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 DM Note: Skype has proved less of a success than we hoped, so Méabh is stepping out to  PBEM until Aimo gets back. So just Allan and Derek this week. |
As the companions eyed the plates and discussed shifting them across the valley, there was a sudden cry from Méabh. "Aaaagh! No, no, oh gods noooooo!" Spinning to look at her, the others were horrified at the sight of a black spectral hand which erupted from nowhere and wrapped itself around her. Struggling, she was gripped and then appeared to be pulled out of existence and into nowhere. A moment later, she was gone.
After a stunned moment of silence, Gorfang, Lynien and Eloy were faced with the uncertainty of what to do. "We should search for her," declared Gorfang firmly, "and use Lynien's Teleport scrolls to go after her." Lynien grimaced a bit at this. "How?" asked Eloy bluntly. "We can Teleport to her, but where do we go?" Gorfang scowled. "Maybe those lizard things got her," he suggested. Eloy shrugged. "We don't know where they came from either." he pointed out.
There was nothing for it but to return to the job in hand.
Half an hour later, they had all the assorted loot from the lizard warriors heaped on a couple of the g'narf'dula's plates. To their satisfaction, the slightly curved segments proved almost perfect sledges, complete with the struts to drag them along with. Sliding them down to the teleportation circle, they dismounted them from the struts and experimented with lifting them. Gorfang could comfortably lift eight stacked together, and Eloy six; Lynien declined to try, pointing out that her skills were better directed to detaching them from the sphere. It was arranged that Gorfang would take the first batch through and get their workforce organized, while the others dismantled the rest and fed them through every fifteen minutes as the teleport circle recycled.
Gorfang gripped his load and straightened his mighty back, lifting the heap of plates, and stepped forwards onto the circle. With a soundless snap of discontinuity he was back in Gadûhvrás, in the small room just off Thykon's bedchamber.
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The orc plus his heap of plates was a pretty close fit into the circle room, and Gorfang had to lean the pile against the wall in order to reach the door. Once out, he went and found Shufghoth, and brought him and a dozen lizardmen back. The scarred ex-slave blinked at the pile of snow-covered plates. "Oh, are these more of what we were digging for?" he asked. Gorfang nodded. "Can we stop, then?" asked Shufghoth. "No," said Gorfang. "What do you know about metalworking?" Shufghoth brightened a bit. "I was a trained weaponsmith in my village," he replied proudly. Gorfang knew the limits of this; it meant he probably was able to melt, mould, forge and sharpen crude bladed weapons and hammer thin plates to attach to shields and leather armour, no more. "We need to set up a furnace in the old forges three levels down," continued Gorfang, "and melt the mithril off these into pig ingots."
Shufghoth looked thoughtful - unusual in orcs. "We'll need coal," he commented at last, "and some sand or something to mould the melted metal." Gorfang reflected he'd probably chosen well in selecting Shufghoth as lieutnant.
Gorfang shelved that worry for another time. "Let's get them all through and stacked," he decided, and started directing the lizardmen in shifting the plates to the room where he'd stashed the one already excavated. The massive scaled workers made fairly short work of lugging the plates through the corridors, and a few moments later a resonating crash informed them that another consignment had arrived through the teleport portal.
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Eloy and Lynien got to work on the rest of the plunder, Eloy sledging the loose plates down the valley to the teleport square and Lynien detaching the plates still fastened to the sphere. It was hot work, but in the arctic climate and screaming blizzard this was actually welcome. By the time fifteen minutes had passed and the teleport circle was ready for another trip, they had ten plates ready to send through. Eloy propped them on the edge of the stone block the circle was carved into, and let them drop onto the gently pulsing symbol. With a slight pop of inrushing air, they were gone.
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While Lynien worked on detaching more of the plates, Eloy wandered around the battlefield, examining the place where the two dragons had died. He was looking for signs to indicate how many - if any - of the strange lizards the dragons had killed. The results were inconclusive; there were many bloodstains under the snow, and scuffs in the underlying ice, but no bodies killed other than by him and his companions - mostly Gorfang.
Making a closer investigation of the dragons, something caught his eye. Each had a ragged hole in its' forehead where the g'dula had been torn out, but it occurred to Eloy that there was a lot of blood around each of these. The mithril discs had not been removed from dead dragons; they'd been torn out while the dragons were alive. The wounds had probably contributed considerably to their deaths.
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As he stood thinking about this, a movement caught his eye off to his left. He turned his head and peered that way, and saw a disturbance under the snow. Ever impulsive, he whipped Varlan off his shoulder, nocked an arrow and sent it into the snow; but he had no clear shot and didn't think it hit anything. Slightly disquieted, he triggered his ring and went invisible. A moment later, the snow erupted in a shower of white as one of the giant armoured worms erupted out of hiding in front of Eloy.
He stood absolutely still, bow drawn, and the monster's head swung left and right, clearly searching for his location. Back at the sphere, Lynien had seen the movement, and was also invisible, watching aghast.
After a few seconds Eloy wearied, and loosed three more shafts at the monster. As soon as he moved - before he fired - it snapped its' head around to aim directly at him, sensing him by some means other than sight. The reddish spikes on its back seemed to be glowing, and the snow was melting and hissing where it fell on them. The arrows rocked it back, though and it turned to burrow back under the snow. As it did so, an arrow came lancing over from where Lynien was perched on the g'narf'dula and drilled into the back of its skull. The creature disappeared under the surface and did not reappear.
"I've saved you once," yelled Lynien, "I'm not doing it again! Now get on with the job!"
The arrival of the second batch of plates reassured Gorfang that the process was going according to plan, and he concentrated on getting the pieces stowed safety, his mind revolving with the logistics of assembling even a basic smelting process to get the mithril off the plates.
After fifteen more minutes, the pentagram recycled again, and he watched it for the arrival of the third batch of plates. Nothing appeared, however. After a while, he began to wonder what had gone wrong. Muttering foul orcish oaths under his breath, he shrugged back into his furs and stepped through to investigate.
Eloy and Lynien had spent the time since Eloy's encounter with the remorhaz working diligently on the sphere while regularly scanning the area for more signs of remorhaz, and they were nearly finished with the detaching process. Eloy was just dropping another plate onto the stack next to the sphere and turning around when the snow erupted again, this time all around the sphere, swirling aside to disgorge not one remorhaz but a good dozen, equally spaced around the site. Each reared up, providing it with an excellent view of the area around the sphere, and stood motionless. 
There was a tense silence for a few minutes, and then the larger remorhaz they'd seen before appeared, walking purposefully towards them from the north end of the valley. Once again, they were struck by its' air of intelligence and awareness as it approached them and stopped, its head no higher than theirs. The nightmare mouth opened, and then it spoke. "Who are you, human, and what do you want?"
Eloy spoke up. "We are emissaries from Thykon, sent here to retrieve the sphere before it falls into the hands of the lizards," he replied. The creature regarded him for a moment. "Vengan is wounded," it said at last. "He is an ally, and too big to swallow; can you heal him?" Eloy boggled. This thing wanted him to heal a dragon? More to the point, a magic-resistant dragon that had nearly attacked Gorfang and Méabh? He shrugged. "Where is he?" he asked. "In a cave, that way," replied the creature, gesturing with an antenna. Eloy made up his mind. "I will come," he said. Without further ado, the remorhaz turned and headed off back up the valley, with Eloy following, leaving the thunderstruck Lynien clinging invisiblyto a part-dismantled metal structure, in a snowstorm, surrounded by a dozen or more remorhaz...
Gorfang stumped away from the teleport circle towards the site of the g'narf'dula, observing as he did so that the regular crashing noise of the plates detached by Lynien falling to the ground. This increased his suspicions, and he drew the new khopshoi that Skuffruss had helped him have made as he walked.
A few moments later, he saw a shape coming into view through the howling snow. It was a remorhaz, squatting motionless on its alien legs and facing the other way. It was out of earshot, especially given the tearing wind, and couldn't see him, but once he got within around a hundred feet he saw it lift and tilt its' head, in the manner of a being hearing something behind it that it knows precisely the location of. Gorfang kept walking.
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Suddenly, the creature whirled around, sinuously writhing to face him, its' head lifting and the mouth opening. Along its back the dull red spines seemed to heat and glow, melting the snow lying and falling on it and wreathing the monster in steam. Gorfang kept right on walking, lowering his head. A low growl sounded deep in his throat as the two bestial creatures squared up to each other. "Back off!" snarled Gorfang, trying to will his ta'nara ability to translate the verbal meaning into whatever it was that the creature used as a language. The words meant nothing to the creature, but the body language and tone of voice conveyed his meaning very nicely. The remorhaz tensed itself and lunged. The Weapon Master reacted like lightning, the massive steel blade crashed through the chitinous carapace, and the remorhaz tumbled across the snow spouting hot blood in all directions. Gorfang walked on.
A few minutes later he came into sight of the massive sphere, now almost comepletely disassembled. He could see the shapes of several more remorhaz around the area, but they did not move as he walked forwards. As he arrived at the sphere, a familiar voice called to him, "The pillock's gone with the white-bug-things, gods know where, something about healing dragons - nutter!" Gorfang muttered under his breath for a moment. "How long ago?" he asked. "Only a couple of moments," replied Lynien. Gorfang threw back his head and inflated his massive lungs. "EEEEELOOOOOOYYYYYYYYY!" he bellowed at the top of his considerable voice. There was no answer. Piqued, he slipped his bow off his shoulder and sent a single arrow in the direction Lynien had indicated.
A faint but powerful roar of pain drifted back. "Did I hit him?" asked Gorfang. Lynien looked doubtful. "That wasn't human," she said, "and it wasn't Eloy either."
Gorfang grinned and peered into the blizzard, then turned back to the tiefling girl. "Run up and scout," he suggested, "see what's going on. You're fast enough to get away if you're spotted." Lynien wasn't enthused, but raced up the valley until she could see Eloy and the remorhaz walking north, apparently amicably. Eloy didn't look frightened or threatened. She came back and reported.
"Right." decided Gorfang. "Let's get the last of these plates through then. If he's not back by the time we've done that, we'll have to go and look for him I suppose."
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Eloy heeled the massive worm through the snow, wondering what he was getting himself into, but curiously unafraid. Maybe his brains were freezing up, or maybe the fact that the monster wanted him for something rather than overtly wanting to kill him was reassuring. His comfort zone shrank suddenly, as a thick black arrow hurtled past him and sank into the hindquarters of the remorhaz.
It whirled and glared down at the human behind it, steam exploding from its' back ridges 
as it snarled. Eloy lifted his empty hands with his very best who me? expression, and gestured slightly to the unstrung longbow and quiver of slender arrows tucked away on his back - quite unlike the thick black orc-arrow stuck in the remorhaz' rump that it was glaring at. It was touch and go for a moment, but finally the remorhaz accepted that Eloy had not been responsible. It made him walk in front after that though.
A few minutes later, a larger chunk of ruins came into view, and Eloy realized he was looking, not at a cave, but at the largest remaining fragment of building that he'd yet seen here. Once at least three stories high, it retained part of the first floor, making a ceiling of sorts for the ground level between the surviving fragments of wall. Twin pale silvery glows were visible in the darkness underneath, and Eloy realized that these were eyes, large eyes, well spaced apart. Gradually, his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he realized that he was looking at a vast white dragon, half again the size of the bodies they'd found. This had to be Vengan Doomstealer.
The vast dragon was in a bad way. A wound nearly large enough for Eloy to climb into gaped in his side between his wing and foreleg, and another terrible injury disfigured his face. The silvery disk of the g'dula was still there, though, and his eyes glittered with frustrated rage.
| DM Note: This of course was a bad moment for a natural 1 on Bluff, so of course that's what Derek managed to roll! |
"Leave your weapons there," said Vengan, as Eloy came into view. Eloy duly piled his backpack and weapons where he stood, and came to a halt a few feet from the dragon. "I am Eloy," he began, "and Thykon Blood Snake sent me to apologize for the brigands and orcs that invaded and caused a spot of bother. My minions have slain the disrespectful scum and have saved the mithril and stashed it somewhere secure."
The dragon eyed him for some moments. Then it spoke. "I'm here, injured and helpless... and he sent you." it said crushingly. "Well, now you're here, see what you can do." Eloy walked forwards, unscrewing the cap on his pot of magical ointment as he did so. When he came within sixty feet of the dragon, he suddenly felt the 'stuffed head' sensation all spellcasters experience inside an anti-magic field. "Ah." commented the dragon. "Try that." The effect vanished, and Eloy tried to smear his ointment onto the dragon's fearsome wounds. The edges became slightly less raw, but it was very apparent that he had only scratched the surface of the terrible injury. Even the addition of two flasks of Bog's potent Boom Boom didn't seem to help much. Eloy frowned. Vengan might pull through. Perhaps.... "Is that all?" rumbled the dragon discontentedly. Eloy hastened to put the best face on things. "I stabilized you, like I said. You'll survive - thanks to me."
What Vengan thought of this was lost, however, by the appearance of Gorfang and Lynien through the snow.
"Ahhhh," rumbled Vengan dryly. "Enter the orc. Looking surprisingly healthy for a slain scum, I can't help noticing." Eloy pantomimed shock and anger. "Let me get him! I'll kill him for you," he babbled, but he could tell the game was up. Gorfang and Lynien fanned out as they approached, unsure whether the dragon could use his icy breath but unwilling to take chances. As Gorfang walked past it, he picked up Eloy's backpack and weapons. Then he looked across at the dragon. "We meet again, Vengan," he said levelly.
"This man here claims to have killed you and healed me," commented the dragon. "I don't see any signs of either happening." Gorfang snorted. "You are not protected by your anti-magic," he said. Vengan shifted slightly. "Is Thykon dead, then?" he asked. "Cut his head off myself," said Gorfang.
"Ahhhh," sighed Vengan, "at last, we get the truth. I don't think there are any reasons for us to fight. You," his eyes ranged disparagingly over Gorfang's equipment, "don't have anything I want to try and kill you for, and I am not much of a challenge for you to triumph over in this state." Lynien folded her arms. "You're still worth killing for your hoard," she commented. "Which you will never find," responded Vengan, "this is not our territory." Gorfang lifted an eyebrow. "What about the mithril?" he asked. Vengan sighed. "A pretty metal, and valuable I am told, but I prefer diamonds." The way he said diamonds, as if he had enormous experience of them as a collector, made Lynien practically dribble, but she knew he was right.
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Gorfang handed Eloy his backpack, and the Man in the Shadows put it on as unthreateningly as possible. Then they turned to walk away. As they did so, Eloy was wondering if he could climb into the wound in Vengan's flank to attack him from the inside, when the dragon spoke again. "If you see those lizards again," he said, "kill more of them." Eloy was struck by a sudden thought, and walked back to the dragon. "These daggers," he said, unpacking one very slowly and carefully, "are how they managed to appear and disappear. Did you see how they did it?" Vengan shook his massive head. "I saw them appear from nowhere, out of the air." Eloy lifted the knife. "We tried it, but it doesn't work for us. They moved the daggers like this," he demonstrated, "and...." his voice trailed off as he stared at the knife. Where the blade had passed through the air, there was a tear in reality, a thin line, a cut between the world and somewhere else. It changed colour and brightness constantly, as if whatever was on the other side was changing. He stopped it moving, and the rip disappeared.
There was a silence. Finally Gorfang thought of something. "It's in the antimagic field," he said slowly, as if not quite believing what he was saying. Digging his own looted dagger out of his pack, he strode back out into the snow until he felt the anti-magic effect dissipate, and tried it again - nothing. Then he looked back at Vengan and the silvery g'dula embedded in his forehead. "That's why the soldier types gathered around the little buggers," he said, "to enclose them in their anti-magic and make the knives work."
He, Lynien and Eloy prepared to leave. Vengan spoke again. "We shall meet again, I have no doubt," he said crisply. "Thank you for your warning about Skufruss." Gorfang cocked an eyebrow. "So, you believe us now?" he said. "I cast some spells and did some research," explained Vengan. Gorfang shook his head. "He'll come for you, you know," he said. Vengan lifted a claw painfully and tapped his forehead with a metallic ping. "And I will be safe," he responded. He lay in his shelter and watched them as they walked away into the blizzard.
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