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Outlands 10 Apr 19


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We continued our quest in the Isborsk underworld. Our patron, Morg of Novgorod, wanted us to regain a magic relic he left behind during a quest he took as a youth. The Mayor of Isborsk, abducted by the Volga dwarves, was still missing. The bound dragon, on which we rode under the world to reach Divinia, had one of its chains severed (by us in accident). Our rival, Jakubus the Sayer, sent his Smoky Sprinters to keep us from our goal. Was there any upside to coming here?

We were also trying to hide the Shield of Einherjar and destroy the Bones of St Oglesvet. To do either we would need to reach the Iron Mantel.

We left the fiendish toll booth and backtracked, looking for an escape from the Corridors of Fiends. We encountered an open route back to the First Kingly Tombs, but it was guarded by denizens. These we quelled 6-5-4-3-2-1-none, without incident. Securing more wealth at our established bunker, we returned and headed roughly south in the level of the Fiends.

We reached an ornate floor. One of our party, the one who slew two gods (so I am told) saw through the trap. He ordered our magicians to find us a path to cross without touching the floor. Tamoon allowed us each to ride across on our own shields. Sigmund, not trusting a friendly competitor for his spell, turned himself into a bird to fly the distance. On the far side we found more riches, strewn and left as an offering. Now ours.

Our delvers conferred. The money must have been a purchase, the right to travel deep without interference. Our Mud Map foretold our travel across the Kingdoms of Lore, the Spawning Ground and Nether-Worlds. Yet if we could shortcut our travel, we could reach the Iron Mantel directly. We encountered a Monstrous Den and then a hall which at first allowed us to travel unhindered, but then erupted in resounding attacks of firearm pellets. We ran the gauntlets of missile fire to reach our true objective. Yet our party reflected and decided that at least four of us should have been slain. The Shield of Einharjar hummed and ached with life force. Lady Moridin almost dropped it there, but she decided instead to hand it off to the selfless (perhaps na´ve) Sigmund.

With three certainly bad choices, the one we took found ourselves chased by a Great Titan of Iron. He swung a hammer, which hit the surface of the ground with force that turned the slag into emeralds. Was Tamoon who finally struck the creature and caused it to swear in words no mortal should hear. It was only later we realized that our guide and sorcerer, Tamoon, was viciously wounded in the ordeal. I should tell hi thanks, but I no longer know the meaning of such things. Yet in the aftermath we found a citadel made of acres of pure metals, The Castle of Tidevansurverk, Home of Glitnir and his foundry.

Past the bronze gateŚplaced by men to honor the god inside, for no immortal would have crafted so crude a barrierŚwe found a Titanium Titan berating his goblin minions. In a see-saw of a battle, we eventually defeated the monster. Donning the cloaks of the goblins, we continued deeper, hoping our deception would arouse less suspicion.

We followed the sound of a hammer singing on anvil into a room made of Gold. Well, most of us could see it was Niobium, a shiny metal of no value. One of our party, he who shall remain nameless, was made to wear a boot on his head to remind him to listen to his superiors.

We followed once again the sound of the blacksmith into a trap. The very walls formed a puzzle as the place we found ourselves in had no exit. Striking the walls to mine a portal, we passed through to the opposite side of our very own room. Surely we were touching the veil that divides life and darkness. Only by magical blessing did we all believe ourselves out of this peril.

Until next time.



Yours,

   red



Message Replies:
I failed to mention -- red, Ungmar the Merman (posted: 4/11/2019) 
Morgz Mum -- Fredrick Rourk (posted: 4/11/2019) 
 
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