Eyes of the Lich Queen IC II

[Postmodernist]

"That depends on you. We're looking for another prisoner, a gnome named Thraxis. The sooner we find him, the sooner we can get out of here. You know where he's being held?" asks the bard as he looks around the cell for a means of releasing the boy. "Who has the key to this door? Or is there another means of releasing you?"

[Sallera]

Jukkeam shrugs. "Break the lock, I'd assume. These are old cells; I don't think they're used for real prisoners any more."

"Thraxis... oh, the temperamental one with all the tattoos?" He glances around uncomfortably. "You're going to have some trouble getting him back. He was with a group of miners and guards that got attacked by some Khyber spawn two weeks ago. Only one of the guards escaped; dealing with it's been half of what everyone's talking about. Of course, you'll be the other half come tomorrow."

"I suppose he's not necessarily dead. I can show you the way to the mines, if it's important, but we'd have to pass through a guard post. It might be better to just get ourselves out of here safely."

[Postmodernist]

"We'll need you to show us the way, unfortunately. Consider it the price of freedom," Xaxhan tells the lad as he gestures toward Grimmgang with a slight flourish. "Have I introduced you to our locksmith? He's well-versed in the ancient dwarven style." Xaxhan smiles broadly, his serpentiform grin unnerving.

[TheFallenOne]

"How did we not know about this", Grimmgang hissed between gritted teeth. "I even gave Scurvy a Sending Stone to contact Thraxis. He guaranteed we'd find the damn gnome too if we find this scrawny lad. Figures, never trust a pirate. So instead of a clean and quick extraction we now need to delve some mines with strange monsters, just great." He tried his hand on the lock, visibly fuming.

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Take 20. On failure Mountain Hammer the lock

[MoleMage]

"No use fretting over it now. You're sure the only way past is a guard post, Jukkeam? Never heard of any secret passages or servents' hallways or anything? How many guards?"

Daiya waits somewhat impatiently while Grimmgang attempts to force the lock repeatedly, and searches the area for any sort of key or lever that would open the cell.

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(1d20+17)[35] Listen used as Search, per blinded saint.

[Sallera]

The boy shakes his head. "It's right at the entrance to the mines. If there are any other ways in, I don't know about them. As you can see..." he gestures at his surroundings as the lock clicks. "I don't get out much."

Jukkeam leads the way down the hall; the slaves are not kept far from the mine, and soon the worked stone gives way to rough-cut tunnels. Ahead, a few torches are propped up by some old scaffolding, and the light indicates a large cavern just around the corner. Jukkeam drops to the back of the party, jerking a thumb down the hall. "That's the place," he whispers. "Usually four guards on duty. It'll be interesting to watch you fight, I hope."

[MoleMage]

Daiya whispers back, "How far to the next guard post? Are they going to hear us if we're very loud?"

[Sallera]

"I'm not sure about inside - this is the only part of Dreadhold I know. But further into the mines there won't be anyone else. They've been cautious while they try to figure out how to deal with those Khyber spawn, so it's just been one group picking through the mined out sections for scraps."

[TekHed]

"How many guards would you say?" inquired Shard.

[Sallera]

Jukkeam rolls his eyes. "Four, like I said, unless they've changed it in the last day."

[Postmodernist]

"Sounds simple enough. We sneak in, elimina..." Xaxhan steals a quick glance at Grimmgang before continuing, "discourage the guards from resisting, and move onward to rescue our gnomish chum." Xaxhan furrows his ophidian brow for a moment, the scales wrinkling disconcertingly. "You've mentioned 'Khyber spawn' twice now. What exactly have these dwarves found? Have they delved too deeply?"

[Sallera]

"I don't know, exactly." Jukkeam shrugs. "Tentacles, teeth, the usual complement of rumours. Who knows what we'll find down there?"

[Postmodernist]

"Sounds like perhaps Grimmgang will finally meet a nice lass to settle down with. Don't get too excited now, friend. We've still got a mission to complete."

[TheFallenOne]

"Tentacles again?" A groan made Grimmgang's displeasure quite clear. "Well, nevermind, maybe those spawn will satisfy those killing urges you lot have. Do you know how often the shifts change? We can only win this with precision and speed, and with Thraxis somewhere else that is already out the window. Once the whole of Dreadhold is raised against us we are done."

[Sallera]

"It's hard to judge time down here, but I think the mines are half-day shifts. As long as we don't have to chase the gnome too deep, we can still get out of here in time." Jukkeam scratches his neck. "For that matter, how are we getting out? Couldn't hurt to know ahead of time."

[TheFallenOne]

"Got a ship they think belongs to the Cloudreavers. Just so you know, the dock is manned by a dozen guards and a big ogre, plus a ballista aimed straight at the ship's hull. You won't get out of here without us busting that force, so don't get any ideas. Unless you fancy a long, long swim you're with us, no matter what awaits down there."

[Sallera]

The boy gives a casual smirk, placing his hands behind his head. "How do you think I ended up down here in the first place? If I were the type to stay safe at home, I'd still be there. I'm not about to charge in there with you, but I'm not going to miss the show, either."

[TheFallenOne]

"Fair enough, but keep the commentary to a minimum. Last thing I need is an overly critical spectator to complete this day of unpleasantries."

[MoleMage]

"Not to mention not needing the trouble of pulling a scrawny half-fed kid out of a fight. You sure you can keep your nose clear once we start with the fighting? After all, you did get caught once."

[TekHed]

"Four guards should be no trouble so long as we manage to avoid being separated as in the smithy."

[Sallera]

"Who are they going to worry about, the empty-handed prisoner or the four heavily armed mercenaries? I'll be fine."

[TheFallenOne]

"Wish I could say the same for us", Grimmgang muttered, spitting on the ground. "Here we are, raiding Dreadhold of all places, then the plan falls apart and we have to go into mines even the guards avoid. And we don't even get what we want out of it, no, just a chance, if we're lucky, to see some puzzle pieces we should already have if this Thraxis wasn't a thieving git. First the journal doesn't deliver, then the gnome isn't where he is supposed to be. Whichever one of you angered the gods, I am not amused."

[TekHed]

Shard seemed uncharacteristically withdrawn. The mention of Khyber bringing back memories half-formed as if in a dream. Another time, another age, another place, another dream. Light reflecting off of uncountable facets. A voice, a song, a message...there was something it had come here to do, some purpose...but what? The soft pulsing of Shard's light shifting like a heartbeat, reminding it of a long-lost home.

"Life is but a dream, and we are but half-awake." it said suddenly in non-sequitor to Grimmgang's grim mood.

[MoleMage]

Daiya seems to have sensed Shard's shift in mood despite still having her blindfold on."Shard? Are you feeling alright? I can't remember the last time you were this deep in quiet contemplation."

[TheFallenOne]

"Nothing wrong with the quiet part", Grimmgang mumbled in a barely audible voice.

[TekHed]

It took the Shard a few moments to realize it had been addressed.

"Just...thinking of home."

[TheFallenOne]

"We're all far from home here. Being underground and having other dwarves around me notwithstanding. Still debating whether it beats being on a ship."

[MoleMage]

"It doesn't. Too dank, the air smells stale. I don't know how you dwarves do it." Daiya's tone is one of prodding humor, even if her words are a little harsh.

[TheFallenOne]

"Just a matter of proper construction. When you do it right the air may not have the dusky scent of earth after a rainfall, but it is fresh enough, and you don't have to suffer from wind and weather. People build houses for a reason. We dwarves just prefer to build in a way that allows to walk the city without worrying about rain."

[Postmodernist]

"Whichever one of you angered the gods, I am not amused."

Xaxhan cast his thoughts back to Argonessen. Perhaps it was the conversation, or maybe the scrawny lad standing before his comrades reminded the Seren of himself, but he was put in a contemplative mood. He had already been accused of angering the gods before, back when he still believed in them.

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The dragon's corpse lay motionless upon the beach, the sun causing its copper scales to sparkle majestically even as the surf reddened around it. A boisterous group of Lhaazar pirates alternately cheered and nursed their wounds nearby. The Seren remained out of sight and observed for a moment, but soon walked away.

His decision was made. Kharizhak would go unchallenged. Let these fools have their island. Their gods were as mortal as they were, anyway.

"Just...thinking of home."

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"What have you done?" his mother shrieked when she heard of the challenge. "Kharizhak?!? The chieftain's son?" Xaxhan decided not to burden his mother with the trivial details: growing respect with the elder dragonspeakers, an off-handedly snide comment, the affections of a girl. It mattered not; his mother wept. His rival was a fierce warrior, and even if Xaxhan proved the victor, his family might still seek revenge. The young songspinner's standing in the tribe was in jeopardy, as was his family's. "You must have angered the gods, Xaxhan. The dragons have cursed you." It was then that he had chosen to head toward the totem beach, in search of signs.

"We're all far from home here."

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Shaesthyr clung to Xaxhan as they lay on the shore, her hand idly stroking his silvery hair. It was then that Kharizhak revealed himself. "What have we here?" he spat, his sneering gaze falling possessively over the girl's form. Words escaped Xaxhan's mouth before prudence could stop them. "Something a pimply spoiled wretch like yourself will never know, Kharizhak. Go back to raping the saughagin to which you're accustomed." Some in Kharizhak's entourage sniggered, and the chieftain's son fumed. "I demand satisfaction, dog. The tribe will hear of your insults to an heir." Xaxhan could not remember why he smiled.

"Just a matter of proper construction. When you do it right the air may not have the dusky scent of earth after a rainfall, but it is fresh enough, and you don't have to suffer from wind and weather. People build houses for a reason. We dwarves just prefer to build in a way that allows to walk the city without worrying about rain."

Xaxhan snapped back to the present. "I thought you dwarves preferred suffering? What would you discuss if you didn't have anything to complain about?" His familiar grin returned. "I, for one, will be happy when we're left this hole and are on the open sea, sailing back for Port Verge." He glanced at the skinny lad, "Unless you'd rather go elsewhere, Jukkeam. In my experience, home is overrated."