Urist leaned against the wind, his nose numbed and sore from the freezing temperature and the flakes of snow that whipped across his exposed skin. He couldn't see more than a few feet in front of him, such was the power of the blizzard they were in. He had tied a rope around his waist, and had Hans tie the other end around HIS waist, so they wouldn't become seperated in this miserable weather. They had thought trudging uphill in the winter cold was unpleasant, but trudging up-mountain in a heavy blizzard was downright lethal.
They'd been walking for hours, hoping to reach the entrance to the Mountainhome, perhaps simply by blind luck. They could have climbed right up the great gate that marked the edge of Under the Mountain, and not known it, for the snow was up to their waist and covered everything deeply. Urist was about at the limits of his endurance now. He couldn't feel anything really. He knew his face hurt, and his hands ached, as did his feet and knees, but he couldn't feel any of it.
In truth, Urist was in the early stages of hypothermia, and much longer in the brutal cold would certainly kill him. Urist didn't know how Hans fared behind him, but after only a few more steps, Urist fell to his knees, draped over a small boulder that was hidden below the snow, and tried to summon the will to continue.
Hans came upon him, and collapsed beside his friend, trying to speak over the howling winds. Urist shook his head, and rolled onto his back in the snow.
To be greeted with a wondrous sight.
Four dwarves stood in the snow over Urist. They were looking down at him and Hans quite amusedly. Urist tried to speak to them, but one of them waved his hand quite specifically, and they split up, two each to Urist and Hans, and lifted the two dwarves out of the snow. They carried them a bit to the east, and Urist saw how close they'd come to missing the great gate. It wasn't open all the way, just enough for a dwarf to pass through, and so they went single file, the strangers helping Urist and Hans through the gate. Inside was an enormous hall, completely empty save for some snow that had blown in quite recently.
The dwarves turned to Urist and Hans, who were now sitting on the floor against one of the massive doors that made the gate. The other door creaked shut of its own accord seemingly, while the leader of the four dwarves stepped forward and knelt down, hand out, "I am Bomrek, Sergeant of the Bronze Tongs and Scoutmaster of the Mountainhomes."
Urist shook his hand, then Hans did as well. Urist said, "I am Urist, former military liason to the fortress Spearbreakers, formerly of the city of Deepgold."
"And I am Hans, hammerdwarf of Spearbreakers." Hans said breathlessly as he shook the dwarf's hand.
"Well, you lot were about had it out there. You're lucky I spotted you before the storm hit, or you would've died out there tonight." The self-proclaimed scoutmaster smiled warmly at his pronouncement, and offered up a flask, "I've got some whiskey to put a fire in your belly."
Urist took and sip, as did Hans in turn. Urist smacked his lips appreciatively, and said, "It's been a while since I've drank something so fine."
Bomrek grinned at them, then was suddenly all business, "So, what brings two military dwarves this far from their fortress? Has it been destroyed?"
"No, as far as we know, Spearbreakers still stands tall against the Spawn and other nefarious ne'er-do-wells of that area," Urist said, "Instead, we come to meet with the Baron. I have a long overdue report for him."
Bomrek chuckled, "Well, we better get you two all warmed up then, it won't do you any good to linger in this drafty hall all night." He gestured at one of his men, and they walked to a seemingly blank wall, and knocked gently three times, then once, then three times. The wall slid open silently, and the small group of dwarves entered the secret passage. Bomrek kept up a running commentary as they walked through the hidden entrance to the Mountainhome, his jovial and garrulous manner providing more than enough speech for all six of the dwarves.
After a couple turns, they came upon a door, and beyond the door was a roomful of levers. Dozens of levers, seperated into groups, labeled extensively, and color-coded to boot. A pair of dwarves sat on stools near the door opposite the one they'd entered through, munching contentedly on bread and cheese. They waved at the group jovially, and the one on the left said, "Found 'em, didja Bomrek? We was takin' bets that they'd been lost in the storm." He chuckled, than froze, "Er. No offense, fellas."
Urist waved away his concern, still trying to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. Bomrek exchanged some small talk with the two, then led the bedraggled pair through the door. The other three dwarves they'd entered with took another door out of the lever room, still silent.
Bomrek led Urist and Hans to a small dormitory and showed them a couple of unclaimed beds they could use. He said, "We'll have some food and drink brought up for you'uns here in a bit, but for now, get some rest. I'll go ahead and inform the Baron he's got guests and suchlike. See you when you wake up." With that, the scoutmaster vanished, quite silently slipping out of the room.
Urist flopped onto the bed, struggling to shuck his backpack and the outer, frozen layer of clothing he wore as he did so. It was an all-together failure, but in the end he got the clothing and backpack removed, despite all the snow now smushed into the blankets. Hans was a little more sensible, and thus fared a bit better in removing his gear, and before long, both were fast asleep.
---
"Oi, fellas. We've gotcha some nice beer and a little meal. Wake up!" The scoutmaster's voice reverberated through Urist's dream, something about Vanya and a woman who looked just like her. There was a gunshot, and blood... And Urist was dragging Vanya away from the woman... Then the voice woke Urist so swiftly he didn't even remember the dream. A mug, for once not marked with the Spearbreakers sigil, was thrust into his hand, and a large platter piled with food was set on the dresser next to the bed.
As Urist and Hans rapaciously devoured their meals, Bomrek once more kept a commentary running. He asked questions, and kept talking without waiting for answers, shared gossip about dwarves that neither of the foreigners knew, and told crude jokes about crundles and goblins. Once they were finished, he waved them up, and said, "Get ready boys, we're going to meet the Baron in his very own office. Don't worry about your trays, the hillies will get them for you."
The two dwarves followed the scoutmaster through some tunnels. Once they passed through a large workshop area, with several dozens of dwarves industriously working away. They were paid no mind, and soon came to a set of copper double doors. Bomrek rapped on the doors lightly, then swung them open to admit the pair. He announced loudly, "Urist and Hans, of the fortress Spearbreakers, delivered by the Great Armok to your prescence, mighty Baron."
A very old dwarf was seated at a very large silver desk. His room was plated with a variety of fine metals, rose gold, black bronze, and platinum amongst them, with a half dozen decorative suits of armor along the walls and he was dressed in very fine clothes, all dyed a deep maroon. He wore little jewelry, only a signet ring and a hammer necklace. He peered at the pair of dwarves quite owlishly, and spoke in a surprisingly strong voice for such an old dwarf, "Yes, our visitors. The liason Urist, whom I have heard naught of since his assignment, and his... Escort? Friend?"
Hans smiled, "Friend sir."
"Yes, indeed. Friend. What brings you two to my humble corner of the Mountainhome this dreary winter day?" The dwarf stood and brought over a pair of chairs before his desk, and gestured for them to be seated.
Urist sat down heavily, and noticed that what he had taken for decorative suits of armor were in fact Fortress Guard at attention. Clever. Presently, he said, "I have a long overdue report for you, first of all, on the military readiness of the fortress Spearbreakers." Urist produced a small journal and placed it gently on the desk. The Baron made no move to read it or otherwise examine it, and instead spoke to Urist.
"I will review this later, but right now, I want to know, in your own, undesigned words, what do you think of Spearbreakers?" The Baron peered at Urist closely, his ancient eyes unreadable.
Urist pondered for a moment, then plunged in fearlessly, "It's insane. The place makes no sense whatsoever. Doors to nowhere and dead end passages and blood rain... The whole place is filled to the brim with lunatics and maddwarf's. They plan on breaching hell. Their soldiers are... Brutal juggernauts for the most part, clad in that most magnificient of metals, the holy Adamantine. The constant blood rain and death and destruction doesn't even seem to phase them. They spike their booze with strange things, and their leaders are some of the most anachronistic, oxymoronic fellows I've ever met."
The Baron's expression was unwavering, and he simply said, "And how well do you think they'll do against armies of Spawn?"
Urist smiled bitterly, "The Spawn run from Colonel Fischer."
The Baron smiled grimly, and said, "Then Spearbreakers is exactly what we need. Our other fortresses fair well enough against the marauding Spawn, barbarians, and Goblins. This is the first fortress that has shown the signs of being touched by the Great Armok himself though. Invariably, Armok inspires feats of mighty heroism in his followers... And deep insanity."
Urist processed this, and glanced over at Hans, who was content to observe, "So... Spearbreakers... Is exactly what you wanted?"
"Yes." The Baron's tone said more than the single word did. He was deeply satisified by this news. He continued, "We want you to go back, Urist. As soon as you can. We are going to be sending a corps of engineers and soldiers to do what they can for the lands around Spearbreakers, to make them most untenable for the enemies of the fortress. To reinforce the safety of the caravan routes, and the migrant corridor."
Urist would have been surprised, or angry, or something before his tenure at Spearbreakers. He would have protested or railed or argued. Now, he simply nodded. "Yes, milord."
The Baron nodded back, and looked at a sheet of paper on his desk, "I must also warn you that stranger things than Spawn are afoot. We have reports of great flying beasts, with roars that split rock and fell the mightiest of creatures, of great insectoid beasts, taller than the tallest man, with legs like spears and arms like sawblades. Of men in clothe that is tougher than most armor, and wielding weapons which put crossbows to shame with their ranged lethality. Something strange is coming to this land, something terrible. Tell the people of Spearbreakers to be on their guard."
With this chilling warning, Urist and Hans were dismissed. They shared a significant look as they returned to their ad hoc chambers, and a single word passed between them, "Ballpoint."
Much overdue, I promise NEW PLOT TWISTS! NEW ENEMIES! NEW ADVENTURES! Just kidding, I promise nothing.
But I'll try to keep updating this time. Really. I mean it this time.