Field Trip to the Ancient Dwarven Prison Camp

Part X of the Terrence Saga

Chapter 1: Into the Ruins

Posted by pladd on January 01, 2016

Tirisvale: Dawn of the First Day

The sun rose on a bright new day for our heroes as they awoke from their slumber at the ritzy Golden Stag inn. Gavin, Chadwick, NGE, and Chomsky headed out to begin the morning with a bit of shopping. Derfin, unfortunately stricken with war flashbacks, simply followed his cohorts wherever they went.

The gang stopped at the local potion stores to re-stock their supplies and spend some of their filthy, filthy money. After checking the prices on Cure Light Wounds potions (and bitching about the price of Cure Moderate Wounds potions, to which the shopkeeper shrugged with a “whatcha gonna do” air), the group decided to seek out the goblin alchemist, Plug. Perhaps he could get them a discount!

The Alchemist’s Society loomed loomingly in front of the adventurers. The stairs were swept clean of goblin blood and viscera, and the soot and ashes from the box of fireworks were absent as well.

A receptionist directed everyone to the Testing Range in the back of the Society, warning them of two things:

  • Enter the Testing Range at your own risk.
  • Stay the FUCK out of the Labs.

The warning accepted, the group ventured into the Range, a large enclosed area where Society researchers experimented with particularly volatile substances. Plug was off in a corner, working busily on a metal device. They called his name, and he waved them over.

Plug, unfortunately, had no discount to offer the group. He did, however, have a prototype of an alchemically-based weapon on hand, and asked if the group would be willing to run field tests for him. The group accepted, and Plug proudly displayed his creation: a small metal tube would contain a charge of black powder, propelling a metal ball out of one end of the tube! Plug called it a “gun,” and he instructed the group in its proper use. The group accepted the weapon and bade Plug farewell, promising to bring him back any notes they might take.

The group returned to the potion store and stocked up on the potions they wanted. Chadwick again complained to the shopkeeper about the price of potions. On their way out, a man at a cart beckoned them over.

“Psst! Hey, I heard you think Cure Moderate Wounds potions cost too much, eh? Well, I happen to have…procured some from an anonymous source. 150 gold for a pack of four! It’s a limited-time offer! Act now! Whaddaya say?”

Chadwick magically detected naught but Conjuration magic in the potions, but declined anyway. Gavin shook his head. Derfin searched a nearby apple stand for signs of Charlie. Chomsky said, “Cheap potions? Fuck to the yes!” and bought a four-pack, which he stowed in his bag (taking care to keep them separate from his more reputable potions).

Locked and stocked, the group barreled towards their destination: Fort Suteros, and the ruins underneath. Why? Fucking treasure, that’s why.

That evening, the group approached Fort Suteros. The road they traveled on was obviously old and out-of-use. However, Derfin, suddenly lucid, noted tracks in the dirt. “Several people have traveled along this road only hours ago,” he told the others. His eyes immediately glazed back over with visions of Vietgnome.

The doors of the Fort hung off of their hinges, broken down with age. Vines twined their way up the walls; clearly, the fort had been abandoned for some time. But it was the skeletons that drew the group’s attention.

There were a couple of human-looking skeletons, but there was also a skeleton with a much stranger bone structure - some sort of humanoid lizard creature, as tall as a man. The group shrugged their collective shoulders and ventured forth.

They found themselves in a hallway with passages to their left and right. Through an archway in front of them, a high-ceilinged room was visible. It seemed to be a common room for the fort’s soldiers. Benches and tables were laid out throughout the area, and iron cups, utensils, and plates were still laid out. The occasional skeleton, stripped of any valuables, rested on the stone floor.

On the other side of the room, the group found a set of double doors and a staircase leading up. Chadwick, with his years of adventuring experience, advised the group that the interesting things are always found after going down staircases, and recommended ignoring the upstairs portion of the fort. The group searched a single additional room, which was also looted of anything valuable, before finding a set of stairs leading down. Chadwick, triumphant, led the group down the stairs into the fort’s cellar.

The cellar was much like the rest of the fort: plain stone, unassuming, and altogether boring. The giant pair of intricately carved ancient stone doors in the cellar wall, however, was not. The doors displayed two dwarves, one on each door, with hammers crossed in a very, very imposing way. One door was slightly ajar, and the group saw nothing but blackness beyond.

Gavin conjured glowing balls of light; Chomsky conjured glowing dicks of light. With their way lit before them, the group ventured into the dwarven ruins.