The room beyond was only faintly lit from the outside and was not overly large. It was not empty either. An armour stand stood in the centre of the room and a weapons rack was mounted on the back wall. Even though both were occupied, they only momentarily caught Chance’s attention. What truly caught it was the body in the chamber, that of an aged dwarf, grizzled and grey of hair and beard. He was clad in darkened hides, the exact colour Chance couldn’t tell due to the lack of light. He grasped a gnarled wooden staff in one hand, around which vines twisted. The dwarf was seated against the side wall of the chamber, looking as if he was simply resting, if not for the fact he was dead. He looked calm, at peace, but his eyes stared off vacantly and his skin was colourless. A simple piece of parchment was resting on his lap.

Slowly Chance approached the body and picked up the parchment with much trepidation before hurrying back to the doorway to read it.

“Herein are the last words of Havnor Karaqor,” Chance started to read, “Brother of the Conclave an appointed guardian of Azval Stalvaq. Death has come and will soon have me. Thus I take the only course that is available to me to protect the sanctity and secrets of this land. They shall not fall into the grasp of the destroyer. For the one that follows after me and defeats the beast, take up my staff, for it shall guide you. Take up that which has been prepared for you. Unlock the waters and the power of the land once more. Then shall I be able to rest in peace.”

Chance looked at where Havnor rested, still holding the message. He couldn’t have imagined what it must have been like to lock himself away in the chamber, waiting to die alone in the dark, just to protect a secret. It would have been a terrifying way to go, to slowly succumb to hunger and thirst. There was no way he would do anything like that; just the thought of it was enough for a cold chill to take him, to send him shuddering. And for what exactly?

The armour stand held an armoured coat, made of leather and hide, fashioned of overlapping scales, each edged with what looked to be bronze threading, just the right size for a dwarf. The weapon rack held a spear and a long-bladed knife.

Chance took a closer look at the armour hanging on the stand, letting his appraise skill go to work.

Item: Leather Armour (Dwarf Make)

Quality: Exceptional

Damage Reduction: Low

Traits: Unknown

So it would appear that the armour came with inbuilt damage reduction much as his Iron Skin ability did, though one that wasn’t expended. The question was whether the two stacked, the armour and the ability? That was something to find out. And traits? It looked like it had some hidden property as well that he could not yet work out. Now doubt that was due to basic ability with appraisal.

The two weapons were next to inspect.

Item: Spear (Dwarf Make)

Quality: Exceptional

Damage: Medium

Traits: Unknown.

Item: Long Knife (Dwarf Make)

Quality: Exceptional

Damage: Low

Traits: Unknown.

Again with the unknown properties. He wasn’t sure what exactly to make of it, but at the very least they were an improvement on what he had, the spear he had taken from the goblin camp.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Lastly, it was time to look at the staff that the druid Havnor held.

Item: Druid Staff (Dwarf Make)

Quality: Exceptional

Damage: Medium

Traits: Unknown

The message on the parchment sad to take up the staff, and so he carefully pried it out of Havnor’s grasp. As he was doing so, he felt a surge of energy radiate from the staff, flowing through him and a message spoke to him.

Item Attuned: Heartsong of Azval Stalvaq

Bonus: +1 MIND, +1 SOUL

Bonus Power: Rejuvenate Land

Now that was more like it, at last some indication of what the hidden traits were. On the principle that simply picking up the staff had revealed the information to him, he tried the same with the other items as well; there was no message though and the traits on them remained unknown.

“We need to bury him,” Chance announced, looking at Havnor. “He has been in the dark too long, forgotten about.” The Craghand part of him stirred at that, and he felt what appeared to be approval almost.

“Where, master?” Yrip asked. Both he and Shags had remained surprisingly silent the whole time since the chamber had been opened and Chance had read Havnor’s message. Subdued even.

“We will find a spot,” Chance told him, leaving the chamber. It would have to be a good one, somewhere within the cave, the place that the dwarf had died to protect. They set out to explore around, studying it in an attempt to find a good place. In the end, they decided on one off to the side, where the cave floor rose up to a higher ledge, looking down over the pool and the rest of the cave, where a few green shrubs grew and vines climbed the wall. It would also receive some sunlight during the evening through the opening in the roof when the sky wasn’t grey with clouds.

“Here, I think,” Chance said as he stood on the ledge, looking over the rest of the cave.

It is a good spot, Shags agreed.

While the spot might have been good, the process to dig was anything but, lacking the proper tools to do so with. Still, he had said that they were going to do it and he had to follow through, especially as he could feel the Craghand lurking away, eager to get it done, driving him forward. In the end, he resorted to using his spear, the old one from the goblin camp, using it to break up the soil, and then using his hands to scrape it away to one side. It was a long and slow process, but he found that he didn’t mind it too much. It was repetitious, yes, though the dwarf body was tough and well suited for the task, and it gave his mind time to idle away. Yrip and Shags helped him out, the wolf scrambling at the ground with his paws, helping to excavate the pit, while the little kobold shifted all the earth and stones away as they were broken up.

It was not until towards evening that Chance judged the hole to be deep enough. They had taken a quick bite to eat as they worked but otherwise not paused, feeling compelled to get it finished. Chance wasn’t sure how that Craghand part of him would react if he stopped working on it.

Chance returned to the chamber and to Havnor. He didn’t like the thought of having to touch a dead body, let alone carry one. The thought of it fretted at him and made him feel ill but he couldn't stop. Besides, it was his responsibility and he could feel Craghand growing stronger, driving him on, unrelenting. It was important to that other part of him and so, with gritted teeth, he picked up the body and carried it back to where they had dug the grave.

There he laid the body out, arranging it as best as he could. He was surprised by the lack of rigidity that he was sure should have set in after death. The dwarf could merely have been sleeping if he had not known better. The skin was cold and a lifeless grey. When he was ready, Chance stood back, wiping his hands on his trousers.

“I am not sure how dwarves are meant to bury their dead,” he said. “Are we meant to bury them with anything? Speak any specific words?”

You would know better than I, but I am sure that it is the thought that counts, Shags replied.

“Farewell Havnor,” Chance said. “Your watch is over now. I will see to it that you are remembered should I find anyone to let know of your sacrifice here, and I will do my best to look after this place for you, at least until a proper druid can be found.”

A sense of approval filled him, coming from within, a sensation he wasn’t used to. He never sought out other’s approval and yet weirdly here he was getting it.

Together they started to cover Havnor’s body with the dirt they had excavated, packing it down tight over him before raising a cairn of stones over the grave. Chance took his old spear and stuck it in the ground to mark the spot.

For a time they stood there, their work done, in sombre reflection. The discovery of the dead dwarf, the means of his death and the work spent to bury him had left Chance feeling less sure of himself and the situation he found himself in. He was sure he was still in a game….but what if they weren’t? What if all of this was real, somehow? It meant the dwarf really had died. And that meant that if he died, well, what exactly? It didn’t bear thinking of, pondering his own mortality. Finally, he sighed and turned away from the grave.

“Let's get some food sorted,” he said. “I need sleep, and tomorrow, if the weather breaks, we shall see to the gnolls finally.”