5e D&D Dwimmermount session 8 - Shot through the neck and you’re to blame, you gave elves a bad name.

The party retreated with their captured kobold, who hissed and spat at the dwarf at every opportunity. It spoke a debased form of low Thulian, swung from almost moronic to horribly insightful. The creature named itself Grimvart and it was a servant of the Queen with eight legs. It berated the party for allowing such a debased thing as Errol amongst them. It spoke of it’s many fellows, of a cursed place with quiet dwarves and a place called the Moonpool. It drew a map of the caves beyond and talked of treasure to the north. It pleaded to be let go, and wrote, in exquisite script a letter of introduction to the Queen, of whom it said was from the black worlds beyond this, an ancient and rare phrase meaning the Abyss. Another figure in the kobolds mythology was mentioned, a king called Guran which is a dwarven name.

Grimvart was taken to the prison they’d found near the entrance and locked up, then the party moved forward into a chamber leading to the caves of the Kobold that contained an oily slick in front of the far door. The party feared a trap, so tried to lure anything out that might live beyond the portal to caves. They were rewarded with success, a thrown flaming brand appears from the darkness and ignites the oil, creating a fireball that does no more than singe their cloths since they’d moved away from the trap. However Errol and Zoilus’ battle blood was up and the leaped through the fire to meet whatever lay beyond, with mix success. The barbarian got through, but the dwarf rolled a 1 and slips, burns and became prone facing a horde of kobolds. The desperate fight in the narrow confines of a rough hewn corridor is brutal. Bittersalt, whose player couldn’t make it this session, rolls a 1 and then rolls a 20, hitting Flandar the warlock with an arrow through the next, almost killing him. However the battle goes the way of the party, and the kobolds are put to the sword.

Entering the cave system properly the party find ancient and impressive stalagmites and stalactites. The stone had been worked, but with a very light hand, and to enhance it’s natural form. A cave to the south contained a triptych carved into the stone. It shows Thulian knights descending upon a city and executing it’s ruler.

Heading towards the cave to the north where Grimvart promised treasure, the party came across huge spiderwebs crisscrossing the floor and ceilings. Fearful of giant spiders, Brother Spenzar cleverly used his thaumaturgy again to vibe the webs in the centre of the warren beyond. After a few minutes a pair of giant wolf spiders emerge looking for their meal. Before the party could act a terrible cry came out from Paulo, the torchbearer. Spiders had encircled the party and were attacking from the front and rear. This turned into a desperate battle, as almost immediately Paulo, Spenzar and Flandar fell unconscious from the poison running through their veins. Calphis quit the battle immediately, and fled the caves while Bittersalt cut a way clear for the rest of the party to escape. She was cruelly bitten and also fell to the spiders venom. At this point the party were in rout, with Zoilus picking up both Paulo and Flandar. When Errol realised that Bittersalt was no longer behind him, he got Spenzar to safety and then bravely returned to pull the elf free from the spiders who were already starting to wrap her in silk. Slaying one and driving the other off ended the battle for the exhausted and injured group.
After a brief discussion the players decided it was time to return to civilisation, train and better equip themselves for whatever lies ahead. However as they journeyed through the great central halls of the dungeon, they were met by a party of four well armoured dwarves. These dwarves claimed they were here to seek the remaining party of dwarves that had come to find the dwarven cemetery. The party explained everything they’d heard from the kobold Grimvart, much to consternation of these dwarves who felt that they’d need to come back in even greater number to safely travel the corridors of Dwimmermount. Agreeing to travel together, the group went to check on the kobold only to find he’d been freed to an unknown fate. Leaving the dungeon the secretly retrieved their buried treasure and headed to Muntburg before then going onto the grand city of Adamas. The party of dwarves spoke of many things to do with Dwimmermount and the history of their people to Errol during the trek.

So next session looks like it’ll be set in Adamas, and I’m very much looking forward to putting in some prep work for that at the weekend. Yet another awesome session, with a really strong mix of roleplaying, exploration and battle. The party have hit 3rd level, which on paper looks like quite a jump in terms of power and resilience. The XP curve also quietens down here, needing far more experience points to get to 4th than the previous levels. I also need to get painting, the growing piles of beastmen, undead and ‘things’ for the levels below aren’t going to self-colour.          

It’s been bit of a struggle getting this session diary together, and a week is a long time for my poor memory, so I must get these done closer to the actual session. 

Dwimmermount - Errol's Book

One of my players, Tim, has produce the following as background to his dwarf fighter Errol. Since Tim is a talented graphic illustrator he also made some composite images from various source to represent pages on kobolds, lineage and indeed Dwimmermount from his heirloom. I'm totally blow away by both the effort and result.

Errol’s Book

"Sometimes, in my more idle moments, I wonder what it must be like to know from where you came and what came before you. I imagine the weight of history provides a Dwarf with a sense of being that I myself am devoid.

Nigh on 40 summers ago I fell in with a Dwarven stone cutting gang in Trachtenberg. They needed skills with the softer stone found in the area and I had just finished building a farmstead for a wealthy landowner who recommended me to the Baron they were being employed by. The pay was fantastic, and I was promptly installed as an advisor to the band of 30­odd masons. They were the first Dwarves I ever had the opportunity to know in detail, and since then I have shied from my people out of embarrassment.

These Dwarves came from near and far, from clans of all varieties, and with rich detailed histories of which they were positively saturated in. By day they would sing worksongs that spoke of the great halls and subterranean cities of their ancestors; by night they would tell stories of the heroic deeds, feuds, wars, and loves of their kin. I could only sit in ashamed marvel at this epic tapestry of history, of which I only held threads of knowledge.

One evening Ercanbald, one of the more gregarious of the Dwarves asked me why I had never spoken of my clan. I was glad of the firelight and the ale I had consumed already having reddened my cheeks, as they flushed further.

I told Ercanbald of my past.

I was found on the steps of the Vidda Commorancy, an orphanage in the town of Vidda as a baby with nothing but the cloth I was swaddled in and an ancient book. The Commorancy was operated by the Scions of Caint, an order of nuns that staff hospitals and the like across the land. They raised me well, and I can’t by any means say that I didn’t have a happy childhood. The book was unknown to me until I came of age and was too old to stay at the orphanage. Sister Haim, who had always been the most kind to me of all the nuns took me aside one morning and presented me with the tattered leather tome, obviously very ancient, and despite the damage it had suffered it had clearly been well cared for otherwise it would not have reached the age it had.

She told me of its provenance; that it had been the only item left with me and that the sisters had attempted to have it translated by some of the many learned Dwarves in Vidda. Unfortunately this had not come to much, Sister Haim said that all they had managed to discover was that it was a general history of the Dwarves, and specifically within that of one clan in particular. Much of it was written in a language unknown to the Dwarven scholars who had studied it, although they saw that it shared elements of Ancient Thulian and Elvish none was able to translate it with confidence.

What is clear is that the book contains a detailed lineage of a Dwarven clan that appeared to be intrinsically linked to the mountain of Dwimmermount and it’s fabled interior. Many of the book’s pages have been lost, be that by through negligence or design I have no inkling. The result is that I cannot trace my own part in that lineage of the Dwarven clan, but I can only assume that I play some part in it. This is why I choose to live by my forename that was given to me by the Scions of Caint only.

This is the driving force behind my journey to Muntberg and desire to explore the mythical mountain and hopefully learn of my history and eventually take my place in it, as after the two years I spent with the Dwaven stonecutters I felt I could no longer hide from my history as I had done for so many years before."

On kobolds 

Dwimmermount and dwarves

Lineage

Dwimmermount - The Barbarian's Story

This is from Zoilus' player on the fight for dominance over the Orcs. Very much a touch of the Cimmerian about the young barbarian.

The mighty man-beast strode towards the steel-thewed Barbarian, unbuckling his armour. “Now, we wrestle!” bellowed the orc.

Laughing heartily, the shouts of his comrades ringing in his ears, the young barbarian launched himself cat-like toward the foe. Hands locked eagerly, and man and man-beast grappled, each shifting their feet in the dungeon dirt to take the force of their opponent.

The mighty man of the North was the first to overpower his foe, a lock of limbs that would have laid low a lesser being, but too soon the orc broke free through pure brute force. They clashed again, a desperate dance of grapple and dodge.Soon it was the orc that had the best of it, winding Zoilus with many a mighty hold. Dodging and grappling, they sparred, but the beast-man’s inhuman prowess looked soon to best the Thulian adventurer. Again and again, Zoilus endured the crushing embrace. Bruised and winded, the barbarian finally broke free of a hold which looked to be deciding move. The orc bellowed swinish laughter from its porcine maw as the man scrambled across the slabs, victory in its sight.

“You fight like elf!” The orc mocked.Drawing on his final reserves of energy, like a wounded lion cornered in the wild, Zoilus launched himself forward with desperate, primal fury. His arms found their hold and, with a bone-wrenching heave, he squeezed the foul air from the lungs of the spawn of chaos and hurled him to the ground, defeated.

5e D&D Dwimmermount Session 7 - I hate you but respect you! I shat the sun!

The party map so far

Our intrepid Dwimmerdelvers return once again to the Path Of Mavors after a short rest. Looking at their map, they decided they’d return to the region populated by Orcs, so heading into the southern dungeon area they came across a room filled with strange tube, pipes, odd miniature metal cartwheels painted red and blue, basins and floor grates. Some of the tubes were made from a kind of perfectly clear glass, free of bubbles and blemishes. Since nothing looked removable, and some of the party were wary of witchery they didn’t understand they decided to leave the room. However Flandar, the gnomish warlock, saw a shadow move further down the corridor. Calphis cast a light spell upon a piton and Zoilus hurled it down the corridor to illuminate the area but it revealed nothing. Brother Spenzar used his divine thaumaturgy to shout out a command in Ancient Thulian to show themselves, and indeed this did attract four Orcs from the side corridor. A brief battled ensued, but Zoilus donned his Thulian Warmask and in his most intimidating manner demanded the Orcs cease their attack. This worked, and the Orcs skulked back down the side passage. After a few moments a lone, huge Orc came forth to parley with the party. I’m hoping that other party members will write up a separate account of what took place this session, but the Orc sub-boss approached with ‘I hate you but respect you’, the beastman greeting given to someone they don’t intended to immediately eat. Later the Orc asks if the great burning ball is still in the sky, to which Zoilus replies ‘I shat the sun’, pretty much confusing and amusing everyone at the table. There was a wrestling bout, won eventually by Zoilus using rules made up on the fly - they could use a little work.

"I hate you but respect you!"

Orc Wrestling

After agreeing to sell to the Orcs ten horses, one each for the remaining Orcs on this level and telling the sub-boss not to tell the boss or his lightning bolt shooting wizard the party remove themselves from the area, to explore the remaining central hallway.  

The first chamber they found contained strange floating silvery black bubbles. A small pool of bubbling black liquid resided in the one corning of the room which appeared to be welling up from a fissure in the floor. Bittersalt released an arrow one of the bubbles which exploded with a blastwave, setting off the other bubbles and creating a powerful shock wave that injured the entire party. Cursing this magical liquid, the party ignored the doors within the room and took the opposite door in the main hall.

The room beyond, a workshop of sorts, contained an ancient device of iron, with disks of brass and a front mesh. The party are once again reluctant to investigate this mystery and instead plunge further into the halls. A door is opened revealing gleaming eyes in the dark as a gang of misshapen and misbegotten creatures spill out. These humanoid things are pale, with patchy beards and little in the way of clothes but clutching rude weapons and tools. They hoot and howl in attack, focusing solely on Errol the dwarf. In their frenzy to kill him, their pack tactics fails them and the don’t strike a single wounding blow against him. Zoilus leaps over the pack to better evade their swarming, while arrows, crossbow bolts and spells of sleep, ruinous poison and death spill forth from the rest of the party.

Errol’s cries out “death to Kobolds” and wades in, hewing left and right. Already the party’s ferocity takes its toll on these Kobolds, and many are falling, turning to powder as they do. The parties mettle is established, and with only the dwarf taking wounds the party dispatch all but one of these creatures, who is kept for interrogation. Bittersalt implies a link between Errol’s dwarven heritage and this Kobolds, to which Errols restates that he was adopted, and only has as book of Dwarven history, an heirloom, to rely on. More on this to come I suspect.  

When Kobolds Attack

Kobold Swam

We ended the session here. The encounter with the Orcs was brilliant and everyone left feeling like we’d had another good session. I’m going to tighten up starting times as we’re getting later and later, which is limiting the rate at which we get through things. With so much interesting stuff to come, I don’t want to feel like we’re getting bogged down here. The party will get enough experience in all likelihood to get to 3rd level next session, which will no doubt means a return to civilisation and perhaps a journey to the city of Adamas! Once again I feel very lucky to have such a diverse group of players who seem to all enjoy playing together, and none of whom are motivated by annoying the rest of the party or players. This is a type of player I’ve always struggled with, and have left otherwise perfectly good groups to avoid.