The Quarry - 10/29/2019
Goblin, Hobgoblin, Bugbear. All describe cruel creatures who believe in their own sets of rules and expected all others to follow them. Order matters; their rules matter.
Pike that. There are some fundamental laws, not rules that I follow set down by my power. You don’t live past your time, you honor the dead, and help those to cross over when they need.
Nowhere does that include, sacking, pillaging, murdering. But that’s what happens anyway.
My tears had dried some time ago, and Morlea’s ashen face was streaked with their trails. I awkwardly stood, cradling her lifeless body in my arms. I walked back out in the mornings darkness and looked around on the walkways. It wasn’t hard to find what I was looking for; elves carrying their dead kin.
They were solemnly moving them towards the western edge of Whitepetal. As I moved and followed them, they quietly and gracefully, laid their dead, around a tree near one of the platforms. As I approached, a pair of elves saw me, and hurried over to take Morlea from me. Their faces each wore sorrowful looks as they relieved me of my burden, with a phrase which I took as thanks; ‘Diola lle Ha-Celas.’
I nodded silently and stared too long at the pile of corpses there. Twenty? Thirty? Too many. Some drenched in blood, others burned, and others like Morlea, seemly untouched, but cold and dead all the same. I turned away and started to head back to where I was resting before this waking nightmare started.
I needed my things. I needed my
Apocrypha. I needed to prepare. As I threaded my way across the walkways, I heard the sounds of boots behind me, rushing to get next to me.
“Myr? Are you alright?” Daneath said.
I stopped and turned to look at the warrior. He was dressed only in hose, and a light tunic, with his shield and sword in hand. He looked tired, and covered in blood, that was clearly not his own.
“No.” I said simply. And before Daneath could speak again I asked him, “Have you seen Iesa or Beepu?”
“Beepu is with Galenas right now and send me to find you. I don’t know where Iesa is.”
“Get your things, find your brother, and meet me where you left Beepu.” I said in a level tone.
Daneath looked at me a moment and was about to say something but checked himself and nodded. He turned and I could barely hear him say, “Yeah. Right. Sure.”
I continued toward the room in the trees where I was going to be staying. Along the way I concentrated on the strand that I used with Gossamer. It was there but very faint.
Once I reached the room, I focused on that strand and then suddenly pulled on it. In a moment, Gossamer appeared, looking around confused.
What the? Oh! Hi.
--Did you find him?
I did, but it took a while. He took a beating and was barely conscious. He had just awoken and was about to walk back when…Well, I’m sure he will just follow Mo.
I entered the hut, with Gossamer in tow, and I slammed the door shut. Dropping my rapier and belt back on the chair and dropping my shield on the floor, I stripped off the robe, and pulled off my boots. I quickly focused on myself with a white strand and stripped away the blood and soot. Once done, I started to dress and armor myself.
So…what now?
--Talk to Galenas. Get the others. Then find the bastards that did this.
And then what?
--Send them in for judgement.
Oh. I…see.
Gossamer was quiet after that. He sat on the nearby shelf and looked at me with his yellow eyes, unblinking at me. Finally, I fastened the last strap, and grabbed my shield, and sword belt and threw open the door. I headed back towards the center of Whitepetal, looking for the others.
It wasn’t hard to find, as I could hear the gnome practically shouting, when I entered the hut where we first met Alanthia and Galenas. Inside a fully armored Daneath was wrapping a linen cloth around Iesa’s head, who had his things in a bundle in front of him. Meanwhile, Beepu was standing on a chair and was gesticulating widely at a expressionless Galenas.
“So, we must move at once!” Beepu shouted.
“We have lost many of our warriors last night, and our numbers have been lessened by raids on our patrols. I cannot afford to, as much as I wish I could.” Galenas said with an angered edge on his voice.
“You have a responsibility to—”
“My responsibility is the safety of Whitepetal! If we leave with any significant force, it could be overrun by other goblins.”
“A good offense wins battles!”
“And we are not positioned to be a good offense. We are barely a middling defense.”
“Wait,” Iesa piped up and stood, moving towards Galenas, “You mean you would leave your own in the hands of—”
“Not by choice!” Galenas retorted. “But I cannot risk saving her and leave Whitepetal undefended.
“Wait…who are we…Alanathia?” I interjected.
Iesa nodded. “That female hobgoblin ran off with Alanathia over her shoulder. I tried to stop her, but…she packs a mean punch.”
Galenas sighed before speaking, “I…thank you for trying. In fact, all of you for helping. Things would be worse if you had not been here.”
I thought a moment and then realized something. “You don’t have the numbers to defend Whitepetal at all do you?”
Galenas looked at me and sighed, “Barely. We need more warriors here. We can hold here if I recall all patrols. But that means we can’t track where the hobgoblins are.”
“And you can’t retreat from here because?” I pressed.
He sighed again, “This place guards the primary path to our…what you would call a capitol. There isn’t another defensible location closer. Leaving here, leaves us exposed.”
“Send for more men…er elves,”
“We already have! I had a small group leave and take Ravalan with them last night with that message. Ravalan was going to convince Melandrach on the need for more here. But it will take days for that meeting and for reinforcements to arrive. And until they do, we cannot do anything.”
“Where did they take Alanathia?” I continued pressing.
“This female hobgoblin that Iesa fought is known to us, and we believe she has made herself home in a quarry, north of here.”
“Quarry? Did elves mine?” Daneath asked surprised.
“No. It too dates back to Illefarn, and it was run by dwarves at the time. It has been abandoned for the most part by civilized beings.”
“Can you give us directions?” I asked.
“Wait a second Myrai…we haven’t decided any—” Daneath started.
“Did you want to see your father?” I asked bluntly.
“Well…yes,” Daneath replied slowly.
“Iesa? You?”
Daneath’s brother nodded in agreement, “Yeah.”
I looked at Beepu, “Do I need to ask?”
“Of course not. But—”
“Then, why are you arguing? Get your things together.” I said and turned to Galenas. “Where is the quarry?”
“I will have a map drawn up for you. And…you have my thanks.”
I nodded and turned on my heel and headed back outside. I heard Daneath follow me.
“Myr…stop a moment.”
I stopped, turned to look at him and waited.
“Look, shouldn’t we talk about this?”
I cocked my head and I know I knitted my eyebrows together.
“Talk about what?”
“I mean taking on what, an army of hobgoblins isn’t what I planned to—”
“Planned? What of any of this was planned? Saving Ravalan? Or perhaps the musties in Flint Rock? The Waterbaroness and her party? My…death? Was
THAT planned?”
“Myr…that’s not what—”
“And it doesn’t matter now. Blood has been spilled. And even more is going to be spilled.”
“But is—”
“And it sure in Baator isn’t going to be mine. So, get your gelbas together, and find me down below when you are ready.”
Daneath stared at me a moment, stunned. Finally, he looked down at the walkway we both stood on and nodded.
“Right. I guess I’ll get the others. Wait, where are you going?” he asked realizing I was heading somewhere.
“Down, to pay final respects.”
--
The grove wasn’t far from the outpost. It was a wild tangle of old growth oak and pine. Around the forest floor, it was choked in brush and ground cover. Yet, the elves carefully had groomed or perhaps encouraged it to create the myriad of paths that existed within the growth. The paths wandered without pattern, vines and shoots creating smaller canopies beneath the great tree in the center. I wasn’t familiar with what kind of tree it was, its upper branches created a broad canopy above the grove, but it was covered in flowers that hung from tendrils from the canopy above. White flowers, that gave the nearby outpost its name: ‘Whitepetal.’
But today the efforts weren’t spent within, but without. They had quickly interred their dead, and upon each placed a new seedling. As I searched for where they would place Morlea, I noticed something. There was little ritual about the bodies. They were gentle and graceful, on how they handled the corpses certainly. But no prayers, no offerings to their souls.
I remembered that would be something done in private; with kin and friends. I doubted that in this community of elves that I would be considered a friend, for a single night of small talk. Yet, I was determined to pay my respects in the way my Lord would want me to.
They had not yet interred her when I found where she was to be planted with a sapling. A druid was near, and I watched her use the same spell that I used on Roggins; if a little more on point on what it was meant for. She had finished burying a fallen elf when she noticed my presence. She then spoke to me, haltingly in the common tongue.
“Child, why have you come…here?”
“I am but a servant of the Lord of the Dead,” and I gestured to my holy symbol I wore. “And this elf…Morlea aided me. I wish to…pay my respects and pray her soul to the proper afterlife.”
The druid considered and nodded but stood and watched me with an expression on her face that I could not read.
I knelt on the ground, and pulled a strip of cloth from my pouch, along with two greenies. I looked at Morlea, who lay in the earth, wearing only a muslin underdress and an expression of peace on her face. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and her arms crossed in front of her.
I took a greenie, and kissed it, placing the coin on her right eye, and I repeated it with the second coin her left. Then I bound the cloth, so the coins would stay in place. As I did so, I chanted a prayer to Kelemvor, to help her soul find its way beyond:
No one should be alone, in life or death,
Death is a part of life, not an ending but a beginning
Death is without deceit and has meaning,
May your soul find its way to Arvandor,
And gaze from the Overlook, in the Cresent Grove,
May your kin guide you on the next step of your journey,
Because Death is never an end, but a waypost,
Not a destination, but a Journey,
The memory of your deeds will live forever in us,
So be the will of my Lord, and my desire in faith
May Death grant you peace.
When I had finished, I watched the earth churn, and I saw Morlea for the last time, sinking beneath the loam to sleep forever. The druid stepped forward, and planted a sapling in the loose earth, before regarding me again.
“You spoke of ‘Overlook’ and the ‘Cresent Grove.’ Who taught you of these places?” She asked with a guarded curiosity.
“They are places sacred to the Seldarine, and I know them because I saw them from a distance in the Gilded Hall in Aborea.”
“You…saw?”
I nodded. “We were told not to cross into Arvandor; it is a place for elven spirits, not mortals. But you still could see the wonder in the distance,” I said remembering a time five years ago. “I’m going to pray a bit and wait for my friends. Thank you.”
The druid nodded and moved on to others waiting their turn for burial, leaving me to my thoughts. My bowed and eyes closed I cast my thoughts to wherever my Lord could hear me.
--Long ago, I thought avoiding untimely deaths meant healing and helping those to survive. Am I meant to avoid more, by slaying those who make war on these elves?
--Is this my purpose?
--Is this why my heart burns?
--Is this the right path?
--I don’t ask for much my Lord, but a sign would be…helpful.
You know Myr, I’m not sure this revenge thing is you.
--What th—
I don’t think you are the bloodthirsty type.
--Goss; first what do you know of me? And second…shut up.
I was still kneeling in the dirt, centered and prepared, when the trio finally found me. I could hear them move towards me slowly, and perhaps a bit awkwardly, as if none of them could decide who should interrupt my thoughts. Finally:
“Myrai, we should go,” Beepu said in a matter of fact tone.
“We have a map?” I asked, as I got to my feet.
“That we do,” Iesa said waving a bit of parchment in front of him.
“Lead on,”
Surprisingly, the quarry was much closer than I thought it would be. It wasn’t even peak when we reached it. It was basically a mine shaft that was surrounded by hills on three sides, and the remains of an ancient road leading east. We approached quietly, Beepu sent his owl skyward to look around.
“The quarries entrance is on the northside going into the rock. There are remains of carts and rails leading down. There are some tents on the floor of the valley in front of the quarry entrance. And…there are guards on the hillside above the quarry, armed with crossbows. Six hobgoblins are there, some on the ridge above the entrance, the rest on the floor of the valley.”
“But nothing else? No prisoners?” Iesa asked.
“No. They probably are in the quarry itself.” Beepu said as Foggle landed on his arm.
This made me wonder a lot of things. Six of them outside, and probably more within. How did they manage to get so close to Whitepetal? And how many other places like this are they camped at? How many were there total? Was it so many that the elves never thought they could attack? Or were they over-confident in their defenses that they could repel them, no matter the numbers?
“Still is a lot of them,” Daneath commented. “We can’t afford them to run and warn the others.”
“Well, how many guards are on the ridge?” Iesa asked.
“Two? No three!” Beepu said after a moment. “What are you thinking?”
“Well, if we can eliminate them, it would let the rest of you get closer. I could then from above keep them pinned down with a bow.”
“How do you propose getting to them? There is not so much as a tree or shrub on the ridge.”
“Make me invisible.” Iesa said with a smile.
The gnome thought a moment. “Yes. If you stay quiet. But can you take on three of them?”
“I want to find out.”
We snuck up to some scraggly hedges that were on the floor of the south eastern side. All we needed to do is rush into the valley and take on the ones on the ground. Foggle was in the air already circling above, while Gossamer stayed close to me, keeping eyes out behind us while we focused ahead.
“Anything?” Daneath asked aloud.
“Well, he is alive as the spell is still working. I can see the three—Ooo!”
“What?” I asked.
“I just watched one slump over quietly, and Iesa reappear,” Beepu his brows furrowed. “Quite a large amount of blood on the rock. I wonder if his…nope. Another one is dead too. Not a sound.”
“This sounds promising,” Daneath said looking at me.
“Amazing, a plan that works,” I said. “Can he do three?”
“Ouch! Yes. Yes he can. He’s pulling out his bow, so I think he is about ready.”
“Great! My turn!” Daneath pulled out a javelin from a sheath on his back. He’s always carried them around, but I seldom seen him use them. And without even pausing, he bolted noisily into the valley.
He was not quiet in the least, but he wasn’t trying to be. As Beepu and I trailed him, we saw the three hobgoblins turn to face us. I couldn’t see their eyes or teeth yet, so I could only imagine the snarls and the jeers on their faces. But as we planned, Daneath launched his javelin into the air, and it struck the closest one. It lodged deep in the hobgoblin’s chest, with a large gout of blood spraying everywhere. Beepu then threw a bolt of fire at another one, and I heard it scream in pain as the fire burned through the studded leather smock it wore. From behind, Iesa’s bow launched an arrow into the backside of the third one, causing it to turn around, looking for the guards that once had his back.
I smiled, as my heart raced. I ran in and I watched the three gather up and start to charge Daneath, hoping to bowl him over with their bulk. But as they approached, I focused a moment on a light and dark strand, pulling them taut, and then snapping them apart.
The three hobgoblins stumbled in their tracks, as bones cracked and snapped. All three fell to the ground, twitching and convulsing. I felt euphoria at killing three of these beasts, my heart quickened its pace as I looked for more of them to kill. As it was, I was disappointed that no others emerged from their tents to assault us, and Daneath voiced his disapproval.
“Hey! I didn’t get a chance to swing at them!” Daneath complained
“You lodged a spear in it,” I said holding my hand open and spread apart in confusion.
“Javelin!”
“Whatever!”
“Not the point; I wanted to hit them.”
“Same here. And it saves me from healing you.” I said.
“It is not nice that this all worked out so well.” Beepu said cheerily.
“Let’s get below. I’m sure there is more,” Daneath said with a wolfish grin.
We descended into the mine entrance and was greeted by the smell and light of torches. I was for one relieved; torches meant that the brothers could see, and that I didn’t need to create a light, giving us away in the darkness. The main pathway had a track for mining carts, that entered a large gallery with tunnels boring deeper into the rock. While most of the tunnels were dark, there were torches in sconces to our right, flanking a large wooden door. Continuing along the wall more torches descended deeper into the mine.
Iesa took the lead, and moved to the large door, and we followed quietly. Beepu sent Foggle to fly down and within the darkened passages, while Gossamer stayed in the shadows a little behind us. Iesa moved silently to the door and pressed his ear against it. With a free hand he lifted a single finger, and then a second. He then prepared his rapier and motioned Daneath to the door.
Daneath grasped the rope handle that passed for a door pull and threw open the door wide and charged inside. He didn’t get farther than two feet, when from the darkness a large morningstar smashed into his chest causing Daneath to wheeze. Blocking his way was a bugbear licking his lips in anticipation of an easy kill. Before Daneath could retreat, another one emerged from deeper within and swung a crushing blow, on Daneath’s shield.
Iesa was about to leap into the doorway, when something caught his eye, and he turned looking behind us in time to say;
“Beepu! Look out!”
From behind a large fast lizard on all fours was charging at the gnome. The warning was enough for Beepu to sidestep causing the creature to run past him
Guard Drake!
--LATE!
Iesa stepped forward and stabbed at it with his rapier, causing blood to spurt everwhere. Looking at my options I decided to throw a bolt of energy at the lizard, hoping to bring it down. Beepu, turned his attention to the bugbears beating on Daneath. From his pouch he pulled out a feather and waved it about saying;
“Your family tree does not even fork!”
From inside the room I could hear something horrible. It first was a deep gravelly sounding guffaw, and then it was just grim deep laughter as one of the bugbears collapsed on the ground, clutching his sides. His companion looked astounded at his partner, allowing Daneath an opening, plunging his sword into the bugbear’s belly.
“I’m not sure that was funny,” Iesa commented as he thrust at the drake again, narrowly missing
“Of course, it is! That is a top joke anywhere!” Beepu replied with confidence and throwing a bolt of fire into the side of the drake.
“Only if you are at a gnomish dinner party,” I commented throwing another purple bolt at the drake, causing it to collapse dead on the mine floor.
“What does that mean?” Beepu asked with a note of anger on his voice, as he waggled the feather in my direction.
“It means, you aren’t funny,” Daneath said, as he traded blows with his bugbear, each drawing blood. But shortly after he did so, Iesa lunged and stabbed the bugbear in the chest, causing it to stumble backwards in pain, and finally falling backwards onto the ground.
“I am so funny!”
“NOT FUNNY!” shouted the other bugbear as it stood and struck at the nearest foe with a hammer. It hit Daneath hard on the shield arm, almost knocking him down. First, I hit it with purple energy, and then Beepu threw it some fire, causing the Bugbear to stagger backwards, trying to raise its arms in front of its face in defense.
This allowed Daneath to swing again, cutting into the side of the bugbear deeply, blood running freely down its side. It turned to prevent Daneath from striking again, only to be flanked by Iesa slashing across its midsection, spilling blood everywhere. Then a bolt of flame hit the humanoid square in the face, causing it to fall flat on its back, dead.
“Yes. I. AM!” Beepu said.
We turned to look behind us and listened to see if anything else would emerge from the darkness. As my heart beat slowed, and the blood stopped rushing through my ears I thought I heard something. As I focused and looked at Iesa I could tell he heard it too. I concentrated on the sound, closing my eyes, and straining to hear.
It was crying. Somewhere deeper in the mine, a woman’s voice was sobbing. We looked at each other and pulled in tightly into a huddle so we could talk.
“Crying? That must be a prisoner,” Iesa said.
“Well, I’m about to start. I need a breather before we take on more.”
“We should not delay!” Beepu retorted archly.
“I want to finish this,” I said licking my lips in anticipation. “But I want to win. We wait for Daneath.”
Iesa considered and nodded. Daneath and he, pulled the bugbear corpses deeper into the room they had emerged from, while I dragged the lizard behind me into the room. Beepu sent the owl to perch on a beam to watch for patrols.
So, do I come in with you?
--No, find a spot to hide and watch. And warn a bit faster.
That wasn’t my fault.
--And keep an ear out on that crying.
Can do. Sorry.
The room that the bugbears ‘lived’ in was not fit for civilized folk. I’m not sure that even hobgoblins put up with the filth. But the stench of spoiled food, and rotten carcasses permeated the air. Iesa poked around their sleeping things and their bodies and managed to find some small number of coins. But otherwise there was nothing of value to us here.
As we rested and waited, I reflected. I was excited fighting; seeing these monsters fall put a smile on my face. To exact a toll in blood for what they did to Whitepetal. They were little more than beasts as far as I could see. That anyone else that wasn’t a gnome laughing at Beepu’s jokes was just a sign of a defect in the bonebox. It was a mercy for them that we were in a rush and needed to kill them quickly. Somehow it should linger; let them think about the errors of their ways. Still these weren’t the leader; that female hobgoblin was. I bet she was smarter. And I bet we would kill her all the same.
I didn’t know how long I let my mind wander when Gossamer intruded:
That crying? It stopped.