Taking a more careful approach, Helikaon’s dragon flitted ahead of us in the cool passageways. It was a good job he did as more of the hellish hounds lay ahead of us, but by drawing them back into the narrow corridors from the hall they rested in, we were once again able to contain the fight and vanquish them.
The hall that the corridors opened out into is clearly where many of the dwarves made their last stand as they abandoned the mines. Bones littered the hall and it was clear they had been here for centuries. What dominated the centre of the chamber though had not been dead that long- a gigantic 3 headed dog, clearly a parent of the hellish two headed brutes that we had fought getting here.
We gathered the remains of the brave defenders of this hall, that they might be given honourable burials and rested to regain our strength following the battles. A huge door to the east marked some sort of contraption to move between the levels of the mine, whilst the western end of the hall widened to a treacherous shaft that descended into darkness, studded with the rotted wooden remains of mining props.
As we rested, Aeneas slowly circled down that hole, Helikaon’s brooding features fixed in a mask of concentration. There was a minute or two of calm, before the elf leapt to his feet, shouting out in anger and alarm. He dashed towards the doors and it was all the rest of us could do to keep up with him.
Hauling on a lever, the box began to descend, but as it did, oil began to pour from dragon heads above us. A trap! The troglodyte king had warned that the dwarves had used some sort of password to disarm the “contraption” and the oil continued to pour as Calliope hurriedly spat out words of the gravelly dwarven dialect, using phrases from dedications and carvings in the mines.
We don’t know which one did it, but at some point, we hit the right phrase as oil stopped pouring and the box continued to descend.
It opened in the lower levels. The heat down here was sweltering and we could see a pool of glowing lava to our left, with an intricate bronze device tucked behind it. From within the flames, a swimming form writhed our way and a serpent like being broke the surface.
The Forgekeeper, as they introduced themselves, was being held beyond the terms of their oath by the device, designed to blast cold if it tried to escape. As we began to speak to it however, a new, deeper voice echoed from behind it.
A gigantic three headed hound, much like the corpse of the one upstairs padded into the room, flanked by two of the smaller hounds we had met upstairs. It must have been fifteen feet across it’s broad chest and it lowered it’s head with a growl.
I think we found out what happened to the pseudodragon.