Kittix laughs nervously, bent over a goblin corpse- the goblin in question seems to be wearing a ring. The lizardfolk bites off the finger with a snap, then tosses it aside after shaking the ring off. He gulps down the jewelry for later recovery. “Yes yes. Still, maybe dwarf go in first, they might be knowing their way around.”
“You have a point.” Said Arrow agreeing with Kittix
“A wise man once said that some things are better left unearthed. But then again, wise men have no fun.”
When Karikhan returns from the desert, he joins the dwarves and others at the entrance to the ruins. While the others chat, Karikhan thoughtfully examines the barricade.
To Dur’dan - “It seems to be dwarven. Why would they barricade their own door?”
Brenley does his best with what tools he has (read: none) to treat John’s wound. While he’s wiping the blood from his face he shakes his head, features deepened in the torchlight. “It doesn’t matter what centuries-old warnings we find, we have to investigate. If we committed a force across the sands to find nothing but flooded chambers it’d be our heads.”
Hob sees Kittix pick the ring off the goblin’s finger. “Oh, that looks interesting. Mind if I take a look … at … … it.” His voice trails off as Kittix swallows the ring.
After sulking for a few seconds, Hob turns his attention towards the barricade. “Hmmm, looks dangerous. But, the upside to danger is that where there’s danger, there’s sure to be treasure.” Hob finishes talking and immediately takes a swing at the chains with his sword.
John picks up the best-looking goblin dagger and tucks it in his belt. Always a good idea to have a backup weapon on one’s person, especially a light and concealable one.
John shakes his head. “You’re more likely to dent your sword than break those chains, friend!” He picks up the biggest rock he can find, holds the chains over the slab, and hits them.
sorry for the delayed post. work is a pain in the ass.
Dur’dan studies the rune for a bit longer and then turns to the group.
To John, “Aye, it is the rune Aarotosh, which is a rune of warning. That was a really good guess or you have studied some Dwarven in your time.”
To the rest of the group: “I am not sure why this Delve has been sealed from its kin, but I intend to find out and didnt come this way for nothin, but hin, you take another swipe at this door and we will have some unpleasant words. It was my kin that locked this place off, and it will be my honor to be the one to break the chains and cross the threshold. If anyone has something to say about this say it now, if you aint prepared to find out what lies beyond these doors, turn back now. We have work to do.”
Dur’dan will then begin work on the lock. If he knows how to lock it then so be it. If he doesnt, he will break the chains with his axe, open the door, and continue inside with his nephew at his side.
Hob’s weapon clatters against the chains, sending a brief echo through the cave. Stepping up for his try, John smashes the chains with a rock, bending a link and nearly breaking through, the sound reverberating through the chamber a few times. Finally Oshro nudges the hin and humanfolk aside and Dur’dan steps up, shield slung over his back as he hefts his axe overhead with both arms and brings the weapon powering through the chain and severing it in two, the crashing echo booming down the tunnel.
The party forms a semicircle around the two dwarves as they brace themselves against the heavy stone doors. With a heave they begin shouldering the doors open, slowly. Soon the entire group is with them forcing their way into the ruin and finally, with enough effort, the doors are opened and the party is hit with the stagnant air of bygone centuries.
The humans of the group see nothing but stone steps descending into darkness. Brenley takes his torch and hurls it down the stair and into the ruin, where it hits the ground with a clatter about thirty yards out and down, illuminating a patch of dust-soaked limestone-tiled floor and what looks to be the upper body of an ancient corpse.
Those with low-light vision can make out more: The stairs are flanked with huge marble pillars, each depicting carved scenes of battle and conquest. The ceiling is very high here, unable to be seen even in the torchlight, and running up the walls and into the darkness are endless alcoves, reminiscent of a honeycomb, each with life-sized statues of dwarven warriors. The chamber floor is about twenty yards wide and extends fifty or so yards away from the stair before melting into shadow.
Scattered across the floor are four corpses (including the one that can be seen by humans), each little more than partially-disintegrated skeletons in rust-layered armor buried in dust. Brittle, centuries-old weapons lay at their sides to wait out eternity with their owners. A shattered iron chandelier is on the ground near the stair.
Those with darkvision can see the chamber in its true glory: The ceiling of this entrance hall is about a hundred feet high and dotted with chandeliers identical to the one collapsed near the steps. At the end of the hall is a single, cobweb-encased doorway and above it a massive, cross-armed statue of some ancient dwarven king, its crown plated in what is unmistakably mithril.
Dur’dan steps forward slowly looking all around in awe of what he is seeing. He advances down the stairs to the door.
“Cmon lads, let’s see what this place has in store for us. And hin, don’t touch a thing, including that crown, or ill be taking your hands as trophies.” He says as he decends down the stairs.
Also Dur’dan will go to each corpse and speak to each in his own tongue. And will study the skeletal remains to see if he can learn the reasons in which they died.
It’s impossible to tell. These dwarves died untold centuries ago and they are little more than dusty skeletons.
Jon gives Hob a shrug and follows the dwarf down the steps.
Karikhan will stay close to someone with a torch as they descend. He is obviously awed and more than a little unnerved by his surroundings.
To Dur’dan - “Your ancestors built glorious monuments. I hope your people are worthy of their legacy.”
John cautiously walks in, torch arm held high and hand on his sword hilt.
“Only time can tell if we can restore this place to its former glory. However first we must decide if this place is worth the trouble. I like what I see so far, its a beautiful place. But face it, we aren’t here for the way it looks, we are here to fill our coffers.”
When he reaches the door, Dur’dan will examine it for any more warnings and if all is well open it up.
“Oh, of course not. Wouldn’t dream of it.” Hob replies cheerfully to Durdan, and then follows the band further into the creepy ruins.
“The sooner we start the sooner we get paid and can get out off this…tomb.” Offered Arrow
Dur’dan tries the door to find it stuck. With some effort he manages to shoulder it open, stepping into a massive, cavernous chamber. On the opposite side of the door is a ledge about ten feet out and ten yards wide and its center a narrow, unrailed bridge of stone, wide enough for only two to cross shoulder-to-shoulder, that extends about fifty yards to an identical ledge and door on the other side. The chamber itself is at least a hundred yards wide and the dwarf can make out arrow slits along the far walls and murder holes along the ceiling above. Assaulting this ancient place would have a terrible cost for any army.
The party gathers on the ledge, looking down into the chasm, which stretches into blackness beyond even the ability of the dwarves to see.
Hob leans over for a moment before settling back. He prepares to make a wisecrack when there is a roar of pain from behind the party:
Kittix is prone on his back in the previous room, hissing loudly in his native tongue, dragging himself towards the party and leaving a bloody trail in his wake like some massive, scaled slug. A crumbling dwarven skeleton is pulling itself along the ground after him, rusted short sword in hand and covered in thick blood. The hall is filled with the sound of creaking bones as the other corpses begin to stir.
“KITZ!” yelled Arrow as he tries his best to rush his attacker and defend his brother-in-arms.