SDMB RPG: Shadows of Arcady

The Game Room
241

Arrow leads the group through the city to the site of his attack. The body is as the half-elf left it and it confirms Dur’dan’s fears. This dwarf was young, likely no more than a hundred. He has no food or water on him: He can’t be far from his base of operations. Arrow heads back up to the balcony where he was ambushed, along with Kittix, and looks down into the street as the others gather around the body.

“I wonder what happen now. Don’t think boss expected things being living here.” Kittix sniffs at where Arrow and the dwarf fell through, a bit of blood smeared on the shattered remains of a rail.

“Duergar? Here? This can’t be a greydwarf delve, can it?” Oshro is stunned at the find.

Jon interrupts: “Excuse me, dwarf, but what in Tartarus is a duergar?”

Before either of the Ironbeards can answer there is a soft whistle from up above. Arrow gestures towards a nearby intersection with one hand, signalling with four of his fingers with his other.

“We’re about to have company.” Jon draws his weapon. “What do we do?”

242

Arrow will strain to draw his bow and prepare for a fight.

“It looks like I’m gonna need you to watch my back again, old friend.”

243

Dur’dan draws his axe and turns to the others.

“Do not attack. Let them make the first move. The grey skin attacked the elf because he is an outsider. Him being here is trespassing. But my nephew and I are Dwarves! We might be able to talk this out instead of spilling more blood. However, there is a small chance for diplomacy. It doesn’t hurt to try.”

Dur’dan will have his weapon drawn, but lowered to attempt to look as less threatening as possible. He will try and motion to Arrow to stand down unless we come under siege.

244

Dur’dan turns to kahn, “hide the body!”

245

Karikhan nods in understanding, and will attempt to quickly move the gray dwarf’s body out of sight nearby. He can do nothing for the blood in the area, though. Khan will stay with the dwarf’s body, and cast groundforge to bury it quickly and quietly as possible.

“Make your diplomacy somewhere else,” Karikhan says. “Here, there are signs of battle all around.” To Jikhal, Khan says in Shelic -

I will be close by, but out of sight. If diplomacy fails, shout to me.

246

While following Arrow and the party, Hob continues the conversation he started with himself:

“You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was some foul magic at work here. Last I checked, skeletons don’t just rise up on their own, you know. Who knows, maybe even a necromancer could be involved. Yes, maybe even a necromancer…” he says, his voice lowering as he scares himself with his own talking.

When the action begins to pick up back at the grey dwarf’s body, Hob will go along with Karikhan saying, “I’ll help with the burying!”

247

The seconds pass painfully for the party, the stomping of heavy ironshod boots growing louder with each moment as the strangers approach the group’s position. Finally they round the corner, mail jingling with every step as the four grey dwarves grow nearer, finally stopping at the center of the intersection to survey the party.

At the group’s head is a middle-aged and dark grey-skinned dwarf with a long, greying beard and a pair of beady bronze eyes. He has a large pock mark on his left cheek and a bulbous, mushroom nose. He is wrapped in a thick wool traveling cloak, beneath it a black tabard and chain. A heavy steel helm rests upon his head, casting his eyes and upper face into shadow. A massive sword is strapped to his back, nearly taller than he is.

To his left and right are younger duergar, each of them with short black beards and armored in boiled leather, chain coifs at their heads beneath leather and iron caps. Each are armed with short swords, though one, slightly pudgier than his fellows, also has a crossbow hanging from a loop of leather cord on his belt.

The fourth deep dwarf, at the rear of the group, is ancient, his long, snow-white beard triple coiled around his waist. Despite his advanced age, which shows in the deep wrinkles on his grizzled face, this fourth dwarf seems as fit as his kin, arms and legs thick and powerful. He is wearing a black surcoat over a heavy set of chain. On his chest is the crest of his clan: A pair of crossed axes set within a volcano. A battleaxe is set on hooks on his belt, his right elbow resting upon its head.

The two younger duergar seem surprised to see anyone, but their shocked eyes linger on the Ironbeards. The older dwarf is more reserved, and the elder leader of the group is unfazed entirely: Any surprise he may have he conceals utterly. He exchanges a glance with his claymore-armed companion before the latter speaks, his voice harsh and deep, to the party, in a language the player characters can identify as dwarven.

248

Dur’dan replies, while slowly closing the gap in as non hostile fashion as possible.

249

The dwarf continues his conversation with Dur’dan, at one point stepping aside and sweeping a mailed hand towards the eldest of his companions.

250

Dur’dan responds, with a slight chuckle.

251

A bit away from the main group, Hob turns to Karikhan. “So, got a shovel?”

252

John will add something, also in Dwarven.

253

The duergar seem surprised that a human can speak dwarven. After a pause, they respond.

254

John pauses, and a strange look crosses his face–one of pure contempt and hatred. He quickly regains control, however. He growls out something in Dwarven.

255

The deep dwarf grows impatient. He barks at Dur’dan and John in dwarven.

256

As the conversion continues the party can see that Dur’dan isn’t doing so well. This normally patient dwarf begins to have a slight twitch in his bicep and his face is starting to boil… he responds again in Dwarven, his voice deep and cold. His nephew has never heard him sound so bitter and hateful.

257

Dur’dan will prepare himself for an attack against him after his snide remark. More so mentally than physically as to not show his hand to the grey skins.

258

Karikhan, Hob and Jikhal drag the corpse around another corner, leaving occasional smears of blood on the stone ground every couple of yards as they go. Finally they reach a place out of sight in the shadow of a stone awning. “So, got a shovel?” Hob uses the duergar’s body to push himself upright before planting his hands on his hips and looking between the two humans.

Jikhal puts a hand on the halfling’s shoulder and eases them both a few steps back as the shaman takes a knee beside the corpse. He lifts his arms above his head, chanting quietly in his native language. Hob feels the ground beneath his feet stir uneasily. Looking to Jikhal, it seems the human can feel it, too, but is undisturbed. Karikhan slams his hands to the ground, the stone giving way like mud. He claws huge chunks of rock away with his bare fingers as if it were putty and soon he has willed open a niche in the ground. Jikhal helps him roll the corpse in and steps back for the shaman to cover the dead with rock. When he has smoothed it out, there is a noticeable bulge in the street, but one would have to mine through solid stone to unearth the corpse.

Meanwhile, Arrow keeps his bow trained on the duergar below, who seem not to have spotted him yet. Kittix keeps at his side and out of sight. “I should stay here with you, yes?” He hisses, his raspy voice low.

The duergar are becoming incensed by Dur’dan’s words, the chubby dwarf in the light armor drawing his crossbow. Oshro, the junior Ironbeard, steps between them and his uncle, hand on the handle of his axe, shield at the ready. Jonathan draws his weapon instinctively, taking up his shield. “Fredrickson!” There is alarm in his voice. “I take it they won’t yield the road?”

259

When Karikhan’s task is complete, he grips his spear with both hands. He will not try to sneak into an advantageous position, but will attempt to get close enough to help quickly if things go badly.

“Hin,” Khan whispers urgently to Hob. “You must earn your peoples’ reputation. Be swift and silent, and ready to strike, shall the Ironbeard fail with words.”

To Jikhal, he simply gestures toward the last of his javelins. No words are necessary; it is obvious he is instructing the Shelic to prepare for battle.

260

John puts a hand on his blade, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. “Nay. The bastards seem to view humans as good for nothing but slaves, and other dwarves as nothing more than human-lovers. So it looks like we’ll have to show them a thing or two about how overlanders fight.”