Venturing Out

Preface

Tellius Realms was my first ever attempt at writing a book. I started it when I was in middle school and then picked it back up every few years in high school, college, and afterward. While I love the characters and story my writing creativity has been focused elsewhere recently. When I was around twenty-five a group of friends asked me to run a tabletop game for them. I chose to adapt the Tellius Realms to have their story begin a bit off of where the original began but eventually the two would come together and then I would see what the players decided. I told them of the dwarven underground city of Krundlebottom, which had been shut off the outside world because of a trade dispute with the gnomes. Since dwarves are stubborn it's been a few generations.

For this story, I plan to have this be a consistent submission. I have notes and content for a long series of short stories which will focus on the key parts of the adventuring campaign.

I present to you part one of the Tellius Realms, the Dwarf Campaign.

Adventure 1: Venturing Out

“Welcome miners his Lord Mace Fist has requested that we send many of you forth in order to bolster our reserves. As you are all well aware of the ores have become increasingly difficult to mine quickly and to find. Those Gnomish bastards and their tricky ways have beaten us out on each bid with new mines owned by the Overworlders. Our Eastern cousins succeed constantly in driving us out of the tunnels that we do own and now it is said that after blocking our new jobs the Gnomes are squeezing us dry of liquid assets in land rental to grow our crops and through tariffs.”

Goldu’s voice resonated in the chamber as gruff as it had been just a month prior when he petitioned with the Human and Elvish Keepers who came with new contracts for mines that had been opened up in the surface world mountains to the north. Goldu had argued fervently for three days and nights pausing only to pay homage at Earth Strike along with all of the miners and time and to eat in the mornings. He even skipped Plate Stack prayers for the days’ good work to Hornok The Mighty. In the end, it mattered not as the Gnome pit boss who came promised that with their machines the Gnome Mining Corporation would be able to clear out their new mines and get the ore to them in a tenth of the time it would take Krundlebottom’s finest miners to do the same job. It cemented the deal when they offered the price point of half of what Krundlebottom could do at slave labor prices.

“Miners, my countrymen, and women, without mining then we will have to resort to mercenary work or moving into the Sunlands and toil next to the fair folk. I don’t know about ye, but I would rather be in the earth like Hornok intended the good folk. Freeing his precious ores and gems from the clutches of the stone, but alas this is not to continue. As the coffers are dedicated to keeping the babes fed. We cannot purchase new land. The Gnomes have undercut our every offer and overcharge for the rights to do business and live.” The crowd of gathered miners grew more agitated with each word. “But have faith! Hornok provides, there are always new gifts from the earth for those brave and strong enough to search for them. Yes, our cousins do thwart our efforts to branch out, but they cannot be everywhere. We are a mighty people. Krundlebottom will return as THE mining company in all eleven kingdoms. Our surveyors have discovered a new shaft that was connected to number 692. Inside of it, they found this.

Goldu held aloft a small gem that could be no bigger than a lizard egg. It was a dull blue in the center that faded to purple near the edges and shaped after no apparent fashion. It looked almost like a shard of a broken sword.

“This was discovered by the surveyors in the new shaft we are deeming 823 in honor of the new year. With shaft 823 the eight hundred twenty-third year of Krundlebottom will be as a rebirth. 823 is uncharted and as such will be dangerous. It is necessary that we send just a few stout souls into it in order to chart, clear, and bring back more of this substance which our gemologists are calling Areadium. There will be many perils along the way but the king has permitted me to grant a two percent ownership of the Krundlebottom Mining Corporation for any and all who complete this task.”

At this, the crowd was a series of murmurs until one dwarf spoke up, “There be goblins and worse the deeper we go. Are there to be soldiers or would I be trained as a Hammer before I leave?” That signaled the cacophony of objections and excitements. “ ’What if we don’t make it? Will our families be taken care of?’ ‘Two percent of a failing company woohoo big bloody prize!’ ‘The bastards from EasternGate will likely already be in the tunnels and have cleared them out.’ ‘We should just move to the surface, the world has changed. We should too.’ ‘I’d do it but yer gonna haf to lick me boots!’ “ This continued in various iterations with some members of the crowd leaving the meeting hall

“QUIET! Do you all not understand that this task must be taken on? Without this chance then we might as well give up. Nothing stinks worse than a dwarf who knows when to call it quits. I for one will fight in the tunnels, with the earth, with EasternGate, with the Elves, Gnomes, Humans, with Hornok himself if it will allow for my people to be free and prosperous.” A dwarf who had jumped up onto the table to stand out in the crown, he was old, grizzled, and wore an eye patch over his left eye. Tall for a dwarf standing over five and a half feet he looked to be near that in width. “Orsikan Luck-Eye of Clan Bittersweet has never backed down from a challenge and this one won’t be any different! Goldu I accept this task.”

“My friend you would bump your head into the first stalactite that snuck up on your left side, knocking yourself out or worse. I couldn’t sleep at night knowing that I let the brother I chose fall into the earth’s embrace like the brothers I had.” This new dwarf was of average height and build except that his muscles were lean where most dwarves are stout. His head was shaved clean and his beard trimmed short except for around his mouth which was braided in three braids; one for each side of his mustache and the third down his chin, woven into each of these braids was a leather strip. His coat and shirt bore no sleeves and his knuckles rivaled chisels.

“Rangrim you still have the shoulders of me granddaughter and she just reached her twelfth name day last week.” The grizzled Orsikan jumped down from the table and made his way to the newcomer. “Of course your age shines through on the top. Didn’t I tell you to stop polishing your head last time we drank together? Making it shinier isn’t going to distract people from your lack of hair.”

“Orsik you old dirty dog. You know full well that I shave my head.” At this, the two friends embraced each other. “So you are trying to get an owner's stake, are you? What about your tavern?”

“Sallis can mind the tavern.” Orsik said as the embrace ended. She is a fine lass already has three dwarflings running around there working. The babe hasn’t been out of the womb for five tides and already he is walking. No, my daughter can take care of The Bucket while I am gone.”

Goldu cleared his throat, “As touching as this is I am not comfortable sending just two dwarves into the 823 on their own. All who wish to stand with these two please stay so we may hash out the details. Any who wish to opt-out of the task then you are free to return to your normal duties.” The crowd dispersed sparingly at first but after the first few miners left soon all made their way from the meeting hall, all except one. Sitting on a stool on the side of the room was an ancient-looking dwarf who seemed about to return to Hornok.

As the three of them watched the old man simply slept as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Suddenly he sprang up and shouted, “Ayeeeee, yes gold it will be! Gold and Magic! But first a fire, it is too cold in here.” Then he waved his hands around himself and called to the ceiling, “COME FORTH SERVANT OF FLAME!” Nothing happened. “Drat, ok.” This time the old man looked at the floor, “COME FORTH SERVANT OF FLAME!” again nothing changed in the room that the three dwarfs watching could see. Then the old man harrumphed grumbled, “Fine be that way, you bastard. I wasn’t cold anyways.” Then he reached into the arms of his robes to produce two pillows. One he set on the stool and the other he set on the table he had been sitting at before leaning forward and laying his head back down. It wasn’t long until the three could hear aggressive snoring coming from the old man.

Orsik, Goldu, and Rangrim looked at each other before taking turns miming, “Do you know him?” When it was apparent that nobody in the hall knew the old man Goldu motioned for them to move off to the other side.

“You two will not go alone; I can send an acolyte of Harnok with you and two guards. Be swift, the sooner we find the value of this stone and stake our claim the sooner we all will be able to sleep better at night.” With that Goldu led them into the palace’s main hall. After a short walk of a few hundred paces, Goldu led them to a sitting room. Inside sat a nervous-looking dwarf who jumped at the sound of their entrance. “This is Faudin, an acolyte of Hornok, a scholar of Menteal and your third member.”

Rangrim strode forward happily offering Faudin his outstretched hand but the priest didn’t wait for him to get close before jumping up and embracing Rangrim in a very boisterous hug before proceeding to enact the greeting rituals of the elves, by kissing both cheeks, the humans with a handshake, the gnomes by offering a piece of advice and asking a question, “You could stand up straighter. What color do you think would go well with my beard?”, and Goldu had to stop him when he began the goblin ritual of comparing their assets.

Rangrim stood dumbfounded after the kisses on the cheek but soon recovered as Faudin buckled his belt back up. “Uh, pleased to meet you. I am Rangrim and over here is my old friend Orsik.”

“Don’t you be trying any of that stuff with me!” Orsik bellowed as Faudin approached him with open arms. The smaller dwarf, as Faudin clearly was now that he was between the two of them looked hurt before standing next to Rangrim and placing his hand on his shoulder.

“Faudin, you are going to accompany these two on their quest to map out the new 823 cavern that was just opened.” Goldu paused as Rangrim slapped Faudin’s hand from his shoulder. “Earnon and Krennel are going with you. King Mace Fist would like you all to begin as soon as possible.”

“Yes, I understand I have already sent the two of them to get supplies ready.” Faudin replied while leaning into Rangrim.

Rangrim leaned away just far enough for Faudin to lose his balance and then seemed to dance away from the acolyte as he tumbled to the ground.

Goldu's eyes rolled back into his head and he hid a small smirk with a slight turn of his head while Faudin righted himself. “Good to hear. Please escort them to the entrance I have some other matters to attend to.” He bent to help Faudin straighten his breastplate dropping his voice to a whisper, “And for Hornok’s sake try and keep your hands to yourself. If my brother was still alive he would be ashamed of the way his son is acting.”

Faudin replied just as quietly, “Yes uncle, I will do my best.” Then at a normal volume, “Honor to the crown, glory for Krundlebottom.” Before he turned to his new companions and led them out of the door. “Well, friends let us be off.” His hands resting at their mid-backs.

Back in the main hall, the old man had disappeared, he forgot the pillow for his top while taking the pillow for his rear. Faudin led the friends through a side tunnel avoiding the main entrance of the keep of Krundlebottom the whole time having his hands or person shoved to a more acceptable distance by Orsik and Rangrim. After twenty minutes or so the trio stopped at the outer gates to the city where Earnon and Krennel were waiting with pack ponies and supplies. The two youths had barely one-hand beards but seemed sturdy enough to protect themselves from anything that might come at the group in the tunnels. Goblins and critters tended to be more afraid of miners than the miners were of them. A few well-placed pick strikes over the years might have helped to develop that understanding.

823 was less than an hour outside of the outer gates. When they arrived they noticed that there was already another dwarf standing outside of the entrance mumbling to himself something about fire, or heat or warmth. “That’s it FLARE UP WARRIOR!” at this command torch light dimmed suddenly before flaring up brighter than a whole room of braziers and before the old man stood a human-sized creature that was seemingly made of metal and flame. “Yes, yes. Much toastier now. If only I could have remembered that spell earlier. Would have had a proper nap. Have you seen my pillow? You know it is mine because it says Gherran on it.” The old man was actually talking to the same being that he had just summoned and was currently using like a stove or fireplace to warm his hands over. “What are you loafs doing there? This cave isn’t going to map itself and wizards don’t work for cheap. Let us begin.” With that, the old man plunged into 823 with his warrior, light source, and handwarmer out front.

Orsik turned to Rangrim, “Great now we have a wizard to keep track of.”

“Orsik you are too cynical what is the worst that could happen? Is he going to burn down our quarters? We will be sleeping in a cave.” Rangrim led his pony after the old man.

Faudin stepped close to Orsik. “So do you think I could…”

Orsik interrupted quickly, “Sure go touch him, touch Earnon and Krennel, for all I care go touch the walking inferno for the sake of all the gods in all the pantheons get your hand out of my beard!”

Faudin scampered off with his pony as well. Earnon and Krennel followed suit with the extra pack animals.

Orsik turned back towards the city proper, where his former tavern was located. Saying a silent prayer to each god that did not wrong him the day of his wife’s death he pulled his hammer from the saddle harness and stepped into 823.

The darkness of 823 seemed deeper than any mine Rangrim had been in. That darkness permeated into his bones and settled upon his soul calling forth the darkest time of his past. Chenkle had been like a brother to him. His death had been rough on the community as well. A loved dwarf who provided a warm haven for those who were without during the colder months, one could always find a good story at Chenkle’s.

Waking up in the bar knuckles sore and face swollen Rangrim knew not whether he was the victor or the victim of his latest drunken brawl. His beard wet from the ale spilled across the floor and his hair was sticky with the blood from multiple cuts. He climbed to his feet woozily as his head began to swim throbbing from injury and drink. Steadying himself on a chair he surveyed the room. There were four other men prone amongst the debris from the brawl. He made his way over to the closest to see the bartender. Chenkle’s jaw was smashed, his eye socket collapsed and his right arm was twisted at a grotesque angle. It seemed his old friend hadn’t died without a fight though, in his hand, he held a chunk of bloody scalp.

Looking at his companions through the gloom Rangrim noticed that Orsik had a pick and his hammer out. There is a dwarf that could be relied upon in any circumstance, Rangrim thought to himself. He remembered a time where a swarm of goblins had set upon the two of them when they were but lads not more than thirty. At one point in the battle, a goblin threw a dart at Orsik and struck him in his left eye. Orsik screamed an earth-shaking roar and leaped at the creature taking it by the neck before slamming the little beast into his companions. By the time the first goblin had stopped twitching he was barely more than a decorative bust and torso and ten of its companions lay at Orsik’s feet. The dwarf then reached up, plucked the dart from his eye, and used it to scrape to gore from his hand, cleaning beneath his fingernails. He glared at the remaining goblins while he did this and that had been enough for them to reevaluate their advantage.

Now Orsik was leading the way with the strange old man and his walking pyre and was on full alert searching the darkness for any sense of danger ahead. Periodically he would point to a rock wall and Krennel would mark the spot with a symbol which indicated the direction they traveled and how far to the next checkpoint.

Rangrim felt the presence at his back before he heard him, “Quite cozy down here, isn’t it? To think this system was undiscovered for so long and now we get to be the first to go into it.” Faudin wasn’t touching Rangrim this time as his hands were clutching the symbol of his order, an ebony hammer upon a silver anvil. This was the symbol of the Warpriest, whose sole duty was to smite the wicked and build up the just. Judging by the bands of chains and their charms upon them Faudin was clearly devout in his faith.

“Why are you here Faudin? Other than because Goldu ordered it and Krundlebottom needs this vein. You are no miner, nor an adventurer, what would cause a man of the hammer and anvil to move into a simple mine?” Rangrim asked this hoping that it would simply cause the other dwarf to back off and give him some space. He didn’t expect a thorough response.

“In case you were not aware I am Goldu’s third nephew. He took the three of us in after our parents died in the last war. I had already been pledged to the church as is the custom of a third son and this was accepted and even desired by all. That is until it became realized that both of my brothers were drunkards and terrible at business. Uncle Goldu had to send them away to work in a mine far away due to the shame that they brought upon his house. He figured with them exiled then I would give up my claim to the anvil and come back to him as his heir. When I refused we had a falling out and it was another decade before we spoke. Once we did I had taken my vows to uphold the hammer as well as the anvil so he knew that while he couldn’t use me as an heir or for any other method he could utilize my devotion.

‘Since then I have been his liaison with the church and the two of us are infrequent communiqué discussing where the church and the state could work together. This mission represents one of those discussions.” Faudin left the conversation there and moved over to Earnon to give him some instructions about the ponies.

Rangrim disappeared back into his thoughts.

The other four dwarves amidst the debris were all familiar. Two were of the Cleaver clan, a group of dwarves whose family were butchers by trade. Fellin and Turlan always had a temper and tended to provoke others, the two were likely at the root of this brawl. Rangrim dislodged them from the wreckage and laid them in a respectful position, left arm straight along their sides and right arm over their heart, hand in a fist, a proper salute to Hornok. Neither dwarf had any hair missing so perhaps Chenkle had been fighting a third, perhaps a Cleaver who had fled.

He had to move rubble to identify the other two. When he finally maneuvered a portion of the table off of their faces he threw it to the side and dropped forward to his knees in grief. These other two were his brothers, Gandrim and Ramnart. He wanted at that moment to do nothing more than disgrace the fallen Cleavers for what they had caused but something gave him pause. In Ramnart's hand was a chunk scalp. For a moment his thoughts returned to the idea of a sixth man who wasn't here, but then he noticed the braid, with the old leather wrapping which had come from his father's hammer. Each of the three brothers had a piece woven into a braid that had been taken since the day of the funeral. Ramnart had his hanging over his left ear. Rangrim rolled Gandrim over, when he saw his right ear he began to weep, for the strip was securely in place. Fighting through tears of grief, fear, and trepidation Rangrim reached up to feel his head where his braid was, at the back where his neck met skull. He winced at the pain as there was a large open wound devoid of braid.

As he grieved he moved his brothers to the position of honor, from each one he took the braid, severing it with his belt knife, the only weapon he carried, it was clean and in place in its sheath, his hands however ached with every motion.

Moving away from his brothers he returned to Chenkle, which placed him in the same honorific position he did the Cleavers. Taking the bloody chunk from his hands and removing the braided portion.

Some water dripped from the ceiling falling onto his head, causing him to look around again at his present. The cave system was musty they were in a large cavern that collected the drips to form a small pond in the middle. There were dozens of stalagmites and stalactites scattered around the cavern. They chose this spot to stop and eat. Krennel had been mapping thus far and gave them a report.

"We have traveled about two miles and so far 823 has at least seven branches that we have marked, each at least one hundred steps deep. This is the first cavern and as you can see it has a water source and plenty of room to act as a primary camp. We have seen no evidence of any other inhabitants thus far except for mosses, mushrooms, bats, insects, spiders, and the occasional cave gecko."

Orsik stood up from the pond where he had refilled his water bladders, "Aye, this is a good spot but we've only traveled for few hours, we should keep pushing on after Krennel completely updates his map." The party nodded the agreement and they set about busying themselves with what needed doing. It took Krennel about an hour to get a solid map laid out, when he declared that he was done the party continued their journey.

Leaving their respite returned Rangrim to that night.

He left the bar after weaving the strips into his mustaches. When the constable put him in the cell to await trial he remained silent after he spoke his confession, "I know not what happened other than that I live, five men, good men, do not. Can I please have a washbasin and a razor, I wish to clean up my head?" The constable initially wanted to refuse but the look of sorry on the dwarf's face changed his mind. Under guard, Rangrim shaved every hair on his head. As a reminder of memories not meant for forgetting. He kept the braids in as a reminder of the family that was lost. The trial was a swift one as Rangrim accepted all charges. The sentence was to serve twenty years as a miner, guard, and soldier for each fallen man. The judge stated, "We live in a time where every strong dwarf must help his people, we cannot have this man in prison or dead, the grief for his brothers will eat away at him every day he lives."

While Rangrim worked the pick lines he eventually met an older dwarf, grey-haired and wrinkled, his name was Bouldun, he told Rangrim of his life. How he had killed a man at a young age then learned to seek inner peace within himself. He taught Rangrim of daily exercises and meditation to center oneself and emotions bringing all under control. Rangrim served his years, Bouldun mentored him for ten more until he died, for the rest of his sentence, he kept himself under control. After thirty years of good behavior, war came and he was pushed to the front line. That is where he met Orsik.

After a few more hours of walking, Rangrim was snapped from his reminiscence by Orsik. “We’ll need to stop!” Orsik’s voice carried a high level of authority with the order. “There is an opening up ahead. Weapons out men who knows what could be down here.” The old dwarf said indicating a pile of goblin bones, the first such evidence of any danger they had come upon.

Around the corner, the cave did very well open up into a wider room that seemed to reflect the firelight from the summoned creature back at the group. The cavern was barely bigger than a clan dining room and became quite cramped once all six dwarves and four ponies were within.

Rangrim steeled his ears as he slipped his pick from his belt. He heard nothing unusual but once his eyes adjusted to the trick of the reflected light he saw that there was quartz and other crystals along the walls. Large veins could house pockets of gold. Earnon moved forward with his pick raised, “This is amazing, barely a day down here and already some crystal.” He reared back and struck the wall which fell away like a child’s building bricks. The wall fell away as if it was struck by a god.

Earnon stood dumbfounded as the stream of liquid fire shot forth and engulfed him. The scream that followed was deafening to Rangrim’s ears. Earnon tried futilely to brush the burning liquid off him but the soldier accomplished nothing more than to spread the flames quicker. Black carapace legs reached out a second later. About the height of a gnome but as wide as a dwarf the scarab stood up on its hind legs and let out an ear-piercing screech as it fell upon Earnon with pinchers and jaws.

As the sound reverberated around the small cavern it was joined by a series of loud cracks and the sound of more crystals cascading onto the floor. Eight more scarab dens opened permitting the owners entrance into the fray. Rangrim ran at the scarab on Earnon hoping to save the young dwarf, he swung his pick down in a mighty arc connecting with the beast’s back. The blow glanced off but was enough to draw attention away from Earnon who still screamed in agony frantically trying to wipe off the thick sticky flaming substance.

Its attention was drawn to a new target the scarab crawled on all six legs towards Rangrim before standing up to swing its clawed leg at the dwarf. Rangrim shifted out of the way of danger but the blow did connect with the pick in his hand throwing the weapon to the side.

Left weaponless Rangrim clenched his fists and steeled himself in a stance with near eighty years of training behind it before leaping at the beast throwing his foot forward connecting with the creature and following through with a high arc. The scarab lay on his back frantically trying to roll to its feet. Taking two steps Rangrim leaped into the air and fell knees first into the abdomen of the scarab which died after quick coiling of its legs.

Rangrim quickly surveyed the room. Orsik was fighting two of the creatures, the old man’s flame warrior had a steel great sword engulfed in flames and swung mightily at another two, Faudin and Krennel were about to finish a sixth but Krennel looked about ready to keel over from multiple wounds and the last two were bearing down on the old man who had his eyes shut and was chanting something.

Dashing forward Rangrim made his way for the last two. He caught up with one and hit it with a series of kicks and punches causing it to turn from its intended target. The other kept moving closer to the old wizard.

Trying to deal with this threat quickly Rangrim spun, dipped, and twirled around the scarab’s legs finally connecting with two and causing the creature to fall. He shifted his weight around quickly causing his upper body to fall towards his foe and allowing him to aim an elbow between the eyes. There was a wet crunching sound as the blow connected. The scarab stopped moving almost immediately.

“ARCTIC WINDS!” The wizard shouted as he opened his eyes to see the scarab just out of arm’s reach. A white blast of air and snow appeared from his outstretched hands towards the creature. The sound of a winter storm roared within the cavern as the wind pushed the scarab backward into its remaining companion near Orsik. The wizard walked forward pushing closer to his targets that were now in a jumble against the opposite wall their scrabbling legs moving slower with each moment. Ice began to form on them as their movement stopped. The wind died and the old man dropped his hands. “Go and smash them now they will not stay that way for long.” Orsik strode forward and with two quick swings flattened the creatures’ heads.

Krennel leaned against his mace panting heavily, his foe dead at his feet, his wounds seemed to have closed up, the warrior summoned by the old man stood stoically off to the side near two halves of another scarab and Faudin was at Earnon’s side. Hands-on two of the only clear spots he could find. “Stay with me lad, I know it hurts but you can get through this.” A soft light glowed from the hammer and anvil around Faudin’s neck. “You’re not allowed to die! The challenge isn’t over yet and you still have your own glory to write.” The glow waned slowly and Faudin grabbed up Rangrim’s fallen pick to scrape away the burning goo from the young dwarf. Once it was off of him Rangrim could see the extensive damage, the warrior had been burned over most of his body. His hair and beard were gone his skin a charred and raw mess of what it used to be, but he was breathing albeit raggedly.

“He’ll make it. He won’t ever be the same and he probably will never fight again but he will live. What were those things?” Faudin was visibly shaken. A warpriest is a warrior for the people but most never see battle.

“Cave Scarabs. They have a thick mucus inside their stomach that when regurgitated ignites in the air. They are found near the surface, usually a gnome problem, I can’t remember the last time that I heard of some being in dwarven territory. The important thing is that we know what to look for now and that they are down here.” Orsik kicked the corpse of the one Rangrim had killed first when he finished his speech.

“Oh dear, I guess the time is about done. Does anybody have a torch?” the light from the summoned warrior faded leaving the six dwarves standing in darkness. Rangrim could hear the old man rummaging around in his pack and muttering, “I know that there is one here somewhere.”

The dark didn’t last for long as a soft glow came from some of the walls. The light was a faint purple. “Look over there. Get your picks and hammers.” The four of them, Krennel stayed with Earnon, moved to a different wall each with his hammer or pick out, and began digging at the area around the faint light.

While they worked Orsik let himself go in the simple task at hand, allowing his mind to wander to a simpler time. His bar was full, children laughing and running around and his wife singing in the kitchen. This was before the sickness had taken hold of her, sapping her of the energy and happiness needed for such beautiful songs.

Chella still worked for a few years but only simple tasks that required little strength and could be set aside if she needed a break. Regardless of how weak she was though the woman could always find the strength to give advice to their children, the four girls needed it as their dad and brother were completely inept in the ways of ladyship, and to comment on how beautiful his crystal eye was. She always thought it gave him a magical look. He felt it was just her way of helping him feel better about a past mistake and his horrid appearance.

The day Chella died he vowed to learn a way to make that eye give him some magical looks. He doesn’t know if it worked but he did learn to utilize it in ways that unnerved the people around him and getting them to change their ways around him.

In ten minutes they had a pile of the same crystals that Goldu had shown them earlier that day. Krennel was put to work charting their progress to this point while the rest of them surveyed the room looking to see if the crystal vein was done, he struggled to do so as he fretted over his friend. The vein seemed to continue towards a corner of the room converging at a dead end.

“It probably continues that direction.” Orsik stated we should continue through the wall and see if there is a path. Mining was simple and brought gold to the house. If he was going to do it he was going to do it right. His youngest two, Sallis and Ornis, twins, ran the Bucket in his stead. Sallis had a family she had started making with her husband Gadul and Ornis had been courting a young lass from the surface mines by the name of Daffiodell. Nice girl but strange customs, comes from living with too many humans and elves.

Rangrim and Faudin agreed so the three older dwarves set to work. It didn’t take long for them to get through the wall though as it was quite thin. The last thing they expected met them on the other side, moonlight and fresh air. They had found a passage to the surface. “Well, I’ll be damned!” Orsik proclaimed. “This is a bit of a disappointment.”

“No my friend this can actually be a good thing,” Rangrim said. “This can give us an outlet so we can bypass the tariffs placed on us by the gnomes for using their tunnels. This may not be the salvation we came for but it might just get Krundlebottom out of debt.”

Krennel came over to them to show the chart that he had made to this point. It showed a long tunnel that they had been walking for the last eight hours with various branches turning off and leading both north and south. “It looks like if we could secure this point then put patrols down those other tunnels we have access to a whole new shaft complex.”

“Aye lad, we might.” Orsik said as he stepped outside into the open air. Breathing deeply he continued, “Your friend is hurt and it is too late to move forward or return tonight. Let’s set camp and plan out what we want to do with this new information on the marrow.” Orsik looked around, they were in a canyon and standing in what had to be the bottom of a dry creek bed. The water’s flow had to be seasonal because the rocks were covered with a season’s buildup. It had been so long since he had stood under the night sky and breathed the surface air. “We will camp outside tonight. If any more scarabs find their way out from the cave we can defend from them and if anything sets upon us from the outside we can escape into the cave.”

The dwarves began setting camp, clearing bed sites, collecting firewood, and keeping Earnon comfortable. The old man lit a fire in the branches that Krennel had gathered, Faudin began making some soup in his cooking pot and Orsik and Rangrim explored the canyon up to the bend.

“You know I have always wanted to wander the world since that day-old friend.” Rangrim’s voice was hushed not from stealth but from the emotion he felt. “It is what Gandrim and Ramnart wanted to do. When they died it felt appropriate to take on their desires.”

Orsik’s reply was whispered, “I understand, your brothers were good men. They didn’t want you mourning them, however. They wouldn’t be happy with you acting the lost dog. If you’re going to go into the world do it for yourself, not for those you have lost.” Orsik sniffed. “Chella wanted to travel as well. She said that before she died she wanted to sail upon the ocean. Can you imagine that? A dwarf whose life goal was to sail on the ocean, nothing could be further from normal. Alas, that was why I loved her.”

The two walked in silence for a few minutes before Rangrim spoke up again. “Do you think Earnon will make it?”

Orsik stopped walking, “Yes, Faudin seems an adept healer and we’re a tough people. We will see how he feels in the morning. For now, let’s make our way back to camp.”

Faudin gazed into the fire as he stirred the soup, sprinkling his seasoning into the liquid. His mother had been the best cook in his district before she died and she had taught him everything, which herbs fused with which meat, when to use dried and when to use fresh, how the perfect potato could fill in for any missing ingredient.

Training had been tough at the temple. His mind and body broken many times but soon he learned to embrace the pain within himself as the only way he could ever fix the pain of others was to understand true pain. His first task had been a young boy who had fallen from a wagon and had his leg crushed by the wheel. The leg was a twisted mess and at first, Faudin gave up before starting, “The leg is a loss. We should be teaching him to walk with a cane.” He told himself and his trainer in the adjoining room away from earshot of the boy and his parents. His trainer said simply, “If that is what you want to do then leave.”

Faudin didn’t want to abandon the boy, he wanted to help. So he went into the other room and started chanting into the anvil around his neck. The glow came slowly, then fluttered off and on before pulsing with great white light. Faudin’s hands began glowing with the pulses so he placed them upon the boy's forehead and his leg a hand for the mind and a hand for the body. The surgeons had already righted his leg so that it would mend straight. All Faudin had to do was to channel the love of his people, through the anvil around his neck, along his arms, and into the boy's leg.

He doesn’t remember how long he worked at it but he awoke in his own bed. “Is the boy okay?” he said to the room. To which the room replied, “He will walk with a limp but he will walk. You did good acolyte. My first healing resulted in a death, as did my second. You have saved a boy from a lifetime of using a cane.”

Orsik and Rangrim made their way back to fire. “All seems clear up ahead, no signs of any recent foot traffic.” Faudin offered them some cups with the soup which they drank happily. “Ahh, this is good!” Rangrim replied.

“So what are we going to do with those?” Faudin asked indicating the bag holding the Areadium crystals.

“I am not sure but I sure would like to examine them closer.” Orsik reached over and took one out of the bag holding it up in the firelight. The purple glow seemed to deepen and become richer with the red and orange light. “By god it is warm!”

“What do you mean?” Rangrim grabbed the bag and pulled his own out as well. “He is right, they are warm almost as if they are producing heat themselves.”

Faudin too took the bag and dumped its contents in the front of them before picking one up. “This one is too and” he held it up to his ear, “it is making a noise reverberating like a bell but a soft humming sound.”

The pile on the ground started vibrating as well, the crystals clacking into each other as they hummed. The three dwarves put the crystals they were holding down and backed off. After a moment the three that were being held started to slide into the pile. When they touched the blue in the center of the crystals began to glow bright and the purple glowed casting its light on all of the walls. The humming grew louder and louder until a falling rock drew all attention away from the phenomena in front of them. That rock came from the top of the canyon, hit a boulder, and rained debris into the small doorway that they had made from the cave where their picks rested. Dust exploded from the entrance causing them to cough and shield their eyes. All the while the hum continued.

When the dust settled the entrance was gone, their picks were gone, purple light ebbed drawing their attention to the silhouette of a boy.

Hello.