Wagon train“Back?” said Barbarossa, looking up. “What’d you get?
“Couple elk,” said Vilien, dumping the carcasses he, Forrest and Workerdrone had slaughtered.
“They barely moved!” complained Workerdrone, as Forrest got to work on preparing the carcasses. “I swear I could have walked up to them and beaten them to death with my shoes!”
“Aw, poor you,” said Vilien. Workerdrone glared at him.
“The problem is I’m bored. There’s nothing to do, no one to kill, we’ve been travelling for two and a half weeks now and nothing’s happened. Where are we, anyway?” he asked.
“Close to our destination. Maybe half a days travel, if we move at full pelt,” said Bjorn. “The docks of Limƒrzefon are just to the east. Once we get there, we can make plans.”
“Thank the Gods,” said Workerdrone, sitting down. He’d been working on a saga, but only in his head. It was all that was keeping him sane.
“And Kogan?” he asked. Barbarossa sighed.
“I don’t know. He’s got everything he needs, except adamantine, and I have no idea how he’s going to get
that. He may be doomed.”
Workerdrone was surprised to find he didn’t like the prospect. Of course, he wanted to be the one to kill Kogan, but at the same time, he enjoyed having him around.
He gave him something to aim at.
”You have a rather one-track mind, don’t you lad?”Well, he’d gotten used to Reaper. They shared the same hobbies. Killing and killing.
“Well, it’ll be a change, not seeing Kogan around here anymore.”
”Oh yes… that lad. What is it thats wrong with him again?”“He’s gone macabre.”
”I don’t know what that is.“Really? Dwarf made and you don’t?”
”No. Sorry. I don’t get everything about your culture. Most of it, not all.”“Oh. Well, you see, all dwarves everywhere are ingrained with part of their creator, Armok.” Workerdrone paused to make a protective symbol out of habit.
“Yes, I know.”“Right. Well, unfortunately, that part is batshit crazy, like most of Armok, and flips out from time to time. In this period the dwarf in question must obtain specific items and use them to create a masterpiece, lest he or she goes insane and dies. Armok is kind of an asshole.”
“Oh?“Yes. Actually, that’s also why dwarves sometimes lapse into strange accents, using words like ‘aye’ or ‘nae’ or, rarely, ‘ken’ and then start speaking normally again. Humans over here seem to do it too, although I’ll be damned if I know why. It’s because we share some of his DNA.”
”You’re aware that makes no sense, right?”“He’s an Old God, it doesn’t have to. I thought you’d know this. You do have an all access pass into my mind, right?”
”Give me some credit. I’m not poking around in your mind without your permission!”“Oh. Well, thank you.”
”Don’t mention it. What were we talking about again?”“Kogan?”
”Oh, yes, that lad. What’s his full name, anyway?”“Uh, Kogan… Truebasements, I think.”
Workerdrone looked up. The axe had fallen silent and from the telepathic bond, he could vaguely tell that something was up.
“Hello?” he asked, tapping it.
”Truebasements...” the axe whispered.
“S’right, Truebasement,” said Workerdrone happily.
”Shit” muttered the axe.
”And the actions of a Truebasment will rid the world of the Shards.”“What?” asked Workerdrone. “What the hell are you talking about?”
If the axe could have looked up at him urgently, it would have.
”Kogan must survive,” it said.
“Huh? Why?” asked Workerdrone, confused.
”Kogan must survive,” repeated Reaper.
”If he doesn’t, we’re all dead. Take my word for it lad, I’d rather not try and explain. I don’t even want to know how much time we have left.”“No! No, I’m not saving that stupid bastard. Never, okay?” said Workerdrone.
”You will help me do this, or I will not swing for you,” said Reaper.
Workerdrone laughed. “That’s ridiculous!” he said. “Watch.”
He reached out and grabbed the axe and tried to lift it above his head. He was met with such resistance that he fell forwards, crashing onto the ground.
”I dictate whether or not I swing, lad,” said the axe. Workerdrone tried to lift it, his muscles standing out on his body, but he couldn’t budge the axe an inch. It glowed, faintly. He gave up.
“Fine,” he muttered. “What do we do?”
”You said all he needed was adamantine, right?” asked Reaper.
“Yes,” said Workerdrone, sulkily.
”Then we need to get to a forge.” said the axe.
“There’s one about an hours walk from here, in a small village,” said Bromrek, coming up behind them.
”Oh yes, and Bromrek’s back,” said Reaper, as Workerdrone jumped to his feet in shock.
“You didn’t mention that?” he asked, angrily.
“I didn’t know he was here until about ten minutes ago.”“When I told him,” nodded Bromrek.
“When did you get back?” asked Workerdrone.
“Last night. I’ve been all over the continent, just… gathering information. It’s what I do best,” he replied. “And then last night I stayed and listened a while. So, Kogan needs adamantine?”
“Yeah,” growled Workerdrone. “And apparently it’s imperative that we save him.”
Bromrek nodded. “I don’t know the full story, but something about his family’s fortress holds the key. I learned it on my travels. The name changes, but the idea stays the same. Apparently, this isn’t the first demonic invasion.”
“Huh. Bugger. But how the hell are we going to get our hands on adamantine?” asked Workerdrone.
“I’ve been thinking about that too,” said Bromrek. “Adamantine is a magical substance. It can come in large quantities, but more often small. Very, very small. And small is enough.”
”What are you saying, lad?”“You have an abonormally large amount of adamantine in you, even for an artefact, right?”
”What? No. No! That’s my soul you’re talking about!“Reaper, listen to me. We don’t have to take much. You won’t notice the difference. You won’t be affected. This is
vital. We can’t let Kogan die.”
There was silence as the axe thought about this and, to Workerdrone’s horror, he found he was agreeing with Bromrek, though he didn’t like it.
”O – okay. It’ll be difficult though. You’ll need a skilled weaponsmith, and if Kogan were to try he’d take it all.”“Well, we need to tell Barbarossa. A small village, you say?” asked Workerdrone.
“Yes,” replied Bromrek. Workerdrone made to move off and paused.
“Will you be wanting Reaper back?” he asked.
“No, it’s okay. I’ve got a few spares,” he replied, indicating the two mammoth axes crisscrossing his back. Workerdrone nodded.
A small village, one hour laterKogan was sitting in the corner, looking at his raw material and muttering to himself. Clustered around the forge, with the smith unconscious in the corner, Bromrek, Tamunshin, Workerdrone, Vilien and Oldbeard made preparations. That is to say, Oldbeard set up the forge, and yelled at the rest if they so much as tried to help.
“I’m doing it, I’m
doing it. You’d just mess it up, blast ye,” he said. “Okay, this’ll be complicated. Very complicated. You said the adamantine is mostly in the middle? Right. What I’m going to do is a secret procedure, past down father to son over the –“
“How does it work?” interrupted Vilien.
“What?” said Oldbeard, annoyed at having been interrupted.
“How does it work?” Vilien repeated. “Extracting the adamantine without harming the metal?”
“Ah, well,’ Oldbeard looked embarrassed, “it’s a complicated, sacred process which utilises many skills and tricks to –“
“You don’t know how, do you?” said Vilien.
“Of course I bloody well know how!” said Oldbeard. “I’m doing it, aren’t I?”
“Yes, but you don’t know how it works, do you? You just know how to do it, right?” insisted Vilien. Oldbeard’s face turned red.
“Well, if you put it like
that,” He muttered.
Ten minutes later, the fire was roaring and the smithy had gotten uncomfortably hot. Oldbeard reached for the axe, and paused.
“Oh,” he said. “Oh.”
“What?” asked Tamunshin.
“Adamantine doesn’t melt at these temperatures,” he said. “I forgot. Uh, we need magma, lava, whatever, before it can.”
“
What?” said Bromrek. “You
forgot?”
“And Armok’s blood shall tame the earth’s soul,” muttered Oldbeard. “Stupid, stupid, I knew that, I
knew that.”
As the rest argued, Tamunshin sat back. He was thinking fast, something he always did in serious situations. He could… oh God, he could, couldn’t he? Even thinking about it… but no, they couldn’t read his thoughts, could they?
His sword was glowing.
”Hello!"It was night. It was dark. He was standing on a rocky plain and it extended for a thousand miles. The ground below him was constantly shifting, constantly changing, boulders, pebbles, solid granite, shifting, flowing and a skull was floating
right in front of his face trailing blue flame, radiating cold. Oh no…
”I knew you’d come crawling back!" sang the skull.
”What is it you want? Wait! Don’t tell me! You want heat."Tamunshin nodded dumbly.
”In case you’re wondering, The Holy One can make it hot enough to melt adamantine. He can even extract the exact amount you need! But why should he, hm?"“Because without Kogan, apparently, the world is doomed,” said Tamunshin, jerkily.
”Ah yes! A fine point, fine point, yes yes yes. But you are making the mistake of assuming The Holy One will let such a trivial detail get in the way. No, he requires blood. You have friends, do you not? And they won’t be expecting a sword in the back? The Holy One’s sword, no less?”Behind him, six messes of sinew, muscle and blood flashed into being.
”Here’s what we need!" said the lich, happily.
”provide. Or they’ll kill you! Decide! Decide, decide, decide, decide!”Tamunshin readied his sword.
“Fuck that,” he said simply, and battered the skull aside. It vanished with a laugh, and the horrors jumped at him.
The first one was propelled backwards several feet, his blood staining the earth.
For a second, the blood remained, before being sucking into the earth with a slurp. A deep voice laughed. The second horror had more sense than the first and ducked under the broad sweep, sending its fist? – It was impossible to tell – into Tamunshin’s gut. He doubled over, kicked it in the face? And managed to split it in two.
Once again, the blood was swallowed by a hungry earth. The first corpse melted into the ground. Tamunshin back pedalled furiously, getting out of the way of a scything appendage, before being rushed by two of the monsters. A glancing blow nearly knocked him down, but he recovered and tackled the monster to the ground, rolling over and thrusting his sword into the air, miraculously managing to catch it in the chest.
He jumped to his feet and decapitated the other assailant, just as the landscape changed once more.
The next combatant was dispatched far more easily, sidestep, decapitation.
The last one, however, was not. A mistimed swing ended up with his blade caught in the enemies chest, spraying blood everywhere, but not killing it. The landscape changed and he lost his footing, crashing to the ground.
The abomination punched him in the right arm, breaking it. Screaming, he reached up and pushed his way through the ill constructed chest of the beast, ripping out its heart.
It collapsed, and melted into the floor.
“That… ugh… that enough… for you? You… bastard…” he panted.
A laughing came from nowhere.
”Yes. Yes, I think that’ll do. Nice to have you working with us again. I told you you'd be back. As a token of our gratitude…”Tamunshin’s arm began to twinge and then, with a horrific sensation, knitted itself back together again. Suddenly, he was sitting in the smithy again, listening to the arguments of his friends. The room began to glow, faintly, almost unnoticeable thanks to the fire, its glow fighting the intruder with all its might. The room fell quiet as a thumb sized drop of adamantine pulled itself free of Reaper and floated over to Kogan, solidifying in his lap. In an instant, he had jumped up and was running to the fire, which now had a faint glowing outline. Just from looking it was possible to tell that it was so hot as to crisp someone to death in but a second, yet it radiated no heat. Kogan turned.
“Leave,” he whispered.
They did so, dragging the smith with them. Bromrek managed to grab his axe before he was swept out by the group leaving as fast as possible.
“What was
that?” he whispered.
“Interference from a dark God,” whispered the axe. Bromrek shuddered.
“Not good.”
Bromrek was well known for his understatements.
“Shit,” said Vilien, managing to capture the overall mood in a single word. He was good at that.
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Topic: To venture north, into Hell: Othtar Noloc, world at war (Read 106482 times)