Mysteries of the Nentir Vale

The Dwarven Citadel

The party returns for rest and re-equipment

Thane Harvak of the Glintshield listened to the paladin drone on about some crusade, somewhere. A veteran of diplomacy, Harvak knew to keep his mouth shut and waited patiently. When the gleaming paladin introduced the dragonborn, he took his cue.

“Greetings, brave knight of Pelor. Welcome to Glintshield Keep, such as it is..”

The burly, gray and red-bearded Dwarf gestured in the direction of the clanging and thumping sounds. Several stout Dwarves were repairing walls and battlements. Others handed weapons-crossbows, bolts and finely-crafted blades-up to soldiers manning the wall. The Dwarves sang work songs that produced a steady cadence, contributing to their rhythmic efficiency.

O cò bheir mi leam air an luing Èireannaich.O cò bheir mi leam.
Gura e Iain bheir mi leam air an luing Èireannaich
O co bheir mi leam

“Oy! Der’s the fellas!” One of the soldiers yelled and pointed beyond the wall.

Outside of the fortress, Duggin, Nimozaran, Shield, Scroopel and Soloman, the dragonborn walked up to the portcullis. The gate shrieked as it was retracted up into the wall. As the party made their way through, a hearty cheer erupted amongst the Dwarves. Uncharacteristically, Duggin raised a fist in triumph.

“Those towering buffoons just got theirs!” he shouted.

The next cheer was punctuated by thunderous applause. Scroopel, upon Shield’s adamantine shoulders shouted something in Goblin, eliciting a few laughs from stragglers. He shrugged and kept quiet. Nimozaran bumbled through the sea of assembled dwarven muscle, accepting a frothy mug handed to him. He quaffed the ale and looked around. The gleaming knight drew his attention.

“Ehhrm…what in the Nine Hells? Young Erathan? Do my old eyes deceive me? You’re alive!”

The eldest son of Lord Markelhay had been on a quest, far to the south of the Vale. No one had heard news of him for the better part of a year.

Comments

OOC: Did we look through all of the scroll tubes from Noznra’s Lair or just the one?
Edit: Noznra’s Lair

The Dwarven Citadel
 

“Septarch Nimozaran! I am surprised to see you here. I was not aware you were part of this mission.”

Etheran glances at the other strange companions accompanying the old wizard. A goblin riding a minotaur construct, a dwarf of the Shadowed Chain cult – the tattoos were unmistakable, and a noble looking dragonborn. Not quite the team he would have sent… Of course, the Dragonborn appeared capable, at least, he hadn’t seen the old man out of his tower in quite some time.

“Ah yes, we met the so called Troll King, unfortunately we were unable to destroy him completely, I very much doubt he will be showing his face around Moonstair anytime soon. As I was discussing with the Thane, I have my men out looking for his lair and something called the Stone Cauldron.”

“So anyway, I am here now – tell us what you’ve discovered.”

The Dwarven Citadel
 

OOC – the other tubes were empty

The Dwarven Citadel
 

Following the adventures comes a rag-tag group of humans, dwarves and orcs they are carrying giant sized weapons. Some of the dwarves and humans are recognized and greeted heartily by the dwarves in the Citadel. When the Orcs approaches there are whispers and curses.

The Dwarven Citadel
 

Thoot Grimhold, Dwern the Sly, Gobb Brightshield, Nyzan Silvervein, Zorn “Big Z” Ironbeard, as well as other captured Glintshield Dwarves enter through the gate and throw down a heap of giant armor and weapons they are carrying in litters. They wave and yell out to their brethren as they are merrily greeted.

“Glitshields, we are happy to be home! All hail to the heroes!”

This elicits more hooting and hollering from the dwarves on the ramparts and hanging out the windows of the towers. Meaty hands pound on the backs of the Adventurers and more casks of beer are being drawn up from the cellar and opened. “Please extend our dwarven hospitality to our new allies against the giants.” He indicates the band of Orcs, unsure of themselves as they enter their former enemies’ keep.

The Dwarven Citadel
 

The dwarves begin shouting and rumbling words of dissatisfaction are heard throughout the courtyard.

“How can we trust ‘dose orcs? They been killin’ me ancestors fer two-hunnerd years!”

The orcs began snarling; brandishing their weapons. Suddenly, the shouts and rumbles are overpowered by a high-pitched dwarven cry. Directly above the wall of the fortress, a large green dragon swoops down, snatching a hapless dwarf into the air. The crowd collectively gasps, as the dwarf is lifted to a great height-and dropped. The dwarf’s descending scream is cut off abruptly when his body impacts on one of the ramparts, with a sickening crunch.

The terrifying dragon speaks:

“You dwarves and your murderous mercenaries have slain my mate, Fermaug! You all shall pay! I’ll watch your bodies as they choke and writhe from the poison of Vestapalk!”

“Look!” shouts an Orc.

His exclamation draws your attention to several small lizard-like forms, riding on the back of the dragon. Many dwarves scramble to use their crossbows as Vestapalk turns for another swoop-attack. Dozens of bolts are loosed, but the green dragon deftly barrel-rolls, causing them to miss their target.

Vestapalk rears back and lands on one of the ramparts. Sliding off of his back, you recognize the little figures.

“Kobolds?” Duggin asks no one, in particular.

The Dwarven Citadel
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