“I’ve been waiting for you to return home, my boy.”
Aaron stood in his grandfather’s apartment hallway, dumbfounded and struggling to comprehend how they had arrived here. “You can see me?”
“Of course I can!” Grandfather grunted and turned to walk further into the apartment. “Now, come to the kitchen. We were just about to serve up dinner.”
“We?”
“Your father and I.” Grandfather’s voice was coarser than a sharpening stone used for damaged tools. “Enough questions. It’s time to eat.”
Aaron chuckled at the memories that flowed through his mind as his grandfather walked through a doorway further down the hall. His grandfather was always rough and hard, but through that rock exterior, Aaron was loved by his grandfather.
Swift made several hand gestures, prompting Aaron to glance at the Hacklet between them.
What is going on?
“I’m not sure, Swift,” Aaron spoke calmer than he expected. “This isn’t like you stick-orcs or your mom; however, like you, this isn’t a memory I should have. I never went back home before they left.”
What do you mean, “before they left?”
“Don’t worry about it. Come on, the old dwarf’s waiting.”
Swift had a quizzical look on his face.
“You heard him. Papa said it’s time to eat, so we eat.”
That’s not your “Papa.”
“And that wasn’t your mom back there?”
The orc hesitated in his response, remembering how his mother spoke directly to him in the previous room. Swift looked at his hand and suddenly realized the small totem she had given him was gone. It was a harsh reminder that his tribal heirloom was still lost, beyond his reach. A tug at their shared arm brought the orc’s attention back to their current situation.
I don’t think we should eat anything in this realm.
Aaron shrugged indifferently. “Come on, let’s see what’s for dinner.”
Upon entering the kitchen, the duo were greeted with a fragrant aroma of thick dwarven stew. Aaron's mouth watered as he could not remember the last time he had eaten something as hearty as his grandfather’s stew.
“This damn city doesn’t have roots like what we grow in the Core, but I can still cook according to tradition. Right, my boy?”
“Right, Papa!” Aaron’s smile was beaming as he took a seat at the table. Grandfather placed a granite bowl full of stew in front of Aaron, along with a large metal spoon. The stew was chock full of various potatoes, carrots, onions, rutabaga, turnips, edo, and cassava, along with large chunks of beef and the perfect blend of herbs and seasonings. It was a stew so thick you could practically feel it stick to your bones as you ate it. Nobody made a stew like a dwarven stew.
Swift cautiously sat in a chair to Aaron’s side. While the apartment was not made for dwarves, the table and chairs were, causing Swift to nearly resemble a lanky half-giant as he sat. On the other side was an empty chair with a steaming bowl of stew and a spoon. Grandfather sat opposite Aaron with his stew but did not start eating yet.
“Where is that blasted dwarf,” Grandfather muttered. “For as long as it takes him to move, you’d think crossing the hall is like crossing the Great Chasm. Gritspar! Get in here and eat your supper!”
The dwarf who slowly shuffled into the kitchen wore wrinkled and baggy clothes and had a very subdued demeanor. His head was bowed as if to avoid any potential eye contact, and he continually folded his hands over and over as if it were a habitual tic. He stumbled slightly before awkwardly working his way into the chair at the table. His hands continued to go through the folding motions while his head remained bowed over his bowl. He seemed unaware of the steam in his face or that his tangled hair was nearly touching the contents of his bowl.
Grandfather growled. “Grit. Say hello to your son.”
“Hello, son,” Grit’s voice was hollow, distant.
Aaron’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched, but he knew how to play this part of the game. “Hello, father.”
Satisfied with the salutations, Grandfather smiled and nodded. “Good, we’re together again as a family. Now, we eat.”
“No, Papa.” Aaron looked hard at his grandfather. He knew the dwarf sitting across from him rarely accepted such a response.
Grandfather’s brow furrowed. “That was not a request.”
“What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” Grandfather balked. “What? Have you been spending time with that elf? That sounds like a blasted elvish question. This is my apartment. I live here. Eat your food, boy.”
“No,” Aaron responded firmly as he motioned to his father. “Not while this dwarf is sitting next to me.”
“You’re not doing, boy, not tonight.”
“You dragged that dwarf in here for a damn blasted reason. Why is he sitting here next to me?”
Grandfather threw his cloth napkin on the table. “For once, just once, I thought I could have a nice family dinner. We eat, we talk. But no, you have to start a fight, don’t you. It’s that blasted orphaned stone, isn’t it? You’ve been spending time with that damned orphan?”
“Don’t you fucking talk about Molly like that.”
“Don’t you be bringing filthy human curses into this home!” Grandfather started pacing across the kitchen. “I don’t know what happened to you. I did my best to raise, what with your good-for-nothing father being the way he is. Yet, still, you had to go join that war of men and elves. It was not a war that involved us dwarves—but I’m a tolerable dwarf, and I let you go.”
“I didn’t need your permission to join the military.”
“And yet I allowed it all the same. But then, you had to find yourself some half-stone orphan, not even fit to call a dwarf.”
“By the depths… I swear If you keep talking about Molly like this—”
“What!” Grandfather turned, slamming both fists onto the table and causing the bowls to jump and rattle. “What? Are you going to pick this out in the mines with me? Boy! You’ve never been to the mines.”
“I don’t need to be in the mines to know what it’s like.”
“Oh, really? Because you’ve gone to war, right? A damn human and elf war—bah! Like their kind even know how to wage a real war. I allowed you to go, but to find out later that you went to war not as a soldier, but a coprolite techno-fancy gizmo wearing soft-shoe… You’ve lost touch with the stone, my boy. Between the techno-mumbo, the elves, and that orphan, you’ve lost touch with the foundation stone.”
Grandfather and grandson stood at opposite sides of the table, locked in a cold, hard stare against each other. Between them, Gritspar, Aaron’s father, kept his head bowed low, hovering just above his stew. Swift sat across from Gritspar, futilely trying to shrink into the undersized chair that refused to give him refuge from the family fight.
Shaking his head and sighing, Grandfather wiped his face in frustration. “Why couldn’t you have accepted a good dwarven female, eh? You had one coming to you from the Core, and she would have been here to birth you a child if you hadn’t off gone off to that damn war.”
“Yeah, you would’ve liked that, wouldn’t you? A good dwarf, just like Ma and Grandma.”
“That’s right! They were both good dwarves who understood their place and respected tradition. They receive their blessing and come from the Core to fulfill their duty. Then, after they’ve birthed a strong, healthy little dwarf, they return to the Core to receive their next blessing. It’s as it should be.”
“No, Papa, that’s not how it should be.”
“Traditions are carved into the stone, my boy!” Grandfather slammed a fist onto the table again. “If we lose our traditions, then what are? We are lost, my boy.”
Aaron looked away from his grandfather. Anger and resentment were seething through his pores. He loved his grandfather dearly but refused to accept this tradition as ‘right.’
“Aaron. Aaron, my boy, look at me.”
Despite his coarse hardness, Aaron could hear a note of pleading in his grandfather’s voice. He turned his head to look at the dwarf who raised him like a true father.
“Your father has agreed to return with me back to the Core.”
Aaron shook his head. He had expected this.
“Your father lost touch with the stone, my boy. You know this. However, finally having him here in the home with me, I’ve been able to get him cleaned up and staying off the streets.”
“His brain is fried from all the drugs and alcohol, Papa. It has nothing to do with the foundation stone.”
“Watch your tongue, boy. The foundation stone is what every dwarf relies on to guide them outside the Core. Your father turned to the human filth and goblin swill because he lost touch with the stone. The only option I have left is to take your father back to the Core. In the Core, he will have a chance to return to the stone and remember what it means to be a dwarf.”
Aaron looked at the light in the ceiling, not wanting to look at his grandfather.
“Aaron, no dwarf can be forced back to the Core. You know this. You must go willingly. I can’t demand you to go with us, but I am asking. Return to the Core with your father and I, and restore your touch with the foundation stone.”
With pursed lips and eyes closed tightly, Aaron lowered and shook his head, denying his grandfather’s plea.
“I did my best to raise you right, my boy. It pains me to see my best wasn’t enough.”
“I’ve got to go, Papa.”
“But your stew—we haven’t even eaten as a family yet.”
“I’m sorry, Papa.” Aaron couldn’t bring himself to look at his grandfather as he turned to leave the kitchen.
“Aaron—Aaron, stop!”
Ingrained with obedience and respect, Aaron halted his exit from the kitchen and stood facing the doorway.
“Look at me, my boy.”
Aaron turned about, forcing Swift to shuffle in an arc around him. He looked at his grandfather, who looked back at him with cool, granite eyes.
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“Aaron, if you leave now and walk out that door, you’ll be no better off than the orphaned stone you picked up. You’ll be lost, like gravel to be trampled under the foot of men and elves. Don’t go, my boy. I am asking you to do what’s best for you. Don’t go.”
To those unfamiliar with old dwarves, hearing the coarse words that escape their beards might be difficult. However, for Aaron, he could hear his grandfather begging, pleading for him to stay—and it caused his heart to break. For all the love his grandfather had given him growing up and all the support he provided… Aaron loved his grandfather deeply. Yet, still, he knew he could not stay. With a heart fractured from sorrow and grief, Aaron spoke, “Goodbye, Papa.”
Before the burning in his eyes turned to tears, Aaron quickly turned about and left the kitchen. As he walked down the hallway and approached the door, he paused before exiting. The apartment was quiet save for the sound of a small clock ticking on the wall. His grandfather did not call for him nor cry for him. Aaron exhaled the built-up emotions, turned the knob, and exited the apartment.
# # #
Aaron and Swift were back in the void. Behind them, the door they had just exited was gone, and only dark swirling shadows remained omnipresent in this place. Swift nudged the dwarf with their shared arm and made some gestures with his free hand.
That was pretty rough. I am sorry you had to go through that.
“Yeah,” Aaron noticed the text was back to floating overhead instead of scrolling across the Hacklet. “Well, forget about it.”
Your grandfather kept talking about touching a stone. Is that like my tribe’s totem?
Aaron grunted. “No. It’s a metaphorical stone. Dwarves come from the stone and rock. Since that is where we come from, that is what we are supposed to use to guide us through life. You’ll hear dwarves talk about ‘building your house on a rock’ or ‘setting your foundation in stone.’ It’s all just stuff that means be a good dwarf and do what a good dwarf should do.”
What about the Core? Is that metaphorical, too?
“No,” Aaron chuckled. “That’s a real place. It’s where the first dwarves originated from. All dwarves are supposed to return to the Core at some point in their lives.”
But you chose not to go to the Core. Will you go to the Core eventually?
“No, Swift. I won’t.”
Why?
The questions were gnawing at his conscience as he looked to the void. Still, Aaron felt compelled to answer for reasons he could not explain. “Because I lost my stone and my Core.”
I don’t understand.
“Molly, Swift. Molly was my rock, my stone, my Core. She was everything that made me a better dwarf, a better living creature on this depth-forsaken earth. She was everything… but now she’s gone, and I have nothing…”
You are a good dwarf, Aaron.
“I hate being a dwarf,” Aaron grunted as he again searched the void. “Enough slag and questions. We need to find our way out of this place.”
Not seeing anything beyond the dark, swirling void, Aaron was about to use his Investigation skill when Swift tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to look and was immediately taken aback. “Oh, fuckalite! To the depths, I’m not going through all that slag and frak again!”
Standing before the duo, looking exactly like before, were two identical doors. They looked like the same doors they had entered after taking on the shadow creature’s favor.
I am not going through those doors.
“Damn right,” Aaron muttered, then turned to yell at the void. “You hear that? We’re not going through your damn-blasted doors! Now, own up to your end of the favor, show us the gnome, and get us the fuck out of here.”
The void remained undisturbed, swirling silently about the duo. Though Aaron’s voice sounded like it traveled far, there was no echo indicating whether a wall or structure was nearby. They watched the void a moment longer, waiting for a response.
“Too bad you didn’t bring that shoulder bag of yours,” Aaron grumbled. “Seems like that thing always carries a way to get out of these strange situations.”
Swift acknowledged and agreed with Aaron, though his focus seemed more on the void than the conversation.
Aaron prepared to use his Investigation skill when a thought struck him. “Hey, Swift, what skills do you have?”
Have a look.
Appeared over Swift’s head as he shared his hero sheet.
Name: Swift Racing Ostrich Moxie: 0 0 0 Defining Traits: HD: 0 [BLOCKED] UP: 4 Affiliations: Hero Level: 7 Law enforcement (poor), Yakuza (poor), The Ostrich Tribe (terrible), Alpha Numeros (terrible), Fourth Wall Conglomerate (terrible), [focus for more info…] Attributes: Skills: Intelligence: 7 Rapid Reflexes (DEX/STR): 2d4 Strength: 4 Tribal Magic (SPR/DEX): 2d6 Spirit: 10 Axes (STR): 1d6 Dexterity: 7 Scrying (INT/SPR): 2d2 Gear: [None retained in current realm]
“You have enough upgrade points to increase your Scrying skill,” Aaron noted. “How’d you manage to piss off so many people?”
It’s what happens when you go all in with a bet and are set up to lose.
“That shadow creature seemed surprised that you were able to get us here with your meager scrying skill, right?”
My scrying skill might be low-level, but I wouldn’t call it meager.
Aaron waved off the comment as he thought aloud. “What augmented your scrying to make it more potent than normal?”
He began to pace in thought but was quickly halted by their conjoined arm. Aaron looked at their arm, then looked again, focusing on the Hacklet. He quickly pulled up his own hero sheet to review his skills.
Name: Aaron Frimslayer Moxie: 0 0 0 0 Defining Traits: HD: 1 [BLOCKED] UP: 3 Affiliations: Hero Level: 6 Law enforcement (poor), Fourth Block Boomas (favorable), Ferdinand the Shark (poor), Alpha Numeros (indifferent), Yakuza (neutral) Attributes: Skills: Intelligence: 9 Crackshot (DEX/INT): 2d6 Strength: 5 Dodge (STR/DEX): 2d6 Spirit: 2 Hacking (INT/DEX): 2d8 Dexterity: 8 Investigation (INT/DEX): 2d6 Gear: [Vial of Tuber arcanatum dust]
Two things caught Aaron’s attention. First, his mental moxie had been healed, clearing him of all strikes against his connection with the system. Second, prompted him to feel the breast pocket of his trenchcoat. As suspected, he could feel the vial of Tuber arcanatum still seated securely in his pocket. The dwarf pondered this fact for a moment longer, recognizing that no other gear was brought with them to this realm; the Hacklet connected Aaron and Swift; they were brought to a place where shades and Death roam…
With a shake of their shared arm, Aaron glanced up and saw Swift pointing at something in the darkness. It was a sizeable lumbering shadow, similar to the first one they found. However, the dwarf was done chasing shadows. “Swift, use your scrying ability.”
What?
“Use your scrying skill, whatever,” Aaron kept his hand on his chest as he looked at the Hacklet screen, still formulating a plan in his head. “Look, I think that shade was trying to trick us. I think it intends to torment us with memories and a lode of coprolite. I’m thinking the only way out of here is the same way we got in here—scrying.”
But I don’t have the tequila or any medium to help channel the skill. I don’t even know where to begin with using that skill here.
“You have the void as your medium,” Aaron waved his free hand to the surrounding darkness. “Channel this place, use it against itself.”
Swift vacillated on the idea, looking to the darkness, the doors, and the dwarf.
“Use your UP and upgrade your scrying skill. Share your success failure rolls. While you’re scrying, I will try to boost our position here—see if we can be like a conduit for scrying energies.”
How are you going to ‘boost’ anything?
“Don’t worry about that, I’ll figure it out. You just focus. Upgrade, share, then scry.”
Swift looked to the darkness one more time. The lumbering creature could not be seen or heard, but its massive presence was certainly felt. Unable to devise a better plan, Swift nodded to Aaron and got to work.
Aaron turned and focused on the Hacklet embedded at the center of the conjoined arm. He gave the vial in his pocket a brief squeeze before attempting to make the Hacklet work. Aaron’s working theory was that the Tuber arcanatum dust had somehow worked like a booster shot and channeled Swift’s scrying magic powers through the Hacklet. The dwarf did not really understand how that would work, but he was sure they could make it happen again.
Swift – Scrying skill 2 vs. Difficult DT – EXCEPTIONAL FAILURE Swift suffers 1 Mental Moxie strike. Aaron suffers 1 Mental Moxie strike.
It was like a giant iron fist crashed upon the duo, knocking them both to the ground. Nothing was there, but they were knocked down all the same. Somewhere in the distance, Aaron was sure he could hear the insidious laughter of the shade.
I can’t keep doing that! We’re going to really die if I do that again.
“We have to do it again!” Aaron retorted. “Just wait for me this time. Let me see if I can get you that boost.”
Swift frowned but did not continue the argument.
Frustrated the mental moxie was back, Aaron pushed the haunting memories of his past to the back of his mind and focused on the Hacklet in front of him. He placed his hand on the empty Hacklet screen, closed his eyes, and focused on channeling the dust in his pocket through the skill he was most comfortable with.
Aaron – Hacking skill 12 vs. Very Difficult DT – FAILURE
“Damnable depths,” Aaron muttered.
Something is coming. Whatever you’re doing, do it faster.
The dwarf returned to his stance and tried to channel the magic of the dust again.
Aaron – Hacking skill 11 vs. Very Difficult DT – FAILURE
Something deep within the void bellowed a groan. The lumbering creature began to coalesce from the void before. Its shape was massive as arms and legs the size of Great Wood trees began to appear. Swift said something, but Aaron ignored the text. He tried again.
Aaron – Hacking skill 15 vs. Very Difficult DT – SUCCESS
A purple aura suddenly lit up the Hacklet screen as Aaron felt a surge of energy course through his body. “Swift, now!”
The giant shadow creature raised one of its enormous limbs, ready to strike down the duo.
Swift – Scrying skill [+ unidentified modifier] 13 vs. Difficult DT – SUCCESS
A bright column of light opened around Swift and Aaron. The dwarf was suddenly seized by electricity coursing through his limbs. Unable to move, he watched as the shadow creature's heavy limb swung down to crush them.
Then, in a violent crack of lightning, Swift and Aaron were gone.