It seemed like a good idea last night…

Duervar sits in the corner, nursing a mug of spirits. Despite being inside, he still wears his heavy black cloak around him. Come to think of it, none of you recall him ever taking it off.
His shield and massive warpick lie next to him, propped up against the wall within. His blue, glowing eyes stare eerily from underneath his cloak, penetrating the veil of darkness the cloak casts on his face. He glares up a the rest of the party. He's always antisocial, even for a dwarf, and none of you have ever enjoyed having him as a party member. Still, his skill with his massive warpick cannot be denied, and he's helped save the paty's butts more than once.
While he is rude to every party member, Duervar is especially foul to Kelith. Being an outspoken athiest, he had always argued with the priest, calling him a fool for beleiving in anything he couldn't touch or taste. When Kelith had tried to use his magical ability as proof of his God's exhistence, Duervar had simply snorted and replied, "Just a different form of magic. Wizards use incantartions, you chant to your supposed god. What proof do you ahve that it's your God that's giving you power. You could be calling on Mephistopholes himself for all you know! Save your healing for somebody who cares. I've got your "Godly Power" in a bottle!"

Kelith

Kelith sits by the tables and orders himself an ale. He is dressed in black, red, and gold cleric vestments with the Symbol of Kossuth on the front and the back of them. Across his chest is a bandoleer of 5 daggers and a blood red spiked chain is slung across his left shoulder. He has short dark brown hair and deep red eyes that seem indifferent to his surroundings. He seems approachable to those who desire company, although the conversation could well turn religious if not subverted.

An older gnomish woman walks over to the table where everyone is sitting and looks around at the group. Her clothes are old and she looks like she'd rather be asleep. In her hands is a wax tablet and a stylus.

"Oi, ye boys look like a fine bunch of fearsome cutters. In with that bunch of dwarves?" She squints at the group. "Probably, as there be a few with ye! Come to harangue the council about tariffs again? Although, ye don't look the type to be talking to society.."

She sniffles and wipes her nose on her shirt sleeve, than rubs her red eyes.

"So what do ye have an appetite for? I warn ya, I'm outta bacon and eggs and what's left is double the price. Shortages and all, we best be getting ready for the winter." She smile and lets the news sink in.

Leaning forward towards Duervar, she peers at him and says very slowly, as one would talk to a child.

"What... do.... you... want?"

Hjalmar

Hjalmar sits at the far end of the table, constantly trying to catch a glimpse of the outside. Grub, his dire boar mount, is tied outside and he can sometimes get agressive amongst strangers. Most people know better than to get close to a wild beast three times their size, though.

Otherwise he looks his usual self. Always in his heavy, the warhammer leaned against the wall. He sometimes has to move away one of the three braids that make up his beard in order not to spill ale on them. But what most people focus on, and probably what makes the waitress stay so far away, is his left eye. Or rather the lack thereof. He doesn't evn have an eye patch. When seeing face to face with Hjalmar you'll inevitably stare into his empty eye socket. A sight that catches many people off guard. You can clearly see that this is no man to male small talk to. When asking trivial questions, you are bound to get a cold hard stare for an answer. Hjalmar doesn't talk much.

The human Raltise paces back and forth, muttering to himself at length. He's new to the group; he joined entirely so he could eventually travel to Sunderhelme. What little you know of him makes him out as being rather friendly and talkative, and also unnervingly calm when he wants to be. He's a psychic; while not exactly rare, it's certainly uncommon, and always reminds people of Illithids whenever they're reminded of it.

Sitting in the corner is his small elemental companion, Lythe. Like her human, she's also friendly and talkative, although possibly moreso than Ralts (as she calls him). Even though she's sitting in possibly the darkest corner, her faint, almost eerie glow completely fails to disguise her rocky body. Next to the geodite is Raltise's bow, which she's keeping an eye on almost overprotectively.

Duervar glares hatefully at the gnomish woman. Then, without any noticable dwarven accent at all, he says coldly, "If you treat all your heroes like children, than they're likely to act like them. I deserve as much respect from the likes of you as any of my companions. Whatever prejudice you may have against me, I would suggest you keep it to yourself, lest you provoke my ire."

"Now now, Mr. Whurdek. If you act like a child, you're liable to be treated like one. Now, what do you think will happen when you threaten the landlady?" As usual, Raltise's voice hints at amusement, as do his eyes. He gives the half-deurgar a grin. "Maybe you should stop pretending to be mute, Mr. Whurdek. I'm sure people would treat you fairly if you opened your mouth once in a while. Without threatening them, I mean."

Magnum seems to be enjoying himself as usual when there's ale on hand. At the humans comment Magnum burst into laughter, "I have always enjoyed yer wit, especially when its directed at someone so sour." Magnum grins widely and looks over to Duervar, "Haven't we talked about working on yer ability to make friends."

(ooc er sorry if i did something wrong,Iam new to this)

A cloaked figure nears the town. Drifting silently closer, its impossible to tell his race or affiliation... for now..

Duervar scowls deeper, then chuckles a bit. "Sorry mam. Didn't mean anything by my comments. Though you should know I can understand as fully as any of my companions. I am not stupid." He looks back at the human. "How's that for friendship skills you rotten son of a Mind Flayer!"
He takes another sip of his spirits and curls deeper into his isolation, grumbling to himself.

At this Magnum roars all the louder, fully enjoying both the banter and the booze.

The gnomish woman listens to Duervar's response and the bickering of the group with as pinched and severe a face as the cherubic little gnome can muster. She is clearly growing impatient.

"I wasn't talking to you like that because I didn't think you could understand me. I was because you look simple and I don't like your type or why you're here. Or you, or you or you... and whatever that little chattering boulder is." She says, pointing at the group.

"Try being a gnome and get taken seriously! Our town needs the tariffs to survive and we don't appreciate any of ye tight fisted northerners coming down the Means and complaining. Ye think its rough up there? So I couldn't give a rothe's arse that ye look like ye crawled out of a chimney. All we have is gruel and bread. I'm Yvira, by the way. May I take yer order?"

She smiles pleasantly and waits attentively with her stylus. Her smile seems to make her disdain even clearer. In the back, you here another gnome rummaging around and throwing logs into a stove.

Arum sits quietly in a corner as the conversation takes place around him, but his ears perk up at the landlady's last statement.

"Madam, he says "I'll have you know that being a gnome is no reason to act disdainfully toward us. Look at me, I am a gnome and yet also a member of this group. And I will have you know that this dwarf, as well as many others is perfectly wonderful company. Now please, behave as a proper owner of an establishment like this and treat us, your customers, well or so help me I'll see to it that you will regret it not doing it." He doesn't know how he'd do that, but he is hoping she doesn't ask.

[roll0]

Kelith

Looking quite perturbed at the waitress's disrespect of his group he has grown fond, of Kelith looks up at her before talking. "No Yvira I think i've had enough ignorance and spite tonight to leave no room for bread nor gruel. If you'd be enjoyable enough as to leave us the well alone I believe we would think more highly of you. Right now your stature only metaphors your respect. No disrespect to you Arum; I hold you in highest regard."

Arum bows his head slightly. "None taken, I could not have said it better myself."

Yvira does not look terribly intimidated by Arum and instead fixes her gaze upon him now.

"Now how are ye going to do that?" Yvira shakes her head. "The one in the hood said I should be treat'n my heroes more kindly. I know why you're here. My husband is on the Stone's Council, yes the one in the kitchen trying to start a fire. The Ten Towns have been howling at us for years about the caravan taxes and fees here, but we need it for our survival and that keeps gettin' dodgier each year. Now the dwarves are back and the Ten Townies have brought ye along to lean on us. Showing up with half a hundred soldiers and more coming. A delegation and escort? Council was harshly split on that... So ignorant, I am not."

Her face becomes pinched again.

"That being said, yer still guests. I'll have me daughter bring out some porridge. Only thing we have really, anyways."

She turns and walks back into the kitchen.

A few minutes after Yvira left, Tolrin Jilker walks up from the stairs from the basement rooms. Few buildings had more than one level in Hundlestone as they preferred to dig down to better heat the establishment.

He is dressed in brown earthsilk clothes, some jewelry and wrapped in an expensive cloak made out of winter wolf fur. The cloak is nearly impervious to a normal chill. He also wears an oversized holy symbol of Moradin on a golden chain. Tolrin wears a short, braided, beard and has his long black hair slicked back and knotted at the back. He has a gentle demeanor and is chronically relaxed and a slightly ashen complexion, yet his eyes betray an agile mind. The cleric looks around the room and rubs his tired eyes. Walking over to the table, he sits and smiles at the group.

"I was rather hoping the food would be here already. I do try to time waking and eating together. Along with some tea. They are bringing tea, yes? I do hope they have some hares as well." He smiles at the thought.

"When we're done breaking our fast together, we need to get our equipment on. Before we go talking to the Council here, we'll be going to visit the tomb of Hundle, Hurler-of-Hammers in the nearby mountains. It'll take the better part of the day and we'll meet the Council this night. If we're lucky, we'll see the Valkyries coming down to meet us, maybe ever the Northstar caravan if its high enough. They say his tomb is guarded by two magicked hammers. Be good to make sure they're still fine. I doubt anyone here would know how to fix the wards." He grumbles slightly.

"Any questions? And how well were ye received this morning? Yvira's husband's on the Council, ye know."

Hjalmar

Hjalmar still sat quietly, all through the conversation with the land lady. Although he didn't show it, he was enraged. Not because they had been treated bad, for in his opinion they hadn't. Instead he was angry at his "companions". He hated how daft they were. No one who demands to get respect will ever get any; they will only get into arguments. Why couldn't Duervar have been the bigger man for a change and let it slide. Frankly, Hjalmar despised that attitude. He was quite bitter at the thought of having to travel with bullies. Why had he been forced to go here? Wretched church.

Raltise brings his hand to his forehead, and sighs. "Why must my travelling companions be a bunch of hot heads and bullies? Can't I have friendly allies for once?" He gives Tolrin Jilker a strained smile as he waits for the porridge.

Tolrin frowns slightly and looks at Raltise. "What did I miss this time?"

Kelith

"If by bullies you mean those who stand up for their companions when they are completely disrespected, then yes i suppose we do have some bullies here. But it seems she has left us alone so there isn't any point for dwelling on it. So long as respect is given, respect is shown. Although some of my more extreme and hot-tempered faithful would show a more ugly side to such disrespect."

Bundok Steelsmith

Nothing but incomprhensible, non-committal grunts and "Harumphs!" came from the pile of fur on the bench along the wall during the interchange with the lady of the house.

At Tolrin's comments about heading out, the bundle shuffled and groaned and eventually resolved itself into the ugly, ever sour-faced dwarf, Bundok, self-professed armorsmith turned tunnel-rat, scout, and badass with a stick.

Dark smudges of soot seemed tattooed on the stocky dwarf, and his beard and hair were a constant bird's nest of knots and tangles. Smacking his lips together and rubbing some sleep from his eyes, he began digging through the pack he had stuffed under the bench. An obviously well-kept chain shirt came out of the pack and was slipped over his head to settle on his broad shoulders. A strange, almost harness-like gathering of rope got draped over his shoulders and across his chest forming an X across his torso.

Setting the bag on the floor once again, the pile of furs that had been draped over him got shaken out and pinned around his neck to hang like the cloak it actually was. Grey wolf pelt lined the outside of the cloak, but the inside was a much lighter color and appeared a much softer material.

After stomping his feet further into the thick leather boots he wore, he sat back down on the bench and grabbed the wooden staff he had leaned near his resting spot. It appeared to be a very well-made staff and was carved with runes of the various gods of the dwarven people.

Resting it on his lap, he looked around at his group and showed little interest in much going on in the room while he waited for the signal to move out.

Tolrin frowns and has a sad, discouraged look on his face.

“I think I can figure out the rest… They are bringing food still though, yes? What about the hares? Did they have any of those?” Tolrin seems equally concerned about the food and the incident.

“I was hoping that staying here would give us a chance to make friends with one of the Council without actually seeking them out. Well… don’t blame yourselves, unless you should. They have a reputation for being a bit prickly here. What did Yvira say, actually?”

Tolrin sighs and leans back in his chair. Fumbling around inside his cloak, he withdraws a fine flask made of mithril and takes a long pull on it. A minute later, a younger gnome girl with blue ribbons in her hair comes and sets down a pot of porridge and several bowls with spoons. She returns a minute later with a pitcher of wine, smiles slightly and leaves.

“Oh dear... No hares…” Tolrin frowns and fills his bowl. "So what did she say?"

Ralts sits down in a chair, grumbling a little at how they never get human proportions right in these places. He fills his bowl, shaking salt over his breakfast before digging in gladly. He hasn't eaten since dinner, after all, and he's starving.

Duervar nods approvingly at Tolrin, saying "Morning..." He then looks at the porridge. He seems rather grumpy, even for him, as he looks a the food in consternation. After several seconds, he grunts and sets his empty mug down on the table. He gets up, and without a word, heads to the back of the inn, presumably the kitchen. A scowl is evident on his features, but something else too. Somrthing's obviously bothering him.

He returns several minutes later, with amazingly, a smile of sorts on his features. He sits back down at his seat, and begins to devour the food set before him.

Several minutes later, the little gnome girl exits the kitchen again wearing oversized mittens. In her hands is a pot of stewed hares with some potatoes floating about in the black cauldron. She says little more than courtesies and exits as anonymously as she came.

Obviously happy, Tolrin is the first to fill his bowl full of the hot stew. His mood improved, he declares "I knew they had some! At least the trip is not a total loss."

Catching Lythe's glittering eyes, Tolrin smiles and reaches into a small bag. He tosses some bits of gravelled quartz over its way for it to enjoy and returns to his stew.

"When yer done here, get on yer tack and meet me back down here. Oh yes... does someone want to inform Clinkscales of our plans? It'll just be us going up to Hundle's tomb." Tolrin smiles and waits for an answer before returning to the stew. "Help yourselves to some stew as well before ye go!"

Duervar sniffs the air as the stew comes forward. Upon Tolrin's offer, Duervar makes his way quickly to the stew and gets himself a bowl. "I'll take the stew sir, but I'll pass on the informing Clinkscales. I'm no messenger boy, with all due respect."
He brings the steaming hot food back to his table and begins to eat. After several seconds, he notices his hood has fallen back over his shoulders. He grunts once and brings the cowl back over his head. Before he can do this, however, everyone manages to see his scarred, dark-skinned face. The msot disturbing thing about him, though, is lack of beard. The only facial hair he posseses is a little tuff of black hair sticking out of the base of his chin.

Even though already half through with the gruel in front of him, Magnum doesn't hesitate on the offer of stew. "Now this here's a mighty improvement," Magnum says still with a wide grin.

He looks over to Duervar and not for the first time feels pity for him that he is not comfortable with the way he looks. He wished that some way he could tell him it didn't matter but serious conversation was never his forte.

"So, who's seeing Clinkscales? Not Duervar, I guess. He don't bite. Clinkscales, I mean." Tolrin chuckles. "Bundok, why don't ye go? Only take a moment."

Arum tries some of the soup and finds it immediatly to his liking, smiling softly as he takes another spoonful. "This really is very good." he says.

Raltise looks around the table, then sighs slightly. "I'll go, then." She stands, pushing his bowl away from him as he does, and puts on his cloak. "Come on, Lythe..." And with that, he's off to find Clinkscales.

Bundok

Edit - Putting my post into a spoiler, must have taken too long writing it and the other posts got in before me. Just ignore it for now, I guess

Spoiler

Show

Bundok waited a few seconds to see if anyone else was going to volunteer, even though he knew no one else would. Grumbling under his breath a bit, he unceremoniously hopped off his bench and pulled the cowl of his fur cloak up over his head. With a weak salute of a fist against his chest he ambled out the door, in no particular hurry, but nonetheless in the direction that would take him to see Clinkscales.

He made little effort of greetings to anyone he passed along the way, offering salutes only when it was required of him, more than happy to just be left alone once again wishing he was back home in front of his forge and anvil. Times of recollection like this he usually found himself patting the armor on his chest and remembering the loving care with which he had crafted it.

Shaking himself away from his rememberences, he found himself standing front of his destination. Unravelling a meaty fist from within the confines of his warm cloak, he pounded on the door a couple of times.

[ooc] leaving it there in case you plan on there being more happening here. [/ooc]

It takes almost a minute before someone responds to the knocking on the door. Outside, ye can see several horses and a few ponies tied up on hitching posts along the side of the warehouse. A dwarf stands guard with axe and shield while a dwarven child is carrying buckets of water to their troughs. Bundok does not notice that Raltise and Lythe have following them out of the Goblin's Groin. One of the forgemark legionnaires opens the door with a creak as the ice pops off hinges with a crackling noise.

The dwarf is wrapped in furs of his own and has a short, yellowish beard with a long scar on his face and bleary eyes. Underneath the furs, Bundok can see his finely crafted mithril banded mail. Considering the dwarven preference for plate armor, most would find it any lighter armor an unusual choice for them. However, the Forgemark is expected to travel long distances and rely on mobility in battle. Doing so in plate armor can be both impractical and tiring. The dwarf also wears an axe on one hip and a short sword on the other.

"Ye see to see High Iron Clinkscales? Course ye are, the one with all the furs and the stick... that one behind with ya too?" He blinks his eyes to adjust to the morning light. "Aye, I recognize that one too... well, come on down..."

He turns and walks back down the stairs into the basement of the warehouse. While the first floor holds all manner of stores, the below ground basement holds the group, using the earth to protect them from the biting winds and cold. Given its likeness to a cave, the accomodations are quite comfortable by dwarven standards. Bedrolls are spread out along the floor and many dwarves are standing in a line as a cook prepares their food. An open barrel of ale sits next to the stove and they fill their mugs with it before returning to their bed rolls.

At the very end of the line stands the High Iron Knight Clinkscales towers over most of the other dwarves. He looks strong and has a hard, angular face partially hidden behind a medium length black and grey beard tied into three braids held by ornate clasps and is waiting silently, a pipe in his mouth. As the legionnaire approaches with Bundok, Raltise and Lythe in tow, he turns to greet the soldier and the new comers.

Giving a salute, the legionnaire says "Some of Tolrin's folks here to see ye, sir."

Clinkscales nods and pulls at his beard, frowning ever so slightly towards Bundok and wrinkling his nose.

"Little early for company, eh? What can I do for ye this morn?"

Meanwhile back at the Goblin's Groin....

Tolrin and the rest of the remaining party finish their morning food. Yvira comes by a few minutes later and informs Tolrin of the tab and gives her some coins. He looks like he wants to ask her something, but says nothing and the gnome walks away, giving the party a sideways glance.

Standing up and patting his belly, Tolrin smiles.

"I'm goin' to get into my gear and then we're goin' to see the tomb of Hundle. I suggest ye do the same, and don't forget yer furs. It's a long climb on broken trails." Without waiting for a response, Tolrin heads back up to his room. Within ten minutes, he has returned. He is wearing black and gold plate armor with a red tabbard bearing the holy symbol of Moradin below the personal crest of the Mountain House, the head of a mountain lion. On his head sits a bejeweled open faced helm with a horse hair crest. His winter wolf cloak flows around him. Tolrin also bears a hammer, a shield and a stave on his back, among other accessories.

Sitting back down again at his chair with a clank, he light his pipe and glances at the door.

"Ready whenever ye folks are and the others return."

After finishing eating Arum seeks out Yvira to apologize for his rudeness earlier. "Madam, I am sorry I yelled earlier, but you insulted my frined who I hold in high regard. And you where treating us all rather badly."

After saying his peace Arum gets ready and is ready when Tolrin comes out.

Kelith

After finishing his ale Kelith stands from his set and gathers his gear.

"Considering the chill outside i'll be returning with something it take away it's bite." With that he leaves out the door and returns a few minutes later looking the exact same as before.

edit: "Well it seems the worms aren't out yet, so I'll just have to make due with my furs. I'm ready whenever everyone else is."

{{ I'm going to buy 4 scrolls of endure elements, if there isn't a place that sells them i'll edit my post accordingly with a response.}}

Magnum also finishes his meal and goes to his room to find his winter clothes. He appears again with cover in thick furs and says, "Nothing like visiting a tomb to get ye goin in the mornin."

Bunduk

Bunduk shifts from foot to foot while waiting for his knocks to be answered. He found that constant motion helped stave off the cold.

He nodded and grunted out an "Aye." at the dwarf's first question. He quirked an eyebrow at the second question and turned to notice his entourage for the first time. A shrug and a patented non-committal grunt and he was following through the warehouse.

Pulling his cowl down he scratches at a spot behind his ear as they approach the High Iron. Returning the salute, he leaned on his staff and his gravelly voice responds,

"M'Lord, Forgesmith Tolrin means ta' take 'is band o' men ta' tha tomb o' tha Hurler o' Hammers. E' doesn'a plan ta be at it all day and aims ta' keep 'is meetin wit da council fer later tonight. E' thought you should know."

Not really sure what else he should do, Bunduk waited for some kind of response/reaction from Clinkscales.

Clinkscales rubs his eyes tiredly and you suspect this dwarf has not been getting much sleep lately. Thinking for a moment and shifting forward as the line moves, he seems a bit surprised but simply nods.

"Didn't know he intended on goin' there. I'd feel more comfortable send'n some of my boys along with him. He is goin' up into the Spine, afterall. I hear that ain't always the safest trek. What's he up to anyways?" Clinkscales asks, more rhetorically.

"Well... Tolrin can take care o'himself, rest of ye shoulds be able to take care of him. If he's not back before the meet'n though, we'll come looking. Have a good hike." Turning back to the chow line, Clinkscales returns to his waiting and ends the conversation.

"Come on folks." The dwarf you met at the door. He ushers ye back to the door gruffly.

Presumbably, you two return directly to the Goblin's Groin and prepare for the journey, moving out with the rest.

Bundok

With a hearty salute, Bundok turns on his heel and follows their escort out. He doesnt waste any breath on smalltalk with his escorts as they make their way back to the Groin.

Pushing into the inn, he tries to stamp the cold out of his boots as he calls over to Tolrin from nearer the fire,

"Clinkscales says e'd prefer if'n ye took some o' 'is boys widja, but e' knows ye can keep yer skin on yer bones mostly. But if'n we aint back a'fore the meetin'...e'll come lookin' fer us."

Laying his staff on the ground beside him, he squats before the fire and waits for the others to finish their meals and get ready to leave. His mind echoes the thoughts his mouth wouldnt vocalize in front of Tolrin,

"I canna believe we're takin that gnome with us...and the human. They'd better nae do anythin' ta defile our tombs. Tolrin should know better'n ta bring those types ta our sacred places."

Tolrin nods in response.

"I bet that's what he said!" He chuckles. "All the better to go as we are. More folks'll just slow us down."

Looking around, Tolrin smiles and nods.

"So... I think we best be off."

With that, the group gathers and departs the tavern for the mountains....

Hjalmar

It's about time, he thinks. He takes a position quite far back in the order, but keeps a remarkable pace despite his heavy armor.

Bundok

The unkempt dwarf sets out and takes up a point position on the way to the mountains. Occasionally he stops to check the trail, looking for recent traffic or to check a stool pile, making sure that there hasnt been any unwanteds through the area recently.

Kelith

Kelith pulls his furs from his pack as they leave the inn and readies himself for the journey to come. During the trek he positions himself near the middle of the group with his red spiked chain still slung over his shoulder for easy access.

{{I'd like to go ahead and cast a vote for speeding up to when we get to the tomb on account of not many people seemingly wanting to post.

Arum stay to the back of the group, just following along.

Magnum stays around the middle humming loudly and occasionally throwing in words here and there. You can tell he is fairly unsuccessfully trying to make up a song about traveling to a tomb in the morning.

The party exits Hundlestone by its eastern gates. The guards at the gate house let you exit with a minimum of conversation. They are not rude, but they are certainly not friendly and you doubt their enthusiasm for letting the party back into Hundlestone. A light, chill, wind is blowing causing an occasional flurry of snow. While it is morning, it is still relatively dark out here. This far north to the north there are far fewer hours of daylight. Later in the season there is hardly any daylight if it comes at all. The best this day will offer for several more hours is a meager attempt at dawn.

Following a road to the mines along the eastern face of the Spine of the World, the party marches in single file, with the exception of Bunduk the dwarven ranger. He ranges significantly ahead of the group as a scout, looking for any signs of danger. To the rest of the group, the squat dwarf in furs looks like a bipedal grizzly bear from a distance, but all appears to be quiet. The path to the mines is sloppy and filled with ruts from passing wagons, with half frozen dirt crumbling at every step and testing ankles at every step. The increasingly sharp climb only makes matters worse and the more precarious sections at least have some form of crude fencing. Along the way the group notices at least two wagons that plunged off the path and down the side of the mountain. It is unlikely anyone survived the fall. No wagons pass during the early morning hours, although it no doubt sees regular use. After walking for three hours, the party reaches the mining tunnels and stops for a rest to the side of the entrance and starts a fire. As they are preparing the fire, one of the human guards saunters over to the group from the entrance to the mining complex. He wears an expression of a man beyond boredom with a rough looking face covered in chainmail, boiled leather and furs. His question is predictable.

“So uh… what brings ye to the Mines of the Spines but… not to them, as yer resting? Headed somewhere else? If so ye need to state yer business…” The guard says, scratching his scraggly beard.
Rising from the fire, Tolrin walks over to the guard and pulls him aside, speaking quietly to the man and gesturing up the trail and occasionally back at the group. The guard is soon joined by another guard and the conversation takes a heated turn. Finally, Tolrin pulls out his holy symbol, the mountain lion symbol with the glittering green eyes. Tolrin points to it and gestures down the trail winding parallel to mountain slope. Both guards look at it and he speaks to them once again in calm, even tones. The guards nod, shake his hand and walk back to their post and Tolrin trots back over smiling.

“Well, that went well! I reckon we ought to keep moving before them lads change their minds and give me another hassle. All that just for want of a few coin…” Tolrin chuckles and adjusts his cloak once again, tests his footing with his staff and kicks some dirt on to the pathetic little fire.

“Off we go again…. Really must get there and back before we meet with the Stone Council. Don’t worry folks, we be almost here. Mind yer step and Bunduk, keep yer eyes ready. Folks don’t come up much this way, and tis for a reason these days. Some talk of a mad priest of winter in these parts. Spine o’the World though, course there is that and more. Folk have to swallow a fair share of paranoia to live up here.”

The path to the tomb of Hundle, Hurler-of-Hammers looms in front of the party. Is a winding path that barely merits the term “trail.” Along this part of the trail, the mountain seems to have a far more gentle grade and further down one could as much walk on the trail or up the side of the mountain with only some difficulty. The gentle slopes are covered with snow and even the stumps of small, scrawny trees may be seen. It is still dark, although it is approaching afternoon by now.

Ralts is not dead. Neither is his player. He just oculdn't think of anything to post until now.

On the way up the mountain, Ralts just follows along, chattering animatedly with his rocky companion (who, of course, chatters even more in return). He seems to be treating this little excursion simply as a hike into the mountains, and not at all as seriously as he really should. Doesn't he know how honoured he should feel to be allowed inside a dwarven tomb?

Sitting around the fire, Raltise's eyes fall on the guard, and then narrow slightly as the second approaches. His eyes take on a faint, greenish glow, the same colour dancing around his fingertips for a moment, before Tolrin returns to the group. He then grins, and follows once again, now talking about the scenery with Lythe. He does love this mountain air, after all.

OOC: Sorry folks! I didn't notice the second page!

IC: Duervar follows wordlessly, seeming content in his thick cloak. At Tolrin's complaint about the guards, however, the half-breed speaks up. "Most dwarves suffer from avarice. It is a disease that infects the goodly folk as much as the evil."

OOC: Hey everyone. With the large group here, please post in this thread even if you cannot think of what to say or there is nothing to say. That lets me know you're acknowledging the post and are ready for me to move the thread forward. So every time I post something, try to post something yourselves. I don't want to cut anyone off.

As a general rule for combat to keep things flowing, if there is no post within 2 days of the post I may make the move for you to keep things going. Any move I make will be a conservative option, of course.

MShady

Kelith

For now Kelith continues his trek, paying attention to his comrades and the lay of the land around him. Unless a topic of interest is brought up he keeps silent and just treks along in the middle of the group.

After Tolrin mentions the idea of a mad priest you can hear snippets of Magnum trying to include that into his tune but he is content to walk along and fail miserably at song writing.

Bundok

The scout nods at Tolrin's comments and slows the pace a bit to account for the possibly tricky terrain. As usual, he is as often out of sight as he is within sight, though he checks in at regular intervals and/or leaves trail signs directing the party and warning of dangerous footfalls.

[roll0]

When the tomb looms within sight, he halts a good few hundred feet from it and waits for Tolrin and the rest to catch up (assuming we make it that far).

As Bundok is scouting ahead of the party, he stops to leave a trail sign marking an area where the side of the trail looks like it might crumble and cause someone to slip and possibly fall off the ledge. Looking ahead, the trail continues to wrap around the side of this particular mountain in the Spine. Finally Bundok is able to catch a glimpse of a non-descript cave just around the bend.

Between Bundok and the cave is a dip between two mountains that flattens out and is at least passable. As he is looking towards the valley and examining the flow of the land and snow covering for activity, something seems out of sorts to him.

Two hundred feet in front of Bunduk, he notices two unusual lumps in the snow. There is freshly packed snow around them, like something had burrowed into the hard packed snow. There is no way to tell how big whatever dug them is, but it looks like something tried to cleverly camouflage the activity. They look like they have been there for awhile as the wind has blown away any sign of prints that Bundok can see from this distance. Bundok is too far away for his infravision to see any heat to tell if the place is still occupied. (Spot roll of 21). The ridges at least look undisturbed, but it is disturbed.

The rest of the party is several hundred feet behind Bundok, marching along to the sound of an occasional bad song and idle chatter.

Bundok

[ooc] What race are Kelith and Arman? [/ooc]

Thinking to signal his companions, the dwarven ranger starts to reach for his pack with thoughts of digging out his mirror...but then he realises that the lack of light will make that somewhat difficult. Silently cursing the near-endless darkness, he leaves himself a marker and begins heading back towards the others.

When he reaches them he addresses Tolrin,

"Oy Cap'n, der's somethin' 'idin' in da snow off tha road a few 'unnerd feet up. Almost missed it meself. Whate'er it is, it done a good job gettin into da snow. I dinnae think we kin pass it an nay get it's attention, so we might'n wanna ambush tha' ambush. I kin 'ide pretty good, and the tall one sneaks OK, but 'e prolly cannae see much with the sky like it is. Mayhaps one o' da finger wagglers's got a trick up der sleeves. Some kinda...I dinnae, illusion or sumin' to make em thinks we're walking into der trap...and then we jump em when they come outta 'idin'."

He describes the area around the two strange snow lumps and the trail leading up that point as best he can so a plan can be formulated.

Magnum cuts of his singing and listens intently for Tolrins response. He is already anxious and excited that there might be some action on this trip.

Duervar nods towards the dwarven ranger. He then waits for Tolrin to answer before he inputs any ideas.

Tolrin listens to Bundok's news intently and stands quietly, mulling over the news. Taking a wand off belt, he turns it on its end and squats down. The squeal from his armor gives an irrating whine. Staring at the snow for the moment, he closes his eyes for a moment. Opening his eyes, Tolrin begins a simplistic drawing of the trail and landscape in the snow. He marks the general location of what Bondok sited with lumps of frozen dirt and stands up to regard the snow diagram while pulling at his beard in thought.

"This 'ould be easier to figure out if I knew what 'as there." Tolrin looks at the diagram pensively. "The way its sited, prolly is an ambush, agreed? If 't was orcs or goblins, there'd be alot more. I'd nay credit them with the craftiness to hide in open ground like that 'nd do it well. Hobgoblins could, much smarter, but again numbers. Where be the rest of'em, hmm? Also be the fact Bundok seen not any prints 'nd that is deep snow 'ndeed. Means they been there awhile. Or gone awhile. That means, if they still be there, tis been a couple days at least and nay moved. I nay care how many furs ye wear, that's too cold so..." Tolrin taps the two lumps with his wand, one than than the other and back.

"...so that means cold nay bother them. Could be a remoraz, but they move 'round alot. Winter wolves maybe, but the packs are larger. They do bury themselves 'n the snow and ye may not notice there tracks, so it could be more recent. So... could be ice trolls, maybe gnolls, frost giants or a mated pair o'young white dragons." Finish his thought, Tolrin chuckles to himself.

"Tis a good thing regardless. The Stone Council comes up 'ere once a year to pay respects at Hundle's tomb, so by us bein' here we get to spring the ambush before the Council does. Us being composed of dwarves, humans and a gnome means we look just like what whomever up there 'ay be expecting. Which means 'his could look good to the Council if we live, which largely be the point of us being here. Whomever 'r whatever they be, I'd be surprised if they're acting alone here at that place at that time. A good surprise, 'hey could push someone 'ight off the cliff. No real way around'em either. So.... what do ye folks think 'bout what to do?" Tolrin smiles and looks at the group.

Kelith, Human

Un-slinging the spiked chain from his shoulder Kelith starts twirling it in unconscious patterns.

"Well, unless someone needs to get prepared for the battle I'd just as well say we move up and let the archers take some shots at the mounds and see what happens. Anything pops out and tries to attack us my chain should take care of.

With that, Kelith will move to the front of the group taking (or sharing be it) the front position.

When the group decides on an action he will mutter a chant and raise his hand into the air. As he drops it to the ground the hand glows red and you faintly see a transparent blue-flame, shaped as a breastplate, form around his body.

Spells Cast
1st-1 of 7

{{OOC: Just for reference, I have 10ft reach and combat reflexes. I'll also be casting shield of faith on myself once we decide what we want to do and start moving out}}