Journal #17 - The Tomb of Baranthus Aubrador

We descended into a cave, creeping down steeply into the bowels of the mountain. My mind began to wander as we encountered no signs of life whatsoever - no light, no smells of note, the only sound was our breathing and passage. Lug seemed to know exactly where to go in the maze of offbranching tunnels, and so I simply trudged along.
 
To think, those bastard Quikhands tried to kill us for risking our lives for them. If I didn’t know other dwarves so well, I might form a racial prejudice, but as it is I can see why Tybeerian spent so much time away from the mountains. With his death, so died any chance of my helping his family. I am undecided on the other families - by all accounts, the Pylanthian dwarves are an honorable people, and only the Quikhands, with their under-the-table crime syndicate, are truly to be despised. I will at least give another dwarf a chance to live, but their esteem in my eyes is certainly not raised. Or so I was thinking on this journey, my thoughts in a dark fume.
 
I nearly walked into the back of Ghiravont as the others had come to a stop - worked stone, carved in a staircase with pillars leading down into the very bedrock. This was the first sign of workmanship since we departed the upper levels’ gate. Firefly has an existential crisis of dread, but we managed to talk him out of it. Down the stairs we went, and eventually we came to a pair of dwarven statues with their mouths open on either side, holding lanterns, unlit.
 
We set them alight and the fire pathed down the arms of the staircase, illuminating the way. Next, we came to a dilapidated chamber with the stairs broken and shattered in front of us and a collapsed ceiling. The air was stale and thin, and it smelled ancient. Silhouettes were at the bottom of the steps, all around the room. I noticed one was an orc, hunched over and still.
 
There was a stone coffin in the center with the likeness of a dwarf molded on the lid. Beyond it, an altar or podium was on a raised dais, covered in small pieces of paper. Nearby, a dwarven mage was frozen in the process of releasing a spell towards the edge of the room away from us, towards a door which had the likeness of a face of an unknown creature. Domino said this was only the first dwarven spellcaster she had ever heard of, and the first she has seen herself.
 
As I looked around, I saw a force of invading orcs and trained burrowing creatures, fighting a dwarven guard troop. All were as pillars of icy stone frozen in place. Who knows how long they had been here? We tried to gauge it based on their manner of clothing, but I couldn’t place anything.
 
Others had been examining the tomb, and saw a cracked warhammer in the grasp of the carving, with specks of gold showing from the break in the hammer. It also had a slot for a gem, which had long since been removed. The statue had a ring on its finger.
 
Domino found an untouched scroll amidst the old paper, it was tied in twine, and a powder fell out when opened. It referenced the 1,100th day of a siege in “the fourth light of our age” - old dwarvish for winter. It referenced Ulbris of Cantolis Moon and a date so long ago as to be beyond comprehension. This was written in the first age, when Satan himself invaded our realm, before the adoption of our very calendar. The scroll described the impending doom against which they fought, but had no hope of survival.
 
Before I could even comprehend what was read from the scroll, Lug was striking the tomb to try to get at what he perceived to be treasure. He smote it and the sound of cracking ice pierced our bones. Ears ringing, I saw the door with the face begin to glow. It rose up in height and then sunk into a socket behind the doorway. Emerged what fantastic tales might refer to as a Beholder. A floating creature with eye stalks and tentacles, that killed with its very gaze. It unpetrified the orcs and dwarves, raising them to fight against us. Though terrifying, they were luckily quite brittle.
 
We persevered, and the Beholder fell, impaled. However, it seemed that it was no solitary creature. Domino and Lug explored its chamber, and cloaked in magical darkness they found a dimensional tear, speaking to an alien entity. Was it the Dark One himself? I didn’t get many details about what was discussed, but he ended by threatening that it was not so easy to put out his light, and a new orb of darkness began growing within the circle of flame – a new Beholder. He inferred that Domino had been his creation. I wonder if it could be that dark wizard I heard about in her sister’s prison. That seems awfully powerful for such as him though. They came running out of the chamber telling us to flee!
 
Meanwhile, we’d been combing over rubble, unearthing a dwarven exit to the chamber. The warhammer was unable to be removed, but Korrigash managed to extract the ring. Later he told us his interpretation of a line of runes on the coffin that Lug had found. It was the tomb of Baranthus, the strongest of the dwarves mentioned in the history Domino had found. Baranthus Aubrador, for whom the fortress was named prior to the invasion of the dragon Aldandun, the first king of the dwarves. The runes told his story, first of his line, dead with no heir, buried in this manner as the strongest of their kind, divinely chosen to protect Pylanthia, a tomb of the first age.
 
This meant the ring on his finger was quite important. The ring forged by the twelve houses - The Twelve Layered Ring. The hammer was The Chalice of Pylanthia, for which the mountain is named. Legend says it shattered upon the breaking of the crown of the Black King, the king of the Ashen Orcs. The tomb was never to be opened, yet during a power vacuum the bearer of the Chrysanthemum Cross (Lug) was the one to reopen it, there by the deceit of the dwarves themselves, during a time of crisis with an orc invasion imminent. It tasted of justice. Korrigash dispelled the magic holding the ring in place, and he witnessed a vision I only learned of later.
 
Dwarves were sealing the coffin, the last dwarf placed a crown on his head. Time lapsed as the king rested, nothing came or went. Until, the ice melted. The forges of Pylanthia and the Deep Hall shattered. The walls of Dahrun were hollowed out on the orders of this king as a bastion. He heard the voice of the king in his mind; if he were to take this ring, it would be to find the true heir of the dwarves, as one man, one dwarf, and one elf must stand together against the lord of Magulban. If we do not find the heir, it would bring ruin.
 
As Korrigash witnessed this, the hand turned to dust and the ring was freed. The hammer would not budge. He tried the ring on, but it burned him. We made our way out then, through the unearthed exit.
 
Sunlight came through a cave mouth as we emerged, beyond us we saw a forest valley laid out, the forest of Y’pyfri’el. We had escaped.