One of the younger members of the group of old dwarves approaches the travelers and studies them for a long time. Other elder dwarfs have referred to him as Arsenalt, and there was something about an old stab wound as well. This close, it's easy to see the stab wound they were talking about: there's a vicious three-inch scar just below his right ear, and a slightly smaller mark on the opposite side of his neck, just above his shoulder. It appears that years ago he was stabbed in his neck, straight from one side through to the other. Surviving such a wound would have required an incredible strength of will, or a miracle, or both.
He nods, finally.
"You're not them," he says. When he speaks, his voice is a rasp, a testament to the severity of the injury. The rest of the tavern quiets down down in order to hear him. He considers another moment, then appears to reach a decision.
"I'll tell you, then. The Architect's Tomb is here." He taps a finger on one of the maps, on a spot marked
XX.
"Fifty years ago, there was a group of travelers -- humans -- who came to town, looking for a tomb that wasn't of dwarven make. Back then I was the best mountaineer in these parts. Maybe I still am." There are nods of affirmation around the room.
"I knew the place they were talking about, except the mark on this map, this is a mistake. It's a copy of a older map, I think, that had the original mark on it, and the mapmaker just copied what made sense to him. The marks in the tomb were different. Like this." He takes a piece of chalk and draws a mark on one of the tables.
"I led them to the tomb. There was a lock with three keyholes. And there were ghosts who guarded the keys to the lock. You stepped into a cage and the ghosts turned real. And the man who led them, he sent his soldiers into the cages, over and over again, and the ghosts slaughtered them. The man, there was no humanity to him, and I was terrified, like I've never been before or since, and I don't know whether it was him or the ghosts that was worse. Him, I think. The ghosts at least stayed in their cages.
"And when there were no more men to send into the cages, and the ghosts still had the keys, I turned to the man and asked him if I should lead him back to town. And he said -- and I remember this, every word -- he said, 'No, I do not need to return to town, but you can still serve a purpose.' And then he swung and gave me this," he says, pointing to his neck.
"And when I was lying there dying, he said, 'Every drop of blood weakens his chains.' And he walked away.
"I blacked out then. I don't know how long I was out. I barely remember making it back to town." He breaks into a coughing fit, apparently having overstressed his damaged throat.
"But I want to know ... to know what is in there ... that cost me this ..."
He stops, unable to speak further.
... Arsenalt Hume ...
[sblock=GM]I should have called for Diplomacy rolls, too, but I forgot. My bad.
You have a limited number of additional questions you can ask Arsenalt, given how messed up his voice is. Choose wisely.
The writings of the Architect are below. They've also been added to the first post, for reference.[/sblock][sblock=The Writings of the Architect]
Serroth has given to us that are three great forces of infantry: that of the berserk, that of the skirmisher, and that of the defender. Each is matched against its own, so that when like forces meet, only numbers or vigor will win the day. This is a poor strategy. It is far wiser to meet an army with that which it is most weak against. A commander who is stronger in the light of Serroth will endeavor first to know his enemy, and then to array against him such things as will most easily defeat him.
A force of skirmishers is greatest when placed against a force of defenders, as the armor of a defender needs must entail diminished maneuverability. This allows a force of skirmishers to strike and strike again at the flanks of the less mobile defenders. However, a force of skirmishers needs must fear a force of berserks, for a berserk’s great tactic is the charge, whereby they might easily run down and scatter a force of skirmishers. In such ways, a force of berserks is most strong when placed against a force of skirmishers, but its attacks are not so deadly when arrayed against the shields and tighter formation of a force of defenders, whose movement is but slow, and yet most inexorable, across the field of battle.
Be it known that I speak of no more than the disposition of infantry across the battlefield. Forces of archers and of cavalry add greater complexities in which the light of Serroth guides us also, but in ways more difficult to convey so simply. Most especially, is it unwise to neglect magery, for even a small working can oft turn the tide of battle.
Above all and before all, the greatest weapon a commander might bring to battle is knowledge, for even the greatest army will batter against a well-prepared enemy with little more effect than the tide on a sea-rock. It is oft the lack of one simple fact that turns a great army into a poor one, and a wise commander must know when his knowledge is incomplete, and where he may search in order to make his knowledge more complete.
Know this: Serroth sometimes speaks in a great voice to those who are our greatest prophets, but more often he whispers the small things to us – those things which win battles and rout our foes – if we only know to listen.[/sblock]
