Part One

Between the great green hills was a place the small bald dwarf fondly remembered from his travels with his father in the years passed. The times when the Shaded Mountain's were still a gem that shined above Athera.

He was born as the Crucible War was ending. He couldn't remember the gods faces well, but he remembered his father forging them in the great mountain fortresses. He remembered traveling across the battle torn lands to collect the finest materials with his father. He remembered DubHill. A small village between the green hills that looked over the great woods of the north. Many that lived there were lumberers and carpenters, but were miners. They excavated the hill side bringing out some of the rarest of ore to Claria's light. Dreg remembered it well.

Yet as him and the Und-Murr Clan warriors approached the nostalgic visage of DubHill, they could see black smoke on the horizon. The small warrior began to rush as fast as he could clamping his hand around his battle axe tightly as his men rushed behind him. They approached the sight with quick pace adjusting their thick leather and steel armor as they slowed peering through the town for sights of survivors. It was as he feared. Sinew and fingers hanging from sign posts, eyes bolted to doors, body parts tied together as if crafting a makeshift totem. The stench was revolting, but it was something Dreg had smelled before.

In a distant and burnt wreckage of a building they could hear singing and the strumming of a lute.

"I heard the tale from a drunk king one day

Ooh a coin and you'll be on your way

Yet the road is long and weather is strong

So don't you lead her astray!"

An old drinking song of the humans. The voice sounded familiar, a voice Dreg had come across in his travels hunting the roving orc bands many times over. His suspicion was validated as he came to the still warm, crumbling steps of the burnt building.

"Don't ya' dare tell me you had a thing to do with this." He said dropping his guard at the sight. A man with long blonde, raggedy locks and a leather padded jacket turned holding a lute in one hand and sipping on an ale in the other. His piercing blue eyes were well known to Dreg and haunted many who came upon him on a bad day.

"I got here not an hour ago." The man said unamused at the thought. He took another swig from the soot coated tankard and put his lute atop the rubble of the counter beside him. "Good to see you again, Dreg."

"Cal, what in the devils ya doin' 'ere ya cow tit?" Dreg laughed kicking the burnt remains of the building aside as he walked closer to the tall drifter.

"Came looking for a scholar by the name Avario. Seems my lead was uninformed on current news though." He looked around taking in the hellish sights of DubHill. "How odd that of two worlds I've seen both carry such cruelty in each, aye?"

"You're drunk." Dreg said with irritation. "You're drunk and I be no closer to the those Red Caps then I hoped."

"And so what if I am?" Cal snipped. "I'm no closer to my prize. Avario isn't here, looks like we both can mark another loss down."

Dreg looked the drunken vagrant up and down stunned at the sight. He had seen this man on the battlefields waging war like a mad dog. He'd stood beside him as he tracked down the deadliest beasts. He'd never seen the man so dunked in the ale barrel before.

"Have ya' found his body yet, ya' blunt bafoon?"

"No." Cal answered quickly.

"Then ya' definitely are as dull as my ol'pick. Come on, your with us." Dreg waved his men on as he walked out of the ruined building. "And ye best, grab some of 'dat ale for the road. Me and the boys will be needing some if ya' keep yapping up your pity party!"

Part Two

Cal was beginning to sober up as he followed behind the band of dwarves north through the rich green grassland away from DubHill. He was a little fuzzy on why he was following them, but his feet carried this far. Up ahead of him one of the Und-Murr warriors rushed up to Dreg at the head of the group.

"Are ya' certain we shoulda brought along the big bastard, Dreggy?" The warrior asked throwing his large axe across his boiled leather pauldron.

"And why wouldn't I be, Khulgerr? The lads good in a fight, and a good tracker. Could drink ya' under the table to. Ya' remember Mahipseh, don't ya'?" Dreg said taping the warrior on the chest with a hearty laugh.

"He don't drink for fun 'doe. The man's got issues." Khulgerr said worryingly. With perfect timing they could hear odd chatter behind them. The four men turned around to see Cal nonsensically muttering to a blue butterfly that flutter inches from his face. They couldn't make out much, but understood it had something to do with stairs.

"Aye, dull skull!" Dreg called out in embarrassment. "Whenever ya' muster the will could ya' kindly get that thick head of yours out your arse and get up 'ere?"

"What?" Cal answered gritty his teeth as the butterfly zig zagged and fluttered away across the tall grass. He walked toward the band of dwarves that eyed him with a mix of annoyance and worry. Dreg stared him down for a moment longer.

"These 'pressions in the ground." He said pointing to a heavy divot in the grass. "These look like orcs to ya'?" Cal took a closer look before giving a simple nod in agreement. "Think ya' can help me track em'?"

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

"I suppose." Cal answered with an eyebrow raising slightly. Dreg couldn't tell with the mud ridden strands of air in the wanderers face. Cal felt the large imprint in the grass. He felt the shredded blades of green and the dead dry ones beneath. "Heavy boots. dirt hasn't congealed back together yet, these tracks are fresh."

"So we're gaining on 'em!" Rowder, another of the Und-Murr said joyously.

"Good news for once, eh?" Fulhfeir the fourth member cheered, hoping to grow some moral from their long trek.

"Who are these Red Caps anyway?" Cal asked suspiciously.

"Do ya' remember the Okful Okkane?" Dreg asked watching Cal sniff the dirt and put a finger to the air.

"The battle of Mahipseh?" Cal questioned.

"After we killed the leader Kryken they mostly ran back to their home Ak-hur. Others though created Tarkas or roving terrorists if your not shite in the head. We've been hunting them down since."

"Red Caps are just another damn Tarkas that needs a good kick in 'da arse!" Khulgerr cried out to the wind the two other Und-Murr hollered with him.

"'Cept they been a bit harder to catch up with. Took their name from those awful lil goblins." Dreg explained to Cal.

"Wondered why you'd be so far from the Shaded Mountains. So they are highly nomadic then?"

"Obviously! We chased 'em halfway 'cross the continent! Don't ask questions that a troll would Cal." Dreg said not wanting to think about how far from the mountains he had come or the places he had been with his father some time ago, now torn apart.

"You see that?" Cal said looking above the tree line half a mile out. He swept his finger along the tops of the trees as if he was following something. Dreg looked confusingly in the direction, but couldn't make out the odd travelers vision. "Faint smoke. Seems they tried to settle in the woods, but left quick." Cal began to lead the Und-Murr warriors through the grassland.

The group came close to the forest trees but quickly Cal stopped himself short and Dreg, having known the man long enough followed. The other three did not. Khulgerr and Rowder felt a gush of power from their right knock them back behind Cal and Dreg, but Fulhfeir was not beside the two. Fulhfeir was on the opposite side of Cal and Dreg. The screams turned the groups head to the grave site of Fulhfeir. His body was half chewed and long strands of grass enveloped his wounds and arms pulling him apart as it dragged him deeper into the ground.

"Fulhfeir!" Khulgerr cried as he swiped the air trying to get closer to grab ahold of the young dwarf. He found his legs were being held by Cal whose face held a vacant expression as he yanked him back to his arms. "Let go, ya' sick, nutter, he needs me!"

"He cant be helped, dammit!" Cal yelled over the screams of Fulhfeir and cries of Khulgerr struggling to keep the strong Dwarf from getting out of his grasp. "That's Hungry Grass, once it gets its hold on you, your done for. sliced up by the paper thin blades of grass and eaten." A grotesque screeching spilled out from the forest. It was like the howling of a beasts with no vocal cords. It was scratchy and croaky, hurly in sound.

"What the hell is that?" Dreg called out slapping the shoulder of Cal who still struggled with Khulgerr. "Gortas." Cal grunted. "The hellish spawn of these plants. What remains if the plants had its fill of you. Here, Khulgerr you want to save your friend? Toss him this."He said handing him from his bag a small coin. It was old, from the days of the Crucible War. It held the crown of the Seventeen on it and on the other side the Mountains of Creation. "Polished with flowing water, it'll keep him from turning into one of those!" Khulgerr took the coin and tossed it to his old friend, or at least what was left. It landed on his palm which barely was above surface and seemed too frail as it almost crumbled under the coins weight. Quickly Cal brought the dwarf to his feet and directed the others away from the scene.

"The hell ya' taking us?" Dreg called out as they rushed away.

"Away from here, where else?"

"The Red Caps are that way though!" Khulgerr said stopping in his tracks. Rowden stood beside his war mate nodding.

"You agree with this bullshit, Rowden?" Cal asked turning around to the two.

"Aye, and so do I." Dreg interjected. "And I hope you'd come with us."

"That's Gorta infested territory. Who you are hunting is probably long dead, reanimated by the grass into those things. There is nothing to be won here, Und-Murr."

"They attacked sacred ground! The Und-Murr demand their death as the gods would if they still lived on the land!" Dreg roared fiercely. "We will go back with ya' at our side or fight without ya'! Even if they are walking with the dead, will have their heads!"

The two stared each other down for what seemed like a millennia. To the remaining Und-Murr it seemed as if two wolves were bearing their teeth ready to chomp the others head clean off. Rowden wanted to yank them by the beards and tell them to play nice, but knew the consequences for that action would be dire.

"You little rodents would die if I left you alone." Cal said storming towards the woods.

"We'll see whose got the most heads by the end!" Dreg yelled as he chased after the raggedy blue-eyed man.

Part Three

Cal made sure to find an alternate route into the woods managing to get around the Hungry Grass. He followed the faint smoke and the dwarves followed after him. Soon they came upon the smokes origins. A ruined campsite with half eaten orcs strewn across the ground. "Bloody bastards deserved it." Khulgerr said kicking the head of one. It rolled across the foliage picking up debris on its sticky red skull.

"They all have red the tops of their heads?" Cal questioned openly.

"Why ya' think they're called Red Caps?" Dreg said tapping Cal's leg. "Some sorta thing with them. They aren't truly part of their group until you paint the top of your head with enemy blood."

"Evil bastards." Rowden spit.

"'Ello?" A raspy voice called out. "Whose there?" The words creaked out. The group cautiously motioned through the dead leaves and twigs toward the sound of the hoarse voice. "Eg Warnun ic gewill welan" The voice spat. Cal new little of the orcish language, but he knew enough to know that was a warning.

They came upon the mouth of the voice. A bloodied orc with the sticky red along his shaven head. He growled at them viciously, but grunted in pain as he tried to move from his spot against the tree. "Be quiet. They will hear you." Cal said in a hushed tone.

"walu on ure cynn gedwola!" The orc gnarled and bit towards Cal. He could see a red book with gold lining on the paper in the orcs satchel wrapped around him. Something drew his eyes to it like a light.

"Where are the others?" Cal asked. "Were they turned?"

"Not all, some ran, they left me the honor of holding the eoten back." He hissed and then grunted in pain. Cal could hear the creatures approaching.

"Keep quiet, speak softer they listen." Cal whispered.

"Fuck off with it will ya'?" Dreg said tapping Cal a little too close on the leg. "Tired of talking to a nut scratcher! ic welan eoten!" He spoke the tongue of orcs as best as he had remembered and flung his battle axe down on the green skinned devils red head. The noise was too loud though and caused the Grota to start moving faster in their direction. Cal readied his hand axe in his left hand and on his right the symbol on his wrist began to glow ready for a fight.

The creatures came like a break in a dam out of the surrounding woods. The group swung wildly and ferociously toward the decaying creatures. Some bared the red on their domes while others looked much older as if they had lived in these woods waiting for a meal for decades. Cal bashed the beasts with his ward and severed their head from the body. He watched as grass still slithered inside of the Grota like a snake. It wormed around looking for the head like a crab for its shell. "We need to go, fast!" Cal yelled to the others who giddily sliced through Gorta after Gorta. He turned from them to see a dozen more rushing through the trees.

"We're winning soft skin! why would we do that?" Dreg yelled out happily as he bashed another with his pommel. "These grassy bastards don't stand a chance!" The one Cal severed rose back up from the ground, long thin pieces of grass slithering through the stump of its neck.

"The only way to stop them is to burn them, we need to go now and burn this place on the way out!" Cal pleaded with the Und-Murr. Finally as all the Gorta around the dwarves rose back up they understood and gave the blonde ruffian a knowing nod. Cal sliced the satchel off the dead orc and rushed out with the group before loading the pipe in the holster with a round lead ball.

"So I finally get to see what this thing does eh?" Dreg said watching as the Gortas rushed toward the group."

"Its something from my world I made, and something from this world." Cal said aiming the barrel to the woods. The runes across the chamber and barrel lit up, understanding his intentions and with a pull of the trigger a bolt of flame fired out toward the forest and the Gorta that inhabited it.

"Coulda' just said it was a weird looking wand..." Dreg said shrugging his shoulders in dismissively.

Part Four

"What now, then?" Dreg asked as they found the road again. "Ya' heading our way? Could always use a mad bastard with a weird wand."

"Seems i'll be heading south, to the Pike Mountains." Cal said slapping the red book closed.

"I'm sorry we did not find ya' scholar." Dreg replied solemnly. "What is it ya' are after from 'em anyways?"

"Something important." Cal answered vaguely.

"And what did you find here?" Dreg said trying to peek at the book.

Cal stuffed it quickly into his bag. "Something important."