To Break The World-Breaker

[Admiral Squish]

Your journey to Nova Silex wasn’t terribly eventful, despite the haste the urgent request called for.

For those approaching from the land, Nova Silex is not a particularly impressive sight. A slowly rising hillside covered in terraced farmlands, leading up to a large, circular stone wall crowned with defensive crenellations, almost touching the cliff’s edge. The wall protects a small village of squat wooden structures, inns and shops that cater to travelers and visitors. In the center of the village sits a circular tower, the top of which is open to allow a pillar of smoke to rise lazily into the sky, with an odd-looking growth on the cliff-facing side, within which burns a brilliant beacon that shines out over the water. The base of the tower also houses the gates leading to the stairs down into the city proper, which spiral around the smoke-shaft.

Approaching by sea, you are treated to a glorious view of one of the greatest monuments of the old dwarven empire. The hundred-foot granite cliffside has been meticulously carved into the likeness of Emperor Silex The First. The dwarven face looks out across the waters with rugged, regal, imperious features carved into the living stone, so clear and well-maintained that it looked like it could have been crafted yesterday. Looking at the top of the cliff, you can even see his crown, the wall of the town above, with the tower at the center acting like a lighthouse. Around the base of the cliff, a dock has been built, a half-dozen ships tied up to piers of stone that thrust out into the water. Dwarves, elves and humans mill about, loading and unloading mule-drawn carts that carry goods in and out through the stone king’s open mouth, into the city proper. Following them soon takes you inside.

Nova Silex is, first and foremost, a dwarven city, but it is also a port. The main thoroughfare tunnels are well-lit and broad enough for two carts to pass in opposite directions, and are lined with dwarven shops, traders, and businesses, with signs in common proclaiming what they offer. The air within is warm, and vaguely salty, but it flows through the tunnels at a steady pace, keeping everything well-ventilated. Even the city’s side passages are also comparatively roomy, by dwarven standards, six or seven feet tall, almost as wide, and usually lit, at least dimly. Once you stray much further off the path, however, the ceilings get lower, and the lights all but disappear. You can tell the visitors by their rented lanterns and occasional curses as they bump their heads or stub their toes.

Upon telling the guards the reason for your visit, the stocky, bearded dwarves in simple scale mail call for their superiors, recognizable by the crimson plumes on their helmets and their shining, gold-inlaid breastplates. These elite guards lead you deeper into the city, to the inner citadel, the fortified heart of Nova Silex itself, where the cathedral and throne room reside. You are asked to give your name, your skills, where you are staying, and a drop of blood for the seers to focus upon, and then told to wait, that the lord will summon you, should the seers deem you worthy.

It’s only a day or two before the elite guard arrives at your inn, seeking you. As you make your way back to the inner citadel, the city shudders, a brief, but unmistakable tremor. The guards say nothing, they simply step a little faster as they bring you into the keep. They lead you to a banquet hall off the main hall, with a long, lovely wooden table in the center of the room stocked with food. This is the first time since you entered the city that the ceiling’s soared high enough to be out of reach entirely. The scent of fresh bread and roasted meat fills the hall, making your mouth water. The room is nearly empty upon your arrival, apart from a handful of well-dressed (and two not-so-dressed) slaves, who eagerly linger nearby, close enough to be available with a gesture, but not so close as to be obtrusive. But as you wait, others come to join you, looking equally out of place amid the dwarven finery.

Spoiler

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Introduce yourselves!
You may make a diplomacy check to gather information to represent what knowledge you’ve gleaned about this 'threat' during your stay in the city.
You may also make a knowledge engineering check to realize something.

[Inspector Valin]

The pale elf glances around the room, brown eyes appraising the banquet hall out of habit more than honest suspicion. She should probably be more grateful to her hosts, but the earthquakes have left the traveller on edge. Whatever the logic of the situation might be, a tremor in a dwarfen city turns her mind to dark places. Siege, or rockmuncher worms, or all sorts of other horrors. The sight of a gaggle of slave attendants doesn't exactly help the elven woman's mood. The war might be over, but Nova Silex remains unapologetically a dwarfen port, with all that that implied. Still, if the king was offering work, and in need of bold hearts, she'd have to play things his way, may the Gods forgive her.

The wandering elf moves reluctantly to take her place for the banquet. First, she places a long wooden musket and a fairly sizable black case down, resting both against the side of the table. Then she carefully hangs her hefty overcoat over the back of her chair, revealing the silver chain that lies beneath it, before taking her seat. Not permitting herself to fall back within the chair, the elf leans forward, looking between the other figures at the table. A communal feast was not what she'd expected when summoned by the guards, and it's hard for the huntress to feel comfortable with that. She adjusts the brim of her hat, running fingers through strands of crimson hair while avoiding eye contact. She'd always done that when stressed: even as a young elf-maid.

Still, let no dwarf or any other think poorly of a Von Kareno's manners. At the end of the day, their blood is as ancient as these stones, and they have a duty as representatives of the north. The elf starts to slowly pick at her food, taking a sampling of the bread and seemingly content not to open conversation with her dining companions. That duty would have to fall to them.

[MesiDoomstalker]

Gale's approach to the grand hall was well telegraphed. The heavy thuds of his footsteps echoing off the cavernous walls made his approach not only audible but mildly annoying. As he entered the banquet hall, his shoulder sagged slightly. Of course. It is customary to feed guests food. He observed the whole of the hall before approaching the table. His gaze lingered on the slaves, though he made no outward mention of them. He first attempted to sit, but the longspear slung across his back created an awkward clunk as its haft prevented him from actually sitting. He retrieved the spear from the sling, staring around for a weapons rack but finding none, simply placed it on the table, trying to avoid skewering the feast.

As the others took their place, a cheerful but distinctly artificial voice piped out of his unmoving lips. Greetings! I am Gale, of Orena's Cycle. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?

Spoiler: CHECKS

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Engines!? (1d20+12)[19]
DIPLOMACY (1d20+9)[22]

[Recherché]

Jen hurries through the city hooded and cloaked. The outfit is annoying but better to stay anonymous than to risk hecklers or worse right now. She has an appointment to keep and the dwarven nobility seem unlikely to be forgiving of tardiness.

Arriving at the appointed room Jen tries not to hiss at seeing the slaves. Really did they think they would impress me? Or did the dwarves just not want to leave their home comforts for even a minute? She wonders to herself but doesn't voice the words. From the sounds of it there's work here that needs to be done even if she's not overly found of the Dwarven nobles and the sticks they have surgically implanted up their asses.

Seeing the elven woman sitting with her lifts her hearts at least a little. Maybe not a friend but at least someone familiar. The thralls are a little much for this don't you think? The hooded figure asks in unaccented Elven. Opening up a vial from her bag she surreptitiously pours it into a pitcher of juice then pours out a glass of the now dark red liquid for herself and the other woman.I promise it's actually good for you. Helps clear your mind. After what seems like a few seconds of internal debate the woman takes a sip of the wine still without removing her hood.

Spoiler: OOC

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Using Tears to Wine and then K: Engineering check: (1d20+9)[16]

[Inspector Valin]

The elf raises an eyebrow at the proffered glass, looking more surprised than grateful for the generosity. Old stories from her nyanya about dwarfen banquets and poisoned elves linger in the back her her mind. But there is sincerity in the stranger's voice, and no smell of almonds within the glass. Taking it and sipping gently, a change seems to come over the northerner. She takes a second look at her hooded companion, who makes such efficacious wine, before nodding to her. "My thanks."

The woman pauses, not sure what else to say. After a second though, she seems to have registered the presence of Gale, and his request. She pulls the rim of her hat down, nodding to the Warforged. "Sigrid von Kareno. Hunter." The brief description is all the elf seemingly has to offer. Still, the newly named Sigrid turns her attention to her companion, smiling gently at the alchemist. A little conversation was making this much more relaxing.

Spoiler

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(1d20+13)[15] Perception to try and get a better look at Jen under that hood.

[F Fungus]

In a dark tunnel just beneath Nova Silex's territory, Krake stood still and listened, making sure no one was nearby. He didn't want to give away an entrance to the Deep Realms, after all. Krake quietly waited, trying to detect the telltale shuffling of footsteps or clinking of lanterns. But all seemed still.

A pile of disused tools and discarded bags shifted suddenly, as Krake clambered out from underneath. After dusting his scales off, he took care to cover his entry tunnel, sliding a rusty grate over it, and the garbage over that.

Krake found himself in an old and forgotten tunnel, some mining effort abandoned long ago. It was dark, but comfortably so -- darkness wasn't a problem for him. He came out near a dead end, and began trudging up the tunnel. It had to lead to Nova eventually...well, probably, anyway. Worst case he'd double back and take the regular entrances like a regular person... but popping in from the Deep Realms was how he did it normally.

Fortunately for him, he reached the edge of Nova Silex expansion territory without trouble. There, the guards posted on the border started to attention, and asked what he was doing in forbidden territory, weapons at the ready.

"Heard about a spikey-rumble with the beardy-lot in this dugout, and your crowny went crawling like an earthworm, so I'm putting dirt in his mouth and going to see a man about a horse." Krake said, in the thick accent of Deep-dwellers.

Spoiler: Translation?

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• "spikey-rumble" -- generally translates to "trouble". A reference to cave-ins where the stalactites shake and fall.
• "crawling like an earthworm" -- "scared and asking for help"
• "putting dirt in his mouth" -- "shutting him up"
• "see a man about a horse" -- unclear, but it's definitely not the standard meaning

The guards looked at each other. If they made an effort to hide their confusion, it clearly wasn't enough.

"Oh right, you lot don't talk Deep." Krake mumbled to himself.

"Sorry about that," Krake said in Common. "What I meant was..." Krake paused, sifting through his mediocre knowledge of Common, trying to find the proper wording. "As I understand it, your town leader was having problems, and asked outsiders for help. I am answering that quest."

"...look, just read the paper," Krake groaned, as he pulled out a letter. True enough, it was a call for help from the lord of Nova Silax, asking for help, bearing their signature.

Soon enough, he was escorted to the citadel of Silex, told to offer a drop of blood, background-checked and screened appropriately, and taken to the banquet hall. Upon feeling the tremor, Krake asked the guards "just what the heck they were doin' down there", to no answer. As a Deep-dweller, he had a sense for those sorts of things, and somehow this tremor felt...significant.

Krake stepped into the banquet hall and almost immediately shook himself loose of the guards. He snapped a roasted bird thigh off a platter, and started snarfing down the meat without bothering to find a plate or place to sit.

Then he remembered he was in polite company and ought to be acting more properly. He awkwardly pulled out a chair and sat down, sweeping his gaze over the room for the first time.

"Um...Krake here. I'm from down under. I heard there was an incident happening here. So I assume you're all here for the same reason I am. What have we got so far...(to Sigrid) a gunslinger, (to Jennet, under the hood) a mystery, and (to Gale) ... gnome-made? Zhun? It's been a while since I've been that way. Pleased to make all of your acquaintance!" Krake flashed a fanged grin, and extended a sharp-clawed hand towards no one in particular.

Spoiler: Rolls

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Diplomacy roll: [roll]1d20+8[/roll]

[Recherché]

The appearance of the lizardman is actually somewhat encouraging to Jen. At least she's not the only monster here even if the others probably won't react nearly as badly to him as to her. Its enough for her to feel safe to remove the longbow and quiver from her back so she can sit more comfortably but not quite comfortable enough to remove the hood and gloves. Jennet Saidadottir at your service. I deal in explosives, arrows, herbs and potions. The hooded woman gives a short bow of acknowledgement to the group and begins pouring more wine for the others.

Spoiler: For anyone familiar with Elven culture

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Jennet's first name sounds Albain or maybe Galienne while her last Saidadottir is a very old fashioned Elven surname. Relatively few elves today use a patrynomic mostly the very conservative groups of the North and they seem unlikely to give a child a Human First name.

[treecat_sphinx]

The small, green-skinned goblin sat down at the table and looks around. Raising both arms, bent at the elbow and palms outward, to eye level for his larger friends, he said, Greetings from M'hurak of the Scaly Slasher clan. A pained look crossed his brow. It would be more accurate to say "formerly of the Scaly Slashers." I have been exiled, but perhaps I can find a new family here. I am a practitioner of the natural magical arts. My people have learned the secrets of using nature to tame the large saurians in our grasslands. I had to leave Princess, my own companion, behind, but I treasure the hope that you shall meet her soon.

[IZ42]

Adya walked upright and proud, her weapon tracing an erratic trail of sparks along the ceiling of the tunnel over her head. She was late, but that didn't bother her. Very few things did, in fact. Her sharp eyes noted the slaves at the edge of the room, but the woman did not react as she made her way to the table occupied by the rag-tag group that had already arrived. She sat down with an audible thud next to the lizardman, sampling various things off of the closest platters to her. Her clothing, while simple, was light and elegant, and the armor overlaying her tunic seemed almost insubstantial, glittering in a oily silver sheen.

She grunts, bemused by the odd spice palette of the northern continent, and greets the table between bites, her voracious appetite demanding her attention more than social goodwill. "Nadmaya alghukar,^[1] I am Adya Kandyar, a priestess and a widow. We have been contracted with the same work. It will be my pleasure to learn of you all." Her thick accent slightly obscured some words, but she spoke in a measured and educated tone. She glanced up briefly, widening her smile as her eyes lit up independently of the other lights in the room.

Spoiler: OOC

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^[1]A traditional greeting in Bharat.

[F Fungus]

As Adya sat down next to Krake, he began feeling a little uneasy. Nothing to do with Adya, specifically. Just that the ratio of surface-dwellers to Deep-dwellers was quite high. None of them did anything wrong--or anything at all, really--but his kind's innate distrust of surface-dwellers was deeply ingrained in his mind, and hard to suppress. Sure, Krake's courier business put him in contact with surface-dwellers regularly, but he never had to be around them too long. From the looks of it, he was going to be around at least four of them for an extended period of time.

Then there was Jen, in the hood. Krake couldn't really make out what she was, but she seemed to relax around Krake's presence. Maybe she was a Deep-dweller like him; maybe she understood the distrust for the surface. Maybe she was worried about looking out of place. But with one lizard-person in plain sight, what was another?

Krake leaned over the back of his chair as he watched Jen pour. "Ey, Jen," he called to her in thickly accented Undercommon. "Lots of sunnies runnin' rat-snake, huh? You're a delve fellow just lose the piece, us Deepers gotta stick like glowmoss, na?"

Spoiler: Translation

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"Lots of surface-dwellers running around like rats and snakes. If you're a fellow deep-realms inhabitant, take off the hood. Us deep-realms inhabitants should stick together like moss to a cave wall."

[Recherché]

Jennet puzzles over the Lizardfolk's strange slang for a few seconds before responding haltinglySorry but I've had one too many bad times with the sunnies. I'll keep the piece on my face till I'm sure they aren't going to torch me. Hopefully by mixing in enough of the man's slang the others won't catch on to quite how she feels about them. Can't show fear. Fear means you're a target.

Spoiler: OOC

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Taking 10 on the linguistics check to understand undercommon and then just repeating the terms he used

[Inspector Valin]

Sigrid is mostly content to focus on her plate, looking up as each new arrival entered the hall and greeting them with a nod. The only one to elicit more of a reaction from her is Adya. The red headed elf doesn't notice her until she speaks. Once the wandering priest does so however, Sigrid's eyes widen slightly, and she looks over to the human with a small but honest smile. She raises a glass of Jen's miracle-wine in a toast. "Yogan Mahanama, traveller. You've come far." Sigrid's Bharat is accented with that elven drawl, obviously foreign, but recognizable. She takes a sip from her glass, and returns to her food, but spares Adya an occasional glance of curiosity. Something about the priestess has struck a chord with the elf.

__________________________________________________ ____________


Sigrid looks curiously towards Jen as the stranger switches briefly to Deep. She seems comfortable with the tongue, and if it weren't for the name, Sig might assume she was a member of Krake's tribe. As it stood however, her scales were coupled with an old name of the northlands, and that went beyond peculiar. Was she part elven? The victim of some accident? The gunslinger pauses, looking over her glass at the alchemist with an appraising eye before finally responding. "You don't seem the exile type." It's an observation, rather than a question, and one that Sigrid views as a credit to Jen's character. Scholars do not belong below. The elven huntress hums quietly to her self, musing aloud. "Your name is northern. Are you from Askival? Karlamore? Thirlkirk?"

Spoiler: OOC

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IZ, feel free to suggest an alternate to Yogen Mahanma: I just wanted Sig to chime in with some Bharat to establish she's fluent.

[Recherché]

Jen looks longingly at the food everyone else is piling up but eating would be unwise given how much of her face it would reveal so instead she sticks to small talk and hopes the dwarf representatives will arrive soon.

My mother was from near Askival yes. I haven't been there in years though. Since . . . Jen struggles for words Since she passed I've been wandering. Southern Aroa, Zhun, even a little time in northern Dunba. Really wherever I could get a job.

[MesiDoomstalker]

Gale watched as the others talked amongst themselves in the various languages. The Warforged zeroed in on Jen's brief explanation of her familial history. Madam Saidadottir. I am sorry for your loss. Did you enjoy your travles since your mother's passing?

[Admiral Squish]

Spoiler: Engineering

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It seems unlikely that such a massive, impressive structure as this city would still be around if the area was prone to such tremors.

Spoiler: Diplomacy

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The dwarves don’t like to talk about local problems with travelers much, but you have heard that there have been multiple small tremors recently, and that cave creatures have been intruding into the mines under the city.

After some somewhat awkward small talk, an elite guard pushes into the room, raises a round shield high and strikes it with his mace, the metal disk ringing like a gong. “ALL RISE!” He calls, and the slaves push themselves up, standing at attention.

Through the open door file two rows of dwarves, nobles and bureaucrats clad in shirts of fine chain that gleam with patterns of gold and silver, each wearing no less than a half-dozen rings. They say nothing, filing into the room and settling into the seats around one end of the long table. The room is silent for a moment, and then he arrives. If you look closely, you can almost see the resemblance between the heavily-armored dwarf that strides into the room and the face carved into the cliff outside. His features are rugged, but he looks around the room with an imperious glance, but one can see the dark shadows under his eyes. His plate gleams with polish and inlaid rivers of gold, and his crown is fused to his helmet. His beard is tied into an elaborate seris of braids, braided into one-another until they tie together at his waist with a massive golden charm bearing the symbol of the city.

The armored dwarf strides to the end of the table, and takes a seat in the throne positioned there. A dwarven woman silently moves in to stand at his side, hands folded demurely in front of her. The only way one could tell she was a slave was that she wore no armor nor jewelry at all. The armored dwarf silently looks down the table at the adventurers summoned before him and begins to speak, his voice a deep, rumbling baritone, methodically intoning his words in the most formal form of the dwarven tongue. The slave speaks a moment later, repeating his words in common. “Lord Felix Augustus greets you, brave adventurers.” The woman speaks, bowing deeply.

The lord speaks again, and the slave translates. “The Lord bids you welcome to his city, and asks if you’ve had your fill of the meal, as there is business to discuss.”

[MesiDoomstalker]

The dim light that emanates from Gales' mouth brightened a few lumens. Those who understood Warforged knew this was considered a smile or other pleasant, happy facial expression. Lord Felix Augustus, the food looks delicious. I'm sure it is. I have had my fill, thank you. He raised an empty goblet, toasting nothing. One gets the distinct feeling while he means well, social customs are not his forte. He seems to mix them up in new and creative ways.

[F Fungus]

Krake was about to say something to Jen, but was interrupted by the entrance of the Lord. From under the table, he pointed at Jen, and mumbled something into his half-eaten drumstick. As the Lord proceeded down the hall and spoke in Dwarven, Krake finished his thought, and started half-listening when the slave spoke.

Somehow, Jen was able to hear Krake whisper from across the tables (and his food).
"[in Common] It seems your Undercommon isn't practiced. I'll stick to this. Don't worry about how I'm talking. Just whisper back and hide your mouth. So are the...topside...really like that around here? Not keen on outsiders?"

He pauses for just a moment, and before Jen could answer:

"Well, you seem fine to me. And we're both outsiders here. If any of them try to torch you, they'll have to go through me. I hope you do that for me too. Topsiders...a backstabby group."

Another pause, then: "If you actually have done something terrible, my promise is revoked. No offense. Just covering everything."

Spoiler: Spellcasting

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Krake cast [Message] to whisper something to Jen.

Krake turned to the Lord. He spoke clearly and deliberately, in as best of a respectful air as he could put on. "[in Common] I'm not done eating. But I agree we should talk business first." And then, in a far less respectful tone, he mused to himself: "[in Common] though...I would like a to-go box."

[Inspector Valin]

Sigrid inclines her head respectfully as the second group enter, but her gaze follows the procession of dwarfen worthies as they enter the hall. Magnisen might have been a peaceful town for as long as she could remember, and Sigrid prides herself on a cosmopolitan outlook but the elven Jarlinde can't help but feel a certain prickling of her ears. After so much bloodshed between elves and dwarfs, the voices of a thousand lost family members told her to expect poison in the wine, or a throwing axe between the shoulderblades.

Still, those feelings were of a different time, as father liked to say. These days, it's the duty of good elves to be polite to the southerners, in the interests of unity. As such, Sigrid bows her head to the sleep-deprived Lord Augustus, trying her best to not look at Krake and speaking out with a few old dwarfen sentences of her own. Once she was done, she glances to her newfound comrades, quietly translating for them in Common. "The food of Nova Silex is matched only by its hospitality. I am honoured to stand here, and will hear whatever offer you care to make."

Taking a seat, a piece of Sig's heart twists a little. Uncle Gerro would be spitting blood at her treating high blooded nobles so politely. But it's the right thing to do, on their ground at least. We can't refight the old wars every day, nuncle.

[IZ42]

Adya nods at Sigrid, her mouth half full of bread. She swallows, turning to stare at the two dwarves that had just arrived. After listening to them speak, not understanding a word coming out of the king, she turns her head slightly, leaning back to address Krake in a whisper, "Is it customary for kings to not know the language Common? I would have thought for an empire as self-professedly great as the dwarves of Aroa, the king would not need a slave to translate for him."

Her aside over, she turns back to smile at the king, "Nadmaya, to you as well, Lord... Agustuus? She stumbles over the name momentarily, but continues speaking, "I am sure a discussion of the terms of our quest is most beneficial."

[F Fungus]

Krake whispers back to Adya. "Since he's a lord, he probably does know Common. For trade, or politics. Or just because lords are usually educated. If I had to guess, he's speaking something else out of practice, or tradition."

[treecat_sphinx]

Having introduced himself, M'hurahk turned his complete attention to the food. After all, the first lesson he'd learned growing up was that one gorged when the opportunity arose, for one never knew when the next opportunity would come. He listened absentmindedly to his new companions' small talk, but he had little to contribute, so he remained silent. Once the dwarven king arrived, M'hurahk stopped eating long enough to reply to his question. Standing up, and raising his arms in the gesture he used to greet his tablemates earlier, M'hurahk said: Lord Augustus, I thank you for your hospitality. I stand ready to discuss business at your leisure.

[Recherché]

Kill him. Murder him know. Feast on his entrails. It would break the Dwarves. Free the slaves. There would be glorious chaos. The demon takes the opportunity to whisper in the back of Jen's mind and with a practiced thouht Jen forces her back down. Too bad you're just a shadow in my head. If only you had a body you might be able to actually do something. Taunting her demon might not be the best strategy but sometimes its the only thing that makes the nightmares bearable.

By the time she's finished both the dwarves and Krake have finished speaking. Your hospitality is impeccable, but I would appreciate knowing more about the situation and the business at hand. Something is wrong with the earth around the city, is it not? Jen's archaic dwarven is a little rusty but servicable and precise enough she thinks. And no need to worry everyone else in the room about the state of the ground. Maybe not the best idea to challenge the aristocracy about it either but better to get this over with quickly if he has a big enough stick up his ass to get that offended at the truth.

Only a second later Jen begins whispering back to Krake in a combination of confusion and amusementNo my undercommon is not practiced at all. But I'm happy to stick with another outsider. Allies can be hard to find. Not all topsiders are that bad; there are even some downright kind ones. I've just had more bad experiences than good ones.

Jen goes quiet for a second. This is a minefield, already they're suspicious of her and already she has told so many half truths and careful avoidances. Will they understand when the big picture comes out? If she still had tears to spread for her situation she might have cried now, but they've all dried up long ago.

I will swear that I committed no atrocity intentionally. But there is a demon involved. She tried to possess me. It didn't quite work but people died. And the demon could try again. Up to you if you want to be near when that happens.

---

Krake whispers back to Adya. "Since he's a lord, he probably does know Common. For trade, or politics. Or just because lords are usually educated. If I had to guess, he's speaking something else out of practice, or tradition."

Overhearing his comment through the spell Jen interjects whispering to Krake. Its because they feel old Dwarven is less ambiguous and more legally precise than other languages. Makes it the preferred tongue when you want to say something very serious and formal.

[Admiral Squish]

The nearest dwarven noble stiffens as he catches Adya’s comment. ”Insolence!” He snaps in common, pushing himself to his feet. ”You enjoy our lord’s hospitality, then mock him openly? What manner of guest are you?!” He demands, then sneers in her direction. “Oh, what am I saying, of course a human, a woman, at that-” He begin, but a powerful slam of steel on stone silences him, the lord’s gauntleted fist resting on the arm of his throne, a fire burning in his tired eyes..

Lord Felix Augustus half-growls at the noble in dwarven. <“You will sit and be silent at my table, Minister.”> He commands.

<”My lord, I meant no disrespect, but surely this proves these outsiders have no respect for our ways, for our people; how can they be trusted to ensure the safety of our city!?”> The minister replies in kind, gesturing at the gathered strangers.

The lord furrows his brow. <“Are you questioning my decision, minister? Shall we settle this matter in the dwarven way?”> Lord Felix Augustus shoots back, his tone low and level, dangerous. The minister swallows his words and returns to his seat, fuming.

The lord begins to speak again, the slave woman translating once more. “My Lord apologizes for the minister’s behavior. You are all honored guests, who have generously agreed to risk your lives for the good of my city, and you are to be respected as such.”

Before anyone else can speak up, the lord begins to speak once more, unwilling to let the conversation veer off-topic any longer. ”My lord apologized for the vagueness in his message calling you all here, but he did not wish to allow the true nature of this threat to spread throughout the city and cause panic. In recent months, there have been a number of small tremors, tremors unforeseen by the priests of the Earth-Shaker. That alone would be cause for concern. Additionally, however, large numbers of the creatures of the deep realms creatures have been encroaching upon the city’s mining tunnels. Many are wild beasts, or attackers, but others are refugees, lizardfolk, duregar, deepmen, drow, all begging for sanctuary. My Lord is reluctant to accept such a large number of refugees, especially while the mines are under attack by other groups of the same races, fearing some may be criminals or agents of our enemies. However… the reports of those allowed into the city are worryingly consistent.”

“They report ‘Sharp Things’, some form of spiky, wicked creatures, unknown to the deep realms until now, that have been pouring into the tunnels in ever-increasing numbers. At first, they preyed upon those wandering alone. Now, they have begun destroying smaller villages, and are threatening to overrun some of the larger communities. The threat is escalating. The Lord’s scholars believe the recent tremors to either be caused by these creatures themselves or to have unleashed them from some isolated cavern. The Lord’s own agents are occupied holding back the forces attacking the mines, so he has called for aid. Your aid.”

The lord is silent for a moment, his face a mask of concern, one shared by all the nobles at the table. He begins again, and the slave translates. “Your task is to travel into the deep realms and deal with this threat. You are to identify these ‘Sharp Things’, retrieve one, or part of one, and, if possible, find their point of origin and either destroy it, or seal it.”

[F Fungus]

"Yeah, the sharp things...I can attest to them." Krake looked down at the table and closed his eyes, trying to remember as little as necessary of their carnage.

Then he stared straight at Lord Augustus.

"[in Common] I'll make this brief. My people have been affected by the beasts. They came from deep tunnels, forcing us upwards. Many have died fleeing from them.

As you know, us lizardfolk aren't always fond of surface-dwellers. But we are only defensive. We just want to keep our home to ourselves. And..."

Krake paused to swallow his pride, and consider his words carefully--something he wasn't used to doing.

"...and I need your help.

My kind seek no conflict. We only want sanctuary. We just want a place to stay and hide from the sharp things, that have already killed so many. We can't keep running. We need a place to settle, to lick our wounds.

I'm not here for the silver. I only want to protect our home, and our people. I know you want the same for yours, and I will offer any aid I can.

These are my terms: I will protect your people by taking on your mission. In exchange, you will shelter my people.

...additionally, a suggestion. If it's possible, I'd like you to stop exiling dwarves to the Deep Realms. Us Lizardfolk aren't fond of that practice. It's the biggest reason we dislike surface-dwellers. If you stop that practice, relations between our people will no doubt improve. This is to our mutual benefit, I believe.

If that's not possible at this time...that's fine. Just be aware of it."

[Recherché]

Jen clenched her teeth quietly as the others talk. No response yet from Krake so she can't really count him as an ally. Nor Sigrid or really any of the others. But from the sounds of it there are two communities that need help here and while she might not know much about the under she can at least see down there unlike some of the others.

Do we have any descriptions of the creatures and their behavior? Jen asks quietly sounding far more introspective now.

[F Fungus]

"[in Common] I can answer this one." Krake turned to Jennet.

"Nasty things. They're around human-sized. Covered in spikes, which they can hurl with some force. They crawl around on walls and ceilings, and are faster and sneakier than they might look.

Oh, and they're tough beasts," Krake said with some disdain. "Hard to slow down. They don't react to much."

[IZ42]

Adya watches the infuriated noble amusedly, and grins at him when he sits back down after being reprimanded. Unlike the friendly grin towards her new partners, this one was predatory in nature. She turned back to the topic at hand and chimed in, "Every creature slows down when you kill them, Krake. I am sure that that will be easy enough to accomplish. I look forward to the battle already."

She pauses for a moment, thinking intently. She turns to the king again, addressing him directly. "Will we be provided reinforcements as necessary? I do not doubt the martial or arcane prowess of any of my partners in this... venture, but it is infeasible to assume that we are fully capable of eliminating what is described as hordes, Lord Agustuus."

[Recherché]

"[in Common] I can answer this one." Krake turned to Jennet.

"Nasty things. They're around human-sized. Covered in spikes, which they can hurl with some force. They crawl around on walls and ceilings, and are faster and sneakier than they might look.

Oh, and they're tough beasts," Krake said with some disdain. "Hard to slow down. They don't react to much."

Have you tried exploding them yet? Do they react to that? Jen grins mischievously and Krake can see a hint of a fanged smile beneath the cloak

She pauses for a moment, thinking intently. She turns to the king again, addressing him directly. "Will we be provided reinforcements as necessary? I do not doubt the martial or arcane prowess of any of my partners in this... venture, but it is infeasible to assume that we are fully capable of eliminating what is described as hordes, Lord Agustuus."

From what I'm hearing I don't think we're the extermination team Adya. Our job is first and foremost to investigate and figure out what's going on and how to stop it. Maybe how to stop it will involve reinforcements but that's a plan B at best. With any luck there will be a more elegant solution. Jen muses looking to Augustus for confirmation.

[Inspector Valin]

Sigrid watches the exchange between the minister and Lord Felix with perhaps the faintest hint of amusement. Once the matter is done, she opines quietly in Elven. <"The one thing to unite elves, dwarfs and humans. All races have their rude fools."> Hopefully no one fluent in Elven makes that out: they don't need this to devolve into an argument.

Still, bar that brief interruption, all signs are good thus far. An infestation of such scale is a little daunting, and the stakes run high if the swarm continues its progress towards Nova Silex. But that is a matter for the field. Her comrades seem ready for the fight and her respect for Lord Felix has now risen substantially upon seeing his ability to cut through old minded fearmonguring. His lordship seems a reasonable dwarf and invested in his city's wellbeing if those dark rims around his eyes are any indicator. Sigrid places a hand to the stock of her musket, looking towards his lordship with a smile before speaking in regular Dwarfen, <"No further questions needed, Augustus. My gun is yours until the city is safe. In the name of Kareno, I so swear.">

[MesiDoomstalker]

Any and all information would be greatly appreciated, Lord Felix Augustus. Gale's eyes flashed twice, before he continued. I believe this is rude to ask, but it is prudent I believe. Will there be an advance payment? I ask primarily to acquire materials and magical accouterments to handle the many unknowns the Deep Realms hold. Scrolls to handle various maladies. I have only so much magical reserves and preparing for every eventuality with them will leave me little room for... anything else. He surveys the others gathered. I do not travel with others often; especially not those who are more prone to biological hazards.