Dalan
First Post
…finally, forced to flee from the main doors, nearly dead and in poor spirits, we retreated to the base of the path to retrieve our mounts and pack animals. Naturally, they were no longer there. Naught but some small bloodstains and stray owlbear feathers gave evidence of there ever having been anything there at all.
Defeated, I waited for Nawoom to set up his tent; my own, like most of my equipment, was on my horse. I had not the priest's immense strength to carry all manner of gear with me at all times. Once the tent was assembled, I bade my fellows good evening and went to sleep.
15th Nightal
I know not when – or if the others rested, but I slept until dawn, not feeling much better than I had the night before. My injuries were still grievous, and at least one arrowhead was still lodged in my shoulder. I saw Saren and Nawoom praying to Tymora, and slowly moved off to get a good view of the sunrise. While the priest prayed for his spells, I silently called to Lathander for guidance. I know not if He spoke to me, but at the end of the hour, I was filled with resolve; the orc scum of the Glitterhame would pay dearly for my fallen companions’ lives. While Nawoom healed the group, I packed up his tent to ensure a quick start. After reminding the rest of the group how long and tiring the journey back to the fort would be on foot, I started up the mountain, determined to find the source of the smoke that had been constantly billowing from somewhere above us.
The deep midwinter snow slowed our movement – waiting on the heavily armoured priest slowed us even more. While we frequently lost sight of the plume, I never doubted which way we needed to go – I could have pointed to the source of the smoke without hesitation at any time during our climb. Thinking back now, I am certain that Lathander was with me this morning.
Eventually, our trek led us to a massive natural chimney far up the back of the mountain. After a great deal of planning, Tanzi tested a nearby tree for strength (Lathander's blessings continued that day, for us to find a convenient tree so far beyond the treeline was surely the act of a god) and we sent Saren down the chimney on Nawoom's rope. I followed shortly after Saren, and though my zeal nearly cost me my grip, I caught up with the lunatic quickly. The Moon
e was waiting at the very bottom of the chimney, over a massive bed of coals, waiting to see if he should use the pack full of snow or not. Not wanting to make more noise than absolutely needed, I gestured for him to peek into the chamber below and see if we might not be able to swing to one side of the coals instead. Saren decided that the best way to do this was by inverting himself within the chimney and using his feet to slowly descend the rope, into the chamber. After determining that nothing was about to eat him, he dropped the remaining length of the rope to see how much excess there was. After extinguishing its now smouldering end, Saren cut the last few feet of the rope off and swung off to the side. Not happy at the thought of losing sight of the group's madman, I quickly lowered myself out of the chimney and flipped to one side of the coalbed. Not unexpectedly, Saren was no where to be seen. Thankfully, he was simply well-hidden against the nearby wall, and not wandering down some tunnel.
After the two of us were safely down, Nawoom began lowering his equipment and armour down the shaft. While I did approve the large priest's plan to separate himself from his heavy gear for the descent, my feet are still somewhat sore from having to rescue his pack and mail from their place above the coals. As for what happened next, I blame myself. I should never have mentioned how hot Nawoom's armour had become where Saren could hear me; once the idea of putting the pack full of snow onto the hot armour occurred to him, there wasn't really much chance of him leaving well enough alone. This meant that by the time Tanzi made it into the cavern, Nawoom was off in the corner putting on his armour while Saren and I discussed the wisdom of making that much noise after successfully sneaking into the orcs’ kitchen.
As it turned out, I was right. The loud hissing gained us a crowd, and earned me a javelin in the shoulder. (I swear, I could go the rest of my life without ever having a projectile weapon stuck in my shoulder and die a happy man.) With Nawoom off in the corner, mucking about with his overly complicated armour, the rest of us had no decent light source, so Saren lit a torch and dropped it in the corridor from which the first orc had come, presumably planning to fight by its light. Being Saren though, he didn't bother retreating when it promptly went out, and judging by the scream a moment later, I'd say that the orcs had no trouble seeing him. Hearing his parishioner in mortal danger yet again, Nawoom Tior stopped fumbling with his greaves long enough to helpfully place his bullseye lantern at the end of the corridor so that the rest of the group could get put an end to rest of the orcs investigative group. Safe for the moment (at least from everyone who wasn't part of the group), I went back into the kitchen to help Nawoom put on his armour. Saren had decided that more than anything else, what he really needed was one of the orcs' greataxes, which meant that Nawoom was going to have to hold a lantern instead of his shield since everyone else in the group was wielding two-handed weapons.
Much to my surprise, our scouting did not turn up any more orcs. After a few minutes exploration, we found a vast storeroom, full of stolen caravan goods that the orcs did not seem to feel held much value. While I moved through the mess looking for an ambush, Saren decided to commence looting. Instead of valuables, he discovered a blocked off passage into a small chamber. The north side of the chamber had a massive metal gate, and the spaces between the bars had been completely filled with cloths and blankets of all sorts. It was obvious to me that whatever lived beyond that gate was best left alone. Nawoom, of course, seemingly forgetting all the excitement his fascination with the Glowing Ball of Obvious Evil caused back in the Sunless Citadel, decided that we should make every effort to discover just what the orcs were so scared of. After I dissuaded his interest in engaging in reckless and dangerous behaviour, Nawoom went back to happily banging on the strongbox he had found in the storeroom outside. Saren, surprisingly enough, had used this time constructively, and had moved several of the crates back into position, so that from the storeroom, it would hopefully seem as though everything was just as it had been. Initially I wondered at the idea of blocking ourselves into this room when there was still much exploring to be done and a great deal of vengeance to be had. I had not counted on Nawoom being completely drained of divine power already though; once I realised that he wouldn't be able to put Saren together again (at least until tomorrow), holing up in this easily defensible room seemed best.
Defeated, I waited for Nawoom to set up his tent; my own, like most of my equipment, was on my horse. I had not the priest's immense strength to carry all manner of gear with me at all times. Once the tent was assembled, I bade my fellows good evening and went to sleep.
15th Nightal
I know not when – or if the others rested, but I slept until dawn, not feeling much better than I had the night before. My injuries were still grievous, and at least one arrowhead was still lodged in my shoulder. I saw Saren and Nawoom praying to Tymora, and slowly moved off to get a good view of the sunrise. While the priest prayed for his spells, I silently called to Lathander for guidance. I know not if He spoke to me, but at the end of the hour, I was filled with resolve; the orc scum of the Glitterhame would pay dearly for my fallen companions’ lives. While Nawoom healed the group, I packed up his tent to ensure a quick start. After reminding the rest of the group how long and tiring the journey back to the fort would be on foot, I started up the mountain, determined to find the source of the smoke that had been constantly billowing from somewhere above us.
The deep midwinter snow slowed our movement – waiting on the heavily armoured priest slowed us even more. While we frequently lost sight of the plume, I never doubted which way we needed to go – I could have pointed to the source of the smoke without hesitation at any time during our climb. Thinking back now, I am certain that Lathander was with me this morning.
Eventually, our trek led us to a massive natural chimney far up the back of the mountain. After a great deal of planning, Tanzi tested a nearby tree for strength (Lathander's blessings continued that day, for us to find a convenient tree so far beyond the treeline was surely the act of a god) and we sent Saren down the chimney on Nawoom's rope. I followed shortly after Saren, and though my zeal nearly cost me my grip, I caught up with the lunatic quickly. The Moon
e was waiting at the very bottom of the chimney, over a massive bed of coals, waiting to see if he should use the pack full of snow or not. Not wanting to make more noise than absolutely needed, I gestured for him to peek into the chamber below and see if we might not be able to swing to one side of the coals instead. Saren decided that the best way to do this was by inverting himself within the chimney and using his feet to slowly descend the rope, into the chamber. After determining that nothing was about to eat him, he dropped the remaining length of the rope to see how much excess there was. After extinguishing its now smouldering end, Saren cut the last few feet of the rope off and swung off to the side. Not happy at the thought of losing sight of the group's madman, I quickly lowered myself out of the chimney and flipped to one side of the coalbed. Not unexpectedly, Saren was no where to be seen. Thankfully, he was simply well-hidden against the nearby wall, and not wandering down some tunnel. After the two of us were safely down, Nawoom began lowering his equipment and armour down the shaft. While I did approve the large priest's plan to separate himself from his heavy gear for the descent, my feet are still somewhat sore from having to rescue his pack and mail from their place above the coals. As for what happened next, I blame myself. I should never have mentioned how hot Nawoom's armour had become where Saren could hear me; once the idea of putting the pack full of snow onto the hot armour occurred to him, there wasn't really much chance of him leaving well enough alone. This meant that by the time Tanzi made it into the cavern, Nawoom was off in the corner putting on his armour while Saren and I discussed the wisdom of making that much noise after successfully sneaking into the orcs’ kitchen.
As it turned out, I was right. The loud hissing gained us a crowd, and earned me a javelin in the shoulder. (I swear, I could go the rest of my life without ever having a projectile weapon stuck in my shoulder and die a happy man.) With Nawoom off in the corner, mucking about with his overly complicated armour, the rest of us had no decent light source, so Saren lit a torch and dropped it in the corridor from which the first orc had come, presumably planning to fight by its light. Being Saren though, he didn't bother retreating when it promptly went out, and judging by the scream a moment later, I'd say that the orcs had no trouble seeing him. Hearing his parishioner in mortal danger yet again, Nawoom Tior stopped fumbling with his greaves long enough to helpfully place his bullseye lantern at the end of the corridor so that the rest of the group could get put an end to rest of the orcs investigative group. Safe for the moment (at least from everyone who wasn't part of the group), I went back into the kitchen to help Nawoom put on his armour. Saren had decided that more than anything else, what he really needed was one of the orcs' greataxes, which meant that Nawoom was going to have to hold a lantern instead of his shield since everyone else in the group was wielding two-handed weapons.
Much to my surprise, our scouting did not turn up any more orcs. After a few minutes exploration, we found a vast storeroom, full of stolen caravan goods that the orcs did not seem to feel held much value. While I moved through the mess looking for an ambush, Saren decided to commence looting. Instead of valuables, he discovered a blocked off passage into a small chamber. The north side of the chamber had a massive metal gate, and the spaces between the bars had been completely filled with cloths and blankets of all sorts. It was obvious to me that whatever lived beyond that gate was best left alone. Nawoom, of course, seemingly forgetting all the excitement his fascination with the Glowing Ball of Obvious Evil caused back in the Sunless Citadel, decided that we should make every effort to discover just what the orcs were so scared of. After I dissuaded his interest in engaging in reckless and dangerous behaviour, Nawoom went back to happily banging on the strongbox he had found in the storeroom outside. Saren, surprisingly enough, had used this time constructively, and had moved several of the crates back into position, so that from the storeroom, it would hopefully seem as though everything was just as it had been. Initially I wondered at the idea of blocking ourselves into this room when there was still much exploring to be done and a great deal of vengeance to be had. I had not counted on Nawoom being completely drained of divine power already though; once I realised that he wouldn't be able to put Saren together again (at least until tomorrow), holing up in this easily defensible room seemed best.
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"Let there be no leave nor mention of da time he lit himself ablaze not but once but twice! Or da time he nearly killed da party not twice but thrice. And no where in this neatly writen book have i seen the glow of brilliance on the moments he tied his meak frame of a body to the heavily armored and over-weighted preist as the preist wagered his mortal coil attempting ta cross an unstable three rope bridge that clearly shouted out 'i can not support that bloak, not i today nor tommorow' yet none took notice. If it was not for I, Saren of the Moonshae, my party would have have felt the cruel demise of the reapers sythe by now. Deelee, you are ego stricken ya poor soul. But safe none the less in my Tymorian hands. You should convert before it fairs late!"