~Rue Cragspike~

“Why in all the layers of Hel are we out here?” asked the Dwarven artificer Rue Cragspike. She was very much not happy. She was in the middle of taking a swig of grog while tinkering with her current project when the world went to shit. There was a crack, a flash of light, and like everyone in Mithra’Vheen, passed out. This caused her drink to spill all over the stoat golem she was tinkering on and set her back weeks.

“Gods damn this mess. Why, by Ornock’s testes, did I agree to make this blasted toy.” she cursed. “That damn niece of mine better not complain that it's taking so long, or I’ll make it tear up her dresses.” She inhaled the scent of stale grog and oil then sighed. “It isn’t like me to get blasted on something as weak as grog. What in the Hels happened here? She stood and grimaced at her sticky clothes. She quickly changed into something a touch cleaner, which is to say the clothing that barely passed her sniff tests.

She decided to go get some breakfast, not feeling up to cooking and took a step outside. She walked several feet before realizing people were rushing around and arguing in confused and panicked tones. She raised a brow and glanced around. Several people were staring at the sky and pointing. She cocked her head in puzzlement and glanced up, wincing at the light. “Damn the sky is blue today.” She muttered before putting on her tinted goggles. Without the glare of the two stars, she was able to… to make out there were two stars. Rue blinked, removed her goggles, wiped her eyes and the lenses then returned the goggles to her eyes. No, there were definitely two stars.

“Am I still drunk?” She asked out loud.

“Maybe, but y’ain’t seein’ double lass.” A gruff voice called from behind her. She turned and saw old man Umbra Onyxvein, a local tavern owner.

“Gramps, you see that too?”

“Aye, not a damned clue as ta’ why.” He unabashedly scratched his gonads the way only an old fart could. “I was fixing ta’ head ta’ the temple. Anyone could figure out what’s happening, it’d be Ornak’s priests. Looking like others have the same idea. Come on, let’s go before the crowd gets too big.”

The two Dwarves followed the flowing crowd throughout the sprawling stone city. Eventually, they made their way to the Amethyst Cathedral, the core temple to the gods in Mithra’Vheen. The towering temple was formed out of blue and purple gemstone, not so much as carved or set, but as if it had grown from the ground. It had some sharp, natural looking crystal growths but was mostly uniform and of the utilitarian architecture that Dwarves favor in order to be as efficient as possible with their space. There was plenty of anxious muttering, but the crowd was so great that the whispers grew to a deafening roar.

Between the fifteen-foot-tall carved front doors and a large circular stained-glass window that portrayed the symbols of the ten divines was a balcony. The Grand Bishop of Ornock and his two Apostles emerged from the alcove. He was ancient, even for a long living Dwarf. He had a long braided white beard and eyebrows so bushy they nearly covered his eyes. A small amethyst was braided into his right eyebrow. He wore ornate robes that looked like stone with veins of gold and gems lining the hems. He had a stone staff with a mithril amulet bearing Ornock’s symbol, a stylized magma wyrm head with amethyst eyes.

He raised his staff and tapped it gently on the ground. Despite the soft impact, a loud, attention-grabbing crack rang out across the plaza. Silence grabbed the crowd as focus was grabbed by the Bishop. With a voice of two boulders grinding against each other he spoke, “Brothers, sisters, and guests to our proud city of Mithra’Vheen. I know we are all worried about what had happened, and I hope to set your woes at ease with the words of Ornock and his siblings. I will first let you know that we are safe, so please, rest at ease.” He paused for a moment to let his calming words settle in. The tension in the crowd eased a minute amount. “Now, it appears that something so absurd occurred that not even the Gods could predict it. Our world, nay, our entire realm has fused with another. It is thanks to the Gods that this event did not destroy the two worlds. They used a critical amount of their power to balance the two realms into one stable state.”

Once again, the Bishop paused, allowing the shocked crowd to react. Shouts of confusion and panic rang out before he raised his hand for silence. Once quiet, he continued, “The Gods must rest after such a miracle, but they are still with us. They have let us know that there are natives to this foreign world. They appear to be humans of some form. Their world seems to not have had access to magic, nor any other races. The Gods only caught a glimpse of this world before the fusion and therefore information is limited. However, to the east is one of their cities. The church, in addition to Duke Armstrong, is asking for volunteers to reach out to this city and determine if they are aggressive. If they are not a threat, then we shall work with them as they will likely be ill equipped for a world as dangerous as ours.”

Someone towards the crowd shouted, “You said our world was fused, what exactly does that mean?”

The Bishop nodded, “Indeed I did. As you can likely tell, there are two stars in the sky along with an extra moon. We do not have all the details, but it appears that our new world is roughly three times the size of Veru, the geography is a tad jumbled up, and there are entirely new… anomalies caused by the event. Again, we do not know anything outside our immediate area, but there is only a portion of the Khora range that survived the fusion. The Gods focused on making sure the Verum populations remained intact, for the most part. It is unfortunate, but the Gods have spent a great deal of power to save us and must rest. Fear not, for they are still with us and still speak with their devoted.” He clapped his hands, “Now, the scout commander Belvin Magrem will be leading this expedition. We need several volunteers to join him.”

Rue was excited. A whole new civilization with an entire world of shiny technology Veru has never seen? This was way better than working on a toy for her spoiled niece. She wasn’t even Rue’s favorite niece. She immediately started to head to where the volunteers were requested to head.

A few hours later she was in a group of ten dwarves that were heading east and grumbling at her sore feet. She had prepared well, all things considered. She was dressed in her light leather armor along with a battle skirt that had plenty of pockets for small gadgets and hidden weapons. The skirt had a cut down the side for ease of movement. She had comfy leather boots that were decidedly not doing their job. Her bulky pack had plenty of rations and spare bolts for her crossbow along with a bedroll. Her dirty blonde hair was tied up in a loose bun and she had a braid going down her left ear. She had her tinted goggles fixed neatly above her purple bandana that was keeping her bangs out of her eyes.

The expedition leader, Belvin Magrem, growled, “We are here to determine whether the humans are a threat or in need of assistance, as you very well know. Unless you were so sloshed with drink that you were blacked out until now.”

She rolled her eyes, “Shut up and let me gripe. I’m not exactly used to hiking.”

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Another dwarf, this one she didn’t know, spoke up, “I just wish the roads didn’t disappear. I wish we had some damn carriages.”

“Ah, so you’re keen on findin’ out what caused that symbol in the sky?” asked Belvin. A few hours after they had departed the city, there was a beam of dark red that was blasted into the sky near the strange human city. It created a strange serpent symbol that was a couple of leagues in diameter.

The dwarf paled, “Perhaps walking is the best plan.”

This, unfortunately, proved to be false. An hour and a half into walking, they found themselves surrounded by a gang of Gnolls with their blasted pet manticores as mounts. Their hunched backs created a perfect space for their mounts to fire their poisonous spikes. A ghastly scarred manticore bore the leader of the gang of fifteen gnolls. The leader, a shaman by the look of its staff, spoke to the others in their high-pitched giggle-like language that caused a similar sensation of a fork scratching a plate.

Switching to a broken dialect of Verum, the common language of Veru, its voice was deeper and wet, as if it was using mucus to gargle gravel, “Mountain-flesh. You enter Shaman Gralk-land. Hand Gnoll all stuff and leave bare-flesh or become food for kin.”

Mountain-flesh was the Gnoll term for Dwarves. The Gnolls outnumbered the Dwarves by five, but the Dwarves were better equipped. Unfortunately, four of the Gnolls were on manticores, which could pierce their armor with the spikes as if they were crossbow bolts.

Belvin shouted, “Circle!” The dwarves responded to the command by creating a defensive circle with their backs to each other. This was a very dangerous situation. There was no guarantee that if they complied that the Gnolls wouldn’t attack their naked forms as they retreated to Mithra’Vheen. Even if the Gnolls did honor their word, it was unlikely they would survive the trek. Dwarves were hardy by nature, but unarmed and naked, it was a toss-up whether the elements would get them or the beasts of the hills.

Of course, there was no reality where Dwarves would give in to bandits of any kind, let alone flea bitten Gnolls. Rue unhooked her electric repeating crossbow and shouldered the stock. “I liked it better when they were at each other’s throats.”

Belvin said in Dwarvish so the Gnolls wouldn’t understand, “Yes well, I liked it better when the world made sense, now shut up and get ready for a fight. Ranged, focus on the manticores. Shield bearers, make sure to take the spikes for the squishy ones. If the shaman starts chanting, switch fire to him.”

The shaman growled, “Fine, fun way is fine.” He then switched back to their unhinged language and shouted commands. Rue focused on the manticore rider in front of her and started blasting the manticore with muscle seizing crossbow bolts that crackled with lightning. Each cartridge held ten bolts and it only took her about two seconds to crank the loading mechanism after each shot. The crossbow had a wooden stock with brass plating to give it strength. There were blue runes along the body of the crossbow that would increase its durability along with giving the bolts a strong electrical attack.

She fired two bolts at the large, terrifying face of the manticore. One went straight in its eye causing it to roar and rear back and dislodging its rider. This also caused the other quarrel to miss completely. However, she did get a lucky shot at its vulnerable underbelly that allowed a critical strike to important organs. She shouted thanks to Ornock as it appeared that the bolt went between two ribs and pierced the heart. The jolt of energy stopped the heart as the barbed head of the bolt tore the delicate muscle. The manticore fell atop the dismounted Gnoll, pinning it beneath the large seizing corpse. The scent of burnt fur tingled her nose.

The pinned Gnoll was crying out in its strange language. She didn’t have a good shot and unfortunately, the rest of her team was not having as much luck as her. Mirroring her amazing shot, another manticore scored a decisive hit on one of her comrades. He didn’t even have time to scream before his life departed. A spike threaded the gap between his visor and pierced his eye and brain. He was slumped on the ground, creating a weak point in their formation. A moment later, metal warped, and gore splattered as the chemical mixture inside the spike caused a small explosion.

They were taking a beating. Multiple Dwarves were receiving wounds, including her. The Gnolls were still only down a single manticore, though multiple Gnolls were bleeding worse than the Dwarves. Another Dwarf soon slumped over having received a blow to the head with a spear. Thankfully, she was still alive, but the force knocked her out cold. They tightened formation, bringing the unconscious Dwarfess in the center. They couldn’t keep this up and the Gnolls were too tightly packed for her to use any of her explosives.

Rue called out in Dwarvish, “Boss, I have an idea. I’ve got a single light banger. I’ll toss it in the air and when the Gnolls are blind, we’ll rush the shaman. With their leader dead, the Gnolls should flee.”

“Aye,” Belvin shouted, “That might work. Just give the word lass.” The shaman in question cocked his head. His dreadlocked mane dangling. Bits of bone jewelry clinked together. It started mumbling something as Rue rustled in her pack, not taking her eyes off of the Gnoll in front of her. The shaman’s staff began to thrum with an eerie green glow as her anxiety grew with each moment she searched for the explosive. She finally felt the raised marking on the orb that let her know which type of grenade she held. With a cry of triumph, she pulled out the light banger. She primed it and counted the seconds for the correct timing.

She tossed the grenade in the air and shouted her warning. A breath after her shout, the light banger was true to its name as a deafening bang released a blinding white light. Rue’s ears were ringing something fierce, but she could see Gnolls were clawing at their eyes. Her joy quickly sank to the bottom of her stomach as she saw a green shield fading from in front of the shaman. He was grinning a toothy smile, albeit blinking rapidly. It appears that the shield was not enough to completely protect him from the light banger, but he and his large manticore was not as incapacitated as his comrades.

He laughed wickedly at the Dwarves’ falling faces. He then crushed some type of amulet and there was a rush of power as a vile green and dark purple orb of fire began to grow at the tip of his staff. He began to chant, and the orb rapidly grew. Belvin screamed, “Scatter!” and the Dwarves bum rushed the unmounted and still blind Gnolls. It was too late; the evil looking ball of noxious flames was easily two feet in diameter and the shaman released it at the center of the broken formation. The poor unconscious dwarf was immolated. Instead of burning, whatever the flames touched festered and decayed. It was a small solace that the Dwarf that Rue did not know the name of was not awake.

The odd flames spread out like viscous liquid. A wave of putrefaction. It caught one Dwarf who was knocked back by the Gnoll he ran at. He fell back first into the spell and began to shriek in a higher pitch than any Dwarf Rue had heard. His flesh boiled and blistered with pus and rot as he rolled around. His screams were mercifully cut short as he quickly died. A mounted Gnoll next to the shaman angrily gestured and spoke to his leader. The cackling Gnoll was cut short as he pondered then tsked. He gestured and the flames stopped spreading. By this time, the Dwarves were scattered and cut off from support.

Rue had shoved a dagger into the loins of a Gnoll who fell to the ground trying hard to mimic the now decayed Dwarf. Unfortunately, she landed flat after a sharp blow to the back of her unprotected head. It was a glancing blow from a spear of a half blind Gnoll but it still had her seeing stars. She rolled over on her back and grabbed for her crossbow. It had skittered a couple of feet away. Her vision was slightly blurry, and her head was killing her.

The Gnoll that hit her was approaching her. With vision still impaired it was looking around in her general direction, blinking rapidly and rubbing at its eyes. She lay completely still, not wishing to draw its attention with motion. It raised its spear, satisfied that it would hit at least some part of her, and she shut her eyes, not wanting to see the metal head of the spear flying towards her.

Suddenly, there was a yelp and a thud. Not receiving the expected blow, she cracked her eyes cautiously and saw that her impending death was sprawled out a few feet back. In front of her was a man with long white hair and black martial robes, expensive looking ones. Her savior glanced at her and grinned, revealing two sharp fangs, slightly pointed ears, and an extremely odd red eye with two pupils. His deep red iris was some type of serpent. Did the blow to her head hurt her worse than she thought? In a rich voice and a strangely accented Verum he said, “You alright? My friends will pull you to safety. Sit tight. Asha and I will take care of these Gnolls.”