The two new arrivals, the dryad, Esche the druid and the duskgnome himself bent over the map that Skorr had hastily spread out on the ground. The duskgnome pointed to the individual markings: "Our enemies are here, here and here. The exit to the top is blocked. With so many enemies, we have no chance of breaking through. The undead would simply block the passage with their bodies.

Our pursuers are the largest group. Undead necromancers, probably liches and a horde of common undead. As soon as they meet the undead in the corridor, they will probably take control of this group as well."

The druid beckoned the two new arrivals forward: "You are the two who made it down before the undead?"

The young guy nodded, "I'm Weylan, this here is Trulda..."

The druid waved him off: "Just the facts, not your life story. We're a little pressed for time here."

"Well, we've been given a quest to rescue the dryad princess and the last clan of duskgnomes. Completely unprepared. Then we stood up there and had to watch the summoning of the undead. When it got dark, we sneaked up and managed to take out the necromancer."

"You killed him?"

The boy nodded proudly: "The necromancer and his bodyguard. Both level 7."

The dryad, who had been listening passively, intervened: "If you had really caught the necromancer, his undead would have been destroyed too."

"We expected that too. I..."

She interrupted him: "And you waited until it got dark and the incantation was complete? Great work. You know what, they fooled you. You probably killed some illusions."

"No, that can't be, we even got XP for it!"

"At best, the two were a distraction. The real necromancer is probably a lich hiding among the undead or one who has turned invisible."

The boy wanted to protest, but his companion put her hand on his shoulder. When he turned to her, she shook her head and said quietly, "It doesn't matter now. The undead are still on the move. The way up is blocked. That's all that matters."

The dryad princess made a snide hand gesture: "Well, thanks for trying. Now go, we adults need to plan how to proceed."

The boy blushed, but before he could say anything, the young woman pulled him back a little with surprising force.

The druid gave them an apologetic look, but then turned his attention back to the map. Skorr intervened and pointed to the tunnel where the dryad's group had come, "Your pursuers are coming this way. I don't suppose you see any chance of overpowering them?"

Esche looked around briefly and then took over the answer when no one else made a move to do so: "We wouldn't have fled for so long if we saw a chance. We can't defeat any of the three enemy groups before the others show up."

One of the rangers kicked a stone in annoyance, which then flew close to the dryad's face: "This is simply no fun anymore. I'm logging out. I'll just lose a level. I'll see you in the capital."

Esche raised her hand as if to hold him, but the ranger disappeared, flickering. The dryad only raised her eyes wearily: "Anyone else?"

Two other members of the group disappeared.

Group cohesion lost.

Members have left the quest group and chosen other spawn points.

Quest banner deactivated.

The metal sign on the banner came loose from its holder, fell to the ground with a clatter and disintegrated into a pile of metal splinters and rust before the eyes of those present. Esche raised an eyebrow: "Okay... I wasn't expecting that. It would have been nice if we'd been warned beforehand that quest banners react like that."

Skorr noticed how the young shepherd turned to his companion and asked her what a quest banner was. The young woman, who was wearing a suede dress completely unsuitable for traveling, merely shrugged her shoulders.

Skorr snapped his fingers to get the druid's attention again, "No time for your revenant stuff."

The dryad nodded to him in agreement and pointed to the map: "What about the tunnel here?"

Skorr shook his head wearily: "Dead end."

The dryad princess shook her head and pointed to the dwarven characters: "It says that the exploration was stopped there because no signs of valuable ore deposits were found. It doesn't say anything about the tunnel actually ending there."

Everyone stared at the dryad in amazement. She looked up from the map: "What?"

Esche put the group's surprise into words: "You can read dwarven runes?"

"Of course. The Shield Forest protects the most important trade route between the United Kingdoms and the desert tribes. We have... had... constant contact with dwarven trade caravans. As well as with elves, lizardmen and orcs. When they met with us, trade agreements were often made. Your peoples always have to put everything in writing." She raised her hands apologetically: "I don't want to offend you, but your races are just terribly forgetful. Dryads never forget anything. My mother took me to all the negotiations. Many of our guests wanted her there as a witness or neutral party. Afterwards, I had our guests explain the scripts to me. I read and write the trade language, dwarven, elven, a little creator language and a few lizard glyphs. The lizards usually use the trade language for contracts, so I couldn't pick up much there."

She brushed the subject aside with a gesture and tapped her finger on the card again. With every word she seemed to become more active and livelier. Her previously stooped, tired posture straightened up: "No matter where else we stand, the other groups will stab us in the back. We can't defeat any group of opponents. Especially not so quickly that the others can no longer intervene. So, we dodge into this tunnel. With a bit of luck, our opponents will fight each other. Otherwise, we can face a single front there. The undead won't give up, but the revenants... If we can hurt them enough they don't enjoy it anymore, they might just disappear." She glanced meaningfully at the spot where some of her companions had just disappeared. "And if there is still a way to escape back there..."

Esche nodded: "I don't see a better option. Anyone against it?"

Everyone shook their heads. Skorr rolled up the map and put it in his backpack. Esche raised his voice so that everyone could hear him: "The duskgnomes and the princess go first. Behind them, our two new arrivals here. All the adventurers follow close behind. At the first suitable position, we will line up for battle. A position where we can deploy our archers would be ideal."

One of the fighters raised his fist and shouted: "To the last man!"

The reaction was less enthusiastic than he had expected.

"If I have to."

"Maybe I'll level up before we all die. Then at least I'll get out zero to zero."

"Fine by me."

"Epic last stand!" At least one of the rangers tried to muster up some enthusiasm.

Four of the duskgnomes took over carrying the dryad tree, while the princess watched like a mother hen to make sure nothing happened to the little tree. The leaves had already faded considerably and the thin branches were beginning to droop. A few of the gnomes sacrificed their meagre supplies of water to water the little tree, which earned them a grateful nod from the dryad.

The duskgnomes quickly disappeared into the entrance to the chosen tunnel. The sound of battle could already be heard from the caves further back. The revenant rearguard was holding off the Nistrul cultists with battle magic.

Skorr hurried to the druid Esche: "Your fighters are very powerful and weave great magic. Why can't you just defeat your opponents?"

"They are just as powerful as we are. Our mages and druids are using up all their mana in no time at all. As soon as they run out of magic, they'll be running for their lives. By then, your people should be in the tunnel and have a decent head start. I remember stories from the Necromancer War where you undermined enemy strongholds with tunnels. Faster even than the dwarven sappers. Can't you collapse a tunnel behind us?"

"We've tried that many times. Stone shapers take too long. Besides, our last one sacrificed himself together with a warrior to give us a bit of a head start. Necromancers break through thin stone walls with magic. Zombies can quickly clear away small cave-ins. Bringing down a large amount of rock takes too much time."

"So, no obstacles. Too bad."

Karrd came running up: "According to the vibrations in the stone, the necromancers are only a few tenths of a candle away."

An elven ranger came from the other direction: "The undead have stopped in the exit tunnel about ten meters from the entrance and are blocking it. Three with shields in front, then spearmen. They're close together, it's like a wall of stinking flesh, weapons and armor."

Skorr looked questioningly at the druid. He just shook his head: "We already knew we wouldn't get past so many of them in a tunnel."

They watched as the last duskgnomes disappeared into the tunnel. The last of them carried the dryad tree. The dryad did not take her eyes off it.

The duskgnome followed them with his gaze: "If it's a dead end after all, we'll all die."

Esche bent down to give him an encouraging pat on the shoulder: "You will. But they'll only get you after they've taken out the last of us."

"You'll be back tomorrow. We won’t."

Esche's put-on happy face evaporated: "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to be positive."

"Thank you. I know you’ll at least feel as much pain as we are. I..."

"My pain sensitivity is set to 20%. In case of traumatic sensations, the interface automatically shuts pain down completely. I'm sorry."

Skorr didn't understand the words, but understood the meaning: "You don't have to apologize. It's good that you don't have to suffer." He nodded to the druid one last time, then set off and followed his people into the tunnel. The revenants followed behind him. A tired bunch, barely twenty warriors. Most in hardened leather armor or soft buckskin. Many carried sticks strung across their shoulders and small spears. Skorr had heard of bows and arrows, but the purpose of them in the winding tunnels of the underworld eluded him. A thrusting spear was far more effective.

He gripped his weapon tighter and followed his people. Two of the humans hurried after him. A young man and a girl. The boy stared at him from the side. He probably thought it was inconspicuous. He knew from the trader who had visited his clan every year that humans had problems recognizing where a duskgnome was looking. Most people found their pupil-less dark gray eyes irritating.

Without looking, he raised his arm to the side in a flash and pointed at the boy's face: "Do I have spots on my head?"

"What? No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare."

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

"But you managed it surprisingly well."

"I thought..."

"That all the duskgnomes are long dead?"

"No! Yes, the legends tell of it. You created the alchemical metal Solenium, which was the bane and curse of the undead and turned the tide of war."

The young woman looked astonished: "That was damn well worded. Where did that come from?"

He blushed and stammered a little. "It’s from a story called the Song of the Twists of Fate. My mother used to tell it to me before I went to sleep."

"Can she only do the one story? How sad."

"No, she knew a hundred stories. But this was the one I always wanted to hear. Of the courage and ingenuity of the duskgnomes. It doesn't take much for a great and strong warrior to face his enemies. But a gnome? Less than a foot tall? I always found that much more impressive."

Skorr stopped and looked at the human with wide eyes: "Really?"

"Really."

"Then I will die knowing that we will be remembered fondly."

The woman intervened: "Stop being so theatrical. There's always a way."

Skorr gave her a friendly nod: "I have resigned myself to my fate. There is no need to try to give me hope."

"We have a quest to save you."

"You probably won't succeed."

"That hasn't been decided yet." She flashed a strangely knowing smile: "You forget the law of the world."

Skorr stood still, thunderstruck. Then he quoted what he had forgotten so far: "Where there is a quest, there is a way. The voice of the world never grants quests that are completely impossible for the quest taker."

She bent down a little and held out her hand to him. He immediately chimed in, "I'm Skorr Callad."

"Trulda."

"Weylan the shepherd."

The duskgnome started moving again, closely followed by the two somewhat surprised humans. He spoke without turning around: "We can't do anything back here. Three novice fighters won't turn the tide. If there's a way out, we'll find it at the front."

After pushing past the dryad, Weylan noticed a shadow following him. With his hand on the dagger, he wheeled around and looked directly into the eyes of the dryad princess. He hastily took his hand off the dagger handle: "Your... Highness?"

"Call me Ulmenglanz. I just heard your conversation. If there's a chance to avert the fate of doom, I'm in."

"Can you fight well?"

"Not really."

"Do you have powerful magical powers?"

"Not anymore." She lowered her eyes and slowed her pace to let herself fall back again.

Weylan took her hand and pulled her lightly behind him: "Then you'll fit in perfectly with us."

At least four heroes with a common quest goal have found each other.

Form an official adventurer group?

Skorr looked back at the others. Weylan nodded enthusiastically, the dryad made a questioning gesture and Trulda shrugged indifferently. He shook his head and chose yes.

What is the name of the adventurer group?

Now everyone reacted almost simultaneously:

"Weylan's Four"

"The saviors of the greys"

"Bouquet of roses and heroes"

Trulda was last to make a proposal: "Nonstandard Party of Charismatic Specialists”

Everyone looked at her questioningly. She grinned, "NPCs?"

Name Accepted. "NPCS"

Leader: Skorr Callad

Trulda narrowly beat the dryad princess to the punch with her question: "Why is he the leader?"

Selection criterion: Highest level. Change possible by majority vote.

She turned to Skorr: "That's okay. I just wanted to know what criteria the World Voice uses to choose."

Skorr nodded. He noticed a glimmer in his field of vision. This was not his first time leading a group, so he knew what it meant. He focused on the glow and his name and the names of his team members appeared. Below them were red bars indicating their current health status. All of them were currently in full health. Only the dryad had a blue bar underneath, but it was translucent. She was the only one with a mana supply, but it seemed to be currently inaccessible.

Group formation adventurer group "NPCS"

Skorr Callad (Duskgnome)

Tunnel Scout Ranger, level 8

Trulda (Human)

Steppe Barbarian, level 5

Weylan (Human)

Shepherd, Level 1

Ulmenglanz (Dryad)

No class

Skorr suppressed a groan. This was the lowest level group he had ever seen. Hero groups didn't usually take anyone under level 6. And the dryad... he had assumed she had the magical powers of a druid.

He looked through the remaining settings and adjusted the XP distribution.

Distribution of XP within the group set to "Fill up"

The others looked at him questioningly. Skorr rolled his eyes: "Have you no idea how groups work? We can either distribute the XP evenly or give it all to the team member with the least XP. That would be our dryad until she catches up with us. Won't make much difference to us, but we have to choose a setting."

The dryad unconsciously ducked her head slightly and spoke very quietly: "I still have 1000 XP. So our two youngest team members are more likely to get that."

"A thousand EPs? Then why haven't you chosen a class yet? You have a mana pool, so you could choose a magic class. Not mage without an academy, of course. And not witch or druid without a teacher, but charlatan, healer or warlock should work. Maybe even mana adept..."

"No." The dryad shook her head wearily. She had obviously had this discussion several times before: "I have been a cleric of Fliedabar, Keeper of the Woods, all my life. I will become a cleric of a god again as soon as I find one worthy of it."

"To become a cleric, you need a high cleric to ordain you. We don't have anything like that here. And a class would give you power now. Skills we need now."

The dryad princess crossed her arms resolutely in front of her chest: "I won't spend my life with a class I don't want."

"Without combat or spellcasting abilities, that will be a very short period of time."

"Then so be it."

Weylan hesitantly interjected: "Couldn't... Couldn't you choose a class now and then choose cleric as your second class later?"

Trulda shook her head: "That's not possible. You can only have one class that uses magic. If she chooses a class that uses her mana pool now, she can never become a cleric. Clerics use mana too."

The dryad nodded in confirmation.

Skorr quickened his pace, annoyed, "Can you do anything useful without a class?"

"I can punch opponents in the face."

"Unarmed close combat? That's of little use against warriors in plate armor."

The dryad wordlessly clenched a fist, rammed it against the rock face and then held it pressed against the stone. Nothing recognizable happened for a moment, then the rock burst apart, blasted by countless fine roots that had drilled into the rock from the dryad's wooden skin. When she yanked her fist back, a hole remained.

She glanced around as if to elicit further comment, but everyone just stared at her in surprise: "I may not carry weapons or armor, but I'm perfectly capable of defending myself. It's not just my skin that's made of living wood. My whole body is made of it. No vulnerable organs, no blood or resin drooling out of me through wounds."

Weylan nodded thoughtfully: "What about fire?"

"What happens if you try to set fire to a freshly felled oak log?"

He grinned: "Not much. Just smoke and wasted tinder."

"Exactly."

Skorr now walked on a little more confidently.

They overtook the remaining duskgnomes and after a short time came upon a larger cave. Skorr looked around: "This is where the revenants can set their ambush site. The stalagmites form a narrow passage here at the entrance. A few warriors can block the way here. And from up there, the archers can shoot over their heads." He looked questioningly at Weylan: "That is how these things work, isn’t it?"

Weylan nodded: "I think so. I'm not particularly good with bows. And only average with crossbows."

Skor's whisper was loud enough in the silence of the cave for everyone to hear: "Would have been too nice if someone here had a meaningful fighting ability."

The group hurriedly left the cave. The tunnel became steadily lower, so that the people soon had to walk slightly bent over to avoid hitting their heads on uneven parts of the ceiling.

Then the tunnel also became narrower. Many places showed traces of work where dwarven prospectors had removed obstacles that they could not even get past sideways. Even Skorr struggled to walk straight and the humans were just plodding along sideways. No one complained. The excitement of what they would find was too great. A way to the top? An underground river? Or access down to the Underworld Network?

Then the tunnel simply ended. Skorr lifted his glowstone and looked at the rock face in disbelief. No scratches, no chipped places. The dwarves had simply turned around here. He scanned the wall. Then he held the fingers of his left hand spread out against the wall. With the other hand, he pulled a prospector's hammer from his belt and struck the rock. He listened. He wasn't as good at listening to stone as Karrd, but the result here was clear. He turned to the others. His gaze and the posture of his slumped shoulders said enough. Nevertheless, he added a slight shake of his head.

Weylan looked over his head. Then down to him: "Solid rock?"

"At least twenty paces. Probably more."

The shepherd looked at the rock again: "Theres no way to defeat our enemies and there is no way out. We're missing something. Can you test the passages to the side?"

The duskgnome just nodded and the group moved back a hundred meters. Then he banged against the wall on the left. He was about to take his hand away when something caught his eye. An echo. Tiny, faint... But it was there. He motioned to the others to remain silent as they began to speak. Unwilling to make even an unnecessary sound, he shooed them back another ten steps with gestures. He waited until the sound had died away, then he hammered again. This time with full force. Stone splinters and sparks flew to the side.

"There... is something from directly above us. An echo. Sharp. I can't describe it well. You're not stone-listeners. But... it's a passage with hard edges. Very faint. Far away, or very small."

The dryad beat the others to it with her question: "Will that help us? Can we dig a tunnel there?"

He started to shake his head, then hit the stone again. He listened. His brow furrowed and with his bald head, common among gnomes, it pulled back surprisingly far. He waited and fended off any further questions. A hundred heartbeats passed. Then he hammered again. Frowned even deeper. Waited. Hammered again.

Trulda tried to see between the others: "What is it? Can't you see exactly what's in the stone? The result won't get any better if you try several times."

Skor's voice clearly showed that he couldn't believe what he was saying: "But it is! The source of the echo is getting closer. Fast."

The dryad took a step back and prepared to flee: "Stone worms? That's the last thing we need. I've heard about these monsters from the dwarves. These creatures dig through the stone with acid. Where they break into mines, a corrosive gas flows into the tunnel. Unprepared dwarves without suitable protective spells die like flies. There is hardly anything that dwarves are afraid of. Or at least that they admit to being afraid of. Stone worms are one of them."

The duskgnome hammered against the rock once more and felt the vibrations in the rock with his fingertips: "No stone worms. Their tunnels are round. Different echo. And stoneworms aren't that fast either." He took a step back and motioned to the rest of the group to fall back: "It's about to break through." He stowed the hammer back in his belt and drew his weapon. The others moved back down the corridor.

A rectangular piece of the rock about the size of a childs head on the corridor ceiling dissolved silently.

A hand-sized winged figure floated down elegantly and beckoned to them: "Follow me, if you want to live!"

The fairy was female, had long hair and black butterfly wings with an intricate pattern of golden lines. She wore a simple linen wrap skirt. She beckoned them to follow and fluttered back up the tunnel. Skorr stared after her and protested, "I can't even fit my head in there!"

Heartbeats passed in breathless silence. Then the grinning fairy floated down again: "Just kidding. Malvorik still needs a while to widen the tunnel to the right size."

She turned around and called up the tunnel: "Even though I still think it's pure madness!"

Skorr couldn't hear a reply, but she seemed to be listening to someone and then shrugged her shoulders in a complex wing movement, "Yeah, yeah... I get it. Women and children."

She turned back to the small group of adventurers: "He needs another quarter candle. You're really lucky that his mana pool was almost full. Otherwise it would have taken hours."

Skorr looked up at the straight rectangular hole upwards: "Who, and for what? Forgive me, little fairy, but what are you talking about?"

She started haltingly, but then spoke more surely: "I am the... familiar... of Malvorik. A... mage. Exactly. A powerful mage who has his home here. Hidden! A secret home! That no one is allowed to know about. You're not going to tell anyone about his refuge, are you?"

"No, of course not. Can your mage help us? Can he enlarge the tunnel so that we can go up?"

"That's the plan. He's creating a way for you to get up to the Mulnirsheim sewers. You should then be able to make it to the surface easily via the canals."

The duskgnome looked past her up the smooth tunnel: "Does this Malvorik also install steps or stairs?"

"Of course. Stepping holes at the right distance and depth for duskgnomes. Humans will find it a bit difficult, but will also get through."

"And your master, he can enlarge the tunnel in a quarter-candle? I know my way around tunnels. Even a group of our best stone shapers would need days to do it."

The fairy began to buzz nervously around Skorr: "My master is very powerful. And stone is his specialty. He's an arch mage!"

"He has the rank of archmage?"

"He builds the best arches. A true architecture mage."

Skorr wondered: "There's no such thing... Oh, I see! He's an archmage who specializes in the elements of earth and stone? That would explain it."

"Then that's exactly it. You are so clever. Now go! Get the others. The tunnel will consume all of Malvorik's mana. He won't be able to help you in any other way."

Weylan nudged the duskgnome with a grin: "Well, didn't I tell you? A quarter of a candle? We can easily last that."

Skorr looked up the tunnel again: "How far is it to the top?"

The fairy looked up indecisively: "A hundred paces? A little more? I have no idea. I haven't measured the distance."

"Then we need at least the same amount of time again to get everyone to the top."

The duskgnome beckoned the three others to make their way back: "When the tunnel is finished, my clan must already be here. We must not lose a moment."