Stronric woke the next morning groggily. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he sat up and looked at the hearth. The fire had burnt down into a single lit coal. The small ball of fire and coal should not have survived the night. It burnt with a low white color; appearing artificial. He got up and approached the hearth. Picking up a broken chair leg, he tossed it into the fireplace. The fire greedily consumed the wood, returning to a normal flame.
“What is this about?” muttered Stronric. “This place keeps getting weirder and weirder.”
Shaking his head, he turned to the mush corn, and started making his breakfast of hardtack and beer. Falling into a routine he enjoyed, he soon began humming to himself. I am going to explore deeper into the hold. I need to find a map of this place if I’m going to make this my home. Now a taskmasters’, administrates’ or a bookkeeper’s office should lead me in the right direction. As he took a hardtack from the stones and bit into it, a sound rang out in his head.
BING.
You have received the temporary buff of Hearth and Home.
Your health regeneration has slightly improved.
Your stamina regeneration has slightly improved.
Your experience gained has slightly improved.
Stronric froze, dropping the uneaten hardtack to the ground. Words quickly appeared in front of him and disappeared.
“What was that?” he thought “Did I hit my head, oh no! It was the beer, I’ve poisoned myself. Now I am going crazy.”
He poured out the rest of his beer, a tear almost coming to his eye as the liquid hit the ground.
“What treachery is this? Of course, the land of fallen dwarves would have poisoned beer.” He said with a shutter.
He waited for the pains to come, and after some time, none did. He actually felt peaceful and better than he had in a while. Maybe it wasn’t the beer.
“What was experience?” he mumbled
He knew a person could get experience in crafts to become better at them. Working on a craft would take time to perfect. Everyone knew that. It wasn’t some kind of crazy idea. Increasing experience gained would mean that a person could become better at things at a faster rate, but that also made no sense. If it took time to learn something, how would someone magically know something faster they hadn't learned yet. He shook his head in annoyance and decided to blame all of this on why the dwarves had fallen.
“This is why they have fallen. They spent too much time in thought, like some damn elf. Instead of working the mines or smithing. They were probably still in thought when the enemies were at their gates.” He said out loud to himself.
Deciding this was all a waste of time, he got up onto his feet, grabbed his pick axe, built up the fire and headed to the door lead deeper into the hold. The tunnel was dark, but that was no issue for a dwarf, for dwarves had dark vision. The tunnels leading deeper into the mountain were a mess. The ground was covered in papers, broken wood, and debris. There were openings spread throughout the hall. Sticking his head inside one of them, he found small rooms which looked to be old bed rooms or stay over rooms. Some were the size of barracks, holding up to twenty dwarves, some were for a single guest.
All of the rooms had been ransacked and everything of value was taken away. Bed posts that weren’t stolen had been destroyed. The dressers had their draws pulled out and were splintered on the floor. Linens all but eaten away by moths layed shredded. He shook his head as he walked through the old halls. This place was going to take a lot of work before it could be called a home again.
Stronric soon found a stairwell, which lead both up and down. Thinking about it, he knew most holds built their farms higher up so the moisture from the snow could seep into the room and keep the plants watered. He chose to head upward. The stairwell was carved from stone with hand rails wrought in nickel silver. Each step of the stair’s risers held carvings of animals, farms and the cornucopia. He stopped and ran his fingers along the cornucopia, breathing in slowly and letting out a deep breath.
“This truly was the home of the Hearth for these dwarves, but why let such a precious place fall?” He said.
Nearing the top of the stairs, he heard a sound. It sounded like small footsteps and the sound of the earth being toiled. He slowly crept up the stairs, trying his best to move quietly. His hob-nailed boots making it incredibly hard. As he rounded the last bend in the stairs, the doorway was open. The door was missing completely. A carving of runes was on a placard on the side of the doorway. At first the runes looked slightly off. The more he focused on them, the clearer they became. The rune was three vertical lines with three diagonal lines on each side running vertically towards the top. Looking similar to wheat in the human lands. The runes read “Ivom”, which were the runes for farm.
Moving up beside the doorway, he peered in. A large natural cavern with small rolling hills met his gaze. There was little vegetation in the vast expanse of the old farm land. Now small bushes and mushrooms scattered the land. Thats when he saw the small creature. It was built like a gobi, or a gremlin. This creature was smaller in height and build than a dwarf. It had greenish, tan skin and was completely hairless. Its body was carried on bowed legs. The only thing it wore was a loincloth. The creature’s back was turned to Stronric. It held a club with stone fastened to the end with leather or some kind of gut. The creature was crouched over a mushroom patch. Swinging it’s club at the base of the mushrooms.
That bastard is destroying the only mushrooms left by cutting out the roots. If I am going to farm this place, I need those mushrooms. I won't starve because of some stupid gobi destroying what's left.
He squeezed his pick axe and said a quick prayer to Gimli, his ancestor of battle and war. It felt wrong, the prayer, like something of substance was missing. It was like taking a step, expecting something to be there and your foot falling into nothing. He paused, this time making a prayer out to Thoranthana and as he finished he was filled with the warmth of the hearth.
He had fought gobi on the mountains, in the mountains, and under the mountains. Everywhere you could fight them, Stronric Wraith-Thane had slain gobi. They were the dwarves’ oldest of enemies. The breaker of Holds and cracker of barrels. The parasite that lived in the dark. He was confident in his ability to slay a single gobi. In fact, he was excited to finally have a time and place to take out his vengeance of what happened to his hold.
Stepping into the farmlands he shouted,“Hey you bastard, my axe thirsts for blood!”.
The creature whipped around, looking at him. Its green face had red eyes, and an under bite with small protruding tusks coming up. It looked at him, then looked at his pick axe and then scratched its head in confusion.
“Pick axe, same thing!” he shouted as he ran forward.
The creature jumped up and let out a loud shriek as it ran forward. As the creature closed with him, it jumped, raising its club high to bring it down on his head. Stronric caught the gobi by the neck with his left hand. Spinning and throwing the gobi down on the ground, the power of the throw broke bones that popped in the quite farmland. The creature had its air driven from its lungs as it bounced off the ground. Stronric stomped his foot down on the creature's head. Another bone breaking pop and the creature quit moving. He let out a sigh of disappointment when he heard noises. He turned around and saw in the darkness ten more sets of red eyes.
“Now we are talkin!” he yelled.
He raised his pick axe and pointed at the mob, and said, “come on now, don’t be shy!”
Stronric ran towards them; the creatures let out shrieks and screams as they charged. Stronric jumped and kicked out his foot, which connected to the top of the leading gobi’s head. He rode the creature down to the ground, until a sickening crunch could be heard. On his way down, he swung the pick axe one handed into the face of another gobi. Two down, eight more to go. The creatures swung their clubs, and he pulled his pick axe up to block, but the dead gobi was still stuck on his weapon, the extra weight threw off his maneuver. The limp body caught most of the incoming weapons, except for one club which caught Stronric in the shoulder. Stronric lashed out with a kick and laid the creature flat. He spun, twisting his weapon and using the momentum to free it from the dead gobi. The creature's body slammed into two of them, knocking them prone.
Completing his spin, he struck horizontally, catching two of the creatures and skewing them on his pick-axe. Dropping the pick axe, he caught the arm of a gobi as it’s weapon descended on him. Going into a squatting position and turning, Stronric brought the arm down on his shoulder, breaking it at the elbow. The gobi’s club tumbled onto the ground, with a hip toss, he threw the creature onto it’s back. Another stomp and another death. The two gobis that were pinned by the thrown dead body managed to wiggle free and started to spring to their feet. Stronric stooped down to pick up a gobi’s club. Stronric lashed out with a kick and connected with a gobi. At the same time he slammed the club down onto the others gobi’s head. The weapon shattered under the impact of the blow.
“Is that all you’ve got? I have fought baby rams with more strength than that!” he taunted.
The last three of the creatures shambled back with fear in their eyes. Stronric walked over to his pick axe and with his foot on the dead bodies, he pried it from their split open heads. Every step Stronric took towards the creatures, they stepped back. He circled them. They moved with him, staying away. It wasn’t until he felt a discarded club he smiled. Gobi are the dumbest animals on the earth, he thought. Stronric pretended to trip, falling onto one knee. The gobis saw this as their moment to strike. The small cowardly group lunged forward toward at the fallen dwarf.
Stronric’s face broke into a toothy grin. He surged forward into a roll, picking up the club on the way. Rolling onto his knee, he threw the club at the furthest gobi. The weapon took the gobi in the face, exploding into pieces and felling the pathetic creature. Stronric then lunged forward, barreling into the leading gobi, picking it up off its feet and slamming it into the ones behind. The gobis tumbled onto the ground and fell on top of each other. Stronric stepped on top of the pile of gobi and raised his pick axe to bring it down on one of the heads. Letting out a laugh, he looked down at the last gobi pinned. Stronric was smiling grimacingly at them. “These be dwarves lands now!”. Stronric’s large hobnailed boot was the last thing that the gobi saw.