Scene Three: The Hammer

Fargrim hits Rhal with a Cure Wounds; he gets 13 HP back. How's Tleyar's health bar?

Khadam looks to the monk and gives a grim smile,"As far as we know you are the closest thing to a Grandmaster left. If you find her you can give it back, or at least let her blood mix with the Grandmasters who have carried the chain before."

When Rhal holds the chain he feels a warm tingle begin to roll from his hand up the veins in his arm. It begins to spread a present sensation over your body. In your mind you feel one presence in your mind, then another and another. Soon you head has a criss cross of thoughts and ideas flowing. Only one of which is yours. "You are not Biannca. You are not the master of the chain." a dozen minds speak and echo this thought.

Izzy gives Tleyar an amused side-eye. "Hey, Captain Trips, think you can keep your head together long enough to give us some eyes up on the cliff there? All we need is somebody to tell us if the orcs are headed our way, and that cliff's got the best vantage point. You're a treehugger, right? That mean you can get along with griffons OK?" Looking over at Rhal, he says "So, about how many orcs would you say are left? We managed to wipe about 60 or so of them, and three of those little creepazoid gnomes. You get any idea of how many that leaves them with?"

Fargrim join me on the watch. You know the griffon from your time, though short it was, here with us. Khalad mounts and has Fargrim follow him to the Hammer..

If Fargrim goes with the two will stand in the griffon nests overlooking the Monestary below. Fargrim will remember his excitement the first time he ever stood in this Avery as a young griffon rider. He also remmebers the day he left this valley in shame.

Khalad stands next to him. Below they see the wilder orcs and wolves heading for the gates only to be stopped a group of 6 heavily armored Orogs. The discussion looks to be a violent disagreement with one of the Orogs finally cuffing the largest orc in the face knocking him to the ground with a splatter of red crossing the white snow. The orcs then slowly move back to the main building.

"Looks like the Orogs are not going to give chase. I don't believe I've ever seen an Orc not chase a prey."Khalad states then looking out still continues."You did well today Fargrim Fatbottom. Maybe we were wrong all those decades ago and there is a Hammer of Moradin within you." He then looks to Fargrim,"I need to know. Do you trust this band you travel with? That these Golden Dragons are more than just seekers of their namesake? I believe we may need to enter the ancient paths beneath this mountain. They will tread places only traveled by dwarf before. Places that hold the wealth of the dwarven race. Can we trust them not to abuse this trust and take what is rightfully ours?"

Fargrim wrestles down the urge to push the arrogant old dwarf off the cliff. -I've been spending too much time with that skinny human lad,- he thinks. After a long moment of thought, he says, "Trust is a complicated thing. We have slain foes together, and faced demons, death, and foul magic. They have risked death for me, and I for them. The half-elf warrior, and the human paladin, they are resolute and noble of character, as is the heaven-blooded paladin who took our message back to the council. The scaly lad, the sorcerer? He has trouble controlling his urges, but he is young, and has courage. He'll bear watching, but I will watch him. The dark lad, the joker ..." he pauses again. "He's clever. More than clever, I think. Were we all dead, and he here on his own, I've no doubt he'd strip the place to the walls and then sell the walls to the nearest noble with ready cash. And then no doubt ransom the treasure back to the Council, and lead their troops back against the very noble he'd sold the keep to, for a hefty fee. Heh! Aye, that'd be him. But he'll not betray us while we live, and he'll keep his word. And he'll find a way around near any challenge you face him with, most likely a way you hadn't even thought of. All the while complaining of his own cowardice and mocking at everything within eyesight. Bit of a sharp tongue on the boy, d'ye ken? Give him a task and close your ears, and he'll not fail you."

The stick seems to shrink then vanish into the bag. As you move your staff in and out it seems to shrink and enlarge. It is rather entertaining.