Scions of Stonehall

[Human Paragon 3]

The walls of Stonehall are thick, mortared with the blood of many dwarves and painted with glory -- and tales. This tale of Stonehall begins the day the Jaan Nightshield fetched Prince Grelm out of his bath.

"Lord Nigthshield to see you, your Highness..." Tong, the servant boy, a gruff lad of 40, sputters the introduction, right before the old Dwarf, in full battle regalia, pushed his way into Grelm's bath chamber. Tong's face reddens. He looks positively mortified on behalf of his Prince, but what could he do? Jaan Nightshield was high general of all the dwarven armies, and King Grash's oldest living friend and confidant. He was not a man that one said "no" to.

Grelm's faithful bodygaurds flanked the prince, even as he took his bath, a custom established by Forscythe St. Clair ("What greater need of a bodyguard then when His Highness is at his most vulnerable?"). The knight and the famed dwarven pike maiden Asvora Stormbringer stand by to fend off enemies and friends alike, though neither would willingly stand in the way of one such as Jaan Nightshield. As usual, Forscythe sat next to the prince, much at ease, making some blustering joke, while Asvora stood erect, sheepishly averting her eyes from his royal personage.

Nightshield took in the scene without comment, before bowing slightly to the prince, the hint of a grin on his craggy, bearded face. "Lad. Your father sent me to fetch you. I see there are two dwarves in Stonehall that you trust. But you'll be needing five for this."

***

Some time later, the prince, now fully dressed, waits with for of those five dwarves. His two bodyguards are there, as is Reorn Strongheart, called Voice of the Land, and the prince's personal informant and spymaster Hmon Farseer. Only Rochester Blackbeard is missing. Where he is is anybody's guess.

The five stand at the top of the massive staircase called the Core, a vertical tunnel that winds into the very center of Stonehall. Much used, the Core is the quickest way, and in some cases the only way, to reach many important areas of the fortress. In accordance with Jaan's instructions, Grelm and his companions now wait here, at the top of the steps.

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Welcome to Scions of Stonehall: The In-Character Thread.

A few things you should know:

1) There is no out of character thread.

2) Any OOC comments, and all dice rolls, should be made in spoilered text.

3) You are expected to post at least once a day, every day. As a great man once said: If you cannot post for an extended period, be kind enough to say so and explain why. If 3 days pass unexplained without a post, the DM, me, and a player will determine the best course of action for your character to undertake. If 7 to 10 days pass unexplained without a post, you have 'deadbeated' and your character will be subjected to a) 'rocks fall'; a terrible and humiliating death, b) becoming an NPC, C) being replaced/taken over by another PC/player or d) retconned as appropriate.

4) You may now post in character!

Here are links to all PC sheets for reference:

Prince Grelm, Binder 4, by: RaggedAngel
Reorn Strongheart, Druid 4, by: Todash
Rochester Blackbeard, Enchanter 3/Master Specialist 1, by: Toliudar
Hmon Farseer, Rogue 2/Shadowcaster 2, by Wyntonian
Forscythe St. Clair, Knight 4, by Lokio
Asvora Stormbringer, Fighter 4, by Fallout

DM Reference Only:

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Round X Initiative Order
(1d20+1)[12] Grelm's Initiative Roll
(1d20+2)[21] Rochester's Initiative Roll
(1d20+1)[21] Forscythe's Initiative Roll
(1d20+3)[17] Reorn's Initiative Roll
(1d20+4)[20] Hmon's Initiative Roll
(1d20+1)[12] Asvora's Initiative Roll

[Fallout]

Asvora stands at attention, keeping always on the alert. Her eyes dart back in forth trying to take in everything that is going on. She wants to ask Forscythe what is going on, but realizes she was with him when he was informed.

She takes a moment to dig out her whetstone and put some work on all of her weapons as she waits, when and only if, she realizes the Prince is not in any sort of danger.

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OOC: I call Pink. Doubt that will be an issue.
Spot: [roll]1d20-1[/roll]

[Wyntonian]

Hmon Farseer gestures respectfully to his King, and steps back, drawing himself inward to ponder for a moment. "Do I know what this is about? Can't be the undermines, we don't have anything to report on those. Can't be that drow patrol we saw a couple weeks back, they cleared out pretty quickly and we haven't seen them since. Does Rochester have something for us? He's not here yet. That's probably it. Can't say what he's got, though... I need a drink. Hm. Later."

OOC:

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Taking Dark Slate Grey as my color. Never seen it used in a game yet, and it's a subtle color for a subtle guy.

[Todash]

Standing silent, and looking grim (as usual), Reorn stands behind the Prince, his gnarled staff held steady.

Did Lord Nightshield say anything as to the task we are to undertake my Prince? I must confess, I have heard nothing that would warrant the direct attention of you and your most able companions.

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I call Green, as appropriate for Druidness. Very very happy to see the daily post rule. I am a very regular forum refresher, thanks to a job in the middle of the slow season, and so far my other adventures have been much to slow for my taste.

[Toliudar]

There is a shimmer and distortion in the air about a quarter-turn down on the stairs of the Core. Standing there is Rochester, leaning up against the wall, looking nervous and shifty, as usual.

He is dressed, as usual, in black with silver trim, and carries a dark, gnarled staff. A hand rises reflexively to stroke his short, trim beard, and continues up to ruffle the neck feathers of a great raven that digs into his shoulder.

"Ah. Greetings, My Lord. Ah. Friends. I see that my work in teleportation is still, ah. A work in progress. Indeed. Well met."

He glances a bit nervously at Asvora's brandished warpike, but says no more.

[Lokio]

The Kingshield, Forscythe St. Clair, stands next to the Prince, his immense armour looking small on his massively muscled form. His beautifully crafted waraxe hangs loosely at his side, and his arms are crossed over his chest with his helm in hand as he listens to the inquiries of the other dwarves. He seems more relaxed than his subordinate Asvora.

He leans in and whispers to the Prince, "You trust these people, Highness? Asvora looks a little... twitchy." He chuckles quietly and winks, looking over at the younger bodyguard.

As the mage teleports in, his hand snaps to his waraxe. Once the mage greets them peacefully, he relaxes again.

[RaggedAngel]

Prince Grelm smiles and casually stands from his position on the second to the top step. He adjusts his fine clothes, made of woven monstrous spidersilk and with silver and gold adornments. He is bereft of any jewelry, however; the prince had learned long ago that necklaces and rings, however fashionable, had a tendency to get lost in the midst of action.

He nods to each of his companions, and the spirit in his soul stirs a bit, restless. You rule them, yes? Speak to them. Preach. Praise yourself and extol your own virtues, for you are the greatest of them all. Grelm sighed a bit, internally, and sent the spirit a strong, stern response. Quiet, Naberius. You have no word on my actions today, and you best remember that.

His brief internal quarrel finished, he does indeed address his companions, though far too little pomp to appease the vestige within him. "Well now, my friends and protectors; shall we find out what sort of wonderful and not-at-all tedious task that is to be placed on our solid and exceptional shoulder?" His grin becomes a smile, and he adjusts the morningstar at his hip. "I'm quite eager to get on with the day."

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Soul Binding check on Naberius, DC 15: (1d20+11)[24]
Grelm
Male Chaotic Good Dwarf Binder, Level 4, Init +1, HP 39/39, DR 1/-, Speed 20ft.
AC 17, Touch 12, Flat-footed 16, Fort +9, Ref +3, Will +4, Base Attack Bonus +3
+1 Morningstar +6 (1d8+4, x2)
+1 Chain Shirt (+5 Armor, +1 Dex, +1 Misc)
Abilities Str 14, Dex 12, Con 18, Int 14, Wis 8, Cha 16
Condition Bound to Naebrius
Disguise Self (at will)
Fast Ability Healing (1/round)
Naberius's Skills (Iajutsu Focus, Autohypnosis, Knowledge (Royalty & Nobility, Local))
Command (1/5 rounds, DC 15)
Silver Tongue (Take 10 on Diplomacy and Bluff, can rush.)

[Fallout]

At Forscythe's comment, Asvora realizes she is being... twitchy. She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. "My apologies, I suppose I am spooled... a bit tight."

Asvora tries to relax but finds the task nearly impossible. She contents herself with sharpening her Warpike. At least it gives her hands something to do.

[Human Paragon 3]

The sound of clicking heels fills the corridor as Jaan Nightshield approaches, with a new squire in tow. The squire is a young dwarf dressed in Nighshield colors --black and gold -- fine mithril chain mail and a black hooded cloak. Probably some cousin or grand nephew of the General's.

Nightshield himself wears full dwarven plate mail, his trusty war axe and the ancient black shield of his ancestors at his side. A black cape with gold epaulets hangs regally from his shoulders. Very formal.

He smiles at the group of six dwarves.

"Down, down we go, down. Down into the deep, dark hold," he quotes from the 10th verse of the Ballad of Stonehall, his voice briefly becoming a deep, rhythmic chant. "Come. Your father is waiting."

And with that, he steps through the group, squire in tow, and leads the way down the stairs. His armor creeks, or is it just his ancient bones?

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Anyone want to do or say anything before you follow Jaan down into the Core?

[Fallout]

Asvora says nothing as she puts her whetstone away. Armor polished, Warpike and Waraxe sharpened, there is nothing left to do. She follows a step behind and to the left of Prince Grelm, knowing Forscythe will be on the right, both at the ready.

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Nope, nothing to say.

[Wyntonian]

Hmon moves his hands away from his daggers-and not the visible ones on his belt- and follows a couple steps behind the Prince. He looks pointedly at Rochester, as if to ask if he knows what's going on.

[Todash]

Nodding to the General, Reorn brings up the rear of the group. As he begins to descend the stairs, he hears the sound of large wings flapping, coming from the cavern above them. Reaching out with his mind, Reorn smiles as he links with his companion. Hello Antroz, my friend. No we cannot go flying right now. Please stay here in the Core until I call for you. Banking, the large Dire Bat flys off to hang from the nearest outcropping, eyes watching the group intently.

Reorn then follows the Prince down the steep stairs.

[Lokio]

Forscythe smiles to his partner as she tries to relax. "Lass, the elves would say that the bowstring wound too tight is liable to snap in battle. We're home. You're experienced, you know when threats are about."

As Nightshield approaches, Forscythe looks him up and down. Then the man begins to sing, and Forscythe's brain begins going through the ballad, singing it heartily as they had on many occasions over ales as younger men. "Bloody hell. Now it's stuck in my head." The knight begins to march along to the right and slightly behind the Prince -- after all, it wouldn't be seemly for a man of his station to march at the Prince's right hand. The Kingshield knew the protocols.

[Todash]

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[QUOTE=Lokio;12195777] "Bloody hell. Now it's stuck in my head."QUOTE]

Haha, I was going to post almost exactly this as we went down the steps. Awesome

[Human Paragon 3]

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Giving Grelm and Rochester some time to chime in, before I move it along. It's not essential that everyone puts in their 2 coppers though, so I'll move it along some time tonight regardless.

[Toliudar]

Rochester glances back at Hmon, offering the faintest shrug. As Jaan Nightshield passes him on the stairs, Rochester attempts to simultaneously bow and press himself back against the wall of the stairwell, resulting in a kind of body-length spasm.

"After you, my lord."

The old Nightshield's sounds of movement bring Rochester's thick brows together in consternation, but he says no more.

[Human Paragon 3]

The staircase goes down, deep into the hold, just as the old ballad said. This is a familiar trip for the six, as the Core provides access to the armory, dungeons, distillery and store rooms, among many other vital areas.

Rarely, however, have they traveled this deep. Torches are posted every so often, but only as many as needed. The torchlight dances along the walls, painting the stones in an orange patina, then, as the dwarves travel deeper, the illumination becomes more shadowy, the colors fade, and the pale grays of darkvision replace the shadows, and everything is clear.

Soon, shadows creep back in, then bright torchlight, then shadows again, then clear darkness, again and again, each time the group approaches and passes another light. The weight of the mountain over their heads is another obvious indication of their increasing depth... 500 feet, 600 feet, 1000...

The older and less spry among the Prince's circle could almost dread the long climb back.

"Here we are."

Grelm has been here once before, as a child of 13. This corridor leads to the famed treasure trove of Stonehall.

King Grash waits at the corridor.

Jaan. Thank you, friend. It's good to see you, as always.

Grelm, my son...

The King looks at his son with one rheumy eye and one clear one, then looks at the six dwarves at his side. The old king nods in approval.

Good. Good.

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Same as before, the floor is yours.

[Todash]

Though nearing his middle years, Rourke does not seem to have trouble with the long walk into the bowels of the mountain. Indeed, the deeper the party travels, the more energetic he seems. He draws his strength from the Earth, and the Earth is all around them.

Recognizing where they are going, the serious look on his face grows deeper. He knows they would not come to the deepest vaults for anything but the most dire of reasons.

Upon seeing the aged King, Rourke simply bows deeply, sweeping his dark cloak behind him. Upon hearing his words he rises, but holds his tongue. The time for talk has not yet come, now is the time for listening. Rourke listens well, both to the words of the King, and the Earth that surrounds them.

[Toliudar]

As the group descends, Rochester seems to get more nervous, working his jaw to deal with the increasing pressure. He had a pretty good sense of where they were going, and had a sick feeling about why they were going there. But it was definitely not his place to say.

In the corridor with Grash, Rochester straightened reflexively, showing the same quiet respect as always for the only king he'd ever had.

Fondly, Rochester glanced over at Grelm, and hoped that the boy was ready. He was strong, clever and resourceful. And he seemed to draw out the loyalty and trust of those around him. Rochester was convinced that he'd be a good king. Eventually. As in, after years of further training and tutelage.

[Wyntonian]

Hmon made a fractionally more respectful gesture towards the king, and slipped back into his customary spot, somehow in everyone's peripheral vision at once. He had an unusual sense of unease. "It's easy to always know what's going on, as a spymaster. And unsettling as hell when you don't."

[Lokio]

Forscythe walked the familiar stone hall in his usual position. He was eager to meet whatever challenge his liege had for him.

Upon seeing the king, he raised his weapon into a present arms, a customary royal salute. The weapon was snapped vertically in front of his face then snapped down back and to the side, held there until the King released it. "Long live the King!"

[RaggedAngel]

Prince Grelm pauses for only the smallest of moments before giving his father a respectful salute before relaxing a bit. "It's good to see you, father. I thank you for the opportunity to aid my city and my people. My companions are likewise both ready and able to help you in any manner that you require." Grelm sighs internally at the pomp, but he had long ago learned his lesson as to the respect due to his father. It was better for everyone if he gave the old dwarf the fine words and gestures that were expected of nobility.

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Grelm takes 10 on Diplomacy for a 24.

[Human Paragon 3]

Haha, the king chuckles. I'm sure you are. Swords and spells. They don't solve everything, though. Loyalty and duty. Far more important. Right Jaan?

"Oh, I think Grelm knows a thing or two about all four." Nightshield winks at the prince.

The two old dwarves begin down the hallway, the General apprising Grash on current troop levels, giant movements in the north and the latest war machines the Gnomes have been contracted to build. The corridor is long and narrow, and grows more narrow the farther the dwarves travel.

Now, two guards bearing war axes and tower shields block the way. With the two standing there, it is impossible to pass. They salute, and readily stand aside for their king.

"Wait here, boy," Jaan says to his squire, who dutifully does so, without a word.

Through this passage, the group must walk single file. The King walks first, then Nightshield, Grelm, then his band. A slight tingling crawls across everybody's skin, a sensation that Rochester knows denotes an anti-magic field.

On the other side of the field, the hallway grows brighter, spell-lit.

Finally, the corridor ends at a massive double door. The King produces a large, bronze key which he inserts into a lock, and a smaller, hidden door opens. Everyone passes through.

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More to come.

EDIT: Here it is!

The gold sparkles brilliantly in the light of continual flames. In addition to stacks of custom-made silk coin bags, there are chests, barrels and crates full of precious and semi precious metals, stones and more. Gold and silver ingots, priceless jewels, works of unparalleled craftsmanship and artistry, and sacred relics.

For most of those present, this is the first time seeing the wealth of Stonehall in all its splendor. The value of Grash Stoneheart's hoard is incalculable, fueled by rich mines, conquests, gifts, taxes and tributes.

He smiles to see it.

The stacks of coinage create sort of a natural corridor in what would normally be a large, vacuous chamber of hewed stone, carved into the living rock of the Mighty Mountains.

The King strides forward, and the rest have no choice but to follow. The floor rises upward and the group ascends a small staircase. From the top of the rise, you see it before you, the Shadowless Stone.

The Stone is as important to the dwarves of Krakehelm as it is powerful and mysterious to outsiders. It is said that only the King and his top advisers know its true power.

A thick, marble column supports the Stone, a roughly cubic artifact with ancient and possibly arcane--none of the Prince's circle know for sure--runes scribed on all six faces. A halo of pure white light surrounds it, the source: the Stone itself. This pure white glow is what gives the Stone its name; it could no more cast a shadow than could the sun, moon or stars.

Rumors of its nature circulate the kingdom and beyond. It is a piece of the lodestone that bears the Earth's weight. It is the eye of the King of Mechanus. It was crafted by Moradin in the Dawn Age and given to the first King of Dwarves. It is a vessel, to which the spirits of 10,000 archons have been bound by an ancient dwarven wizard. Few will ever see it. Fewer still learn of its nature.

I trust you all know what this is. The king grins at the assembled dwarves. Come.

He leads you to the foot of the column. It is as high as the King's chest. The stone itself is the size of a light shield and as thick as an old elm.

Go ahead, Grash says. Touch it.

He smiles at Jaan, a devilish twinkle in his old eye.

What? No one? Who here will touch the Shadowless Stone?

[Lokio]

Forscythe follows along, incredulous at the wealth and might of his King. Then he sees the Shadowless Stone and stops in his tracks in wonder. But when his King says to touch it, and he steps forward. "Aye, my King."

The knight removes his gauntlet and touches the Eye, uncertain as to what will happen when he does.

[Human Paragon 3]

The knight is shocked when his hand passes directly through the stone as if it were empty air.

The old king laughs at Forcythe's obvious surprise, and Jaan joins in as well.

The two graybeards smile in self-satisfaction at the general confusion among the group.

[Lokio]

Forscythe looks confused and looks over at his King. "My liege? Where is the orb?"

[Human Paragon 3]

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Cube! It's a roughly-square six-sided stone.

Perhaps one of you could answer that question? What do you see? And more importantly, why?

[Todash]

While the gold and wealth of the room held no great sway over him, the sight of the legendary Stone, made Reorn's eyes widen in wonder. After seeing the display by Forscythe, Reorn stepped forward.

Our eyes show us the Shadowless Stone of Legend, my lord. But, I believe it is merely an illusion, possibly a trap to catch anyone who would dare to attempt to steal or misuse it.

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OoC:Would my mentor, the previous Voice of the Earth (His name was Therim Ardar), have told me anything about the stone?

[Toliudar]

Rochester exhales loudly and unhappily. He pulls out a long slender stick from his pack, the end of which dances with the same flames that have lit their way so far.

"I believe that His Majesty. He is indeed suggesting. The real Shadowless Stone has been. Um. Removed from this place."

He hesitates, then plunges the flame of the stick into the stone, to see if the light can still be seen shining through. If it meets with no resistance, he will poke around inside the stone with the stick.

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Knowledge Arcana and History, trying to gauge whether this matches the written descriptions of the Shadowless Stone - and whether any of the accounts mention the stone being insubstantial. (1d20+12)[30] (1d20+10)[19].
Will save vs an illusion, if that's what it is: (1d20+5)[11].
Spellcraft, in case there are any magic symbols on the cube that can be deciphered without Read Magic - or in case it might be clear that they're just gibberish and fakery. (1d20+15)[20].

[Human Paragon 3]

The flame disappears inside the stone, its light hidden. The object matches perfectly everything Rochester has heard, seen and read about the Shadowless Stone. The runes inscribed upon its face seem genuine, in that Rochester cannot decipher them, and they are enigmatically fabled to be "indecipherable by anyone who does not already know what they say."

The only sign that this stone is anything but genuine is its insubstantial nature. There is no record, verbal or written, of the Stone exhibiting this property. Reorn's predecessor claims to have seen the Stone with his own eyes, and described it to his disciple much in the way it appears, except, of course, for one obvious detail.

"Astute! It is an illusion, yes, but it's more than that." Jaan looks to his King.

Young Rochester is almost there. The stone wasn't moved from here, exactly....

The King has called Rochester Blackbeard "young Rochester" ever since the vizier's son was a child -- even after the appellation no longer fit, and the vizier's son became vizier in his own right. Of course, to the King, most everyone must seem young.