Hammertime

Bolthome

Ghost City

We decided to rest up at the original dig site for a night and to press onward to reconnoiter for traces of survivors and perhaps signs of the enigmatic White Dwarves.

We took the dressed tunnels for a few minutes until we found our way barred by giant doors adorned with a sigil of a stone cube pierced by a crossbow bolt. Beyond was a strange arena of some sort with signs of a recent battle in the far corner next to similar doors beyond. A bodkin crossbow bolt was found lodged into the stone bleachers.

From here we heard the sounds of battle that surely included skaven. It was indeed skaven but a very weak party of them being decimated by what appeared to be the very White Dwarves we sought. We came to the dwarves aid against the wretched ratmen and put them to flight. But the dwarves, rather than being grateful seemed incapable of such a sentiment and proceded to attack us in preternatural unison when Dovrak mentioned the name of our sacred town: Tarran Tor.

We overcame the dwarven axemen and their brethren with Crossbows so large and powerful as to be a minor wonder of engineering. But not without the aid of Thengir who was a member of the 1st Granite Diggers who we were sent to relieve on our original mission.

He told us of a trap laid by these White Dwarves for his comrades once they had collapsed the dig and decided to explore further. He was isolated from them and not the worse for wear when we found him. The Glyphs of Moradin showed themselves in his favour…and in ours…this time.

We wondered what curse had befallen these white dwarves with their well-worn but equally well-made weapons and armour to make them into mindless mushroom zombies. Barador and Kalderak offered postulates but no sure answers; we did all agree with Kalderak, however, that we should wear cloth masks around our noses and mouths lest their condition was brought on by the spores we are seeing on all the walls. Everything, but especially any remaining wood-fungus is covered in this pink stuff which glows and is so prevalent now that we don’t need our sunrods for light.

Introductions with our new found squad-mate having been completed, we endeavored to continue our reconnaissance. We noted a remaining Skaven from their battle and parlayed with him so that we could continue without fear of reprisal from the rear. Slim assurance from the jaws of a rat…but better than nothing.

We passed through many lengths of tunnels with rooms that offered evidence of the outskirts of a passed dwarven civilization. These included guard posts, some storage chambers and what seemed to be a farmstead who’s soil had turned to sand and who’s farm implements had turned mostly to dust.

Finally we reached a great steel enforced gate like the last ones but even greater. Beyond was a huge dwarven city that was silent and quite dead. The clear tracks probably all made by white dwarves in this area all avoid the terraced city and head straight through on the boulevard on which we entered and which appears to go on to a new cavern after the city.

We explored the city and found no trace of white dwarves except the prevalent spore everywhere. Everywhere except the Temple to Moradin; Hammer of the Gods be praised!

But as we disturbed the spore more and more in the area it appeared to begin to pulse. And then, as we explored yet more, it turned from pink to bright red. Perhaps we should have cut our losses but many holy valuables were to be found and we did not feel it right to leave sacred gold to the misappreciation of the mindless dwarves. It was certainly eerie to explore a town so abruptly abandoned…but wealth is a virtue.

Sure enough we were eventually attacked by a fungus dwarf reconnaissance party led by what appeared to be the fungally possessed seargent of the 1st Granite Diggers. Curse this fungus, we eventually defeated them though we were hamstrung by our fear of getting trapped by a city of white dwarves and never living to tell this dire warning. We didn’t have time to defeat the thankfully small party before we noticed a shambling mass of white dwarves in the distance approaching from beyond the ghost city. Needless to say, we retreated to count our coins.

I carve these runes on these walls lest we be struck down before we speak them.
Sigil-Keeper Ernst, 2nd Granite Diggers.

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Zodgrod

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