Session 24: The Reality Wrinkle

Game Date: 01/05/2007 (Happy Birthday, Cat!!!)

In-Game Date: Mansday, Disander 13, early – mid-morning.

The week of Horfang.

While Grumble dreams of torture, and Rowan is dreaming of Potter’s brain getting extracted, Audric and Badger finish their midair make-out session and return to the Shield and Shingle. In the low light of the dying fire in the common room, the two make out the forms of two human males and a Halfling female. Badger recognizes the Halfling as the one who tried to pickpocket her the day before yesterday.

Greeting the two gnomes, the strangers introduce themselves as Arch and Thos, co-owners of the Gold Tabard Merchant Company, based in the Eastgate district. Their associate (the Halfling) is named Thelva, who gives them a bawdy wink. Arch compliments her on the picking of the “unpickable” lock, and has heard other favorable tales of her exploits. Badger realizes, as Arch is talking, that he is idly tracing the sigil of the thieves guild on the table top with a bit of spilled ale. Badger, eyes narrowing, wonders aloud what any of this has to do with her.

Arch calmly and cordially replies that first, they appreciate her handling of the unfortunate pick-pocketing incident. The city guard is a bit edgy of late, and have been treating criminals much more roughly. Secondly, when Arch learned of the relationship between the thugs who’ve been extorting businesses in Brindinsford and the infestation of wererats, he put two and two together, thinking of the bell tower rumored to be crawling with rats. He sent a few men to the tower to investigate this past morning, and the men haven't been seen since. These men were quite capable, Arch assures her. So consider this a fair warning for anyone thinking of heading into the tower.

Badger thanks him coolly and bids the three of them good-night. Thelva gives Audric a resounding smack on his butt on her way out. Badger grinds her teeth, barely restraining herself from sinking a kukri between the little rogue’s departing shoulder blades. Muttering darkly under her breath, she stomps upstairs to bed.

“What?” calls Audric. “So we both got our asses spanked today. Big deal.” The door to their room slams in response.

Meanwhile, Nialia has entered her meditative trance under the naked boughs of the old oak tree in Amrauthlin’s grove. Clearing her mind of the day’s trials, she sighs in pleasure, feeling the tree’s slow pulse beneath her. Suddenly an image springs to her mind, unbidden. She sees the party struggling and screaming, dimly lit by a fiery red glow. The scene flashes to another, as if jumping forward in time by a few seconds, then jumps again. Then there is a pearly bright glow that fills her vision, then nothing, only crying, as if heard from a long way off.

Nialia’s eyes snap open. Coming out of her trance, she feels a pull towards the tree. Just like the night before, she steps through the tree and emerges into the silent darkness of the Old Forest. This time, Araven stands there waiting, in elven form. Araven sees Nialia’s expression and asks her what the matter is. Nialia tells Araven of what she saw in her mind during her meditation.

Araven’s eyes grow wide. “You’ve had a vision? Such are not unheard of. Your visits to the forest might have sparked them. We see things in our minds; sometimes things long past, some things that happening now. Some are things that have yet to be. I had a vision, years ago, of you. I saw myself giving you the ceremony that awakened you Lythari blood. I saw Burn…” and here Araven trails off, and a look of resignation flashes across her face like a wisp of cloud over a full moon. “Well, I have seen other things as well,” the wolf queen finishes.

“Will this vision come to pass?” asks Nialia

Araven steps close to Nialia and takes her hand. “I have had visions of calamity before,” she says softly. “Some I have been able to circumvent. Other times fate runs its course despite my strivings.”

Nialia nods. Araven smiles, releasing her hand and stepping back. “I have more pleasant news for you, my young cub. There is someone wants to see you.” Across the clearing steps Bristle! Nialia squeals with joy, and Bristle trots over and nuzzles Nialia’s head with his own, snorting happily.

Bristle has been hunting down the last of the twig blights with the Bear Clan. They are fairly certain they’ve gotten the last of them; none have been sighted in the forest in over a week. He tells Nialia that he has been missing his druid companion, Kinna, but that he has also been thinking much of her. Lythari and unicorn walk together through the woods, until the eastern sky brightens and the birds begin to sing to the first rosy hints of dawn. Reluctantly Nialia goes back to the oak tree and heads into the beckoning portal. Once more she emerges in Amrauthlen’s grove. Amrauthlen greets her, and the two eat breakfast together before Nialia heads for the inn.

Rowan wakes from her nightmare feeling sick with dread. At first light, she throws on her clothes and heads out into the frosty pre-dawn air. She rounds on the first person she sees, stopping just short of grabbing them by the collar and shaking the hapless fellow.

“A silver if you can tell me where I can get a scrying done!”

“Ah… have ye tried the university? The wizards there do powerful magicks, I hear tell,” he stammers.

Rowan flips him the promised coin as she sets off in the pointed direction. She arrives at the librarium to find the lights on, but the great front door locked. She paces impatiently for perhaps ten minutes or so before she sees Kartharine approaching the steps of the library, a steaming mug of some liquid in her hands.

“Can we help, you, miss?” Kartharine enquires. Rowan explains who she is and what she needs.

“Rowan Liadon…” the loremaster repeats. “Your father is Larren Liadon? Hmm. I never met him, but I know of him. Follow me.”

She takes Rowan across the courtyard and into another building. They enter a large room that is part classroom, part wizards’ lab. Rowan has Potter’s letter to her to give Kartharine as a focus for the spell. Kartharine steps up to a crystal mirror and performs the incantation. The surface clouds up, and Rowan nearly pushes Kartharine aside to get a look as the cloudiness fades to reveal…

Potter rising from a bath, his skin steaming in the morning air. As Kartharine’s eyebrows arch, Rowan blushes furiously. “Uh. Sorry. Yeah. He looks fine.”

Kartharine’s demeanor cracks slightly as the corners of her mouth twitch upwards. “Yes, I should think so.” She watches Rowan’s discomfiture with amusement for a few more seconds, then breaks the spell, and the mirror returns to reflecting normally. Rowan, still apologizing, thanks the loremaster for her help, and prepares to leave, relief and embarrassment fighting for domination over her face.

“If you see your dwarven companion,” says Kartharine, “tell him I have found information that he may find useful.” Rowan encounters Nialia on her way back to the inn, and the two of them fall silently into step with each other, both lost in their thoughts.

Audric and Badger are downstairs plowing through a hearty breakfast and wondering where the heck their companions are. Grumble comes down the stairs as if in a trance and begins to eat in stony silence. The gnomes stare at him. He ignores them.

“Sleep well?” asks Badger brightly.

“No, and I don’t want to talk about it,” says Grumble. Audric’s eyes narrow slightly. He stares intently at Grumble, then nods to himself.

“I got some errands. You guys hanging around?” asks the dwarf.

“I’ll be here, at least,” says Audric. “Toreal may need further healing.”

“Fine,” barks Grumble, and leaves.

He walks past Rowan and Nialia on his way out.

“Hey Grumble,” calls the ranger, “Kartharine has some information for you!”

“Whatever,” replies the dwarf without slowing or turning his head. Heading to the moneylender’s guild for some of his savings, he then heads to Shooma’s for an enchantment on the silver waraxe he purchased. Shooma tells him to come back in an hour. Grumble heads to the library, but on the way asks a few likely suspects who might know what to do with a redcap’s tooth. He encounters a strange old man with a bulging eye and a crooked cane who claims to have been a mighty hunter of the fey in his youth. He tells Grumble that a redcap’s tooth can either be used to make the fey more amenable to you when dealing with them, or it can be ground up and used in powder form. Alchemists usually pay good money for them, due to the fact that killing redcaps is a risky proposition at best.

Thanking the weird old man, Grumble heads to the librarium.

Kartharine smiles at Grumble. “I did some research last night. Apparently, the last Goldenaxe’s weapon had a large topaz in the center of the blade. The fact that your axe does not would seem to lend credence to the theory that it’s an enchanted replica.”

“Yeah,” says Grumble, “I know about the topaz. I watched the Goldenaxe put it into my axe, then I dreamed about an orc cleric ramming the gem into my skull. I think it killed me with it.” He laughs. “I’ve had a rough night.”

Kartharine studies him for a moment. “Come with me,” she orders, and leads Grumble to the room where she led Rowan. This time she lays a circle on the floor and has Grumble stand in the center. “Now,” she commands, “tell me what happened.”

Grumble does, telling her of the dream and the fight, and the fact that he’s been seeing Augur every morning for a week now, and how Auger turned out to be an “echo” of the Goldenaxe Aukraugrimmer. Kartharine is silent except for a few pointed questions for clarification. Grumble concludes his story, telling Kartharine that he thinks the soul of the last Goldenaxe is trapped in the axe somehow.

Kartharine fetches a comrade of hers, a small, stooped gnomish wizard. Together they cast several spells over Grumble’s axe. After a few long minutes of careful study, they pronounce the axe to be soul-free by all means of detection they possess. The gnome leaves, and Kartharine sighs and sits down on a nearby bench.

“If your dream was a true sending,” she says slowly, “then I don’t think the soul is trapped in the axe, but in the gem, the family jewel of Aukraugrimmer’s family. Let me tell you another tale I came across. This comes from from the reign of Goldenaxe Angbahar. He was only Goldenaxe ever assassinated, poisoned by his enemies. He was resurrected the next day later by dwarven clerics of Moradin.

“Even though he had been dead for close to a day, his weapon did not disappear.

According to the accounts, Angbahar claims that when he came before the Hall of Valuation (the dwarven pearly gates), he was denied entrance by a figure shrouded in wisps of smoke. Angbahar insisted that he was worthy to enter the great hall below, where the valorous dwelt forever. The figure responded that Angbahar’s soul would not yet be allowed to rest, for there were those calling it back to the world above.

“Thus did Angbahar awake, still tightly gripping his weapon. When he did die, some 85 years later, his weapon disappeared in a few scant moments. The next night, his grandson, Angramman, underwent his vigil, and emerged with a new weapon as the next Goldenaxe.”

“I believe there is but one weapon in many forms, and each time it is released when the soul of the Goldenaxe reaches its spiritual rest after death. It is entirely possibly that you are the first dwarf to hold the axe in thousands of years. The gods alone know how the weapon got from the clutches of those evil clerics to that druid you killed¹.”

Grumble, his head spinning, picks his weapon up from Shooma and heads back to the inn. The enormity of the quest that seems to be unraveling before him sits on his chest like a weight.

Meanwhile, Toreal awakes just after Rowan and Nialia arrive. They fill the druid in on everything that happened last night. Toreal is impatient to be off to the bookstore. As Grumble does not return, Toreal’s restlessness spreads among the others. Finally, Toreal heads off to her shrine to prepare to “investigate” the bookstore, telling the others to meet her at her shrine in a little less than an hour.

The time crawls by, and still no Grumble. Everyone but Audric heads to the shrine. Audric waits in the common room for another half hour before Grumble returns. Audric fills Grumble in on the plan. Grumble was all set to bust some were-rat heads, but really just wants to hit something hard.

En route to the shrine, Grumble decides to test his newly enchanted weapon. “Check this out,” says the dwarf, and whack’s Audric in the butt with the flat of the axeblade. Audric flies forward, sprawling facedown on the pavement.

“Ow.” Rubbing his backside, Audric stands up gingerly. “Grumble?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you enchant that axe to be magically damaging to shapechangers?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, that’ll come in handy. Come on, we’re late.”

They arrive at the shrine to find everyone there waiting for them. Toreal is practically foaming at the mouth. It is a tense walk to the Reality Wrinkle bookstore.

The Reality Wrinkle is a fairly non-descript store, much like those around it. The first floor is stone, and atop that sit two more stories made primarily of wood. Upon arriving at the store, it is decided that Grumble and Toreal, the two people who would look very, very conspicuous in a bookstore, should remain outside until a signal is given. The rest of the party heads in to “browse”.

In the store, waves of disorientation sweep over everyone. Nialia realizes that the sensations of wrongness she’s been feeling are focused here in this place. Everyone else feels varying degrees of unease. A pallid, spindly man with a badly-shaved head approaches them. His eyes are filmy, and he all but drools as he asks them if he can be of assistance. The party distracts the shopkeeper while Badger sneaks behind the counter and investigates the back room. She finds another man sitting at a table, and staircases leading up and down.

Back in the store area, the shopkeeper displays a surprising amount of wherewithal as he notices the gnome’s disappearance. He looks at them suspiciously. Out of the corner of his mouth, Audric whispers to Rowan, “when I give the signal, ask the guy where they took the Paladin.” Rowan raises her eyebrows, but agrees.

Fearing that someone may have gone back behind the counter, the shopkeeper becomes increasingly agitated. Audric nods at Rowan, and shuts his eyes as she asks the question.

The shopkeeper glares at them. “I think you all better leave,” he slurs in a growl.

Audric’s eyes snap open. “They have him downstairs!” he yells, sliding his mace from its holder. Toreal charges up the steps and bursts through the wooden doors of the shop. Grumble comes in and clocks the shopkeeper in the head, knocking the poor man against a far wall. Toreal charges over the counter and rips aside the curtain that separates the bookstore from the back room. Unfortunately, this was what the man in the back room had been waiting for, and he zaps Toreal with a spell. Badger slips down the staircase in the confusion and tumult, noting with some displeasure that the feelings of disorientation are worsening as she enters the basement. Also, she can hear a strange gibbering that is really, really getting on her nerves. Finding no one in the immediate area of the first basement room, she sets to picking the lock on the only door in the basement. The disorientation affects her lockpicking skills, and it takes her several tries to succeed. By this time, the party upstairs has taken down the magic user in the back room and has followed in Badger’s footsteps down the steps. They crowd around the door, ready for anything. Badger throws open the door.

The source of the gibbering becomes horribly apparent, as a grayish mass of seething, amorphous eyes and mouths sways between two chanting men. In the far corner of the room lies a partially armored man, curled in a ball, covering his ears and rocking back and forth. This would seem to be Alaine.

The sorcerers attack the newcomers as they enter the room, and the aberration between them assaults the minds of the party with its confusion effect. Oh, and it spits acid at everyone’s eyes.

The room itself is an affront to the very nature of reality. Space is not what it seems in this room, angles that should not exist clearly do, and everything seems to be spinning in several directions at once, at different speeds.

The magic users don’t seem to be hampered by these effects, and fight desperately against the party. Toreal seems especially susceptible to the gibbering madness of the aberration on the floor. Half of the fight the young paladin’s squire is reduced to babbling incoherently herself. Even Badger is overcome for a moment and starts to flee out of the bookstore before the effect wears off and she rejoins the fight.

Evidently the sorcerers saw the gnome flee and gave her no more thought. This proves to be a costly error, for when she returns, she creeps up behind each sorcerer in turn and takes them both down with cunning sneak attacks.

Grumble finds himself fighting off the advances (and more acid spittle) of the aberration. Slashing weapons seem to do it little damage, and poison seems to have no effect at all. But together the party does manage to hurt it, and it retreats back towards a corner (for a given, non-Euclidean definition of “corner”), softening the ground around it into a morass akin to quicksand. Grumble, Audric and Badger are forced back away from the thing in order to avoid being sucked into the mire. Toreal, however, charges in, unaware of the treacherous footing. She trips, plunges into the morass, falls to one side and knocks herself senseless against a bookshelf. The aberration eagerly envelops the poor paladin in training, and the party looks on in horror, unsure that they can strike at the thing without hitting Toreal.

Finally, Audric sighs, and sticks a glove hand into one of the things questing mouths. He winces with the pain as it bites him, but with his free hand he casts a powerful inflict spell, bursting the thing open like the skin on soup that’s been left uncovered for a day or so. The thing is clearly dead, and they pull the paladin out from it’s innards.

Taking the two paladins with them, the party is only too happy to go back upstairs to where the laws of physics don’t seem to be so grossly violated. Rowan has broken her wrist in the fight and was hit by a ray of enfeeblement, so Audric sets to work curing all these conditions.

The party eyes the stairs up to the next level with trepidation. Alaine and Toreal aren’t going to be fit for fighting, but they can at least serve as a rear guard to warn the party if someone tries to get up the stairs after them. The party realizes that none of the sorcerers they’ve fought so far have been women, so their primary foe has yet to be encountered. The heroes rest for as long as they dare, then, with the blessings of Alaine, they make ready to head up the stairs to the two floors above…

¹though it makes you wonder if Belak knew what the axe was, considering his promise of making Grumble a king among dwarves. Creepy how the GM ties all this stuff together, huh?

Session 23: What Dreams May Come

Game Date: 12/22/2007
In-Game Date: Godsday, Disander 12, midafternoon – Mansday, Disander 13, morning.
The week of Horfang.

Nialia tracks the trail of the grimlocks through the back alleys of the West Hill to a door leading down into a dark stairwell at the rear of an old stone building. Rowan, staring down into the inky darkness, remembers her father talking about fighting grimlocks once. During one battle, their sorcerer cast silence around the party, while the druid’s skunk animal companion kept spraying the area. It smelled horrible, but the grimlocks couldn’t smell or hear the party, and turned a hard fight into a one-sided slaughter. When Rowan informs the rest of the party of the grimlocks’ weaknesses, Audric gets an idea.
He dashes to the closest confectionary shop, to the great confusion of the following party. There he procures several flasks of pure peppermint oil with a smirk on his face. The smell taken care of, the party breaks out the skull charms taken from the orc tribe, and Nialia takes out the skull staff.
Thus prepared, the party returns to the stairs leading down beneath the streets. The stairs, however, are merely a way to travel under the wide street that separates the West Hill area from the Eastgate area. The trail continues to wind around in the back alleys, finally terminating at the rear of an abandoned warehouse.
The party enters the warehouse through the only available means: a single window that has been broken. They have activated the staff, so they make no sound. They enter to find an inky blackness that no light seems to penetrate. They can barely see each other, even standing inches away from each other. Even Grumble’s darkvision does not seem to help him. Listening hard, they can hear stealthy noises, as though several somethings were creeping towards them. Audric hurls his vial of peppermint oil to the ground, and the still warehouse air is quickly filled with overpowering odor. After some fumbling about (on the part of both friends and foes), the party literally runs into the grimlocks, who can neither see nor hear them. Unfortunately, the party can’t see the grimlocks in the magical darkness. Still, things definitely took a turn for the "oops" as Grumble yells, breaking the silence charm of the skull staff.
The grimlocks, now able to pinpoint their foes through keen hearing, attack at once. Audric casts a light spell, dispelling the magical darkness around them. But the grimlocks' sense of smell is still hampered by the peppermint oil; the fight is still very one-sided in the party's favor. The grimlock female leader turns invisible and attempts a death attack on Grumble, but the hardy dwarf shakes off the effect. The party quickly surrounds her and cuts her down, with Audric stabilizing her before she dies.
They question her, and it turns out that she led her tribe into the city under orders. She was to kill and cause havoc in the city. She was ordered by someone who spoke in her dreams. Someone even a grimlock feared greatly. There was another, she said, who gave her orders. This was a human female who smelled like paper.
When she runs out of answers for the party, they finish her cleanly. On her corpse is a veritable alchemist shop of poisons, and Grumble is very happy that she didn’t have time to apply them all to her blade. All abou them are corpses of abducted citizens, most of which have been partially or completely devoured. There must be nearly thirty bodies in this lair/ larder. Suddenly even Nialia's sensitive nose is extremely grateful for the overwhelming aroma of peppermint.
Returning to the scene of the first grimlock attack, the party meets the city guards and direct them to the warehouse. The party overhears citizens wondering why someone named Alaine wasn’t here to prevent this, or at least aid in the killing of the grimlocks.
Questioning a nearby onlooker, they learn that Alaine is a paladin of Heironeous who keeps a small shrine nearby. He patrols the area of the city, helping to keep the peace and always ready to help the neighborhood citizens. He is well-liked, and there is concern in the citizen’s expression as he wonders why no-one has seen him since a day or so ago.
Tired and sore from the multiple encounters of the day, everyone trudges back to the inn and finally gets a chance to compare notes. Over supper, Grumble, Audric and Badger share what they learned about the house of Bel at the library, and Rowan tells of the rangers.
Afterwards, Grumble leaves to get his javelins from Shooma’s smithy. Nialia excuses herself to head to the grove and find Amrauthlen. Audric and Badger, the party decides, are to go and investigate the shrine where the paladin disappeared from.
Grumble finds his enchanted javelins to be everything he hoped for, and even tries a few casts at some archery butts Shooma keeps in the adjoining alley. He hasn't been this happy since he found the bottle of ha'ak.
Nialia finds Amrauthlin in his grove, where he thanks her for her aid in killing the aberration that slew Grelleck. After some small talk, both elf and lythari climb into the sturdy branches of the ancient oak tree and watch the sun set over the walls of the city.
At the shrine of Heironeous, Audric and Badger find the small chapel to be well-lit and tidy, but currently empty. A closed door leads off the chapel into a small room where the paladin and his squire live. Audric keeps watch outside while Badger searches the room. Unlocking a trunk, Badger forgets to check for traps, and narrowly evades taking the full force of the resulting fireball that bursts out at her. She does get singed, but is surprised that she and Audric cry out in pain at the same time.
Finally the truth comes out that Audric has been casting a spell on her that transfers some of the damage dealt to Badger to himself using the platimun ring he gave her. Still in the chapel, the two argue, unaware that an angry paladin’s squire is standing in the entranceway to the shrine.
A hasty explanation is necessary to prevent violence, but Badger and Audric finally convince the suspicious young woman named Toreal that they meant no harm, and wanted to help find the missing paladin. Toreal tells them that Alaine went to investigate a disturbance reported by a nearby neighbor who feared to investigate it for himself. Alaine never returned, and no trace of him was found at the scene the next morning. Audric and Badger fear the work of Grimlocks, and tell Toreal so. She thanks them and promises to investigate the warehouse (where the grisly remains of the grimlocks’ night-time forays were kept). As the two gnomes leave, Toreal smacks Badger hard on the rear with the flat of her blade, warning her not to meddle with the possessions of others.
As the two head back towards the inn, Audric accidentally lets slip that he can detect thoughts of others. Badger is momentarily dismayed, but Audric reassures her that firstly, he doesn’t do it to the party members (anymore), and secondly, it was the beauty and innocence of Badger’s mind that attracted him to her. “Physical beauty isn’t something really prized by shapeshifters,” he tells her. “But you can’t hide your mind, and the beauty I see there is what made it impossible for me to harm you.”
As Badger accepts this, they hear a cry from behind them. In the dim light (now that night has fallen across the city), they can see a cloud of fog around the small shrine. The two race back, searching through the fog for Toreal.
Badger spies two hunched figures carrying an unmoving Toreal between them. She yells for Audric and charges in, sword swinging. The two men turn out to be magic users, but Audric and Badger are more than a match for them.
Toreal, regaining consciousness (even after being spelled to sleep, then dropped on her head), and identifies one of the men as someone who works in a bookstore called the Reality Wrinkle. Apparently there was a suspicious death there last week that she and Alaine investigated for the city. Lacking any other evidence, they accepted the story that the man fell down the stairs and broke his neck, but the man did have many strange marks on him, almost like small bite wounds.
The gnomes decide to take Toreal back to the inn with them, as it obviously isn’t safe for her here.
Rowan and Grumble are waiting when they get back, and the gnomes tell their story, along with Toreal. They put Toreal in Rowan’s room, though the ranger isn’t thrilled about it. Rowan heads off to bed shortly thereafter, as does Grumble.
Audric takes Badger atop the city walls, where tells her that he wants to end the day with a good surprise and holds her tightly to him. After a leap from the wall, Badger realizes that Audric has grown a pair of large, feathery wings and they are flying!
The rest of the party, it seems, is not having such a great night. Rowan dreams of Potter. He rushes up to her, exclaiming that although he dreams of her all the time, this dream feels oddly real. He kisses her, but as he does, the sky around them grows dark, and out of the trees, a shadowy, cloaked form approaches. Although Rowan cannot see his face, she gets the impression of large, pale eyes, full of inhuman malice and an evil older than men.
Potter and Rowan scream as they feel a wave of battering hate in their minds. Another hits them, and another, driving them to their knees. The robed figure stoops over Potter and draws his head towards the opening of the hood almost lovingly. Potter screams, and above the screams Rowan can hear a sickening snapping and crunch, followed by a nauseatingly wet, organic noise. She rushes forward, but there are branches in her way now. She pushes through them to find Sellim sobbing over the corpse of his slain brother, Grelleck.
To her horror, Grelleck turns his head towards her, and his mouth begins to move, still oozing blood. “When hellfire burns the holy sanctuary, the empire below shall rise above. The outcast shall gather to him all evil, and the speaker in dreams shall become god of this world and the next.”
Grumble’s dream is even worse, if possible. His dream, too, seems more like reality. He lies naked on a stone table, heavy iron manacles binding his hands, legs and neck. His hair is gone, and his left eye has been ripped out. He rmembers that for the past two days, he has been tortured by evil orc clerics. All the clerics have no left eye; the mark of the worshippers of Grummush.
Grumble’s body is a ruin. Each of his fingers has been broken. Hot stones have been applied to his joints, leaving him crippled. Around him, he can barely make out other stone tables. With an anguished croak, his parched mouth trembles as he remembers he has watched as his entire family was tortured as well, then ultimately slain.
A form approaches his table. The head priest. In a metal box the priest carries Grumble’s sacred weapon. In the center of the axe is a large topaz: his family’s jewel. The priest takes several stone tools, and with dark incantations removes the gem from the axe. Laughing demonically, the priest sets the gem against the flat end of something that looks like an icicle. More priests appear , chanting, out of the foul mist and smoke of the chamber. With the same stone tools, the head priest carves runes and symbols into Grumbles helpless flesh: on his forehead, above his heart, his belly, his groin, and on each hand and foot. Grumble tries not to scream, but the pain is unbearable. Even so, all that escapes his ragged lungs is a croak barely recognizable as something that could come from a dwarven throat. The head priest howls a few final words, and all the others fall silent. For a moment, all the marks carved into him seem to burn as if aflame, then the priest slams the icicle down into Grumble’s forehead and everything goes black.
Grumble awakes, soaked in sweat. Auger sits across from him, staring with something almost akin to compassion in his eyes.
“You had to know,” says Auger, as Grumble continues to draw deep, gasping breaths. “There is no training today. Follow me.” Grumble pulls on his armor, takes his axe and heads out of his room into the hallway of the inn. The hallway seems longer than it was last night. At the end of the hallway is a low stone door, the lintels of which are carved with dwarvish runes Grumble cannot read.
Auger stands beside it, looking at Grumble, his face expressionless. “You must go through this door. At the end there will be a fight. Afterwards, you will know what to do. Remember your forms.”
Heaving the heavy door open, Grumble sees a lightless stone corridor descending at a steady slope down as far as his eyes can see. With a deep breath, he begins walking.
The tunnel seems to go down and on forever. Grumble has the curious sensation that he is traveling not only through space, but perhaps time itself. Finally, the hallway ends in another stone door exactly like the first. Opening it, Grumble emerges into a small chapel room. The only decoration, aside from a few ornate stained glass windows, is a low stone altar. Before that altar kneels a dwarf clad in royal armor. At the sound of the intrusion, the dwarf turns to looks at Grumble. Around his head is a metal circlet set with a large topaz… the topaz from Grumble’s dream!
The two stare at each other for a long moment. Finally the dwarf smiles. “Well,” says he, “I didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this.” He eyes Grumble’s axe with a hungry look.
“I think we’re supposed to fight,” says Grumble. The other dwarf nods, as if Grumble was commenting about the weather, taking his own dwarven waraxe from the stone table. The dwarf salutes Grumble, reciting a formal, ritual opening to a duel. Grumble says a few words he doesn’t remember ever having learned, but he knows that they are the words that must be said.
Then they close in, weapons ready. Grumble and the other dwarf quickly find the measure of each other. For the first several strokes, the two seem evenly matched. The other dwarf is a good fighter, but Grumble’s experience and ferocity begin to wear down the other dwarf’s defenses as the two continue to trade heavy blows in silence.
Finally, Grumble catches and locks the dwarf’s axe blade together with his own, and with a quick flick of the wrist sends it spinning across the floor of the chapel. Before the other dwarf can react, Grumble has his blade against the dwarf’s throat.
“I am defeated,” says the dwarf formally, breathing hard.
“Then may your first defeat be your only defeat,” intones Grumble, the words coming to his lips without his conscious control, “arise the Goldenaxe, with all favor of the gods, and rule your people wisely and well.”
The other dwarf bows, then fetches his axe. Grumble feels a tug from his own axe. He knows that he should give his axe to the dwarf. Reluctantly, he does so. The dwarf’s eyes light up as there is a flash. The topaz from the circlet has vanished, and now rests in the center of the axeblade. He holds Grumble’s axe aloft, the topaz winking as if aglow from some inner fire.
“By this Goldenaxe I rule,” he intones. Then he lowers it, clutching at his ribs with a wince.
“You are an exceptional warrior, master dwarf. If it is allowed, may I have the honor of knowing your name.”
Grumble looks away. “I have no name, nor clan. It was taken from me.”
The Goldenaxe purses his lips. “I know not what may have befallen you, but the gods obviously have honored you, else you would not be here to bestow the Goldenaxze with his sacred weapon. Therefore, with the gods permission, I shall give you a new name. “I, Arkraugrimmer, Goldenaxe that is, son of Arkrauthammer, Goldenaxe that was, son of Kronthammer, Goldenaxe that was, name you Morkalek, King’s Guardian, with all honor due to that name. This shall be my first decree as Goldenaxe that is.”
Here Arkraugrimmer pauses, and looks at Grumble. “I do not think we shall see each other again,” he says slowly. “But my heart tells me that you shall serve me again ere I am done with this world. Go in honor and valor, noble Morkalek. May Moradin keep you and Kron’nock guide your steps.”
With that, he bows one last time to Grumble and walks out the stone door that Grumble entered through. Grumble is silent and still for a long time. Finally, he picks up the waraxe left by the Goldenaxe and opens the door again. Nothing greets his eyes but the same long hallway that now slopes upwards. He wearily begins his ascent.
Auger is waiting outside the second door. “It had to be done thusly,” he says. Something bothers Grumble. The look on Auger’s face. Grumble stares. If Auger was many years younger, his hair dark instead of shock white, he would look just like…
“Arkraugrimmer,” breathes Grumble. “ArkrAUGRimmer! You’re him!”
Auger shakes his head sadly. “I am his shadow,” he says. “Not the dwarf himself.” Grumble looks confused. “I am just an echo, trapped in your weapon.”
Grumble looks down at the axe in his hands. It is his magical axe, the same he has had these past months. “What happened to you, then?”
Auger looks pained. “You dreamt it. You felt it. But I do not know what actually happened. That is for you to discover. My recollection is… clouded.”
“However,” Auger continues, “you passed your test, and are now a member of the ancient order of the Dwarven Axemaster. Hail and welcome, Morkalek, Master of the Axe!” Auger grips Grumble’s right bicep firmly, and Grumble feels like someone just pressed an ice cube to his skin on his upper arm.
“You now bear the mark of the Axemaster. No one can remove that mark save by taking your arm first. Do not let them!” He looks deadly serious for a moment, and then breaks into a wintery smile. Releasing Grumble’s arm, he turns and walks away down the hall.
“Your friends will have sore need of your strength in the days to come, Morkalek,” says Auger without turning, “but you will need theirs as well. Trust in them as you would your axe arm, and you may prevail.”
With that, he turns the corner and is gone.