Eight Era, cycle 1721, season of Unkh, day 219

Name: Grub

Race: tunnel alpaca

Genus: cloven

Class: E

These strange creatures have little resemblance to normal alpacas; they are slightly larger, their hair looks more like hanging moss, and they are isolationist creatures, which if left unattended, will wander off into the tunnels and never return. Increase your lore to learn more.

Affiliation: Artemis

Harvestable items: horns (males only)

State: hungry

Level: 12

Ember sat in the most unusual harness she’d ever had. Dwarfs were short, alpacas were larger – too large for the dwarfs to steer with their heels, so the legs didn’t hang downwards but diagonally; for Ember, this meant she was sitting like she was in a chair, and it hurt her butt, her thighs felt like they weren’t circulating blood properly, and, by the second day, she’d cut the leather straps and was sitting with her legs free. The dwarfs sat in saddles like full chairs, and used the reins to do all the work.

Still, it was better than riding a camel.

The worst part of the experience was the humidity; her vest clung to her damply and would offer no protection in a fight, and the alpacas would shake occasionally to remove the moisture on their coats, which felt like someone was punching Ember’s butt.

‘See yonder tunnel?’ someone said to Ember.

She turned to see it was Lyre, who was pointing to a turning on the right where the rock had been smoothed in a square around a circular tunnel entrance. Vines hung down from it, practically obscuring the tunnel entrance, which must have been large enough to fit a house inside it. The tunnel was lit from the outside, but not inside so it looked like a gaping maw ready to swallow all who entered.

‘I see it; it’s very picturesque,’ confirmed Ember.

‘Perhaps it was the path taken by the first dwarfs to leave the empire, right?’ Lyre said.

‘You talk about stories too much,’ Sisal replied.

‘Sorry, can you rephrase that?’ Ember questioned, confused.

‘These lands, for about… oh, 100 miles surface distance, were… these were… these roads here were the most outermost of our lands,’ explained Lyre.

‘I’m still not following; the dwarfs only had 100 miles in their territory? Which dwarfs?’ Ember was close to giving up on the conversation and ignoring the whole thing.

Lyre responded, ‘No, no. I do apologies; I forget not all people think like us. To a dwarf, the outermost territories aren’t the eastern most or any other compass point, but depth. These lands are around 50 miles from the surface; we had tunnels that get us close, but none of them had cities. So the highway at Landfall, the city and these roads all belong to the same settlement. They were exploration tunnels looking for valuable seams of minerals. So, this close to the surface, only one settlement existed; this is after Nar’volk, during the age of Has’lam.’

‘And before we started using human names,’ Ennolk said to general chuckling.

‘So, these roads were the known extent of our foray’s surface wards; I say known because there was another city that had secret illicit contact with surface folk. Anyway, there was a… a schism, I think is the human word, and a civil war. Officially, that city is recorded as the losing side, but legend has it that it was in fact the winning side that left and forged on alone. That tunnel back there was their path to independence, you know,’ Lyre stated.

‘Too much talk,’ Sisal moaned.

‘They can’t be all that independent, as all dwarfs respond to the king, after all,’ Ember declared.

‘All dwarfs do, but these were no longer dwarfs. They became rich, and legend has it that this led to… lechery,’ replied Lyre.

‘I think you mean avarice.’

‘Either way, they coveted gold to such an extent that they became synonymous with gold and the myths about them always associate them with gold.’

‘Well, it is said that dwarfs love gold,’ Ember said.

Lyre shook his head angrily. ‘Not dwarfs, right, boy? I already told you. All dwarfs listen to the king you know. These are no dwarfs, right; they call themselves leprechauns.’

Skill increased: lore level 22

‘I didn’t think they were real,’ pondered Ember.

‘Oh, they’re real; at least, if any of them still live, they’re real. No dwarf travels that tunnel or, at least, none that have ever returned,’ Alban added.

‘But they’re still dwarfs; I mean physically. So you can be a dwarf and not acknowledge the king?’ Ember enquired.

‘No, you can’t,’ Alban said. ‘When you refute the king and then refuse him, you lose the association to Hephaestus. There are a few who have left the dwarfs, and it is said they all lost Hephaestus; even the deep-downers, who accept the king but are not ruled by him, have lost Hephaestus. They have the Dark. My brother was called to the deep-downers; they work in secret and keep us safe, but because of this they cannot be governed by the rules of the king. Although they work for the betterment of dwarfs, they are more than dwarfs: they are the keepers of traditions, and they have lost Hephaestus but gained the Dark. The Dark has gifts of its own.’

‘The Dark sounds evil,’ Ember cogitated.

‘Why? It is a natural thing; it is no more evil than a tiger or ivy. It must be treated with respect, like swimming in the ocean, but it has no evil will,’ confirmed Lyre.

‘You use very good surface analogies,’ Ember said.

Lyre blushed. ‘I have spent some time above ground, you know,’ he said grudgingly. ‘It is not a source of pride, right.’

‘Why’s that?’ Ember asked.

‘Well, that’s not a simple subject; it has to do with the nature of dwarfishness and what it means to be a dwarf.’

‘That’s Hephaestus isn’t it? You said it yourself.’

‘Yes, but that’s the problem. Imagine, for instance, that all humans were affiliated to one god – Odin, say – and that all humans lived in towns, cities, hamlets and things. Now, one day, you go to a forest and start living there; will that mean you’re no longer human? Will you lose the affiliation of Odin? Or what if we find a human affiliated to Hephaestus? Is that human now a dwarf?’

‘I don’t know; I can’t really imagine that type of idea.’

‘Well, all dwarfs lived underground and then one day we opened up our mines to the world above, but all dwarfs lived underground and mined. How far then can we go from that and still be dwarfs? If I live above ground in a house, am I a dwarf, you know? If I buy crops that grow underground and became a farmer, am I a dwarf? When will Hephaestus turn his back on me? All dwarfs have beards, and all dwarfs are male. But what if I don’t want to be? What if I don’t want to use a male noun? Does it matter, right, boy? Should I dress as my father or his fathers? What if I wanted to be different, wear linen or dye my hair? We are worried about change, you know, and about new things, but in the past we have always absorbed it and adapted to it. But now the deep-downers are saying it is so much change that we are forgetting what it means to be dwarfs, and that we don’t match up to our ancestors. Some of us use crossbows not axes, you know; some of us wear materials that are not leather or metal; and some of us have piercings. How far is too far, right, boy?’ Lyre was clearly agitated as he spoke, shifting nervously and rubbing his arms.

‘A dwarf is a dwarf, we are dwarfs, and we do dwarf things. Stop all this change and questioning of the old ways. We are dwarfs! Not humans!’ Sisal declared.

‘This is not a new debate, but it has got worse since we started trading with some of the larger human dwellings. Silk, fruit and ice – it is surprising how popular human indulgences are to dwarfs,’ Alban added.

‘There is too much debate and too much leniency,’ Zyol said.

‘Agreed.’ Sisal nodded.

‘Duran requires we think!’ Pidarp said absently.

‘Think then; stop flapping your hole,’ Sisal replied.

‘It’s talk like that which causes division; we must be able to talk without people throwing up barriers. Talk is important, and to work through changes and change is constant,’ Alban maintained.

‘Talk causes division; live as dwarfs do – as all dwarfs have,’ Zyol interjected.

‘Well, I think I’m the least appropriate person to ask about all of this; a paid-killer-slash-whore isn’t the best human you could ask,’ Ember said. ‘I came to terms with what I was a long time ago and don’t really care about labels.’

‘Speaking of labels, how’d you get the taboo curse?’ Ennolk asked.

‘Someone paid me to dress up as an acolyte of Athena.’

‘What’s so wrong with that?’

‘Well, he’s a champion of Ares, and Ares and Athena are at war, so when Athena noticed someone pretending to be one of her chosen acolytes – who was being the sub to not just one of Ares’s chosen but a champion – she didn’t take that well. That was the first level taboo, and I’d never even heard of the taboo rankings until that point,’ Ember declared, and shrugged.

‘So how’d you get to level 2, and what does it mean to be tabooed?’ Ennolk asked, sitting forwards eagerly on his alpaca.

‘I’ve had a lot of messages throughout the years saying that this action or that has raised my taboo level, but the one that raised it the most – and is the predominant reason for level 2 – is from when I snuck into the place of Ohm and killed his head priest. As to what the levels mean, well, level 1 gets you blacklisted by all places of power that are in the possession of a god – which is most of them. The only places of power left to me are the ogre steadings, my own god Chione, and a few other places I forget. Oh, and the dwarven mines of Bionk because, apparently, Hephaestus doesn’t care about the affairs of non-dwarfs. Level 2 means that anyone of priest rank or higher will receive a quest to kill me if I ever meet them in person.’

‘That must make life difficult,’ Alban mused.

‘Well, as I’m an assassin and working in a brothel, it means I don’t see many of them. The ones I have seen weren’t exactly faithful, except the ones I was sent to kill. Of course, on a job, I make it my business not to be seen,’ detailed Ember.

‘What are levels 3 and 4?’ enquired Ennolk.

‘Level 3 is when the gods actively send their champions after you. I’ve no idea about level 4, as no one’s reached it for millennia. They say that, at that point, the gods send their most trusted – such as Achilles, Ozymandias or Enkidu – I mean, part of me wants to get to level 4 just to meet one of them.’

‘Well, if any gods are offended from sex between a human and a dwarf, give me a call,’ Ennolk said to chuckles.

‘If I ever get to level 3, I’ll keep that in mind.’

They stopped for lunch, and a terrapin arrived from out of the shadows and begged for food.

After lunch, they rode on for another half-day, and, eventually, they reached a door that had to be 30 feet tall and made from a dull-brown metal almost the colour of mud. The door was circular, had four massive bolts spaced equidistantly apart and no visible method for opening it.

‘Did you know, Ember, that it is said that the dwarven highways circle the world three times? And that doesn’t include all the offshoots and abandoned mines. I dare say you could walk for a lifetime to cover all that we dug out,’ Alban said proudly.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Ember nodded, waited and then commented, ‘That’s a nice door.’

‘On the surface, civilisation meets the wild with no visible distinction, and that is all well and good because the surface has land and a lot of it. But we don’t; we have what we mine and the occasional strange caverns and tunnels dug by others. Sometimes we find out who made them and sometimes we don’t; life underground is just as full of lore as above ground,’ Alban explained.

‘Yet there are goblins, terrainmoles and all sorts of creatures that live underground and want to kill you,’ interjected Pidarp, apparently taking over the subject and happy that the subject had changed to something he was enthusiastic about. ‘There are skeets, which like to hide in ambush and spring up inches from you; spiders that spin webs to ensnare you and spiders that wait to pounce on you from afar; bulleave, which drop on you and spit acid; caroks, which lay cunning traps; neuroroaches, which affect the brain, and make you see and hear things; basking worms, which are easy enough to spot as they tend to laze around as the name suggests, but they are massive buggers; chickens; and those bloody strange ebu gogo things.’

‘Don’t bloody Carpenter it, Pidarp,’ Zyol chided.

‘Yes, sorry,’ Pidarp said unabashed. ‘So there are many dangerous creatures on land, and you can get attacked anywhere. But we make our own paths, and we make them wide, as you see; the reason for this is for safety, believe it or not. The walls here are handmade, there is about an inch of terrern… teron… kerracoat… What am I trying to say, Ember?’

‘What, me? I don’t know,’ she answered.

‘It a type of clay – ah, you surface dwellers have far too many languages. Anyway, there’s a clay-metal mix coating the walls; this is to prevent the intrusion of fiends, which are wild animals with a class of “F” and above. They still intrude, but our cities and roads are safer than any on the surface.’

‘You can’t coat all roads.’

‘We don’t have too; we have doors,’ Pidarp clarified, gesturing to the door. ‘Beyond here, there be monsters.’

They approached the doors, and Ember could make out engravings of creatures; the light had been too weak for them to see it from a distance.

‘Once we step outside, we are all to be on guard. Any disturbed patch of earth could be kicked up from a horse or it could be a skeet mount. Something moving in the shadows could be that terrapin following us, or it could be a bulleave. If you see something, say something. We have two on watch at night, and we stay alert,’ Pidarp commanded.

‘What speaks but has no mouth, has no insight if you call out questions, replies but does not answer, and is silent until you give it voice?’ The words came from before them, from the direction of the door but had no visible source.

‘An echo,’ Zyol called out, and the bolts on the doors shot back in turn, with a sound that could be felt as much as heard.

‘That was quick,’ Ember stated.

‘It’s a common riddle that the doors ask,’ Clang confirmed. ‘You see, we dwarfs are fond of riddles, because we think they will protect us from simple fiends opening the doors. Caroks might be cunning with traps, but they aren’t intelligent enough to complete a riddle.’

‘What’s a carok?’ Ember queried as soon as Clang paused for breath; she didn’t want to get into a long-winded explanation of the doors.

‘Caroks are pests. They’re stupid creatures, not like skeets; skeets are just simple, but caroks are intelligent enough to be stupid. They can’t mine; they just come along and infest someone else’s. They move in groups with a queen, and settle down in a mine, including taking over the tunnels, setting traps and stuff. They have their own language, but no one’s been able to learn it, as it’s little more than grunts and farts. They can lay traps, but they’re too stupid to learn magic. They’re dangerous as they learn to fight in packs, and a carok on its own is sneaky and difficult to attack, as they just run away. You need to ambush them, but they have fantastic night vision. They wear clothes taken from the dead and eat anything, but always scrounge food and never bother to farm or trade. They’re a nightmare to flush out of the tunnels as, although they’re weak and level poorly, they breed like rats. The best way to clear them out is to kill the queen, but she’s guarded by traps and caroks, and she’s strong; she is capable to killing a group of dwarfs, so we always have to be cautious when fighting her. The best way to deal with an infestation is to flood the tunnel; the problem is that everybody wants the experience points, so it isn’t a popular choice. They’re normally cleared out over a period of years, killing the caroks at a greater rate than the queen can spawn them; so around thirty a year. I heard about a method used in Hollowpoint where they keep a carok queen in a dungeon on a leash and push her into any tunnel system infested with caroks. There can only be one queen, see, so the caroks start a mini civil war, and then you can clean up the after-effects and capture whichever queen wins.’

‘Personally, I’d just leave poisoned meat around. That way you get the experience as well,’ Ember said.

‘Oh, I guess you could do; that’s not unlike the way they deal with haired hornets. You throw a load of treated meat around the mine and then wait for around 100 to 150 days. That way, all the larvae already laid have a chance to grow. You then go in, wipe out the infestation and lay a bit more spoiled meat. The next year you go back in, kill anything that might have escaped the first purge and then burn all the meat; and that’s the end of the hornets. I hate all giant hairy creatures, such as giant spiders, hornets, roaches and the like. Tuffs of coarse black hair really creep me out, especially hair on creatures with shells; shells and hair is wrong. It’s should be one or the other not both; hair should come out of skin not shells.’

‘You’re an odd little dwarf, Clang,’ Ember concluded.

The giant door moved back, rotating as it did so, and then swung backwards and up. They passed underneath, and Ember looked up as she did so, imagining an instant and painless death if the thing fell. Something scuttled up the wall, which was smaller than the palm of her hand, and she examined it.

Race: rock spider

Genus: arachnid

Class: F

Do not be fooled by their low classification; rock spiders are an explorer’s nightmare! Their bites might only take off 1 life point, but the toxins in their fangs sting like a motherfucker. Many an explorer has died by inches thanks to a cluster of rock spiders nibbling away at their life points one hit at a time, leaving them paralysed in pain throughout the slow, excruciating experience.

That said, if there’s only one, they aren’t much threat. Stomp on the little bastard for all the lost explorers.

Affiliation: Shelob

Harvestable items: none

State: too simple to have one

Level: 4

Bestiary updated

That sounded like an evil little bugger.

‘There’s a stone spider or something over there,’ Ember said, pointing.

‘Just the one?’ Pidarp asked.

‘That’s all I can see.’

‘Ah, I wouldn’t worry. They’re not ambush or pack animals, so we should be fine. Tell me if you see a mess of them; now that would be a worry.’

As they travelled, Ember gazed in wonder as fissures in the celling let in streams of light: sometimes blue, sometimes turquoise and, occasionally, purest white. There were various forms of glowing fungus and mushrooms; one mushroom grew like a tree, only with a thicker trunk and not as tall as most trees. Then there was the floor of light, which seemed to ooze and turned out to be an algae growing on the surface of a lake. They caught creatures that looked like a form of amphibian and tasted like game, and once Ennolk managed to take down a sawsbuck with his crossbow. The sawsbuck was of the cloven class, had a mossy, green coat with a patch of bronze on its belly, and two large and branching antlers from which a strange plant bloomed. The dwarfs were quick to congratulate Ennolk and they butchered the animal swiftly; they took its coat, which could be used as a sieve apparently; the meat, which they ate and it tasted like spiced lamb; and the flowers were used in dwarven potions.

*

A few days later, they came across an immense bridge, which was wide enough for the party to ride across side by side, spanning a dark gorge; the bridge passed through a triumphant arch seemingly carved from flint. Behind the arch, a sprawling mansion sat illuminated by a lava stream, but showing no signs of life inside the mansion grounds.

‘The palace of Jul,’ Alban said noticing Ember’s curious eyes.

‘It seems deserted,’ she replied, surprised.

‘Oh it is, and it was never occupied. It was built in the age of Nor’elnk, near the end of his reign.’

‘Is that before or after Narvok?’

‘Long after Nar’volk; this would be during the time of Dural. It goes from Nar’volk to Nur’ell, then Yum’invar, Dar’dun, Has’lam, Vulnok, Yardin, Bashri, Kullun, Nor’elnk and Dural,’ Lyre listed, ticking them off on his fingers.

‘Jul started building it for his lover, but Jul’s love died before it was completed, so it became a mausoleum; Jul and his love are buried within, along with some of their most prised possessions. They were entombed with a Tear of Kulla, which is a magical item that can level up a settlement, allowing dilapidated wooden struts to be transformed into marble. A common forge can become worthy of Hephaestus himself. It is said that all mythical weapons are made in an upgraded forge,’ Alban elucidated.

‘If this item is so powerful, why hasn’t anyone stolen it?’ Ember asked.

‘When Jul died, the tomb was reopened, he was laid beside his love, and then the lava of a nearby volcano was redirected so that their tomb was flooded. Anyone looking to steal from them in death would need to dam up the lava stream and then dig out the basalt once it had cooled.’

‘So it’s pretty safe,’ Ember declared.

‘I’d say so.’

‘Does anyone here have a high level in geology or alchemy?’ Ember asked as a more subtle form of “you’re all dwarfs, so you’d know about rocks, right?”

‘I spent seventy-five years with a pickaxe in my hand, man and boy,’ Pidarp claimed.

‘So, do you think it is possible to turn lead into gold?’

He explained, ‘I’ve heard that some wizards learn a spell for it, or an alchemy level of 100 unlocks the ability to do that. But if you’re talking about one of these “mail me your lead, and – for a small fee – I’ll send you gold” flyers I’ve seen around recently, then no. I don’t think they can turn lead into gold. It isn’t as easy as adding distilled zamphour to an infusion of aconite.’

‘Oh, right,’ Ember replied deflated. She’d sent off a kilo of lead and a small sum of gold after seeing a flyer saying she’d receive the same amount of gold in return. Whoever made that flyer was turning lead into gold, and keeping the lead come to that.

*

‘This is Croat’s Pass; did you know that more ambushes have been recorded here than anywhere else in dwarven records? Of course, I’m not sure if that says more about this location or the dwarfs that live here. They are known for being a bit pedantic in their record-keeping.’

As they walked further along the funnel-shaped path, they found a figure sitting patiently on a boulder that split the path into two before a chasm created a genuine split in the path. The figure was fully visible in the light, but even so, for some reason, the figure was grey from hair to toe like dusty statue.

The figure stood, and dust cascaded as it did so, yet it was still a grey figure, which then moved down from the boulder in jerky and stiff movements.

‘By the seven, what madness is this?’ Zyol demanded, stepping forwards from the group. ‘There is no guardian of this pass!’

‘My, little soldier, what little patience you have,’ the figure responded, and from the voice and the slight shape of the shoulders it was obvious it was a woman.

‘I have very little love for fools and jesters.’

‘Pithy, little soldier; if many a fool was a soldier, it would make a mockery of war.’

‘Want me to thump him for you, Zyol?’ Pidarp offered.

The figure tilted her head to the side as Pidarp spoke, but showed very little expression in her features.

‘Will you not let us pass?’ Alban asked.

‘Ah, sir, would that it were so simple,’ she answered.

‘It is; just get out of the way,’ Zyol ordered.

The figure looked from side to side, as if confused; as Zyol stepped forwards so too did the figure, and as he stepped to the side so too did the figure, so that they were opposite each other the entire time.

‘Move aside!’ Zyol demanded.

The figure’s confused look continued as it seemingly happened to step in the same direction as Zyol again.

‘You’re being deliberately obtuse!’ cried Zyol.

‘What is it you want? What is your name stranger?’ Lyre asked.

‘Ah, the crux of the matter: my wants, needs and desires,’ the figure replied.

‘And why we shouldn’t just cut you down?’ Zyol said, drawing his double-headed axe.

The figure cocked an eyebrow and stretched out an arm before snapping her fingers. At the sound, other figures stood up from the rocks around them, some armed with bows and crossbows and some with swords.

‘I wouldn’t do that, kind sir.’

‘You think that protects you? I can cut you down before draw breath.’

‘But then you’d die, little soldier.’

‘But that’s not the point, is it? Because you’d be dead; so what’s in it for you?’

‘What an interesting point; nobody has ever called my bluff before. I guess my answer would be the same, wouldn’t it? Do you want me dead so badly you’ll die?’ Suddenly, the figure’s voice was keen and full of desire – this woman had a clear death wish.

Zyol took a step back and lowered his axe. ‘What do you want?’

The figure clapped her hands together and did a little jig. ‘Excellent, I knew we’d be friends! My name is Fatemeh.’

Ember gasped.

‘Ah, I see at least one of you have heard of me? I am guessing your name is Ember Grey, or is it Grey Ember? Either way, part of what I want is your head. I don’t need your brains or anything, so I can give them back to you if you wish, but you won’t have anything to put them in.’ Fatemeh spun on her heel and started walking around as she spoke. ‘You see I knew… I knew you’d go with the dwarfs. The fact you left the Alps by boat was obvious – you weren’t that subtle – but, to be fair, we had no idea what boat you were on, so well done you. However, there are only so many ports and so many boats scheduled, so it became a matter of patience. We discovered you’d docked two days after you did, and then there was a more difficult decision to make: where would you go next?’

‘When you said someone would be after you, I was expecting someone a bit more professional,’ Ennolk commented, stifling a laugh.

Fatemeh scowled, puffed out her cheeks and stamped her foot at the remark.

‘Who said that? Anyway, Elimi said you’d be going to Red Pillar, that you’re too clever by half, and would end up double bluffing and falling into the obvious trap,’ Fatemeh explained, and then started waggling her finger. ‘But I said no; I said you’d be going with the dwarfs. After all, who’d travel with a group of dwarfs? Not even someone on a desperate run for their life. No offence people, but dwarfs aren’t exactly known as the friendliest of people, so who’d trust their lives to them?

‘So, I started off after the dwarfs, got bored, and decided to travel ahead of you and wait somewhere more interesting than the backwater hovels along the road. I ended up at Landfall, and there I went looking for work – looking for a way to pass the time. And, my word, I thought dwarfs were dull, but you’re not! You’re as full of petty vengeances and selfish spitefulness as the rest of us! I had loads of offers for jobs!’

Suddenly, Fatemeh’s entire demeanour changed, her face became expressionless, and her body language became closed and controlled.

‘Which one of you is Zyol?’ she asked, looking around the group. Nobody stepped forwards, and Fatemeh shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter; kill them all.’