Rumblings of Evil Beneath Rank Dwarves

Scribe Notes

Summary

Adventure: Rumblings of Evil Beneath Rank Dwarves
GM: Jon McSpadden
Season: Winter 801 WK
Night: Someday
Level: Level

Party

• Shizane
• Dramus
• Ithilmor
• Mebh
• Eric.
• Kryan

Time on adventure

1 Frost 801 WK to 23 Frost 801 WK

Employer

Drun Kin, from the Zirak Holding

Mission

Investigate miner disappearance

Location

Zirak, Southern Ranke

Enemy

Furcalor

Kraken

Renove

Sahugin

Key Words

wet, cold, demons, lost children, sharks, mithral

Original Scribe Notes

Media:Snwi0102.zip

Scribe Notes

Drun Kin Raving about Evil in a Dwarven Mine

(Day 1)

A skilled and politically balanced group of concerned citizens of the world gathered together in crisis-station 17 to deal with the latest outbreak of trouble within our sphere (1) of influence. The citizens concerned were:

Shizane

a male Human Fire mage and duellist (rapier & mg), of average height with red hair & blue eyes, radius of fire support 400’. Cooks well. No stated political position.

Dramus

a male Fey “utility Necromancer” of slender but extended proportions, blond floor-length hair, with many left-wing political connections, and a willingness to seize the high moral ground.

Ithilmor

a female Elven “mixed Celestial” of exquisite appearance, with long black hair, a strong centre-right moral position and starry ideals. With her beauty and stubbornness, she was the obvious pick for our leader.

Mebh

a female Human Air mage of doughty build, with a range of very pointed equipment. She has strong right-wing opinions, though no active party membership.

Eric (2)

a male Dwarven Namer, somewhat diminutive, but of immense experience and capacity for violence. and with lapsed liberal left-wing links and a tendency to think from odd (shark, eagle, weasel) viewpoints.

Myself, Kryan

a were-mer plant Thaumaturge of apparently normal if variable human appearance, with a penchant for destroying left-wing extremists, and the typical skills & talents of my race.

Our informant was Drun Kin, an excitable dwarf holding no official position, from the Zirak Holding in central Ranke. He claimed that on Day minus Fourteen, a mining crew of 12 had disappeared from the active face of their deepest mine shaft.

This had not happened before in living memory. An investigating crew went down the next day, and found the bottom of the mine shaft filled with salty water. Worse still, over the next few days, many of the crew’s children and a few other individuals had disappeared. Drun left his clan on Day minus Ten to walk to our Base of Operations to seek help.

We quickly gathered the minimum comforts of home, and flew on the wings of night (3) to Zirak. The entrance to the stronghold is at approximately 4,000’, and sits in a mountain range nearly 50 miles due north of the mouth of the Ranke River and 25 miles north of Baxt.

Once inside, we descended a long spiral stair past many passages to a large amphitheatre, where professional politicians discussed whether they needed outside assistance. In a masterstroke of timing, Drun introduced us, and swayed many of the undecided, and those doubtful help could be found. We withdrew to allow them to complete their deliberations, and acclimatised ourselves to the setting. Several hours later, the Senate Majority Whip, Morthrin, came calling, and announced that the clan would accept our offer of help on a provisional basis, with the implicit understanding that approval for the usual friendly-fire ratio, collateral damage budget and freedom of activity clauses were consigned to the same sub-committee as our alleged requests for cost reimbursement.

We found out that the remainder of the missing crew’s children had been put under active guard, and had been taken on approximately Day minus Eight, using a Colleged sleep Spell. The guards remembered nothing. A few other children and one of the crew’s spouses had also gone missing.

There were no other known races nearby, although a couple of rock spirits, water spirits and magical zones of rocks were known.

Our impression of the dwarves over dinner was one of a quiet, insular, anti-magical clan, willingly cut off from other dwarves and the events of the outside world. Our good humour faded somewhat over dinner, through the atmosphere of dourness, gloom and fatalism.

We gladly retired to a tower that Dramus owned a couple of thousand feet into the complex. The coveys of magical researchers, the friendly eyeball, the mithral-eating butler Granite and infinite corridors of changing rooms brought a welcome feeling of normality and homeliness to the party.

1 More of an anguished oblate spheroid really, like an apple with a dozen bites taken out of it.
2 Not initially present – found under a bar in Dramus’ tower on 2 nd Frost.
3 Actually, the coat-tails of the afternoon.

Unsafe Modes of Transportation

The next morning (Day Two), we descended to the bar for breakfast, clearing Eric out to allow adequate foot-room. Breakfast was a hearty affair, and we then splashed mana around liberally, it being taxed far lower within Dramus’ demesne than in most lands. Once Eric was vertical and focussed, we filled him in on events, and he gladly offered to help, extended periods of domesticity suiting him no most than most of us. As we set out, we came across a slight snag. The local rock had surrounded the tower overnight, presumably as a picket against unfair mining conditions. After a variety of attempts to reason with it via mana, Granite infiltrated the lines and started to mingle with the locals. We returned to the bar to await further developments. Before lunch-time, Granite had picked up a quiet local girl, and they convinced the crowd to disperse quietly. With a little refreshment of our protections whilst taxes remained low, we set off. Almost straight away, we ran into problems. Eric noted that the first lift we came to had been sabotaged, with the pins of the emergency brakes missing. Some people took a second lift to the main levels to warn the dwarves, while the rest of us waited. Whilst waiting, Shizane noticed some movement in our supposedly deserted area, and pointed it out to us. A friendly rat investigated and informed us that there was a strong localised smell of sulphur. The others returned, and we descended to the problematic working face in the second lift. Partway down, Eric opened the trapdoor to the roof, and seized a loitering Fire Imp. Upon being put to the question, he admitted he was to burn through the rope at an opportune moment. He also claimed that he reported to a Earth Devil, who reported to an E&E Devil, who through labyrinthine politics eventually reported to Furcalor, the Duke of the Waters. We rid ourselves of the imp, and informed the rest of the party once they arrived. This area of mining was remarkably disappointing. The lift ran smoothly to a tunnel 4,000' down, which extended near- horizontally for 200 feet before dead-ending. However, the lift shaft continued down another thirty feet, and this hole was full of salt water to within a few feet of the passageway. While we were wondering which investigative approach to take, a huge Earth Elemental leapt up from under my feet and proceeded to lay waste to the party. It was armoured and quickened, and easily knocked our woman-folk into the water while striking fiercely at the men. We held it back with swords and fire, while Eric used his mastery of anti-magic to reverse its summoning magic and banish it back to the dark beyond. Shizane then spotted and spectacularly destroyed a Wizard Eye as Dramus’s narcolepsy gave us a nasty fright before Eric shook him out of it; we then saw off the second Elemental in a similar fashion. Some time during the fight, I had been thrown into the water and dropped an item of great sentimental value – a gift from the previous greatest living swordsman on Alusia. Returning to the lift shaft to look for it, I discovered it had been stolen. Roused by this infamy and the possibility of confronting our ambushers, the party decided to investigate the water. Eric changed into a shark, and after insisting they remove the bottom half of their attire, I shared my shape-change with the rest of the party. Ithilmor required a little more persuading than most, being an elven maiden. Once they had mastered their tails, the party rapidly moved down the tunnel. The tunnel ran south-south-east, and we feared it may lead directly to the sea without break or fork. After each hour we needed to stop while I shared my form with the rest of the party, and then restored myself, the shape-change being the greatest and most difficult of the arts of the Mind. We noticed that the water was colder than the sea, and those resting in their natural form and breathing water through a spell were swiftly overcome by cold once their heat shields were finally eroded. Near five hours later, with our supplies of restoratives and our body temperatures running low, we reached the wide blue yonder, and the others gladly took to the land again. Ithilmor was seized with a restlessness of spirit, but managed to contain herself. We searched high (Eric the eagle) and low (myself), as well as inland for signs of someone who may have inspired the restlessness, but eventually decided to head back. Due to the tiredness of all but Shizane, the party travelled as a wildfire back to the peaks around Zirak, while Eric and I used the thermals, as I could not walk, let alone run. On the way back to Zirak, and again at the entrance to the stronghold, Ithilmor’s spirit again tried to flee, but her stubbornness and Eric’s cajoling once again helped her pull herself together. We noted that the attacks were approximately an hour apart, and would require knowledge of her ITN, but Ithilmor pointed out that most agents of the militant left wing knew such personal details of her, as they study their worst enemies closely. Once on land above 4,000’, my legs unfused, and I could walk again. 3. Taking Stock of our Situation Upon arriving at the entrance to Zirak, we had to wait until Morthrin could be convinced of our credentials, for which he used a very large Tulwar. Having seen us head to the bottom of their mine 7 hours before, for some reason they didn't instantly accept us flying in from the coast. Dwarves are so linear. We briefly filled the Whip in on events to date, while he let us know of a new plague – mithral-eating sentient rocks, for which the dwarves seemed to hold us responsible. While heading down to Dramus' tower, we had an interesting debate on individual vs. collective responsibility, wherein those of dubious politics insisted that it wasn't their fault and the dwarves should not have so much mithral lying around. Upon arrival, Granite was summonsed and told to gather up all the protesting picketers and offer them lodging and a new life within the tower. The remaining sentient rock also became animated about this idea over the next few hours, and by midnight we had accommodated the entire problem. Dramus then showed us the link between this tower and his tower just outside our secret Base. Day Three was slightly overcast. We stayed at Base, discussing possible lines of inquiry and preparing a potion to find the lost sword (not because it was valuable, but as the best link to the dwarven kinder). Research indicated that the direct enemy, while an ancient evil, was not demonic. <#include "Astrology Readings and answers"> Shortly after dusk, Ithilmor left Base alone, to source some Holy Water. She fainted momentarily, and her spirit found itself detained by a devil hidden in a cave. He seemed to be a bounty-hunter fulfilling a contract on her, but she used her mandatory one call to contact a high-up official in Elbereth's administration, who whisked her out of there just in time to avoid two unpleasant thugs with designs on her body. She flew to the rest of the party, who were at a local watering establishment, dealing with weighty issues. We then girded our loins and set out to seek the miscreants. It was easy enough to track them for a period, but the trail was eventually lost. We retired to the top of a hill, where Ithilmor was again enticed to leave her body. This time she demurred, and the party set up a series of subtle and unobvious defences for her body. After another couple of hours, the defences were complete, and she allowed herself to succumb to the insistent call. However, the bounty hunter obviously didn't have a pick-up crew in position, for he merely let her know that she had been rude to pull rank on him the last time, and that he would return and claim her at a later date before dismissing her. Our trap thus went un-sprung. An incident of inclement weather was coped with by moving to a point where the clouds could disperse, and then Ithilmor completed her ritual. Nothing new was learnt, so we returned to Base and slept. The next morning (Day Four), we confirmed the location of the sword (and hopefully kidnappees), which was apparently the middle of Confederation Bay. We also interviewed a local aquatic expert, "Splosh", and gained some advice for breathing underwater; and the local National Front spokesman, "Rowan" for a few stiff whiskeys. Ithilmor also made a few traditional drinks for any acquaintances we might run into. We rested and discussed tactics for the rest of the day, then prepared ourselves that night. 4. Looting the Enemy's Lobster Pot Day Five: our plan was to use the water-breathing techniques from Splosh, head out on our bearing of the sword’s location; then when in the area, use the location potion to narrow down our search. Finally, we would transform into merform, disguise ourselves as dolphins, and plummet into Confederation Bay from a height of several thousand feet. Descending rapidly to the bottom, we would send out scouts and keep our senses peeled. Upon locating the base, we would descend upon it, and with our fire-support team neutralised by the water, we would use cold-steel and Ithilmor's ability to inspire awe to storm the fortifications, lay waste to the devils guarding it, and engage the Duke of the Waters in his own element, deflecting elementals, dodging maelstroms, and ducking dehydrations. As usual, the plan went smoothly until contact with the enemy. At 100 fathoms, we spotted two large patches of sub-tidal kelp, which usually grows between 5 and 10 fathoms below ebb-tide. Between them was a smooth dome with 5 trapezoid entrances, each a fraction under 5 feet across. Movement was spotted in the kelp. The sword’s location was confirmed by visual observation to be at the centre of this unnatural lobster pot. Sharks began to circle overhead. As Eric neutralised the second Bubble of Force ward and Dramus sent his hand in to grab the sword, the kelp exploded into a confusion of hostile bodies. We were pinned between two forces, each consisting of a dozen ten foot humanoids (?Sahugin?) with nets and tridents, followed by a score of their lesser kindred, barely measuring seven foot. Unfortunately, one of them was not blinded by our autonomic defences, and a desperate fight ensured, with Shizane having to cut his way out of a net while being dragged off by a three foot hand of Dramus's as Eric hacked at his legs. Within thirty seconds, however, we had regained discipline, and turned on the enemy instead, to equally devastating effect. Meanwhile, Ithilmor’s feminine intuition told her there was an unaccounted-for assailant, as something was blasting holes in our bone fortifications while sending Ithilmor tumbling helplessly out of control in a tornado of water. After the second of these had failed to muss Ithilmor’s hair, the attacker unwisely turned on me. The height I gained by the tornado allowed me to re-blind most of the opposition. At this point, with more dead that able to see, and with our cavalier attitude to their only effective attack, the remaining ambushers beat a hasty retreat. As they left, Ithilmor spotted a 5-foot squid leaving with them, who we thought was the most likely source of the instant waterspouts. The larger creatures and the squid quickly outpaced us, and so we returned to the surface with two prisoners, technically victorious, but having failed to see any dwarves or our true enemies.