Talking to Sonnlinor Dvalin Thunderhammer

Having finished their shopping here, the group move on to the House of the Reconquering Forge – the Temple to Moradin.

Here, they find that half of the temple is actually made over to be more like a field hospital. A number of injured dwarves, and even a few human mercenaries are present in various states of injury. It is clear that the work to clear the mines and surrounding lands is probably proving harder than the dwarves had expected, and the priest who greets them looks somewhat haggard as dwarves go...

As the group enter, the lead dwarf priest steps up. "I heard a priest o' Clangeddin had arrive in the citadel" he says, approaching Larz unerringly. "Well met t' yer!" he says, grasping the other dwarf's forearm in traditional dwarven greeting.

He nods a greeting to the others. "An' now, if I heard right, yer lot are thinkin' about tacklin' the wee beastie in the dungeons!"

His face drops a little, and he opens his arms in a helpless gesture. "I tried t' deal with the undead meself, but I'm ashamed t' say that me spirit was nay strong enough, and I fled before I could do aught but put a few skeleton's to their rest." He shudders at the memory. "I barely caught a glimpse of it, but it were almost like a ghost - rushin up and screamin' at us." He shakes his head sadly. "Tis to me shame that I dinnae stay, fer several of me companions died that day - frozen in fear as it attacked them!"

Vaslin listen carefully to what the priet of Moradin says and what he does not say. Trying to figure out what they may be face. (makes knowledge religion check or whatever is appropriate for this).

"Did it scream or perhaps was it more like wailing?" Vaslin asks for clarification.

Luc jumps in enthusiastically after Vaslin and says, "how many did you have with you? What did you do? Did your weapons do any damage?"

Anthos hangs his head in shame. "It were more of a scream I guess - deafening screams of the dying" he shudders at the memory. As Lucretia interrupts with his own questions, the priest of Moradin shakes his head. "I dinnae ken if they managed t' harm it afore they died" he says. "But there were six o' us when we went in, only meself and one other managed t' escape with our lives." He looked down at his feet, filled with shame for a moment before he speaks again.

"Later, I returned again, with more dwarves at me back, this time armed with prayers to banish fear and bless our weapons." He scowled. "It did not help" he states flatly. "Although noone froze with fear this time, it moved too fast fer us. Its touch drained the dwarves will t' live, and its screamin' deafened and stunned us with its power. Those few that retained their wits 'n' tried t' strike it barely damaged it." He shakes his head. "'Tis a more powerful beast than mere muscle and faith can defeat methinks."

Luc raises his eyebrows, "stunned with his power? how? was it a sound, a flash?"

The dwarven priest looks at Lucretia for a moment. "No, the power of its screamin'" he clarifies.

Milo had waitied for Larz to introduce himself, before he had been willing to offer his services as a healer, but the conversation had quickly moved on to the threat below, so he had listened and observed. The cleric was obviously upset that his own powers had not protected himself, or his fellows, and Milo felt great sympathy for him.

When they got to discuss the powers of the undead creature, Milo considered his own knowledge of undead, and tried to identify it. It kind of sounded like a banshee, he thought to himself, and then picked up on the lack of damage when hit.

"Sonnlinor Thunderhammer, were the dwarves equipped with magical weapons of power? Or did they use their usual weapons? Some undead can resist weapons without the addition of magical help"

Milo then pulled out some notes, and did a quick search.

"Aye, that is true, and that is what happened here" answers the dwarf. "Methinks this cursed being is incorporeal." he adds looking thoughtful. Clasping his hands together in front of him, he continues, his brow furrowed in thought. "Argon was wieldin' an axe that had been in his family fer generations. Methinks that was probably magical. We didn't think any of the others had permanently enchanted weapons, so we used a spell t' enchant to make them temporarily magical" he adds. He looks up at the tall Painbearer solemnly. "I think Argon damaged it afore he fell, but the others were too stunned to do aught of any good"

Luc holds his chin as he considers the priest's words "hmmm... I only have one enchanted weapon, looks like I am going to need more. Tell me, would you happen to have an enchanted weapon, a short sword or bastard sword perhaps, that I can borrow? I will return it after the mission. Perhaps if you have any influence with Anthos you can persuade him. The more powerful the weapon the better"

Luc snickers "after all I am willing to wager my life that I'll keep my promise..."

"I can certainly provide yer with a couple of scrolls with a spell that will temporarily enchant a weapon for yer if that will help?" offers the dwarven priest. "And perhaps a scroll to bless yer party." He gestures at the various wounded people convalescing nearby. "I'm afraid we have no spare healing potions" he says sadly.