Eight Era, cycle 1721, season of Unkh day 212

The streets of Horseshoe were made from a red rock. It was some sort of sandstone or limestone; one of those soft stones that Ember was ignorant about, but because it was such a soft stone, the shoes of horses had left impressions over the decades and centuries of the town’s existence.

Hence the town’s name; it had nothing to do with smithies, which confused many a traveller, who grew annoyed that the town of Horseshoe didn’t have a blacksmith.

It did have wheat fields, and the town lived off exports for two reasons: one, the wheat trade was always strong, and, two, because – despite it having fresh wheat at its disposal – the town of Horseshoe actually made terrible bread and beer, so it had very few travellers staying.

Dwarfs liked beer; it wasn’t a particularly racist thing to say as, although any generalisation should be avoided, the dwarfs want people to know they like beer. They waved off the “dwarfs loved gold” stereotype, but encouraged the beer one. It helped them for outsiders to think of them as drunken miners, as it made it so much easier to win a fight when people underestimated you.

So, Ember was surprised to see a couple of dwarfs playing cards outside of a tavern with some of the locals, all without drinks at the table. Cards on the Sphere tended to be of a similar style. On one of the four sides was an “S” or a number ranging from one to nine, in the centre of the card was a picture of a creature, above the picture was its name, and below the creature was a symbol. The symbol told the player a few things about the card; for instance, a common game put the creatures into three classes – melee, ranged and flying – and the symbol on the card placed the creature in one of these classes. Or it could be used a different way in a different game, and some games used the colour of the symbol to sort the cards into suits such as fire, grass, water, etc., depending on the game being played. Some games used the cards and marbles, and some used the cards and dice, because gambling was everywhere on the Sphere.

These players had a board like a chess board, but each rectangle on the board was the size of a card. Ember recognised the game as one called “domination” whereby you placed a card down, and the next player had to place a card next to yours. If the number on the side of card that is being placed down was higher than the side of the card already in place, then that card became owned by the person placing the new card down. This second card was then treated like a new card, and any cards placed next to it that had a level lower than that of the card being placed were also changed. This cascaded until all the cards that could change side were changed. The player with the most cards at the end won. Any cards already placed with a higher side value than a new card being placed didn’t have any effect on that turn, and if the two levels were equal, nothing happened. For this game, nothing else on the cards mattered.

‘Are you the dwarfs who came out of Port Checkers about a week back?’ Ember asked the closest dwarf.

‘We are the very same, although if we owe you money, you’ll need to speak to Brogue,’ responded one of them.

‘Actually, I heard you were hiring, is that right?’

‘In that case, you’ll want to speak to Zyol, but I’d better warn you that he’s in bad mood.’

Thus warned, Ember entered the tavern and decided immediately that Zyol must be the dwarf thumping the bar with the butt of his double-headed axe.

‘Look you, we’ve been walking for months and all we want is a simple beer; it doesn’t even have to be cold. You’re surrounded by wheat, so where’s your wheat beer?’ Zyol questioned nearly spluttering with indignation.

‘We don’t do one. We don’t make anything here; it’s all exported,’ the barman said. He was a scrawny man with a voice on the edge of breaking, a pockmarked face and an expression that looked flat, as though a donkey had sat on it.

‘Next, you’ll be telling me you don’t have a smithy!’ Zyol declared, exasperated.

‘We don’t,’ the barman replied, throwing his hands up in the air.

‘What! What will you do if the fair folk return?’

‘The elves haven’t been seen for centuries,’ the barman confirmed, shrugging.

‘You humans, you always do things arse about tit! And you’ve got such short memories to boot.’

‘We’ve got faggots in ale sauce, with bread and baked veg to fill you up. It’s twelve bronze pieces each, and the beer’s imported from Northpoint and costs a silver a jug.’

‘This is just outrageous! Just serve us the ale before you’ve poured it over the faggots, or after; we aren’t fussy. Look, you, we’re not paying silver for a mug of Northpoint piss!’

‘Everyone drinks Northpoint here.’

‘We were in Northpoint three weeks’ back; it tasted the same then going out as it did coming in, and I doubt the journey’s done it any favours. What say you, miss?’ Zyol enquired, spotting Ember.

She took the proffered mug, took a swig and made a face. ‘I’ve never tasted dwarf piss before, but it does taste of horse piss.’

‘Northpoint beer, where north meets the star,’ the barman said, sounding like he was quoting something.

‘Look, you, my foot is going to meet your arse in a minute!’ cried the dwarf.

‘This establishment will not tolerate threats against its employees,’ said a voice without any inflection, and a large object stepped forwards: a golem.

‘Eighty coppers a mug,’ the barman offered.

‘For this swill, I wouldn’t use it for torture! You’ve got a nerve. Make it sixty,’ demanded Zyol.

‘Each cask is left to brew for three months until it has acquired a rich and full-bodied flavour,’ the barman continued, still sounding like he was quoting something.

That was too much for Zyol, who tried to clamber over the bar to get at the man. In a few quick strides, the golem appeared and grabbed Zyol by the waist with one hand. This was rather impressive, as Zyol had at least a 40-inch waist and was built in the way all dwarfs were, where you couldn’t tell if it was fat or muscle. And it was probably a bit of both.

As Zyol found the golem’s hand was as large as his waist, he stopped fighting and let himself be carried out and dropped unceremoniously onto the dirt outside.

‘And another thing!’ Zyol shouted when the golem was well and truly back inside.

‘I think you lost, mate,’ Ember said conversationally, after having followed Zyol outside.

‘You’re not making any friends here, you know!’ Zyol shouted, and then he stopped to think. ‘Yes, well, on another day…’

‘I’m sure you would,’ Ember said, nodding.

‘You wouldn’t go in there and get us a couple of mugs of beer, would you? You’d better get some for the rest of the lads as well.’

‘You don’t think you better quit whilst you’re behind?’ Ember asked.

‘The problem with Northpoint beer is that it lasts longer than any other beer,’ Zyol explained thoughtfully.

‘Really, why’s that?’ Ember asked.

‘Because it tastes like piss!’ Zyol shouted, his hands cupped around his mouth.

‘The ancient recipe dates back to the very origins of brew-craft,’ the timorous voice of the barman returned.

‘The advantage of Northpoint beer is that it tastes the same fresh as when it’s gone off!’ Zyol retorted.

‘Our proud brew master tastes each cask before it leaves the brewery.’ The voice drifted to them from inside the tavern.

‘Why bother? Unless it’s to piss in it after!’

‘Kept at a constant temperature in the basement of Castle Horne.’

‘Let’s get out of here before I burst a blood vessel. The only people that drink it are people who can’t take their beer; unfortunately, it’s a large market,’ Zyol said, striding off. ‘Darvan’ok, nargrath niev’dre nogolo.’

‘Feel better?’ Ember enquired after Zyol spat out the dwarven speech.

‘And the horse he rode in on,’ Zyol added. ‘Yes.’

‘I heard you were after able bodies,’ Ember said, deciding it was best to get straight to the point.

‘Clang, Lyre, we’re out of here; come on,’ Zyol announced, signalling the two dwarfs playing cards to come over.

‘Hold on, I’ve got this game right where I want it,’ one of the dwarfs replied, placing a card down. A few moves later the man swiped the air with his arm.

‘Go on, then; you might as well leave now and take the win,’ said the other.

Satisfied, the dwarfs stood and collected their cards before joining Zyol and Ember.

‘So, who are you and what makes you think we’re looking for more hands?’ Zyol asked as they walked off.

‘My name’s Ember; I was passing through a town a few days’ back when I heard of some dwarfs looking for help with a quest, so I thought I’d see what the deal was.’

Clang declared, ‘How’s that then? We haven’t spoken in towns about helpers since Waxwood, and that was at least two weeks’ past. All the places since then have been a little too arboreal to get help; not enough people live in those places that they’d be willing to let anyone leave to join us. Most places with more dogs than people tend to view outsiders with suspicion anyway, so the chances that any of them would agree to join us were minimal. We decided it was for the best to just pass through and keep to ourselves; therefore, you must have heard about us a few weeks’ past if you’re here about that. Even in Waxwood the people weren’t over keen on a group of dwarf travellers, and we didn’t give out much information, so what would make you walk for a few weeks to catch us up? We only said that we were interested in hiring anyone of good experience. We gave the standard coin for such an expedition, but gave no clue as to any great haul or treasure, so it isn’t like it was the idea of riches that bought you. Also, you must have travelled fast to catch up with us too, all on the basis of something that we’ve never gone into much detail about anyway, so what made you so determined to find us? You don’t have the look of a seasoned traveller, or of any type of ranger, marauder, bandit or adventurer; you don’t even have a horse. Humans are poor travellers; you tire easy and have poor night vision.’

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‘Blow me down, Clang; shut up! Ember, what are you doing here? And don’t Carpenter the shit out of it, mark you,’ Zyol said.

‘Carpenter? I don’t know what you mean,’ Ember replied.

‘Clang Carpenter; you might have noticed that, when he gets going, he’s like a fuzzy-nosed star mole with a lump of blue obsidian.’

‘Right, well, that aside, I did get myself into a bit of trouble, so I was looking to leave town a little fast. With you lot seemed like a good place to be.’

‘Yet, as Clang said, you have no horse,’ Zyol reiterated.

‘Well, that was due to some gremlins I ran into along the way. I was hired to do a job, but the whole thing was a setup, and now I have some rather dangerous people after me.’

‘What makes you think you were set up?’ The last dwarf, presumably Lyre, had spoken.

‘I was given specialist equipment to complete the job, but the equipment failed. Now they have sent some extremely dangerous people after me, and it would be better if I found something to do until the contract is ended,’ Ember explained.

‘All of this over a failed bit of equipment? The person must be very angry,’ Zyol said calmly.

‘Oh yes; I was meant to… steal something.’

‘It must be valuable?’

‘Oh to the person I was stealing it from, probably their most valued possession.’

‘Was it now? Well, we all have pasts. I just assumed you were the mistress. Now, with these dangerous people, what exactly are you expecting?’ Zyol asked methodically.

‘Well, they’re called “the Sisters”, and are dangerous killers for hire. I saw them back in the Alpas and I’ve taken a long route to get here in the hope of throwing them off.’

‘The Alpas now, was it? I see, and a failed theft was enough to make this target of your robbery send them after you?’

‘Well, him or my old employer. He kind of got angry and took it out on some people associated with my old boss. So either of them could have a grudge against me.’

‘I see so you have many enemies, all from a theft?’

‘Well, the item to be stolen was very personal to him, and I did it during a public event – a party he was holding. He’ll need to regain some face.’

‘I see; so rather than come for you themselves, they send these Sisters?’

‘They have a reputation for being… thorough, and leaving a message, if you will,’ Ember said carefully.

‘They’re not likely to give up then?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘And you think you’ve lost them?’ Zyol questioned calmly.

‘I travelled with a large group of people in the opposite direction, then left and circled round to meet you lot.’

‘I see. And this reputation you talk about - it doesn’t sound like they’d sneak into the camp and slit your throat in the night.’ Zyol’s expression wasn’t giving away any clues to his thoughts, and Ember decided he must be an amazing jigsaw player.

‘No, they’d more likely set a bunch of maimed, wild wolves into the camp and then burn everything in the mayhem,’ she suggested.

‘So, you’ll be putting my boys in peril?’

‘I am worth it.’

‘I see. Well, it sounds like you made a massive balls up in your last job, I must say,’ Zyol said placidly.

‘I’m level 27; I can fight, I can scout and I can stand my night watch.’

‘Are you putting my men in danger by being here?’ Zyol asked, not seeming interested in Ember’s assertions.

‘Mildly,’ Ember admitted.

‘Well, now, it just so happens that we are in need of fresh meat, and your honesty and openness bode well. As for these Sisters, I’ve never heard of them, but that shouldn’t be a problem because we’re heading into dwarf territory, and I’d like to see them follow us there.’

‘There’re not dwarfs are they?’ Clang asked.

‘No, humans,’ Ember confirmed.

‘There you go. We’ll head to Mandel’s Crossing and enter the dwarven cities; once inside, these sisters will be helpless,’ declared Zyol.

‘There’s something else,’ Ember said, having almost forgotten her original reason for coming here.

‘Oh?’

‘I found a swarm of grey locusts.’

There were a few dwarven curses; it was a great language to curse in.

‘We need to kill them all,’ Ember said simply.

‘Agreed; it’s a good source of experience,’ stated Zyol.

Quest updated: the swarm

You have enlisted the help of party of dwarfs; if any of you complete this quest, all of you will receive the rewards, even if you have since separated. As the discoverer of the quest, you will also receive one gold piece per person completing this quest.

‘How big is your party?’ Ember asked, reading the last part of the quest description.

‘Eight of us are travelling, all dwarfs from Stonepoint,’ replied Zyol.

‘Stonepoint, are you serious?’ Ember queried dubiously.

‘Its name has more significance in dwarfish; it was taken from a poignant and ancient poem. The city was one of the first dwarfish places that we ever allowed man to see or enter, during that time when dwarfs were more wary of outsiders and after the war of eternal dark had split the clans, even if it was never truly resolved. This was long after the ‘Time of Awakening’, of course. That was the issue with the war you see. Many never wanted to reopen lines of communications with those land walkers again. But, eventually, practicality and a century of war won over, and we let a posse of humans into our caves and took them to one of our great cities. There, the humans were allowed to see a city, named – as I said – after a passage of our ancient poetry and also after a special mineral found there. When the humans asked the name of the place, the dwarf translating hesitated and chose the word “scandium”, which is it an element we use to refine moonstone. This word was a bit troublesome for the humans to say, so they settled on stone instead and then on Stonepoint. And so our great city, with its poetic name, was reduced to this simple arbitrary word. Now we feel that the historical significance of the mistranslated name should remain, rather than attempt to use a more apt descriptor as a name,’ Clang said.

‘I see what you mean about “Carpentering” a sentence now,’ Ember replied.

*

Ember and the dwarfs stood before a barren stretch of mud and stones; everything else had been eaten.

‘Do you remember the cavern of Dur’Ang?’ said a dwarf called Tarmire, who looked old even for a dwarf. ‘They had an infestation of grub locust; apparently, the devastation they caused was total, and now the city is quarantined.’

‘Why?’ Ember asked.

‘Grub locust can survive in their pre-larval state for centuries; on contact with moisture, they start maturing into larvae, like fungal spores. As such, Dur’Ang will be quarantined for at least 500 years.’

‘Do grey locusts do that?’ Ember queried.

‘No idea,’ Tarmire stated. ‘Let’s burn the bastards, just in case.’

They made a small fire and started grinding up selected ingredients; quickly, they made a thick resin, which they split into two piles.

New item: Magnus’s old brown resin x10

This salve-strength resin is used to coat weapons to give the item a corrosive-damage effect.

When teamed with Magnus’s old white resin, it will combust on impact for burn and corrosive damage.

‘Good stuff,’ Ember declared, reading the description.

‘We’re going to make the white resin also, but this is the base for both resins; you see, having a sticky excipient means they’ll wish they were never born.’

They split and pocketed one pile of resin, and they mixed the other pile of resin with a splash of water and some animal parts – it’s best not to linger on what exactly, just imagine parts that nature intended to be on the inside – and, once mixed, they’d made a paste.

They next made a new resin, which was mixed with bird guano, giving the resin a crisp, white colour.

New item: Magnus’s old white resin x16

This salve-strength resin can be smeared over open wounds to kill infection and stop bleeding.

When teamed with Magnus’s old brown resin, it will create a substance that will combust on impact for burn and corrosive damage.

Again, they pocketed half, then placed a row of old, oval clay pots, with wide bases and narrow openings in the top, in front of their work area, and filled half the pots with brown resin, which they then mixed with an oily substance before adding the white resin.

New item: firewater x6

This concentrated-strength substance is an oil-based potion that will burn rapidly on contact with fire.

The other pots had a thick, tar-like substance poured into them, which was then mixed with the white and brown resins.

New item: home-brewed napalm x7

This concentrated-strength substance is thick and viscous. This substance will burn easily and will be extremely difficult to remove.

‘This is an old dwarf trick; the oil spreads rapidly and the tar burns for days. Let this be a lesson: never wander unwanted in dwarf caves,’ Tarmire said.

Ember nodded.

They handed out the pots and lined up the dwarfs, so that one pot-holding dwarf stood next to one dwarf with a crossbow. The pots holding the home-brewed napalm were then tossed into the air and shattered by crossbow bolts. The napalm was thus distributed over the locust swarm, which seemed to buzz louder as the thick tar splattered down. With Ember’s spell engaged, she noticed hit markers appear as some of the locusts were splattered in tar and killed from either suffocation or the impact.

Next, the crossbow bolts had cloth wrapped around each arrow head and was lit; the second lot of pots were tossed into the air, the bolts split the pots, and flaming oil spread out in the air and dropped from the sky, like someone had literally set fire to the rain. As the burning oil landed on the tar, it too ignited; the land around them exploded in flame, and the very ground burned. The pops and sizzles of burning insects filled the air, and Ember watched, trying not to imagine being in a tunnel surrounded by burning and screaming dwarfs.

Quest completed: the swarm

You have destroyed the swarm of grey locusts and saved the forest from destruction. Received 1,000 experience points; receive eight gold for sharing the quest. (92,079 experience points to the next level)

Rewards: boon of the forest – for the next 196 hours receive double experience points; experience points received from quest ↑1,000 (91,079 experience points to the next level)

‘Nifty reward,’ Zyol said.

A dwarf named Pidarp strode out amongst the flames, stood on a burning patch of soil, plucked a smouldering locust from the ground and ate it. ‘Tastes like crispy fried rat’ Pidarp announced.

‘Fill your pocket, lads!’ Zyol shouted.

The dwarfs strode forwards en masse. One of the dwarfs boots caught alight, and he ran around shouting in panic, stepping in more and more of the tar, and causing more flames to cling to his boots, until his boots were covered in flames. Dwarfs seemed to be fire resistant, as all his comrades fell about laughing and seemed unconcerned with his plight.