<font color=silver>ooc: No ice storm out my way, Larry, just a few straight days of that classic cold, damp, gray and rainy New England weather [img]graemlins/thumbsup.gif[/img] </font>

<font color=white>The Underneath of the Forums</font>

<font color=thistle>The slope is steep and the descent is long and by morning's end the party now finds itself several hundred feet below the surface. Syrathic is the first to reach the point at which the passage begins to level off, and this far below the earth even eyes as sensitive as his have difficulty in distinguishing the features of this lightless place. The air has a warm dampness about it and not far ahead it seems that the passage grows somwhat wider. From time to time the sound of small scurrying things breaks the silence.</font>

<font color=white>Terrakis</font>

<font color=gray>The ringing of the chisels has changed its tone. Gone are the loud, bold notes of the rough task of shaping the opening, and present now to the ear are the softer notes of finish work as the last few details are seen to. Already the great hinges are in place and nearby the doors cut from the stone of Adalon’s lair lie ready to be hung. Terrakis watches the slaves with a grudging admiration. Mountain dwarves captured some time ago, they work at this task reluctantly but also with the stern pride of the craftsman who will not content himself with anything less than his finest effort. Their hammers have struck without let or pause for quite some time and the moment to hang the doors has come. The hoists are made ready and as the dwarves struggle against the weight of the stone their leader clears his throat with a grunt and begins the song that has been the chant that has accompanied their labor:

<font color=white>And it’s go boys go
they’ll time your every breath
and every day you’re in this place
you’re two days nearer death.
But you goooooooooooooooooo.

And I’m down here cuttin’ stone
and I’m tellin’ you no lie
I work and breathe among the things
that dwell far from the sky.
There’s thunder all around me
and there’s poison in the air
there’s a lousy smell that smacks of hell
and dust all in the air.

And it’s go boys go
they’ll time your every breath
and every day you’re in this place
you’re two days nearer death.
But you goooooooooooooooooo</font> *

The giants of shadow smile at the defiant pride of their slaves. Here is a race worthy of respect in their grim and dour refusal to admit defeat – more worthy by far than the broken and simpering dragon whose power was so much greater but whose heart had nothing of the stern mettle of these stone cutters. They sing, these dwarves, and they work and pride gleams in their eyes as the doors fall perfectly into place. Rare it is to find such stone and more rare still to find those so skilled as to work it well and this day has seen both. “Well done, slaves, well done indeed!” even Terrakis must compliment such work, “You do your race proudly this day.” But good humor is not a thing to be indulged when there is work that must be attended to and with a sneer and a wave of his arm he dismisses them, “I shall have to make it a point to find the rest of your clan, for such skilled slaves are valuable indeed. Away with them for there is much still to be done!” The slaves are shackled and led away and Terrakis turns to the giants who have borne the mightiest of the magical trinkets of Adalon’s horde with them. “Swiftly now! Into the opening with the lot of it. These gaudy baubles the surfacers prize so greatly shall guarantee our success.” With a rude clatter objects rare and powerful are dumped into the opening behind the doors.</font>

* An adaptation of The Chemical Worker’s Song by Great Big Sea

[ 11-17-2002, 11:30 PM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

<font color=white>THE RAVINE</font>

<font color=cadetblue>Steep are the walls of the cliffs that define this gash within the mountains, so steep and so high that even before the coming of the storms the light of the sun would reach the dark and stony soil here for but a narrow portion of the day. Even so small an amount of sunlight, of course, no longer reaches into the ravine and the only illumination here is that provided by the thunderbolts that burst out of the swirling winds and clouds of the storm. Strangely, however, the most violent air to be found in the ravine is not that of the shrieking winds with their relentless and dramatic gusting. It is, rather, that strangely dense and placid draft which has settled over the stones beneath which the buried Hunger lies. For while the gusting winds are alive with the violent freedom of the storm, the Dead and Devouring Wind is the living violence of the grave whose terrible stillness reduces the freedom and vigor of life to breathless dust.</font>

<font color=lightgreen>Syrathic looked to Brendon and said, "I'm going to move fast and scout ahead. You'll probably won't be able to follow, and you shouldn't see me at all. When I come back to report, I'll tap the ground in a certain series, so that you know it's me and not an enemy." He proceeded to show Brendon the series of taps.

He quickly moved ahead, and the group lost sight of him almost instantly, his stealth skills and cloak combining to make him almost invisible. His footsteps were silent, and he strained to hear any sounds in the cave. He could still hear scattered mumbling coming from the group behind, but nothing seemed to be in front of them.

The path was steep, but the elf had no trouble with footing. The darkness was becoming thicker the further he descended, however, and he was having more and more trouble the further he went. Finally, he reach a point where the path levelled off. Here, the darkness was oppressing and it was beginning to bother him. He had to strain to see anything here. "Maybe I should've taken one of those coins. I don't like this at all."

He started to head back to his companions at this point. They were still a ways back, and it was much tougher going up the steep slope than it was going down. As he approached, he tapped the ground as he had demonstrated for Brendon. "I got quite a ways ahead, but found no signs of anything. The path levels off, but that's as far as I went. The darkness is very thick there, and it was difficult for even me to see."</font>

<font color=indianred>Brendon

Brendon was very glad to see his friend make it back peacefully. He had worried and dreaded while he was scouting. He knew that death to some of this party was inevitable. Death would be coming soon. Even in this very damnable lighless world. The report of stronger darkness did nothing but confirm poor Brendon's feelings of dread. Yet, a job was to be done, and it required somebody getting through these devilish caverns first...or all was lost. Brendon patted Syrathic on the shoulder for a job well done, and signalled for the troop to continue moving forward. Why was he in the front, anyway? He should be back near the rear with the girl. He'd rather not have her casting spells at his back. It unnerved him. But he was also beginning to wonder what everybody else was getting out of this adventure. Was everyone on the level? Did they all have the good of the Ironworks Forums on their minds?

</font>

The lightless tunnels were just how Dantes remembered them, deep, dark, and oppresive. Just the thought of a hundred million tons of solid above or below you was enough to tame the hearts of even the bravest men, yet none he turned back at the challenge. Was it sheer bravery or utter stupidity that lured these unlikely companions far below the surface of the ironworks forums to the lightless caverns of the Underdark? Dantes had yet to make up his mind which one described them. As he walked in the middle of the pack Danted couldn't help but be drown with memories of his past experiences here, and of the grave evil that had imprisoned him far below the surface. That evil still stired. Though Dantes had narrowly escaped he was not powerful enough to destory the evil, but that was a quest for another day. With any luck they would be able to avoid it entirely. With any luck. . . Dantes' thoughts trailed off as the party came to a stop ahead.

OOC: sorry I was sick, but I'm better now [img]smile.gif[/img]

<font color=white>THE RAVINE</font>

<font color=cadetblue>Beneath the shrieking winds of the storm the ancient breath of stagnant air roils, its tendrils snaking along the great pile of stones above the buried Hunger. There is still, even after so long a time, the traces of a life within the winds here, traces that the winds have denied to the Hunger all this time.

<font color=skyblue>Yes! His life still moves here, mingled among these winds! ...... O! The fool! the splendid fool! Brilliant in his defiance! Small wonder that none expected him to pour out his life over this same ravenous appetite that stole the power of the Ring itself! ....... Ah! But what this fearsome Hunger cannot seize, I might savor ...... Yes! The traces of his life here shall simply have to do until I might break him and consume every last bit of the defiant freedom .......</font>

And neither the Hunger below, nor the winds above can prevent the Devouring Wind from seizing the traces of the Windbringer’s life. And as these traces are consumed the Devourer breathes its satisfaction into the storm, and another life mingles itself with the winds.

<font color=skyblue>O yes! ...... It is time! Time for those beneath the earth to act ....... How splendidly receptive they have proven to be! ...... It is to laugh! ...... Yes, my mighty servants. Sons of the Modding One you call yourselves, but my whispered malice has awakened your slumbering might. Yes! Act now for it is time ....... After all, who shall contest your claim?</font>

And within the angry movement of the storm there is a sound not unlike that of laughter.</font>

Despite his earlier embarassing situation Dankorona felt right at home in the lightless tunnels. He had lived almost all of his his many years in caverns similiar to these. He knew the pride of crafting tunnels and joy of striking rare mineral or precious metal deposits. Other than a few drow raids and the occasional wandering monster, he had lived his years in relative peace with others and his surroundings. It wasn't until the Hunger attacked his party, that Dankorona knew real loss. He felt it even now. The cold hollow feeling in his belly threatening to drag him down among the rocks with his misery. It was a large burden for the little gnome to bear. Even though he was pleased to be home Dankorona walked with his head down, and the smile that usually lit his face was not there as he walked. The only sound he heard was the scuttling of animals in dark corners, and muted walking of booted feet.

Edited For My Atrocious Spelling Errors.

[ 11-20-2002, 02:32 PM: Message edited by: AzRaeL StoRmBlaDe ]

OOC: whose post are we waiting on to move this thing along?

<font color="99ff00">Walking up to the gnome Morguerat asked him to stay back in the rear so they could talk for a time, I've not spoken to you in some time sir gnome, not since I left the bar of Bugman, what do you know of the area we travel into? I've known gnomes before and it's been said, from what I've seen rightly so, that they are even more keenly aware of the nature of rock and natural stone than dwarves, and are even harder to get lost in the dark caves beneath the earth, are there any pitfalls or other dangers that you are aware of up ahead?

*Morguerat is keeping an eye on Rhianneth the entire time he speaks with the Dankorona*</font>