After much hardship and on a path fraught with danger, the adventurers finally made their way into the Jagged Edge. They pushed forward, ignoring everything they came across that could have served as any kind of distraction from their goals, and doggedly pursuing the quickest path possible in as much silence as they could manage, as everyone seemed to have something they wanted to keep to themselves.
While a trip through the Edge should have been suicide for anyone, the adventurers were exceptionally lucky in that they managed to avoid too much trouble. The gods clearly smiled upon them... all of them, as the new moon offered a great deal of comfort to those who knew of its terrible power.
Eventually, they reached the door Agni had spoken of. It was so old now even the Dwarven stonework had worn with age, and writing all around it told all travelers to beware - in nearly every language one could imagine, not only Dwarven. Upon reaching it, they could not help but wonder... Exactly how had Agni expected them to get inside an ancient, sealed door, even if this was considered a secret back-door not meant for use, rather than the enormous gates that had been so impenetrably sealed by the dwarves?
That answer became apparent when, upon further investigation, they found wards upon the ground that looked recently drawn... and the massive stone doors opened on their own with a mere touch. What wards these were, they knew not, but they were effective at keeping things out, it seemed... If anything even knew of this door, which, from the desertion, it seemed no one did but them.
One thing was for certain, however: someone, or something, had been here recently.
No matter the case, the adventurers prepared to enter. Some lit torches ((Please specify if your character did or not, if you have one in your inventory; if you do, your torch is lit and will burn out when I say so, and be removed from your inventory)), and it was so dark in the tunnels ahead that even Valya and Garandros had trouble focusing upon anything in the shadows.
Down they descended, deeper into the halls, into an ever-growing darkness... A strange feeling came over them then, as if their very mortal souls knew something here was terribly wrong. Evil radiated so powerfully that the very air was full of it - feelings of despair, of sorrow, of wrath, of greed...
And then they stepped out onto a ledge - and they saw the Forbidden Halls of Clan Dimmlundar stretched out before them.
They were truly a breathtaking sight. Seemingly endless streets reached far into the distance of Nidavellir, and each great, geometric building of stone - some perhaps once gilded with gold in places, but now long since torn to pieces by greedy demons - looked like a craftsman's masterpiece. Various glowing gems still stood in lanterns along the streets and mounted in buildings, illuminating everything in glows of various hues, unlike anything seen anywhere in the mortal realm.
In the center of the city stood the greatest building of them all, reaching almost to the ceiling of this entire world. Whatever flags had once been draped down its sides were stolen, burned, or ripped to shreds.
And yet an unnatural quiet lay upon the place. What was once a bustling Dwarven city now stood completely still, barren. Down here, there wasn't even wind to stir the silence. Now and then, they heard the distant, echoing drip of a stalactite. All they had to keep them company was the crisp chill of the underground air... Oh, and each other.
They descended a long, winding staircase down to the city streets, becoming lost in a utopia of ancient Dwarven architecture. So far, everything seemed peaceful - if one found the unmistakable touch of death peaceful. But nothing moved, and they heard no signs of life to disturb them... though each and every one of the adventurers felt a strange heaviness, a sense of dread, hanging thick in the air. It seemed strange, and yet even the least experienced among them knew this feeling: it was evil. Evil, in its purest form, that haunted the entire city... an evil so powerful its very presence weighed upon their souls.
They would have to find Dáinsleif, the sword of the former king, quickly, if they wanted to complete their mission - and get out alive... But there was also the knowledge that anything they found in this entire city was theirs to keep.
As they moved through the streets, they realized it would take some time to reach the enormous building in the center - whatever it was. However, there were other structures of interest in the general vicinity already, including:
- Temple - A temple to unknown gods, as all places meant to bear holy symbols were long since destroyed. But such a place could easily hold something of interest, or at least perhaps information - on the evils that lurked in the city, if nothing else.
- Tavern - Always a center of local culture, though it was highly doubtful they would find anyone alive. Still, perhaps some old evidence of the culture here still lingered in the tavern - or perhaps some priceless old Dwarven drinks.
- District hall - A district hall, meant as a government seat for the populace of this one area of the city. Perhaps some records could be found there giving some indication of where Dáinsleif was being kept... along with some other treasures.
- Blacksmith - Anything to be found in an ancient dwarven smithy was surely of interest - if not to them, then certainly to anyone on the surface. Anything found there could be almost priceless.
- Homes - Perhaps containing useful information, not only to them, but something to bring back and sell or give to scholars on the surface - and, besides, the homes could very well contain lots of little baubles and trinkets that could be sold for a great deal, simply because they came from the long-dead civilization of Clan Dimmlundar.
Where the adventurers started looking was up to them.