Chapter Eight: Under the Dark

Session was held at Backman Bastion 7th of June 2014 AD

It was August 26th 1372DR. After the horrid events at the Ice Fjord that took Nespil Crowgale's life, the crestfallen expedition proceeded into the only viable direction, underground. Even though a menacing sign had been discovered at the entrance, proclaiming that there was no Thule nor wonder that they were seeking, most of the men were committed to continue the cause.

Descending into the realm known as the Underdark, the dwarves Bolwyn Flameblade and Faerhar Bogomoloff took the lead as they both proficient tunnelers and experts of world under the surface. Six days of aimless wandering through most accessible tunnels and caverns finally led the expedition into vast limestone cave full of exciting rock formations known as stalagmites. Judging from the dripping salt water from the ceiling, the dwarves figured that they were beneath that very sea that they saw just before they descended into the tunnels.


Moving on from the cave, it's apparent tranquility was suddenly shattered, as Hórnbori diverged to take a leak. One should never inadvertently piss on slumbering cave trolls dome, as the creature is prone to deliver massive amounts mutilating damage upon that poor souls genital area. Hórnboris most horrendous demise inspired our heroes to charge against the troll, a beast twice the size of an ordinary one. It's hide proved to be keen for mortal wounds and the creature was soon slain. Hórnbori was left into a rubble grave, as the expedition continued deeper into the darkness.

Delving deeper mile after mile, the men soon understood that bringing the dogs with them proved to be a mistake, as the hostile climate was driving the canines mad. Days went past, but  while walking on the rubble bottom of a underground crevice yet another menace engulfed our expedition. Strange aberrations suprised our team by swooping down from the heights- These craetures were part manta ray, part a mundane cloak, and as they plunged upon the terrified men, they wrapped their strange bodies around their victims, biting and strangulating them.
While rest of the party was struggling against flock of these leathery devils, Posco decided to seek better tactical position from darkness. He managed to stumble upon long forgotten piece of weaponry, a enchanted light crossbow known as Victor. There were much joy as the creatures were slain and Posco was somewhat happy about his new treasure.

Journey in the dark continued. A day passed, according to the dwarves who still claimed that they had been tracking expeditions voyage to a detail. But the tunnels came to an end, as a strange white-skinned child was spotted on the edge of torchlight. As our mercenaries advanced carefully to investigate this ghastly sighting, they discovered a full tribe of underground dwelling humanoids. Barely dressed in loincloths, these "men" were almost white skinned, big eared and apparently almost blind. Illumination from the torches seemed to enthrall them. But the most astonishing thing about the discovery was that four human men had been living with these creatures. They were part of late Mordgóin Gemgrinders expedition that had been launched towards the north couple of years ago.
As the cave people did not speak, only gurgled and clickered, the frontman of the four, Varden Diomede introduced the two parties.
He told that their expedition, led by Mordgóin had been crossing a glacial field when crust of ice had collapsed, plunging their party into a icy crevasse. Many died, and the rest wandered aimlessly to the Underdark. They eventually ended up with these cave dwelling degenerates who seemed to be oblivious about almost everything. Mordgóin, Agvidr and Kolsen Lightshank died during their time there from mal-nourishment and sickness. Now all that were left were Varden himself, Adrik the Dwarfsoul, Morten Håk and one handed Tooths Felder. 

Average Underdark degenerate

Varden showed their camp among the cave people. A single withered tent was all that was left from their dream. The cave people (known as Blindies  by Varden) lived in little stone huts, and they stored their food and tools in small holes in limestone cave wall. Among the stone huts there were also small pillars that were made of humanoid skulls, the ancestors of blindies. Every skull in those pillars had a curious hole in the top of dome, it was somewhat similar to short tribal hairpiece that the leader of blindies sported. His name was Red-Eye, he was one exceptionally bright fellow as he even managed to say hello to our expedition.
Behind the huts at the end of the cave was one peculiar spot of a wall, that almost drove poor Mordgóin mad before his death. It was completely smooth stonewall with miniscule lines engraved into it's surface with no apparent reason. Enoch Crowgale was immediately absorbed into it's mystery.

Days passed as the expedition "gathered" their strength in the mirk. The Blindies fed our heroes some Underdark delicacies such as cave fish, isopods and fungi, the reason for Mordgóin's expeditions fate was obvious. Varden Diomede endowed Mordgóins old hammer to Bolwyn. This mighty creation of dwarven forges of Citadel Adbar was a heck of a more use in the hands of Adbarian warpriest than soon-to-be-dead human fool. Gemgrinder was it's name and it proved to be worth of it's name.

Crowgale's transcript 

After a week from their initial arrival, Crowgale declared that he had no clue about the walls meaning. He had studied Mordgóins's notes and made some of his own with little results. But as they were to throw in the towel, Enoch spotted a little cave people child with a strange helmet in it's head. Iron helmet, clearly illuskan made, sporting a distinct tale of a whale as a elaborate nose guard. Crowgale quickly ripped of one of the pages from his notebooks and showed a picture he had copied from some historical volume. The Blindie girl was wearing Valgaerd Whitefarers helmet, Gullhvadr.  This discovery gave them much excitement as they now knew that they were still on the trail despite all the confusion in the dark.

With this new surge of hope, Enoch immersed himself in the notes in hopes to make a groundbreaking discovery. Rest in the other hand idled among the cave people, playing Six-Eyed-Spider and maintaining their gear. But all this came to a halt as the wall began to ripple without warning. Crowgale had nothing to do with this strange phenomenon, as the diminutive lines on the smooth surface began to glow with dazzling luminescence . The wall was morphing into a portal.

Glowing brighter than a pyre, everyone just looked at the light when three roughly humanoid figures emerged from it. And as the light decreased into a soft purple glow, horror broke loose as the figures were identified as mind flayers! Illithids, those creatures of immeasurable cruelty and evil, began bombarding the bystanders with their psionic mind blasts, knocking the weak-willed into a stunned stupor. Also confusing some of the more susceptible for persuasion telepathically to aid them as their defenders, these mind flayers proved to be a genuine obstacle to our heroes. Thanks to Tymoras guidance that day, none was killed and the tentacled aberrations were fend off.

Illustration depicting Illithian practices. 

While recovering their sanity from the previous encounter, someone noticed that the now opened wall led into a new tunnel. Quick preparations were made for the expedition to continue it's journey, while rest of the ill-fated Mordgóin-expedition pledged to join the still existing one. None really cared about the Blindies as their fated seemed somewhat sealed. It was now clear that their ancestors were all lobotomized by the Illithids, as these poor creatures were clearly nothing more than a herd to be harvested.
Delving into the dark once more, a good start came soon to an end as they arrived into a large round room that seemed to be the bottom of some gargantuan hollow cylinder. Narrow stone stairs circled around its' smooth walls, circling slowly upwards. As no other route was accessible, the expedition decided to begun a slow ascend, that would surely pain those with fear of heights.

Bolwyn discovered that the vertical cylider was of dwarwish making, possibly duergarian, and his suspicion proved to be correct as they discovered dwarven runes spelling the legendary name of "Migdhal Wyrdrazh", outpost of the whitening, mythical dwarven northern outpost lost in the sands of time. Whether this cylinder was part of the outpost or not, the expedition was once again inspired to continue onward.

During their ascend, Onarr stumbled and plunged into the dark, but thanks to Poscos quick reflexes and magic, the poor nordman managed to rescue himself back on the stairs. Eventually the cylinder ended, after hours of heavy climbing. At the top there was just an empty round room with one iron trap door in it's ceiling. As men seized their breaths, our heroes investigated the trapdoor. It seemed to bee frozen stuck, and as they managed to prize it open, they saw a thick layer of ice and snow that they'd have to burrow trough. As there could be several feet of the stuff, turns were taken with a pickaxe and a shovel. As the ice was finally broken trough several hours later, celebrations were canceled immediately as Onarr who had landed the final strike against the ice, was instantly snatched up from the trapdoor. Orgot rushed after him, climbing up and peeking out of the hole, witnessing how a huge frost giant hurled the poor man high into the sky.

Orgot pushed himself up and braced to battle against the giant on top of an apparent guard tower on some norther mountain peak. Quick wall of fire sheltered him against the gigantic northern warrior, but as Thelon jumped to aid him, the giant had regained it's strength, an it struck Thelon stone cold with a single mighty swing of it's battleaxe. Covered in his friends blood, Orgot and the rest of the party fought furiously against superior foe, striking it dead with sheer power of will.

As Thelons wounds were being treated, Orgot realized that he had accidentally ignited a signal pyre that had been constructed on this watchtower terrace. And as they peeked over the tall ice walls that acted as railing, they saw a icy vale surrounded by three separate mountain ranges. The vale itself was swarming with the largest assemble of creatures the north had ever seen. Judging from the banners, it was the army of Thrum Vetrvader, the supreme ruler of Kongrike ov Hvítrfjell, the King of the North. 

And now the flaming signal pyre had alerted the others on atop of two other mountains ranges,

 and the army was marching for war.