Session 1
An ancient general heaves himself up from the table. Now standing, the once powerful dwarf towers over the other soldiers in the room. The room is actually a section of the main hall of the dwarven stronghold. Massive pillars hold high a ceiling far out of reach of dwarven darkvision. A map is sprawled across the table and the old general points to it occasionally, as his speech dictates.
The general is Helmut Stonebeard. Once, he was a mighty dwarven warrior fighting on the front lines against the orcish invasions; now he tells mighty warriors where to go and who to fight, for his sharp military mind has outgrown his feeble body.
Around the table, five warriors are seated. They are all soldiers in the army, although not all of them are regulars. Even so, they are all now summoned to serve their clan. Each of the warriors sits patiently while the old dwarf details their mission.
"Well, boys..." Here, Pikkit growls audibly, brushing her beautiful red beard in annoyance. She is clearly not a boy!
The ancient general continues, undaunted. "We lost an entire regiment in the mines. Can't figger out what happened to 'em. We opened up another natural cavern down there and sent the fightin' boys in to make sure the area was secure. Now, this here is classified information, what I'm about to tell ye, so don't let it get out. We're thinkin' we might have the beginnin's of another orc invasion on our hands here, an' we need those boys back. I'm sendin' you fellas in to bring 'em back. You, yer in charge!"
The withered finger has singled out, seemingly at random, Thrallin Stonebeard. Next to him, his elder brother, Wroth Stonebeard, gapes in shock as he realizes that he has not been placed in charge, despite having better qualifications.
"Lets get to it, then!"
"Oh, an' one more thing. If ye don't find the soldiers while yer down there, at least kill a bunch o' orcs!"
"Right, to the mines," the gravely voice of Pikkit assaults the group.
Thrallin tests out his new authority. "No, to the temple! Let's see if we can't get blessed by them temple pans...er, priests."
The soldiers march into the temple, heads held high, beards wagging as they walk. Inside, an acolyte accosts them and inquires of their purpose in the temple.
"We're here for a blessin'!"
The acolyte responds with a crude and hasty gesture that vaguely resembles the tracing of a hammer-shape in the air. Then, he sends them on their way.
So blessed, the group walks past the artisan-sector and deep down to the mines. There, the soldiers cut through the crowds of miners, asking if anyone had seen a regiment stroll that way.
Not surprisingly, someone had. "Well, I reckoned that they were just goin' in to make sure the new mine was safe, but, come ta think on it, I ain't seen 'em come back, neither. I'll take ye to the new mine, if ye want, but I got a couple o' things ta do first." With that, the dwarven miner hoists a large bag over his shoulder and carries it to a cart. Quickly, the soldiers step forward and aid him in his labor.
Finally, the group begins its descent into the shaft.
"Fellas? I just gotta ask. What's that thing walkin' with us?"
Two answers come at once.
Brunta Stonebeard, a keeper of the natural ways of the deep, gruffly tells the miner, "It's a bagger," by which he means that it is a badger.
Thrallin grins. "It's dinner!"
Both the badger and the dwarven druid glare at the brash team-leader. The glare only intensifies as Thrallin crushes a passing spider under his boot.
"Hate them things," he cheerfully asserts.
Deep underground, the dwarves come to a flooded area in a tight tunnel.
The miner's brow is furrowed. "That's funny. It weren't flooded a fortnight ago, when we came down this way. Well, look fellers. I gotta git back ta work, but it's a straight path ta tha new mine." With that, the dwarf turns to embark upon a long ascent.
Brunta gives the first intelligible command. "Well, er...sniff it out, Bagger!"
Unfortunately, the badger only looks at its dwarven friend blankly. His eyes seem to speak: "You sniff it out, ya big, dumb jerk!"
The water is thick with algae and darkened by an unknown depth. At the shallow end, in front of the soldiers, albino fish can be seen swimming in it.
Brunta bends down (tucking his beard safely away), presses his lips to the scummy surface of the water, and begins to speak.
"Bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop. Bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop. Bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop. Bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop. Bloop? Bloop! Bloop. Bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop, bloop!"
He stands up amid troubled stares. His companions clearly have concerns about his stability and obviously doubt his sanity.
"They say they've been here fer 'bout a week. Well, not that one; he only came here with his family a couple o' days ago, but people...er, fish...started moving in here about a week ago. Had to be careful though. Says there's stories about fish what got grabbed out o' tha water, never to be seen again."
Of course they said that, Brunta. Of course.
"I asked 'em to scout ahead fer us, but I don't think they'll be back. Ain't too smart, if ye know what I mean..."
"Well," Thrallin declares boldly, "Only way ta find out if we can cross it is to wade out there an' see. Let's git goin'!"
The soldiers wade in, with the badger floating in front of Brunta on his wooden shield. The water quickly rises to their waists, but levels out after that. Their close proximity to the filthy liquid does nothing to improve their impressions of it; the thick, stagnant water foils all attempts of the eyes to penetrate it. After some time, a rumbling sound can be made out. It builds slowly and unsteadily, but its origin cannot be traced.
Wart Stonebeard, a so-called "psychic" warrior, has a very troubled look imprinted on his jagged features. As he wades through the waters, he can sense the minds of all of the fish around him calling out, whispering to him. Bloop, bloop. Bloop, bloop.
The group pushes on. Finally, the rumble bursts forth from the stone walls and ceiling as the stone passage drops from under the dwarves and the black water leaps into the air. The ceiling is falling down around the soldiers, but fortunately, Wroth is the only dwarf to suffer a blow from falling rock and this is softened by his finely-wrought full plate armor.
Their greatest concern is that the passage behind them has caved in.
Silence enshrouds the soldiers as they push through the twisting tunnel, but it soon opens into a fairly large cavern. At the other end of it, Thrallin spots six goblins, just as they notice the group. They goblins have been spearing fish with javelins; now those javelins sail through the air at the closest target. Fortunately, that target is Wroth, who stands laughing as five javelins bounce harmlessly off of his armor. He even manages to barely wince when one punches through a weak jointed area.
Thrallin is ready for the attack, and quickly aims his light crossbow. He fires and one of the goblins spins around as a bolt drives into its leather armor.
Then, all six goblins drop into the water, out of sight.
Seeing that the blood leaking from the wounded goblin suggests that the goblin is not moving forward, the group cautiously wades into the large room (or swims, in the case of the badger).
Something strikes at Thrallin, who is well ahead of the rest of the group, and crushes into his leg. From in front of him. The rest of the dwarves slog forward to join him. In their haste, they almost do not notice that the blood trail is swimming forward to meet them.
Thrallin swipes at the water in front of him with both of his tempered edged short swords, but only one manages to find its mark, slicing through flesh and clouding the water with yet more blood.
None of the other dwarves can even find the attackers with their weapons, despite ripples of movement in the water all around Thrallin.
In seconds, slimy hands--far too many slimy hands--are grasping the team-leader and pulling him under the surface. Despite a frantic attempt to remain standing, Thrallin Stonebeard is dragged into the black, bloody cave water.
When I A) Finally am able to move to a place with a decent gaming store, or B) Decide it's worth the risk to buy online, I might check it out. Heh.
