Mortepierre
First Post
Sorry about the delay folks and thanks to those who waited patiently. Here is the promised update. It's a bit shorter than I had planned it to be but part 3 will be the bigger for it.
Hopefully, it should be ready by New Year.. or at least no much beyond that
1.2 Fear and Resentment:
It hadn’t taken them long to find the cellar’s section described in the testament. Between Eirak, who had grabbed a sledgehammer, and an eager Musadoc, uncovering the doorway to the vault had been child’s play, if a bit messy. Once the dust had settled, the four ‘heirs’ had each used their key to unlock the massive iron door. They had been a little surprised when Kalveig had pulled it open all by himself. Apparently, it was perfectly balanced despite its size and weight, which allowed a single man of average strength to handle it effortlessly. Quite a feat of engineering given it was almost 12 inches thick!
As the door turned on its hinges, air was sucked through the opening. Facing them was a long corridor filled with darkness, except in the distance where a faint light flickered. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all smooth, made of solid stone. The only audible sound was that of the companions’ breathing.
Musadoc was the first to enter. He looked around, went on a knee to observe the floor, and sniffed the air like a dog.
“Little to no dust. No humidity. The air is a bit stale but breathable. No cracks apparent in the masonry.” He turned to Eirak in wonderment. “Your ancestors certainly knew their trade!”
Eirak grimaced and muttered something unintelligible.
Pelrind followed the halfling in the vault. He touched a wall delicately with a hand and closed his eyes, as if he was listening to something. When he opened them again, he looked genuinely impressed. “The Earth.. approves? My kin know how to mold stone without displeasing the Earth but this is the first time I find a construction that gives off the same feeling of being ‘of’ our world. Intriguing...” He looked at Eirak with newfound respect.
The dwarf seemed not to have heard him. He was looking deeper into the vault, as if sizing an enemy up. His grip on his waraxe was so strong that his knuckles had gone white.
“Brother, do you wish me to request light from the Lady?” asked Siubhan quietly to Kalveig.
“No Sister, conserve your strength. I have a feeling we’ll need it soon enough. I brought a lantern.” He lit it, walked a few paces, and handed it to the elf. “Since you are obviously no fighter, could you carry it? I need my shield-hand.”
Pelrind shrugged and took it. “As you wish.”
After equipping both his shield and his flail, Kalveig took the lead. “Sister, please stay 10 feet behind me. Elf-”
“My name is Pelrind, human.”
Kalveig bowed his head slightly in silent apology. “Understood. Pelrind, stay on the priestess’ right side. If something jumps us, try to give me as much light as you can. I need to see what I hit. You - Musadoc, is it? - stay on my left side, 5 feet behind. I want you to stop anything that passes me from reaching her.” He pointed at Siubhan. “Got it?”
Musadoc nodded and equipped his own shield and pickaxe.
“Seems ye’re forgettin’ ‘bout me” growled Eirak.
“I haven’t. You’ll bring up the rear.. if you think you’re up to the task...” answered Kalveig.
Eirak got into a huff. “Why! Ye arrogant whelp! I was leadin’ real men into battle when ye were but a kid, and-”
“Good. Then you must know about a little something called ‘discipline’.” And, without sparing the dwarf another glance, Kalveig strode forth.
Ordinarily, Eirak would have grabbed the man and pounded some politeness into him.. but this was no ordinary circumstance. As he watched the others advancing into the vault, he felt the icy grip of the Kun-Orun (8) on his heart for the first time in decades.
Come on Eirak! T’is just a stupid vault. The halfling said it himself, it’s safe and secure. No loose rock.
Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes, took a step forward, and crossed the vault’s threshold.
See? Ain’t nothin’ to it.
But he could feel his hands starting to shake and cold sweat slowly forming on his brow.
Silently cursing his own weakness, he hastened to join the group.
**
The companions came almost immediately upon an intersection. The main corridor continued straight ahead, still wreathed in darkness except for the flickering light which had grown marginally closer. On their left and right, secondary corridors led to doors. The left one was closest but closed, while the right one was a bit further away but half-opened. Mindful of a potential ambush, Kalveig went for the latter and pushed it open all the way with his shield.
The room beyond appeared to have once served as a larder of some sort. A large pantry dominated the wall facing the entrance, its doors ajar. On the right, chests had been smashed open, and their contents spilled on the floor. On the far side of the room, great barrels had been broken open, and a pungent vinegar smell plagued the air. Shelves along the left wall had been toppled, their contents strewn across the floor. All in all, the place looked like it had been looted by a band of famished thugs.
Kalveig was about to investigate the room when Musadoc stepped in front of him and raised his pickaxe to indicate he should stop.
“Wait. Can you hear it?” The halfling was gazing intently in the direction of the broken chests.
Kalveig listened carefully. After a few seconds, he caught it. Slight noises, as if things were crawling through the debris. He nodded slowly to Musadoc. The latter whispered “Follow me. Once I uncover them, strike immediately. Careful, the buggers are fast.”
The halfling walked toward the chests, holding his shield very close to the ground. Then, with the tip of his pickaxe, he started to shift through the wreckage. Suddenly, three large, undulating, insect-like creatures poured out of the heap, each as long as a human arm, with a sickly yellow fluid dripping from their mandibles. Two tried to reach the halfling’s legs, while the last went for the human’s. Kalveig’s reflexes proved faster and his flail caught the third creature in the open, smashing it against the floor. Meanwhile, Musadoc had successfully pinned one under his shield and was trying to keep the other at bay with his pickaxe.
Kalveig immediately stepped in and struck it violently, splattering both the halfling and himself with foul ichor. This didn’t seem to bother Musadoc who simply disengaged his arm from his shield and then jumped with his feet together on it, crushing the remaining critter underneath. He turned to face the others and grinned. “Giant centipedes, stupid but they have a nasty bite.”
Mistaking Siubhan’s disgusted look for incredulity, he added “Oh but I’ve seen bigger specimens. I can still remember a hunt in the Ninth Depth that turned up a whole nest of those. You should have seen the mamatipede! I swear, the thing must have been the size of a pony. The pit boss had half a mind to harness it to an ore cart!” He burst out laughing.
The priestess turned a pale shade of green while Pelrind chuckled and Kalveig couldn’t help but crack a smile. Alone at the rear, Eirak was leaning against a wall. Just looking at the creatures from afar had been enough to create a knot in his stomach. He wondered how much longer he would be able to hold on.
**
After making sure more creatures weren’t hiding in the room, Kalveig and Musadoc searched it thoroughly for clues while Pelrind examined the centipedes’ remains. When their investigation failed to turn up anything new after 5 minutes, they decided to try to the other door.
It appeared quite sturdy. A sheet of beaten copper had been affixed to its center and something engraved on it. The etching represented a tall mountain enclosed within a diamond-like shape.
“If I am not mistaken, this is a symbolic representation of Rontra” said Kalveig. “Mayhap the entrance to the chapel the mayor spoke of?”
“Look!” Musadoc was pointing at some strange grooves in the door’s wooden surface.
The companions gathered closer to get a better look at them, and Pelrind was the first to voice an opinion. “These look like claw-marks to me.” He took a step back to have a better view. “Yes, definitely claws.. and belonging to someone or something about your height” he added, turning toward Siubhan.
“Someone attempted to batter down the door?” asked Musadoc.
“Unlikely.” Pelrind shook his head. “The marks aren’t very deep. Whoever - or whatever - made them didn’t have the strength to break through and, by the look of it, didn’t attempt to either. No, I rather think they are marks of frustration. My guess is their maker tried to gain entry, failed and then took it out on the door.. unsuccessfully, obviously.”
“.. which means we’re not alone in here. Look alive people!” warned Kalveig.
The companions turned around, scrutinizing the darkness at the edge of the lantern’s light. When an immediate threat failed to materialize, they went back to the business of opening the door while Eirak was watching their back.
Musadoc looked at Kalveig. “Do you think it’s trapped?”
“I can see no lock, nor any glyph or rune that could cause us harm.. but I am no expert.”
“If you would allow me..?” Pelrind stepped toward the door, his hands outstretched, and furrowed his brow in concentration. After a few seconds, he started talking slowly, as if he was still assimilating information. “The door itself isn’t magical but the area beyond is. I can perceive two.. no, make that three.. different auras.” He turned toward Kalveig. “I can’t be more precise within looking directly at whatever lies on the other side, sorry.”
“It’s alright. Still, the door could be protected by a mechanical trap. Move back everyone, I’ll attempt to force it.” Putting himself squarely in front of it and protecting his face with his shield, he grabbed the handle with his right hand and pushed hard. Surprisingly, the door opened without so much as squeaking in protest. Indeed, Kalveig almost lost his equilibrium in the process!
At first, the companions thought they were looking at a large pit but then realized the floor was some type of dark glass which had been polished to a smooth finish. The 30 ft.-by-30 ft. room featured a stone pool in its center, approximately four feet high, and ten feet in diameter, with white marble steps leading to its rim on three sides. From its center rose a granite pedestal on which stood the statue of a plump dwarven maiden clad in ornate plate armor. She was holding a stone jug over the pool in her right hand, as if emptying it, while her left hand was thrusting a long metallic rod into the pool, as if measuring its depth. Her expression under her open-faced helm was stern but serene.
It was difficult to see because of the pool, but a statue of some kind stood against the far wall, facing the entrance.
A small niche was barely visible in the middle of the left wall.
The right wall was covered by a floor-to-ceiling tapestry depicting the exploits of a valiant figure performing heroic deeds. Three scenes pictured him battling demonic creatures, rescuing an elven maiden from bestial-looking humanoids, and leading elves and humans into battle against the same humanoids.
Pelrind concentrated again. “The three auras are centered over - respectively - the stone jug, the metallic rod, and the whole room. The first two are weak. The third is of moderate strength. The jug seems linked to summoning magic.. wait.. I think it is elemental in nature. The rod has been imbued with powers of transformation.. ah, interesting.. also elemental in nature. As for the room, we are dealing with a protective aura.” He turned to the others. “If I had to hazard a guess, I would say it’s the last spell that prevented our mysterious guest from entering.”
“Well.. only one way to know for sure” said Kalveig, and he stepped inside.
Nothing happened.
The holy warrior addressed a silent prayer of thanks to Morwyn and started looking around. Siubhan, Musadoc and Eirak followed him inside without trouble. As Pelrind was crossing the threshold, he suddenly felt a tingling sensation all over his skin, followed by rapidly increasing pain. His body reacted instinctively and he threw himself out of the room, landing hard on the floor. Bewildered, he looked at his clothes which were smoking as if he had just been through fire (9).
All the others - except for Eirak - rushed to his side.
**
The dwarf just stood there, looking up at the statue in the pool. For the first time since they had entered the vault, the Kun-Orun had relaxed its grip on him.. and it had begun on the exact moment he had crossed this room’s doorstep.
The statue seemed to look down and smile at him.
Glancing around, Eirak experienced something he had never felt before: pride for his ancestors’ accomplishment. In the whole room, no seam could be seen, no mortar connecting the different blocks. Indeed, despite being obviously built from different types of stones, the place appeared more ‘carved’ than ‘constructed’. It was a marvel of austere elegance, its Spartan aspect heightening the importance of the few items that decorated it by removing anything that could prevent a spectator’s gaze from being drawn to them.
Two tears fell from his eyes as he became keenly aware of just how skilled his forefathers had once been.. and of how low their descendants had fallen.
But sadness and self-pity were swiftly replaced by anger in his heart as he looked again at the statue, this time with pure hatred, and he remembered the countless hours spent at the feet of his elders, listening to the litany of grievances that had become his race’s inheritance.
.. She forsook us, Her favored! ..
.. brought down the whole place on us ..
.. your great-grandmother, torn limb from limb by a fell beast ..
.. ruin and destruction, no answer to our pleas of mercy ..
.. whenever you know pain, blame Her for it, and then blame Her some more! ..
.. never forget, nor forgive ..
Snarling, he started to swing his waraxe.
**
Siubhan having examined him and bandaged wounds that were - luckily - only superficial, Pelrind got up and dusted himself off.
“Well, friends, it seems that the powers warding this chamber have deemed me as unworthy as whomever left marks on the door.” He sighed.
“This is absurd” commented Kalveig. “Why deny access to an elf? I thought the NeMoren and your kinsmen were friends!”
“Be that as it may, my human friend, the fact remains that entering this room would undoubtedly seal my fate. I confess I was looking forward to investigating its contents, especially the floor that - if I am not mistaken - is a sheet of obsidian of colossal size.” He shrugged helplessly, having apparently resigned himself, but the others could see he was saddened by the turn of events.
“I see two main possibilities” announced a pensive Siubhan. “Either the room is warded to allow entrance only to members of the Races of the Tree, or to deny access to persons - forgive me - lacking a soul (10).”
“A definite possibility, I’ll admit. I guess having fey-blood in my veins does carry some significance in certain circumstances. Ah well...” He put his hand on Musadoc’s shoulder. “Could I prevail upon you to act as my eyes and hands in the room yonder? As someone used to digging, I am sure you share my fascination for all ‘earthly’ things, eh?” He winked.
Musadoc grinned and nodded. “Gladly!”
Suddenly, the harsh sound of metal hitting stone interrupted them. As one they turned toward the chapel barely in time to watch Eirak’s axe bounce off the statue’s head. The statue appeared only slightly damaged but the axe’s blade was chipped.. which did nothing to improve the dwarf’s mood. The latter raised a vengeful fist toward the statue and uttered a string of insults that would have made a bugbear blush.
Musadoc and Siubhan gasped at the sacrilege. Pelrind, helpless to intervene, rolled his eyes at the sheer stupidity of the brazen attack. As for Kalveig, he chose to act. As all holy warriors, part of his sacred duty was to defend sanctuaries dedicated to the Gods of the Tree. He had been very lenient with the dwarf till now, but the latter had crossed the line with this latest outburst of violence.
Running into the room, he dropped his weapon and shield and jumped at Eirak, trying to pin him down. If he thought size or momentum would give him the advantage, though, he was sadly mistaken. The dwarf had 20 years of combat experience under his belt, gained fighting things a lot tougher and wilder than the holy warrior. He dodged the attack easily and punched Kalveig in the face as the latter flew past.
Kalveig rolled with the blow to avoid injuring himself and got up again as soon as he hit the floor. Blood was dripping from his lower lip. He wiped it with the back of his hand and crouched, observing his adversary through narrowed eyes. Eirak was facing him, fists raised, ready for a brawl. “If it’s a fight ye want, a fight ye’ll get, boy!”
“Stop this instant!” Siubhan had rushed in-between the two warriors, one arm extended toward each, palm outstretched. “Have you both gone mad? We are supposed to be cooperating, not fighting among ourselves!”
Eirak made a gesture of dismissal. “Leave us be, girl. It ain’t yer problem.”
“He is right.. at least on that account, Sister. With all due respect, I would ask you to let me teach the cur a lesson. It is overdue.”
Siubhan looked at Kalveig as if unable to believe what he had just said.
“Gentlesirs, you will stop this nonsense now or I will put some wisdom into those stubborn heads of yours, even if I have to hammer it in!”
The three turned to look at Musadoc. The latter had planted himself in front of the chapel’s entrance, hands on his hips, the very figure of paternal authority. His voice had sounded deeper than usual and had resonated with a self-confidence he hadn’t displayed before. Had his puny-looking aspect not contradicted what their ears had just heard, they could have sworn it had been a totally different person speaking.
Then, as if suddenly conscious everyone’s attention was now focused on him, his face contorted into an expression of utter embarrassment. When he spoke again, his voice had returned to its normal tone and, if anything, sounded even shier. “Er.. that is, if you don’t mind.”
They continued to look at him, each and every one of them completely taken aback.
He looked timidly at Eirak. “I mean.. why are you so angry at Her anyway? At least, you could enter Her chapel. Mister Pelrind here couldn’t, and I know he really wanted to. It just doesn’t seem..” - he struggled for a word - “.. fair.”
Anger replaced bewilderment in Eirak’s eyes.
“Ye’re askin’ me why I can’t stand Her? Tell me first why you like Her!”
“Well.. uh.. She has always been good to us, I guess. Plentiful harvests, healthy children, few cave-ins in our mines.. that sort of thing.”
“And I s’pose ye think yerself ‘blessed’ for it, eh?” Without waiting for a reply, he continued. “Ye wouldn’t recognize ‘blessed’ if it hit ye in the face, boy!” He started to walk toward Musadoc, his steps punctuated by a discourse that sounded both like a profession of faith and a curse. “We were Her Blessed Ones and She was everythin’ to us. Our underground cities were towerin’ monuments to Her sole glory. Her name was the first word we uttered upon wakin’, and the last we whispered before goin’ to sleep. Her temples received offerin’s you can’t even begin to conceive. We raised altars for Her that were crafted of metals you haven’t yet discovered, covered by gemstones that would have put a rainbow to shame. Apart from Korak - blessed be the Maker! - none received as much devotion. Truly, we were First among Her children!”
He stopped a few seconds, not to find his words but to resist the urge to spit in disgust.
“And then She betrayed us. Yeah, that’s right. She turned Her back on us without so much as a ‘thank ye’. Oh but it gets better, ‘cause She didn’t just abandon us. Oh no, t’would have been too easy. She made our caverns crash down on us!” He now stood in front of the halfling and grabbed the latter by his leather jerkin. “When ye deal with a cave-in, how many people do ye lose? 5? 10? 50?” He marked a pause for dramatic effect. “In a single day, we lost more than 100,000! But wait! It ain’t over yet. When survivors fled to the surface, guess who was waitin’ for them?”
“I.. I don’t know” replied a trembling Musadoc.
“Our enemies were, that’s who! I’ve been in battles, so ye can trust me when I tell ye that wasn’t one. T’was a bloody slaughter, that’s what it was! Ever seen what giants or trolls do to their victims? It ain’t pretty. Out o’ every 10 dwarves who woke up on that fateful day, barely one lived to tell the tale.”
He pulled Musadoc closer to him, so that their faces were but an inch apart. His next words were literally dripping with hatred. “We placed Her above all others, and our reward was the destruction of our civilization and our race. That’s why they call us the Sundered, and the reason o’ me ‘dislike’ for Her. Good enough answer for ye?”
Musadoc blanched, though whether it was because of the story or due to the fact that his feet were now dangling in the air was uncertain.
“That’s enough! Unhand him. You made your point.” Kalveig had come to stand behind the dwarf.. and he had picked up his flail on the way. “Besides, your people weren’t the only ones to suffer. The event you speak of was the Cataclysm. Are you so egocentric that you think your kinsmen were the only ones affected by it?”
Eirak put the halfling down and whirled on Kalveig. “And what do ye know about sufferin’, eh?”
“If you have something to add, dwarf, say it. I am not afraid of truth.”
“Ye sanctimonious bastard! Ye would do well to stick yer head out o’ yer arse! When was the last time one of ye was hungry? Or worryin’ sick ‘bout yer pups ‘cause ye don’t earn enough silver to buy them decent clothes and they’re burnin’ with fever in winter?”
“You are exaggerating! Our kings made you welcome in the cities, and-”
“Yer kings? Ye wanna talk ‘bout yer kings? Do ye know what yer oh-so-great Wolfgang (11) did when he arrived? He kicked us out o’ every town and village, that’s what he did! ‘Cause we reminded him of dverges (12) - whatever those are - and he didn’t like them. Her folks” - he pointed at Siubhan - “didn’t do much for us, but at least they tried. For three decades, ye treated us worse than dogs! And then, one o’ yer kings had the bright idea to attack the elves. O’ course, they resisted and he had to run with his tail between his legs, and then came cryin’ for our help. We won yer war for ye and what was our reward, eh? The right to join yer bloody army and continue to die for ye!”
“Unfair! You aren’t barred from any profession-”
“No, ‘course not. But whenever there is an openin’, it just happens they’ve a better candidate for the job. Oh wait, it’s a Drachen! What a surprise...”
“Are you saying we are discriminating against you?”
“Open yer eyes, boy! Ever remember seein’ a Drachen beggar or farmer? Yer folks have the best this land can offer. Ye’re all officers, diplomats, merchants, officials, priests, nobles, etc... Oh sure, some o’ the Traladarans and Russ are too. Just enough to please the crowd, but nowhere near what they would need for the ‘leash to change hands’.. if ye see what I mean. And in the meantime, we dwarves are confined to ghettoes and ‘generously’ allowed to join the military.”
“You have officers, priests and merchants of your own!”
“Barely enough to give ye good conscience! And what little we have, we owe to the laws o’ the only Drachen we truly called ‘king’: Lysander (13).”
“I am sorry for your people. I honestly didn’t know you folks had it so bad.” Musadoc looked at the ground sheepishly.
“Aye, I am sorry too..” began Kalveig. “.. sorry that you feel what happened to your ancestors is a valid excuse to act no better than a troll!”
Eirak’s eyes bulged.
“You told me to open my eyes. Well, I now return that piece of advice to you. You think Rontra betrayed you? No god answered any prayer during the Cataclysm because they were all too busy trying to keep our world in one piece! You lost most of your people - may their souls rest in peace - but that’s no reason to lash out in anger at us or to desecrate this place. You want to hate Rontra? Fine, but the NeMorens believed in her with all their heart and destroying this chapel would be like attacking those beliefs. I cannot allow that. You want to hate me because you think my people were unjust to yours? Fine too. If your kinsmen all react the way you do, it’s no wonder dwarves are still sulking in their ‘ghettoes’ instead of becoming integrated into the society we’re trying to build. Now, you have two choices. Either you start behaving like a responsible member of this team and you can continue with us, or you leave and wait for us outside. We will save your share.”
“Who died and made ye chief?” replied the dwarf.
Kalveig’s sole answer was to lock gaze with Eirak. The tension between them was almost palpable as a silent contest of will raged in the minds of the two warriors.
In the end, Eirak was the first to break eye-contact. “Bah, it ain’t worth it. Keep yer precious statue!” He gathered his equipment and stormed out of the chapel, going back to the intersection and brooding there.
Pelrind broke the awkward silence that followed. “Musadoc, could you please go to the pool and describe to me what’s inside?”
The halfling nodded, only too happy to have something to do after what had just happened. Meanwhile, Kalveig and Siubhan resumed their investigation of the room.
The niche in the left wall was cube-shaped and contained a small bowl-like depression, as if a spherical object was supposed to fit in it. Upon closer examination, it turned out the depression’s interior was lined with what appeared to be brass or gold. Musadoc wasn’t sure and Pelrind was too far to tell.
The statue on the other side of the pool represented a breastplate-wearing warrior seated on a stump and holding a peculiar-looking warhammer in his right hand, as if wielding a scepter. A curious detail was that the warrior was depicted with neither shoes nor sollerets. A copper plate covered with a beautiful script was affixed to the statue’s base. Siubhan identified it as Celestial and managed to translate it: “Sir Kragor NeMoren, Elf-friend, Fiendslayer. Had he twenty hands, still he would not be able to count his great deeds.”
As for the stone pool, Musadoc found it to be nearly full of dried mud. At Pelrind’s request, he scraped a bit of it and brought it back to the elf, which began to rub it between his fingers pensively.
“Hmm.. intriguing. If the vault has been sealed for the past decades, this mud ought to be dry and brittle. Yet, while dry, it still retains some malleability as if unable - or unwilling - to lose cohesion.” He bit a small sample, rolled it in his mouth with his tongue, and then spat it back in his hand. “Mud is the communion of Earth and Water. The former is associated with the physical, while the latter is linked to the spiritual. In other words, the body and the soul. Together, they are often used for rejuvenating purposes. In fact, I remember my master telling me about unusual places whose mud was imbued with healing properties, usually limited to the treatment of skin diseases but - in rarer cases – able to cure all types of wounds.”
“And you believe this is the kind of pool we found?” inquired Siubhan.
“Aye, albeit an artificial one. Obviously, there is no way for us to benefit from it in its present condition.. but under the right circumstances...”
Kalveig looked at the pool and then back at the elf. “Am I correct in assuming you have divined how to activate it?”
Pelrind smiled enigmatically. “Let’s just say I made an educated guess...”
**
The companions, having no reason to linger in the chapel, returned to the main corridor and continued to follow it. They climbed a short stair and arrived on a large landing. Directly ahead of them, another stair rose in shadows and, beyond it, they could see the flickering light that had intrigued them earlier - much closer this time. On their left, a secondary corridor led to a stone door. Once more, Kalveig chose to head for the door first, unwilling to risk having their retreat cut out by hidden enemies.
The door was rather heavy, and it took two of them to push it open. Past it, a five-foot ledge lay level with the entryway. Apparently, it served as a walkway around the upper level of a large room. A stairway at the edge of the walkway descended 10 feet from the entrance to the lower level. Small doors lined the upper and lower levels of the room, each with a small plaque fastened to it. Several of the lower doors had been wrenched from their hinges, and the smell of rotting flesh permeated the air. The bottom of the room had a floor made of packed earth, not stone.
“Ugh! I think we found the family mausoleum.” Musadoc was pinching his nose in disgust.
“.. and, evidently, it has been desecrated” Siubhan sighed.
Kalveig couldn’t help it, he glanced suspiciously at Eirak. The dwarf saw it.
“What the..! Ye think I did it?! I ain’t no grave robber!”
“No, I don’t think you are.. sorry.”
If only because you couldn’t have opened the door on your own he added silently.
“Come. Let us see what damage has been done.” Kalveig started to walk down to the lower level, quickly followed by Pelrind and a grumbling Eirak. A cursory examination revealed only the most recent tombs had been forced, those whose ‘occupants’ must still have had a bit of flesh. That is, ‘had’ before someone - or something - had gnawed at them till only bones were left. The latter lay in small piles on the floor.
They discovered that the last two tombs whose plaques had been engraved were apparently meant for Paytro NeMoren and his wife, Amelia. In her case, however, someone had scratched out her name and carved ‘Always Lisette’ over it. Both tombs were, of course, unoccupied.
As they were puzzling over this latest mystery, they failed to notice the bones slowly sinking into the floor all around them.
**
[awareness]
Flesh pillars return
[sensing]
No carry ward-token
[memory-order]
No ward-token = despoiler = kill
[memory-pain]
Last despoilers hurt Self
[feeling-anger]
Self hurt despoilers before kill!
[feeling-happiness]
**
Pelrind felt a slight vibration through his legs. His eyes widened in surprise as his heart recognized it for what it was. “Quick! Get on the stairs!” He turned and started running.. but it was already too late. When properly motivated, the Earth can be as swift as any of the other elements...
The packed earth of the mausoleum’s floor began to rise in-between the three men and the stairway, clumps of moist dirt clinging to each others and piling up rapidly to form a hideous creature. Shaped like a human figure, rotted fingers, teeth, and other unidentifiable bits of decayed corpses could be seen protruding from it, while a dirt-encrusted skull served as its ‘head’.
Pelrind felt sick in his stomach.
This is no ordinary Earth-Child! Somehow, something evil has corrupted it, warping its perfect form into.. this. Yet, maybe I can still reason with it...
“Wait! Nobody moves! I think I can talk to it. Maybe avoid a needless confrontation.”
“Are you sure about this, Pelrind?” Kalveig’s tone was dubious.
“All I ask is that you give me a chance. Trust me, this is one creature you do not want to fight.” Without waiting for the human’s approval, he went silently through the list of what he had to do as per his masters’ teachings. Planting his staff in the ground, he put the lantern on the floor and walked two paces in the creature’s direction. Then, he stood very still, one hand turned palm down toward the soil at a slight angle and the other holding his medallion so that the creature could see it clearly.
His voice, when he started to talk, sounded more like the grinding noise of rocks being rubbed together than a coherent language. Yet, it seemed to produce an effect as the creature recoiled in surprise.
**
[hearing]
Earth-Talk?!
[feeling-puzzlement]
Earth-Talk = friend = no kill
[feeling-confusion]
But Earth-Talk ≠ ward-token
[feeling-indecision]
If no ward-token, then friend = no friend
[feeling-anger]
no friend = trickster
[feeling-rage]
trickster = despoiler
[attack]
**
Pelrind had been talking to the creature for a good minute now. In truth, it had been more a monologue than a dialogue given he was the only one speaking but at least the monster seemed to be listening. Or rather, his companions hoped that’s what it was doing. Hard to tell when the only indications it was still ‘animate’ were occasional tremors...
When the creature’s right ‘arm’ slammed into Pelrind, it took everyone by surprise (14). The elf flew across the room and crashed against the far wall, his body falling to the ground where it lay unmoving. Kalveig turned to Eirak. “You have to hold it back a few moments while I stabilize him.. if he is still alive!”
Eirak looked at the monster and grimaced. He could feel the Kun-Orun lurking at the back of his mind, ready to pounce at the first opportunity. Yet, the others were counting on him and he couldn’t let them see his race’s curse. Yelling a battle cry to give himself courage, he rushed the creature. His attack was a powerful blow aimed at the midsection. The waraxe cleaved through the compacted earth with some difficulty, the blade being slowed down by bones that were part of the structure. Far from being an impediment though, that fact actually turned to the dwarf’s advantage as it insured a good chunk of the creature was pulled along when the axe re-emerged.
**
[feeling-pain]
Flesh boulder = threat to Self
[concentration]
Summon Earth-Jail
**
Twin points of crimson light appeared in the skull’s orbits, focusing their hellish glare on Eirak. The latter had stepped back a bit, preferring to wait for some indication that his attack had had an effect before making another attempt. It proved his undoing...
Worm-eaten, bony arms burst up from the ground all around him and latched on. They began to drag him straight down.
**
Among dwarves, the Kun-Orun is compared to the Ash Viper because, like it, it takes pleasure in stalking its preys before 'making the kill'. It bites you a few times, never injecting enough poison - in this case, fear - to do real damage, just an adequate amount to insure you are properly ‘conditioned’ for the hunt. Sometimes, it even lets you think you have escaped if that’s what it takes to heighten the thrill of the final struggle. But, in the end, it always wins.
To Eirak’s people, the Kun-Orun is the ultimate bogeyman.. except that, in their case, they know it’s real. And they are right. It is real. In fact, it’s far worse than what they imagine...
As Eirak’s anxiety increased, an invisible tendril linking him to the ethereal grew stronger second by second.
**
Kalveig was bandaging Pelrind as best as his could when an inarticulate scream forced him to leave the elf to take care of a more urgent problem.
Eirak had let his shield fall to the ground and, wielding his waraxe two-handed, was hacking like a madman at the rotten appendages that were trying to bury him alive. Unfortunately, every arm he cut down was instantly replaced by two others. His situation appeared desperate.
Musadoc was running down the stairway to come to his help, and Siubhan had begun to cast a spell.
Kalveig rapidly appraised the situation and decided the best way to help the dwarf was to tackle the cause instead of the effects. He charged the creature, hoping to break its concentration by hitting it repeatedly with his flail.
Alas, by that time, Eirak was already buried to the waist. The bony arms were now grabbing him by the arms, the head, even the beard, and he couldn’t defend himself anymore. Musadoc had arrived, but wasn’t strong enough to pry him loose. And he didn’t dare to use his pickaxe for fear of hitting Eirak.
Suddenly, a silvery radiance enveloped them all, bolstering their courage and strengthening their resolve. Above them, on the walkway, Siubhan frowned. Invoking Morwyn’s blessing was the only thing she could do to help, but she doubted it would prove sufficient.
Regrettably, it didn’t. Despite the companions’ best efforts, Eirak’s head disappeared under the ground. Just before it did, Musadoc locked gaze with him and nearly fainted for, in Eirak’s pupils, he saw for a split second the quintessence of fear and hopelessness.. and something else too.. something not of their world!
**
Somewhere in the deep ethereal, a large shape finished sucking hungrily a silvery-grey tendril that extended all the way back to the Prime Material. It had fed well today. But, then again, with those dwarves it always did...
**********
(8) Literally: ‘empty cave’ (in Dwarven). See the Rogues Gallery for details.
(9) Pelrind’s player was both lucky and unlucky here. The room was warded by a Forbiddance spell, keyed to the Lawful Good alignment. Of all the people in the party, Pelrind was the one who yearned the most to examine the room.. and the only one who couldn’t enter. Normally, he would have taken 6d6 pts of damage just by stepping inside but given the place wasn’t supposed to be a death-trap for my players, I allowed him a Reflex save to step back out as soon as he felt the magic take hold. Luckily, he made it. Else, I doubt he would have survived...
The mayor knew the password to enter, even though he didn’t recognize it for what it was. Had they questioned him a bit more, they could have learnt it from him. Tough luck!
Arguably, I could have replaced Forbiddance by Hallow but it wouldn’t have explained why the main villain of the adventure had been unable to enter the room and I like my dungeons to be logical. Plus, I wanted the players to have a ‘safe haven’ to retreat to during their first mission together. Of course, it didn’t work out as I had intended with Eirak stubbornly refusing to return to the chapel and Pelrind unable to enter at all <sigh>
(10) Supposedly, only members of the following races (which grew on the World-Tree) have a soul: dwarves, gobbers, halflings, and humans.
(11) Wolfgang of Werax was the warleader of the Drachens when they invaded what was left of Pellham and, later, went on to become Drachenhold’s first king. To Drachens, he is nothing short of a legendary national hero.
(12) Drachens had legends from their homeland about short, stunted creatures that lived under the earth and liked to play cruel tricks on humans. So, when they met the dwarves, they decided at first to keep them at spear’s length.
(13) King Lysander I, known as the ‘Peace-Maker’. Apart from Wolfgang I, he is held to be Drachenhold’s greatest hero. He ended a decades-long war with the Suressian elves and vanquished the druids and their humanoid minions who threatened to lay waste to the kingdom. He was also the first to show true respect for the dwarves, going so far as to trust them with his life (and crown!) on several occasions. To this day, dwarves won’t allow others to speak ill of him in their presence.
(14) Translation: Pelrind had botched his Elemental Empathy attempt and learnt the price of failure.
**********
Hopefully, it should be ready by New Year.. or at least no much beyond that
1.2 Fear and Resentment:
It hadn’t taken them long to find the cellar’s section described in the testament. Between Eirak, who had grabbed a sledgehammer, and an eager Musadoc, uncovering the doorway to the vault had been child’s play, if a bit messy. Once the dust had settled, the four ‘heirs’ had each used their key to unlock the massive iron door. They had been a little surprised when Kalveig had pulled it open all by himself. Apparently, it was perfectly balanced despite its size and weight, which allowed a single man of average strength to handle it effortlessly. Quite a feat of engineering given it was almost 12 inches thick!
As the door turned on its hinges, air was sucked through the opening. Facing them was a long corridor filled with darkness, except in the distance where a faint light flickered. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all smooth, made of solid stone. The only audible sound was that of the companions’ breathing.
Musadoc was the first to enter. He looked around, went on a knee to observe the floor, and sniffed the air like a dog.
“Little to no dust. No humidity. The air is a bit stale but breathable. No cracks apparent in the masonry.” He turned to Eirak in wonderment. “Your ancestors certainly knew their trade!”
Eirak grimaced and muttered something unintelligible.
Pelrind followed the halfling in the vault. He touched a wall delicately with a hand and closed his eyes, as if he was listening to something. When he opened them again, he looked genuinely impressed. “The Earth.. approves? My kin know how to mold stone without displeasing the Earth but this is the first time I find a construction that gives off the same feeling of being ‘of’ our world. Intriguing...” He looked at Eirak with newfound respect.
The dwarf seemed not to have heard him. He was looking deeper into the vault, as if sizing an enemy up. His grip on his waraxe was so strong that his knuckles had gone white.
“Brother, do you wish me to request light from the Lady?” asked Siubhan quietly to Kalveig.
“No Sister, conserve your strength. I have a feeling we’ll need it soon enough. I brought a lantern.” He lit it, walked a few paces, and handed it to the elf. “Since you are obviously no fighter, could you carry it? I need my shield-hand.”
Pelrind shrugged and took it. “As you wish.”
After equipping both his shield and his flail, Kalveig took the lead. “Sister, please stay 10 feet behind me. Elf-”
“My name is Pelrind, human.”
Kalveig bowed his head slightly in silent apology. “Understood. Pelrind, stay on the priestess’ right side. If something jumps us, try to give me as much light as you can. I need to see what I hit. You - Musadoc, is it? - stay on my left side, 5 feet behind. I want you to stop anything that passes me from reaching her.” He pointed at Siubhan. “Got it?”
Musadoc nodded and equipped his own shield and pickaxe.
“Seems ye’re forgettin’ ‘bout me” growled Eirak.
“I haven’t. You’ll bring up the rear.. if you think you’re up to the task...” answered Kalveig.
Eirak got into a huff. “Why! Ye arrogant whelp! I was leadin’ real men into battle when ye were but a kid, and-”
“Good. Then you must know about a little something called ‘discipline’.” And, without sparing the dwarf another glance, Kalveig strode forth.
Ordinarily, Eirak would have grabbed the man and pounded some politeness into him.. but this was no ordinary circumstance. As he watched the others advancing into the vault, he felt the icy grip of the Kun-Orun (8) on his heart for the first time in decades.
Come on Eirak! T’is just a stupid vault. The halfling said it himself, it’s safe and secure. No loose rock.
Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes, took a step forward, and crossed the vault’s threshold.
See? Ain’t nothin’ to it.
But he could feel his hands starting to shake and cold sweat slowly forming on his brow.
Silently cursing his own weakness, he hastened to join the group.
**
The companions came almost immediately upon an intersection. The main corridor continued straight ahead, still wreathed in darkness except for the flickering light which had grown marginally closer. On their left and right, secondary corridors led to doors. The left one was closest but closed, while the right one was a bit further away but half-opened. Mindful of a potential ambush, Kalveig went for the latter and pushed it open all the way with his shield.
The room beyond appeared to have once served as a larder of some sort. A large pantry dominated the wall facing the entrance, its doors ajar. On the right, chests had been smashed open, and their contents spilled on the floor. On the far side of the room, great barrels had been broken open, and a pungent vinegar smell plagued the air. Shelves along the left wall had been toppled, their contents strewn across the floor. All in all, the place looked like it had been looted by a band of famished thugs.
Kalveig was about to investigate the room when Musadoc stepped in front of him and raised his pickaxe to indicate he should stop.
“Wait. Can you hear it?” The halfling was gazing intently in the direction of the broken chests.
Kalveig listened carefully. After a few seconds, he caught it. Slight noises, as if things were crawling through the debris. He nodded slowly to Musadoc. The latter whispered “Follow me. Once I uncover them, strike immediately. Careful, the buggers are fast.”
The halfling walked toward the chests, holding his shield very close to the ground. Then, with the tip of his pickaxe, he started to shift through the wreckage. Suddenly, three large, undulating, insect-like creatures poured out of the heap, each as long as a human arm, with a sickly yellow fluid dripping from their mandibles. Two tried to reach the halfling’s legs, while the last went for the human’s. Kalveig’s reflexes proved faster and his flail caught the third creature in the open, smashing it against the floor. Meanwhile, Musadoc had successfully pinned one under his shield and was trying to keep the other at bay with his pickaxe.
Kalveig immediately stepped in and struck it violently, splattering both the halfling and himself with foul ichor. This didn’t seem to bother Musadoc who simply disengaged his arm from his shield and then jumped with his feet together on it, crushing the remaining critter underneath. He turned to face the others and grinned. “Giant centipedes, stupid but they have a nasty bite.”
Mistaking Siubhan’s disgusted look for incredulity, he added “Oh but I’ve seen bigger specimens. I can still remember a hunt in the Ninth Depth that turned up a whole nest of those. You should have seen the mamatipede! I swear, the thing must have been the size of a pony. The pit boss had half a mind to harness it to an ore cart!” He burst out laughing.
The priestess turned a pale shade of green while Pelrind chuckled and Kalveig couldn’t help but crack a smile. Alone at the rear, Eirak was leaning against a wall. Just looking at the creatures from afar had been enough to create a knot in his stomach. He wondered how much longer he would be able to hold on.
**
After making sure more creatures weren’t hiding in the room, Kalveig and Musadoc searched it thoroughly for clues while Pelrind examined the centipedes’ remains. When their investigation failed to turn up anything new after 5 minutes, they decided to try to the other door.
It appeared quite sturdy. A sheet of beaten copper had been affixed to its center and something engraved on it. The etching represented a tall mountain enclosed within a diamond-like shape.
“If I am not mistaken, this is a symbolic representation of Rontra” said Kalveig. “Mayhap the entrance to the chapel the mayor spoke of?”
“Look!” Musadoc was pointing at some strange grooves in the door’s wooden surface.
The companions gathered closer to get a better look at them, and Pelrind was the first to voice an opinion. “These look like claw-marks to me.” He took a step back to have a better view. “Yes, definitely claws.. and belonging to someone or something about your height” he added, turning toward Siubhan.
“Someone attempted to batter down the door?” asked Musadoc.
“Unlikely.” Pelrind shook his head. “The marks aren’t very deep. Whoever - or whatever - made them didn’t have the strength to break through and, by the look of it, didn’t attempt to either. No, I rather think they are marks of frustration. My guess is their maker tried to gain entry, failed and then took it out on the door.. unsuccessfully, obviously.”
“.. which means we’re not alone in here. Look alive people!” warned Kalveig.
The companions turned around, scrutinizing the darkness at the edge of the lantern’s light. When an immediate threat failed to materialize, they went back to the business of opening the door while Eirak was watching their back.
Musadoc looked at Kalveig. “Do you think it’s trapped?”
“I can see no lock, nor any glyph or rune that could cause us harm.. but I am no expert.”
“If you would allow me..?” Pelrind stepped toward the door, his hands outstretched, and furrowed his brow in concentration. After a few seconds, he started talking slowly, as if he was still assimilating information. “The door itself isn’t magical but the area beyond is. I can perceive two.. no, make that three.. different auras.” He turned toward Kalveig. “I can’t be more precise within looking directly at whatever lies on the other side, sorry.”
“It’s alright. Still, the door could be protected by a mechanical trap. Move back everyone, I’ll attempt to force it.” Putting himself squarely in front of it and protecting his face with his shield, he grabbed the handle with his right hand and pushed hard. Surprisingly, the door opened without so much as squeaking in protest. Indeed, Kalveig almost lost his equilibrium in the process!
At first, the companions thought they were looking at a large pit but then realized the floor was some type of dark glass which had been polished to a smooth finish. The 30 ft.-by-30 ft. room featured a stone pool in its center, approximately four feet high, and ten feet in diameter, with white marble steps leading to its rim on three sides. From its center rose a granite pedestal on which stood the statue of a plump dwarven maiden clad in ornate plate armor. She was holding a stone jug over the pool in her right hand, as if emptying it, while her left hand was thrusting a long metallic rod into the pool, as if measuring its depth. Her expression under her open-faced helm was stern but serene.
It was difficult to see because of the pool, but a statue of some kind stood against the far wall, facing the entrance.
A small niche was barely visible in the middle of the left wall.
The right wall was covered by a floor-to-ceiling tapestry depicting the exploits of a valiant figure performing heroic deeds. Three scenes pictured him battling demonic creatures, rescuing an elven maiden from bestial-looking humanoids, and leading elves and humans into battle against the same humanoids.
Pelrind concentrated again. “The three auras are centered over - respectively - the stone jug, the metallic rod, and the whole room. The first two are weak. The third is of moderate strength. The jug seems linked to summoning magic.. wait.. I think it is elemental in nature. The rod has been imbued with powers of transformation.. ah, interesting.. also elemental in nature. As for the room, we are dealing with a protective aura.” He turned to the others. “If I had to hazard a guess, I would say it’s the last spell that prevented our mysterious guest from entering.”
“Well.. only one way to know for sure” said Kalveig, and he stepped inside.
Nothing happened.
The holy warrior addressed a silent prayer of thanks to Morwyn and started looking around. Siubhan, Musadoc and Eirak followed him inside without trouble. As Pelrind was crossing the threshold, he suddenly felt a tingling sensation all over his skin, followed by rapidly increasing pain. His body reacted instinctively and he threw himself out of the room, landing hard on the floor. Bewildered, he looked at his clothes which were smoking as if he had just been through fire (9).
All the others - except for Eirak - rushed to his side.
**
The dwarf just stood there, looking up at the statue in the pool. For the first time since they had entered the vault, the Kun-Orun had relaxed its grip on him.. and it had begun on the exact moment he had crossed this room’s doorstep.
The statue seemed to look down and smile at him.
Glancing around, Eirak experienced something he had never felt before: pride for his ancestors’ accomplishment. In the whole room, no seam could be seen, no mortar connecting the different blocks. Indeed, despite being obviously built from different types of stones, the place appeared more ‘carved’ than ‘constructed’. It was a marvel of austere elegance, its Spartan aspect heightening the importance of the few items that decorated it by removing anything that could prevent a spectator’s gaze from being drawn to them.
Two tears fell from his eyes as he became keenly aware of just how skilled his forefathers had once been.. and of how low their descendants had fallen.
But sadness and self-pity were swiftly replaced by anger in his heart as he looked again at the statue, this time with pure hatred, and he remembered the countless hours spent at the feet of his elders, listening to the litany of grievances that had become his race’s inheritance.
.. She forsook us, Her favored! ..
.. brought down the whole place on us ..
.. your great-grandmother, torn limb from limb by a fell beast ..
.. ruin and destruction, no answer to our pleas of mercy ..
.. whenever you know pain, blame Her for it, and then blame Her some more! ..
.. never forget, nor forgive ..
Snarling, he started to swing his waraxe.
**
Siubhan having examined him and bandaged wounds that were - luckily - only superficial, Pelrind got up and dusted himself off.
“Well, friends, it seems that the powers warding this chamber have deemed me as unworthy as whomever left marks on the door.” He sighed.
“This is absurd” commented Kalveig. “Why deny access to an elf? I thought the NeMoren and your kinsmen were friends!”
“Be that as it may, my human friend, the fact remains that entering this room would undoubtedly seal my fate. I confess I was looking forward to investigating its contents, especially the floor that - if I am not mistaken - is a sheet of obsidian of colossal size.” He shrugged helplessly, having apparently resigned himself, but the others could see he was saddened by the turn of events.
“I see two main possibilities” announced a pensive Siubhan. “Either the room is warded to allow entrance only to members of the Races of the Tree, or to deny access to persons - forgive me - lacking a soul (10).”
“A definite possibility, I’ll admit. I guess having fey-blood in my veins does carry some significance in certain circumstances. Ah well...” He put his hand on Musadoc’s shoulder. “Could I prevail upon you to act as my eyes and hands in the room yonder? As someone used to digging, I am sure you share my fascination for all ‘earthly’ things, eh?” He winked.
Musadoc grinned and nodded. “Gladly!”
Suddenly, the harsh sound of metal hitting stone interrupted them. As one they turned toward the chapel barely in time to watch Eirak’s axe bounce off the statue’s head. The statue appeared only slightly damaged but the axe’s blade was chipped.. which did nothing to improve the dwarf’s mood. The latter raised a vengeful fist toward the statue and uttered a string of insults that would have made a bugbear blush.
Musadoc and Siubhan gasped at the sacrilege. Pelrind, helpless to intervene, rolled his eyes at the sheer stupidity of the brazen attack. As for Kalveig, he chose to act. As all holy warriors, part of his sacred duty was to defend sanctuaries dedicated to the Gods of the Tree. He had been very lenient with the dwarf till now, but the latter had crossed the line with this latest outburst of violence.
Running into the room, he dropped his weapon and shield and jumped at Eirak, trying to pin him down. If he thought size or momentum would give him the advantage, though, he was sadly mistaken. The dwarf had 20 years of combat experience under his belt, gained fighting things a lot tougher and wilder than the holy warrior. He dodged the attack easily and punched Kalveig in the face as the latter flew past.
Kalveig rolled with the blow to avoid injuring himself and got up again as soon as he hit the floor. Blood was dripping from his lower lip. He wiped it with the back of his hand and crouched, observing his adversary through narrowed eyes. Eirak was facing him, fists raised, ready for a brawl. “If it’s a fight ye want, a fight ye’ll get, boy!”
“Stop this instant!” Siubhan had rushed in-between the two warriors, one arm extended toward each, palm outstretched. “Have you both gone mad? We are supposed to be cooperating, not fighting among ourselves!”
Eirak made a gesture of dismissal. “Leave us be, girl. It ain’t yer problem.”
“He is right.. at least on that account, Sister. With all due respect, I would ask you to let me teach the cur a lesson. It is overdue.”
Siubhan looked at Kalveig as if unable to believe what he had just said.
“Gentlesirs, you will stop this nonsense now or I will put some wisdom into those stubborn heads of yours, even if I have to hammer it in!”
The three turned to look at Musadoc. The latter had planted himself in front of the chapel’s entrance, hands on his hips, the very figure of paternal authority. His voice had sounded deeper than usual and had resonated with a self-confidence he hadn’t displayed before. Had his puny-looking aspect not contradicted what their ears had just heard, they could have sworn it had been a totally different person speaking.
Then, as if suddenly conscious everyone’s attention was now focused on him, his face contorted into an expression of utter embarrassment. When he spoke again, his voice had returned to its normal tone and, if anything, sounded even shier. “Er.. that is, if you don’t mind.”
They continued to look at him, each and every one of them completely taken aback.
He looked timidly at Eirak. “I mean.. why are you so angry at Her anyway? At least, you could enter Her chapel. Mister Pelrind here couldn’t, and I know he really wanted to. It just doesn’t seem..” - he struggled for a word - “.. fair.”
Anger replaced bewilderment in Eirak’s eyes.
“Ye’re askin’ me why I can’t stand Her? Tell me first why you like Her!”
“Well.. uh.. She has always been good to us, I guess. Plentiful harvests, healthy children, few cave-ins in our mines.. that sort of thing.”
“And I s’pose ye think yerself ‘blessed’ for it, eh?” Without waiting for a reply, he continued. “Ye wouldn’t recognize ‘blessed’ if it hit ye in the face, boy!” He started to walk toward Musadoc, his steps punctuated by a discourse that sounded both like a profession of faith and a curse. “We were Her Blessed Ones and She was everythin’ to us. Our underground cities were towerin’ monuments to Her sole glory. Her name was the first word we uttered upon wakin’, and the last we whispered before goin’ to sleep. Her temples received offerin’s you can’t even begin to conceive. We raised altars for Her that were crafted of metals you haven’t yet discovered, covered by gemstones that would have put a rainbow to shame. Apart from Korak - blessed be the Maker! - none received as much devotion. Truly, we were First among Her children!”
He stopped a few seconds, not to find his words but to resist the urge to spit in disgust.
“And then She betrayed us. Yeah, that’s right. She turned Her back on us without so much as a ‘thank ye’. Oh but it gets better, ‘cause She didn’t just abandon us. Oh no, t’would have been too easy. She made our caverns crash down on us!” He now stood in front of the halfling and grabbed the latter by his leather jerkin. “When ye deal with a cave-in, how many people do ye lose? 5? 10? 50?” He marked a pause for dramatic effect. “In a single day, we lost more than 100,000! But wait! It ain’t over yet. When survivors fled to the surface, guess who was waitin’ for them?”
“I.. I don’t know” replied a trembling Musadoc.
“Our enemies were, that’s who! I’ve been in battles, so ye can trust me when I tell ye that wasn’t one. T’was a bloody slaughter, that’s what it was! Ever seen what giants or trolls do to their victims? It ain’t pretty. Out o’ every 10 dwarves who woke up on that fateful day, barely one lived to tell the tale.”
He pulled Musadoc closer to him, so that their faces were but an inch apart. His next words were literally dripping with hatred. “We placed Her above all others, and our reward was the destruction of our civilization and our race. That’s why they call us the Sundered, and the reason o’ me ‘dislike’ for Her. Good enough answer for ye?”
Musadoc blanched, though whether it was because of the story or due to the fact that his feet were now dangling in the air was uncertain.
“That’s enough! Unhand him. You made your point.” Kalveig had come to stand behind the dwarf.. and he had picked up his flail on the way. “Besides, your people weren’t the only ones to suffer. The event you speak of was the Cataclysm. Are you so egocentric that you think your kinsmen were the only ones affected by it?”
Eirak put the halfling down and whirled on Kalveig. “And what do ye know about sufferin’, eh?”
“If you have something to add, dwarf, say it. I am not afraid of truth.”
“Ye sanctimonious bastard! Ye would do well to stick yer head out o’ yer arse! When was the last time one of ye was hungry? Or worryin’ sick ‘bout yer pups ‘cause ye don’t earn enough silver to buy them decent clothes and they’re burnin’ with fever in winter?”
“You are exaggerating! Our kings made you welcome in the cities, and-”
“Yer kings? Ye wanna talk ‘bout yer kings? Do ye know what yer oh-so-great Wolfgang (11) did when he arrived? He kicked us out o’ every town and village, that’s what he did! ‘Cause we reminded him of dverges (12) - whatever those are - and he didn’t like them. Her folks” - he pointed at Siubhan - “didn’t do much for us, but at least they tried. For three decades, ye treated us worse than dogs! And then, one o’ yer kings had the bright idea to attack the elves. O’ course, they resisted and he had to run with his tail between his legs, and then came cryin’ for our help. We won yer war for ye and what was our reward, eh? The right to join yer bloody army and continue to die for ye!”
“Unfair! You aren’t barred from any profession-”
“No, ‘course not. But whenever there is an openin’, it just happens they’ve a better candidate for the job. Oh wait, it’s a Drachen! What a surprise...”
“Are you saying we are discriminating against you?”
“Open yer eyes, boy! Ever remember seein’ a Drachen beggar or farmer? Yer folks have the best this land can offer. Ye’re all officers, diplomats, merchants, officials, priests, nobles, etc... Oh sure, some o’ the Traladarans and Russ are too. Just enough to please the crowd, but nowhere near what they would need for the ‘leash to change hands’.. if ye see what I mean. And in the meantime, we dwarves are confined to ghettoes and ‘generously’ allowed to join the military.”
“You have officers, priests and merchants of your own!”
“Barely enough to give ye good conscience! And what little we have, we owe to the laws o’ the only Drachen we truly called ‘king’: Lysander (13).”
“I am sorry for your people. I honestly didn’t know you folks had it so bad.” Musadoc looked at the ground sheepishly.
“Aye, I am sorry too..” began Kalveig. “.. sorry that you feel what happened to your ancestors is a valid excuse to act no better than a troll!”
Eirak’s eyes bulged.
“You told me to open my eyes. Well, I now return that piece of advice to you. You think Rontra betrayed you? No god answered any prayer during the Cataclysm because they were all too busy trying to keep our world in one piece! You lost most of your people - may their souls rest in peace - but that’s no reason to lash out in anger at us or to desecrate this place. You want to hate Rontra? Fine, but the NeMorens believed in her with all their heart and destroying this chapel would be like attacking those beliefs. I cannot allow that. You want to hate me because you think my people were unjust to yours? Fine too. If your kinsmen all react the way you do, it’s no wonder dwarves are still sulking in their ‘ghettoes’ instead of becoming integrated into the society we’re trying to build. Now, you have two choices. Either you start behaving like a responsible member of this team and you can continue with us, or you leave and wait for us outside. We will save your share.”
“Who died and made ye chief?” replied the dwarf.
Kalveig’s sole answer was to lock gaze with Eirak. The tension between them was almost palpable as a silent contest of will raged in the minds of the two warriors.
In the end, Eirak was the first to break eye-contact. “Bah, it ain’t worth it. Keep yer precious statue!” He gathered his equipment and stormed out of the chapel, going back to the intersection and brooding there.
Pelrind broke the awkward silence that followed. “Musadoc, could you please go to the pool and describe to me what’s inside?”
The halfling nodded, only too happy to have something to do after what had just happened. Meanwhile, Kalveig and Siubhan resumed their investigation of the room.
The niche in the left wall was cube-shaped and contained a small bowl-like depression, as if a spherical object was supposed to fit in it. Upon closer examination, it turned out the depression’s interior was lined with what appeared to be brass or gold. Musadoc wasn’t sure and Pelrind was too far to tell.
The statue on the other side of the pool represented a breastplate-wearing warrior seated on a stump and holding a peculiar-looking warhammer in his right hand, as if wielding a scepter. A curious detail was that the warrior was depicted with neither shoes nor sollerets. A copper plate covered with a beautiful script was affixed to the statue’s base. Siubhan identified it as Celestial and managed to translate it: “Sir Kragor NeMoren, Elf-friend, Fiendslayer. Had he twenty hands, still he would not be able to count his great deeds.”
As for the stone pool, Musadoc found it to be nearly full of dried mud. At Pelrind’s request, he scraped a bit of it and brought it back to the elf, which began to rub it between his fingers pensively.
“Hmm.. intriguing. If the vault has been sealed for the past decades, this mud ought to be dry and brittle. Yet, while dry, it still retains some malleability as if unable - or unwilling - to lose cohesion.” He bit a small sample, rolled it in his mouth with his tongue, and then spat it back in his hand. “Mud is the communion of Earth and Water. The former is associated with the physical, while the latter is linked to the spiritual. In other words, the body and the soul. Together, they are often used for rejuvenating purposes. In fact, I remember my master telling me about unusual places whose mud was imbued with healing properties, usually limited to the treatment of skin diseases but - in rarer cases – able to cure all types of wounds.”
“And you believe this is the kind of pool we found?” inquired Siubhan.
“Aye, albeit an artificial one. Obviously, there is no way for us to benefit from it in its present condition.. but under the right circumstances...”
Kalveig looked at the pool and then back at the elf. “Am I correct in assuming you have divined how to activate it?”
Pelrind smiled enigmatically. “Let’s just say I made an educated guess...”
**
The companions, having no reason to linger in the chapel, returned to the main corridor and continued to follow it. They climbed a short stair and arrived on a large landing. Directly ahead of them, another stair rose in shadows and, beyond it, they could see the flickering light that had intrigued them earlier - much closer this time. On their left, a secondary corridor led to a stone door. Once more, Kalveig chose to head for the door first, unwilling to risk having their retreat cut out by hidden enemies.
The door was rather heavy, and it took two of them to push it open. Past it, a five-foot ledge lay level with the entryway. Apparently, it served as a walkway around the upper level of a large room. A stairway at the edge of the walkway descended 10 feet from the entrance to the lower level. Small doors lined the upper and lower levels of the room, each with a small plaque fastened to it. Several of the lower doors had been wrenched from their hinges, and the smell of rotting flesh permeated the air. The bottom of the room had a floor made of packed earth, not stone.
“Ugh! I think we found the family mausoleum.” Musadoc was pinching his nose in disgust.
“.. and, evidently, it has been desecrated” Siubhan sighed.
Kalveig couldn’t help it, he glanced suspiciously at Eirak. The dwarf saw it.
“What the..! Ye think I did it?! I ain’t no grave robber!”
“No, I don’t think you are.. sorry.”
If only because you couldn’t have opened the door on your own he added silently.
“Come. Let us see what damage has been done.” Kalveig started to walk down to the lower level, quickly followed by Pelrind and a grumbling Eirak. A cursory examination revealed only the most recent tombs had been forced, those whose ‘occupants’ must still have had a bit of flesh. That is, ‘had’ before someone - or something - had gnawed at them till only bones were left. The latter lay in small piles on the floor.
They discovered that the last two tombs whose plaques had been engraved were apparently meant for Paytro NeMoren and his wife, Amelia. In her case, however, someone had scratched out her name and carved ‘Always Lisette’ over it. Both tombs were, of course, unoccupied.
As they were puzzling over this latest mystery, they failed to notice the bones slowly sinking into the floor all around them.
**
[awareness]
Flesh pillars return
[sensing]
No carry ward-token
[memory-order]
No ward-token = despoiler = kill
[memory-pain]
Last despoilers hurt Self
[feeling-anger]
Self hurt despoilers before kill!
[feeling-happiness]
**
Pelrind felt a slight vibration through his legs. His eyes widened in surprise as his heart recognized it for what it was. “Quick! Get on the stairs!” He turned and started running.. but it was already too late. When properly motivated, the Earth can be as swift as any of the other elements...
The packed earth of the mausoleum’s floor began to rise in-between the three men and the stairway, clumps of moist dirt clinging to each others and piling up rapidly to form a hideous creature. Shaped like a human figure, rotted fingers, teeth, and other unidentifiable bits of decayed corpses could be seen protruding from it, while a dirt-encrusted skull served as its ‘head’.
Pelrind felt sick in his stomach.
This is no ordinary Earth-Child! Somehow, something evil has corrupted it, warping its perfect form into.. this. Yet, maybe I can still reason with it...
“Wait! Nobody moves! I think I can talk to it. Maybe avoid a needless confrontation.”
“Are you sure about this, Pelrind?” Kalveig’s tone was dubious.
“All I ask is that you give me a chance. Trust me, this is one creature you do not want to fight.” Without waiting for the human’s approval, he went silently through the list of what he had to do as per his masters’ teachings. Planting his staff in the ground, he put the lantern on the floor and walked two paces in the creature’s direction. Then, he stood very still, one hand turned palm down toward the soil at a slight angle and the other holding his medallion so that the creature could see it clearly.
His voice, when he started to talk, sounded more like the grinding noise of rocks being rubbed together than a coherent language. Yet, it seemed to produce an effect as the creature recoiled in surprise.
**
[hearing]
Earth-Talk?!
[feeling-puzzlement]
Earth-Talk = friend = no kill
[feeling-confusion]
But Earth-Talk ≠ ward-token
[feeling-indecision]
If no ward-token, then friend = no friend
[feeling-anger]
no friend = trickster
[feeling-rage]
trickster = despoiler
[attack]
**
Pelrind had been talking to the creature for a good minute now. In truth, it had been more a monologue than a dialogue given he was the only one speaking but at least the monster seemed to be listening. Or rather, his companions hoped that’s what it was doing. Hard to tell when the only indications it was still ‘animate’ were occasional tremors...
When the creature’s right ‘arm’ slammed into Pelrind, it took everyone by surprise (14). The elf flew across the room and crashed against the far wall, his body falling to the ground where it lay unmoving. Kalveig turned to Eirak. “You have to hold it back a few moments while I stabilize him.. if he is still alive!”
Eirak looked at the monster and grimaced. He could feel the Kun-Orun lurking at the back of his mind, ready to pounce at the first opportunity. Yet, the others were counting on him and he couldn’t let them see his race’s curse. Yelling a battle cry to give himself courage, he rushed the creature. His attack was a powerful blow aimed at the midsection. The waraxe cleaved through the compacted earth with some difficulty, the blade being slowed down by bones that were part of the structure. Far from being an impediment though, that fact actually turned to the dwarf’s advantage as it insured a good chunk of the creature was pulled along when the axe re-emerged.
**
[feeling-pain]
Flesh boulder = threat to Self
[concentration]
Summon Earth-Jail
**
Twin points of crimson light appeared in the skull’s orbits, focusing their hellish glare on Eirak. The latter had stepped back a bit, preferring to wait for some indication that his attack had had an effect before making another attempt. It proved his undoing...
Worm-eaten, bony arms burst up from the ground all around him and latched on. They began to drag him straight down.
**
Among dwarves, the Kun-Orun is compared to the Ash Viper because, like it, it takes pleasure in stalking its preys before 'making the kill'. It bites you a few times, never injecting enough poison - in this case, fear - to do real damage, just an adequate amount to insure you are properly ‘conditioned’ for the hunt. Sometimes, it even lets you think you have escaped if that’s what it takes to heighten the thrill of the final struggle. But, in the end, it always wins.
To Eirak’s people, the Kun-Orun is the ultimate bogeyman.. except that, in their case, they know it’s real. And they are right. It is real. In fact, it’s far worse than what they imagine...
As Eirak’s anxiety increased, an invisible tendril linking him to the ethereal grew stronger second by second.
**
Kalveig was bandaging Pelrind as best as his could when an inarticulate scream forced him to leave the elf to take care of a more urgent problem.
Eirak had let his shield fall to the ground and, wielding his waraxe two-handed, was hacking like a madman at the rotten appendages that were trying to bury him alive. Unfortunately, every arm he cut down was instantly replaced by two others. His situation appeared desperate.
Musadoc was running down the stairway to come to his help, and Siubhan had begun to cast a spell.
Kalveig rapidly appraised the situation and decided the best way to help the dwarf was to tackle the cause instead of the effects. He charged the creature, hoping to break its concentration by hitting it repeatedly with his flail.
Alas, by that time, Eirak was already buried to the waist. The bony arms were now grabbing him by the arms, the head, even the beard, and he couldn’t defend himself anymore. Musadoc had arrived, but wasn’t strong enough to pry him loose. And he didn’t dare to use his pickaxe for fear of hitting Eirak.
Suddenly, a silvery radiance enveloped them all, bolstering their courage and strengthening their resolve. Above them, on the walkway, Siubhan frowned. Invoking Morwyn’s blessing was the only thing she could do to help, but she doubted it would prove sufficient.
Regrettably, it didn’t. Despite the companions’ best efforts, Eirak’s head disappeared under the ground. Just before it did, Musadoc locked gaze with him and nearly fainted for, in Eirak’s pupils, he saw for a split second the quintessence of fear and hopelessness.. and something else too.. something not of their world!
**
Somewhere in the deep ethereal, a large shape finished sucking hungrily a silvery-grey tendril that extended all the way back to the Prime Material. It had fed well today. But, then again, with those dwarves it always did...
**********
(8) Literally: ‘empty cave’ (in Dwarven). See the Rogues Gallery for details.
(9) Pelrind’s player was both lucky and unlucky here. The room was warded by a Forbiddance spell, keyed to the Lawful Good alignment. Of all the people in the party, Pelrind was the one who yearned the most to examine the room.. and the only one who couldn’t enter. Normally, he would have taken 6d6 pts of damage just by stepping inside but given the place wasn’t supposed to be a death-trap for my players, I allowed him a Reflex save to step back out as soon as he felt the magic take hold. Luckily, he made it. Else, I doubt he would have survived...
The mayor knew the password to enter, even though he didn’t recognize it for what it was. Had they questioned him a bit more, they could have learnt it from him. Tough luck!
Arguably, I could have replaced Forbiddance by Hallow but it wouldn’t have explained why the main villain of the adventure had been unable to enter the room and I like my dungeons to be logical. Plus, I wanted the players to have a ‘safe haven’ to retreat to during their first mission together. Of course, it didn’t work out as I had intended with Eirak stubbornly refusing to return to the chapel and Pelrind unable to enter at all <sigh>
(10) Supposedly, only members of the following races (which grew on the World-Tree) have a soul: dwarves, gobbers, halflings, and humans.
(11) Wolfgang of Werax was the warleader of the Drachens when they invaded what was left of Pellham and, later, went on to become Drachenhold’s first king. To Drachens, he is nothing short of a legendary national hero.
(12) Drachens had legends from their homeland about short, stunted creatures that lived under the earth and liked to play cruel tricks on humans. So, when they met the dwarves, they decided at first to keep them at spear’s length.
(13) King Lysander I, known as the ‘Peace-Maker’. Apart from Wolfgang I, he is held to be Drachenhold’s greatest hero. He ended a decades-long war with the Suressian elves and vanquished the druids and their humanoid minions who threatened to lay waste to the kingdom. He was also the first to show true respect for the dwarves, going so far as to trust them with his life (and crown!) on several occasions. To this day, dwarves won’t allow others to speak ill of him in their presence.
(14) Translation: Pelrind had botched his Elemental Empathy attempt and learnt the price of failure.
**********
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![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
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