1.75

Stronric sat on a rock across from the newly returned human party. Dane had come in with a slight limp, Lirian held a shoulder stiffly and they all had looked tired.

“The anchor room wasn’t too hard to find.” Dane began, “Getting there was another thing. We had to crawl for a good portion, on our stomachs and through pools of freezing water. Kara froze the largest of them, so we didn’t have to swim. Lirian lead,” Dane said nodding his head in the rogue’s direction, “finding the traps the gnolls or who ever left scattered along the way. We made it to the anchor with little issue, just slow and tedious. The room itself was smaller than the other.”

“The anchor was not as established there either.” Serene continued for Dane as he tore a strip of dried meat with his teeth. “The Anchor only had a few feeders and husks. We were able to defend and cut the cords as planned easily enough, it just took more time to get to its core. In addition to fighting the shardlings, whips and shadows Lirain had to dance around deactivating traps.” She said, “The area was being expanded though and it seemed abandoned just before we arrived. There were pick axes, wood for supports, and a hastily dug tunnel that we left through.”

“After the heart beats matched we severed the line and watched the glow fade and quit. When it didn’t dive back down into the crystal vein we believed we were done. We took the newly dug tunnel out. We moved slowly on guard thinking an ambush laid ahead, but the path was empty, clear.” Serene concluded.

“We were half was down the tunnel when Kara called us to rest.” Giles said, “We pressed forward without reprieve after the fight thinking gnolls or more corrupted beasts were waiting for us. Once it became apparently clear that was not to happen, we rested. We took a moment to collect ourselves, then we pressed forward, but as luck would have it the rest fueled our escape. A rumble broke through the tunnel then the world began to shake.

“The tunnel was collapsing, the bruises and injuries are from the rocks and debris.” Giles nodded towards Lirian and Dane. “Lirian took a boulder to the shoulder and Dane's ankle was nearly crushed. And now here we are.”

“So you encountered no resistance either, besides the Anchor Stones guardians?” Rugiel asked, giving Stronric a worried look.

“Non, they could have seen the first and greatest of their Anchor Stones had fallen and decided to keep their lives.” Giles answered.

“I'm less worried about where they have gone and more concerned for what lies before us.” Stronric said he recounted their previous discussion on dungeon bosses in hopes Dane or Serene, who had traveled the lands the most may know more.

“I have never heard of such a thing occurring. It could happen, in theory. Serene said thoughtfully.

“An unknown lays ahead. Either we stumble upon a boss we have not yet faced, or we have passed by one unknowingly and will then need to walk all the way back to the start of the damned dungeon? Is that the gist of it?” Dane said his annoyance at even the possibility of walking back bleeding into his voice.

“Aye. The lack of gnolls could also mean that big arch,” Stronric pointed to the largest of tunnels. “Could be a trap and one to walk out of once in. We don’t know these tunnels, and it seems our friends do. So tomorrow we will break into smaller parties. Each taking a tunnel and ensuring if we go through that archway, we will now be pinned between a boss and an army.” Stronric’s tone brokered no argument. “Rest now, I'll take the first watch.”

Stronric stood and walked from the party. His mind was turning through plan after plan as he walked around the tunnels. He felt for drafts, listened to the sounds bounce off walls, and breathed in tasting the currents of air. The others spread out in the pocket of protection by the caved in tunnel and shortly after the sound of deep breathing was added to the mix of noises playing through Stronric’s mind.

The night passed without issue or signs of imminent attack. The party rose, ate, drank, found areas the way they came to relieve themselves.

“Parties of two.” Stronric grumbled out. “I’ll…”

Kara's high crystal voice stopped Stronric’s next words. “The dwarves should be split amongst the groups.” Rugiel turned and opened her mouth to argue, but Kara pressed forward. “The stone and tunnels speak to your kind in ways oblivious to us humans. Even without training your instincts can guide and your dark sight allows you to see well beyond our dim torchlight.”

“She makes a point.” Stronric agreed. “Kara’s and the bird with me. Bauru go with Dane. Rugiel with Giles. Lirian and Armand you’ll check that tunnel.” Stronric pointed to an archway. “Theres little to no draft, a cave in likely but make sure there’s nothing lurking in the dark then come back and protect the middle, if needed.”

Armand bowed his head in response then continued to finish his meal.

“Don’t go wandering around in the dark for long. We are looking for signs of an ambush or trap and tunnels to take if we need to exit. Meet back here before we go forward.” Stronric finished.

No more words needed to be said as they all prepared with practiced ease. The party stood in their pairs, the humans each with a small torch, waiting before an archway. The room hummed with tension as they were all eager to set off so they could return and finally end this quest.

Stronric simply grunted and with a nod and the groups departed. Kara walked beside him. She bore no torch, opting to use her staff to light a faint circle around them. The blue icy light danced off the crevasses and stones casting strange shadows that seemed to watch them.

Kara spoke, breaking the silence that seemed to oppress rather than calm. “A king under the mountain,” She said whimsically, “That’s what Millestone was calling you, after you saved the humans captured. Did you know that, dwarf?”

Stronric did not turn to look at her, he just kept his pace, his axe held across his chest, ready. “Humans are easy to name lords and kings. The mountain in ours, yes, but a king, no. A Thane needs subjects and we have only just begun.” The Canary followed at his side, only its taloned feet clicking softly as it walked.

Kara laughed, a high sound bouncing off the walls, “Subjects? And where do you expect to find those? In these lands your kind are owned, barter, and sold. Do you have the coin to free them, Mountain holder?”

The tunnel had snaked back and forth but overall kept the same direction, seemingly to parallel the Dungeon room, before the path turned sharply.

Stronric did not reply, so Kara pressed on. “The minds of humans are easily swayed, that you speak true.” Her voice was low but she spoke as if unafraid of what dangers her voice would draw to them. “I sense the will of dwarves is hard to mend. Stuck in old ways as stubborn as the mountains you try to claim.” Her voice deepened, a displeasure in the thought being spoken.

The air shifted, ever so slightly dropping a degree and a slow thrum of power swirled low. A lesser man wouldn’t have noticed the change, but Stronric was born of stone and the runes inked across his body seemed to prick in the presence of a hidden power.

A fog rolled towards them, a whisper just above the ground. The scent of rot, decay and sulfur tinted the air. The canary a handful of paces in front of Stronric stopped and turned. It let out a low chirp, then beat it beak together in a guttural thrum. Stronric slowed just a fraction. He had pushed ahead of the mage by some steps, trying to outpace her questions and words. The bird’s feather raised and Stronric stopped, turning facing the ice witch.

Kara stood a handful of paces away. The shadows danced but the shape of her shadow wasn’t solid as his was. It warped and flashed projecting sights unseen onto the walls. “I admit, I didn’t not foresee your coming would alter much, but your formidable yes.” Kara said, smiling, her voice sounded wrong. It rolled through the space like ice coating the ground, fracturing, layered and too deep. “The other dwarves will be of little contest thought.”

“I am like the mountain, an unpassable feat. I feel a threat towards my kin in your words,” Stronric said. The scent of sulfur burned his nostrils now, “And you are not as you seem witch.” He raised his axe and lifted his booted foot to take a step forward, when the sound of cracking stones echoed around him.

Kara did not move. She did not even flinch when facing the might of Stronric’s axe. Her eyes locked on his and she smiled, small, composed, and cold. “Fall.” She whispered. The swirling fog has frozen into the ground in a square around him. Then a magic, not of ice and snow, pulsed. The scent of rot and sulfur overtook him just before the ground fell away.

The ground hinged creating a ramp too steep to ever tread. Stronric drove the axe beard into the stone, the haft biting into a crack slowing his descent, but still he slid. The Mountain Canary lunged, its raptor frame hitting the ground above him with enough weight to shake grit loose. The axe hit a stone, the momentum and speed knocking the axe loose and he fell. He saw the raptor dive after him, folding its limbs midair like a hunting dive, tail streaming to steer.

He struck a lower ledge hard and rolled to keep his ribs. Stone screamed beneath as the slab shattered, sheeting down the shaft. The Canary landed beside him, talons digging into the rock with a crack and shower of dust. It straightened, feathers shivering once, and hissed, a sharp metallic rasp that said exactly what it thought of his fall.

A sound like thunder reverberated through the room and his bones. A cave-in, the witch has caused another cave-in. The Canary hissed, its head dashing side to side, sensing the meaning just as he had.

“Aye, I ken.” Stronric agreed standing and dusting himself off. “That witch is wrong, and now she’s up there with our kin. We will get back to them.” He said, placing a hand on the bird's side before walking to the ledge.

It seemed luck had been on his side. They had landed on a small ledge on the wall of a great cavern. He looked over and could see the crumpled remains of the stones they slid on a hundred feet below. A massive stone structure filled the valley of stone below.

Hexagonal walls of smooth stone erupted from the ground as if made from one solid piece. They met in the front, where a point should be, with a massive fortified gate. Towers rose from the walls on each side mirror each other at where the other point of the hexagon met, and the angles changed to run straight back and parallel to the stone cavern wall. The front of a keep protruded from the stone wall. It was made of sharp crisp lines and hard angles making it both boxy and true.

An open courtyard lay between the gate and the keep door and from here Stronric could see figures slew about, not moving. The area was lit by crystal veins similar to those above but instead of a sinister red they glowed a soft white tinted with a deep green. Two crystals broke through the roof the size of small homes making it look as if the soft glow of the sun itself was fractured down onto the world below. On the far side, opposite the keep, an arched tunnel large enough for wagons and armies stood.

Stronric rubbed his beard and turned his attention to the ledge they were perched upon and how to get down. At a second glance, he noticed the clean carved lines below and he turned first noticing the smooth stone floor and then looked up. Remains of deftly carved stone walls jutted out broken and jagged.

“We are on a tower, friend.” He said to the bird looking at the wall before him. “So a way down will be in the stones.” Stronric ran a hand along the smooth wall walking along it until he found a seam that no other race would be able to sense. He pressed in and slid the door to the side.

It opened easily for a structure lost and unopened for unknown time. The air smelt old, dust and cobwebs claimed the surfaces and corners. Stronric wasted no time in exploring, urgency to return to his kin and a gut feeling the way through was in the keep below propelled him forward quickly but carefully. A stone had settled in his gut, knowing Bauru and Rugiel were left with the witch and the dread of what was to come sat heavy.

They rushed down steps in the hundreds and broke free of the stone tower. They crossed over the flat plain before the keep and the tunnel. From where he stood, Stronric could see the tunnel’s entrance was arched with the same large stone blocks and runes from the circular room above. The tunnel was unpassable with dirt and stones filling in its mouth.

He turned back to the gate house, “Keep close.” Stronric said to the Canary and it chirped once as in acknowledgement. They approached the gate. It was larger now that the dwarf and canary stood at its base. The gate portcullis was raised, but Stronric had lived this long knowing where traps could be laid. He listened long and hard. The air was silent, the bird stood at ease next to him, this reassured him before stepping under.

The walls were thick enough for three to walk abreast down its halls. He laid one hand on the stone wall and knew it was dwarven made. No other race could carve stone so smoothly and with such understanding. He looked forward through the opening into the courtyard. It was littered with bodies, not bodies, carcasses. They laid scattered, no breaths or whispers leaving their forms.

The dead were large beetle shaped beasts, with exoskeletons green so dark it was near black. They had two horns made to dig and impale jutting from their heads. Each was the size of a large hound. There were twelve in total laying in a semi-circle. Stronric shoved one with his heavy boot, trying to roll the creature over.

The creature barely moved. It was so heavy. He panted his foot in earnest then and shoved hard. The creature lifted then teetered onto its back. The stone below was bare of blood and no physical wounds marred its body. The canary had approached circling the beetle with interest.

“What are ye thinkin bird?” Stronric asked, as he walked deeper into the courtyard. The keep doors stood before him, cracked enough to pass through. They were impressive, carved with masterwork care. Thick rigid lines of dwarven runes and depictions of dwarven guardians stood abreast on the surface. The keep’s walls were smooth almost to the point of shine made from a deep grey color. Only the entrance was built out into the open flatland, with its walls blending smoothly into the wall behind it as the cavern walls rose jagged and natural behind it.

Stronric held his axe ready while he approached the doors. The air was stagnant, the weight oppressive and still. The idea of entering another realm or place unknown and being trapped within its walls was on the forefront of his mind. He needed to get back to his kin and friends, the witch was too embedded in their party to be easily found.

He searched the outside for signs of active runes and found none. The Canary preddled along next to him with ease, which helped to calm his mind. With a deep breath and a raised axe Stronric entered the keep.

A great hall opened before him. Smooth stone callums paralleled the space running down the length of the space. The sound of footsteps and the clacking of talons on stone died quickly before they could echo off the walls and high ceilings. Iron chandeliers hung from the room holding not candles but faintly growing crystals, dim enough to only light inches around themselves. The hall ended with a stone dais where a throne could be placed if greeting guests. On it stood only overturned iron candelabras with more crystals and a great massive shape.

It was dead, like those beetles in the courtyard, that Stronric was certain. The creature was unlike anything Stronric had come across before. A long black tail with hundreds of small thick legs was curled around on itself, a sharp barbed stinger at its end. The tail thinned to a scaled connected abdomen where a thick trunk widened out. The body turned upright then with four long spindly forelegs that curled itself, like that of a spider after dying. The truck connected to a twisted humanoid shape. The truck was that like a man with muscled abs and chest, but they were smooth, bare of hair, nipples or belly button, and a sickening grey. It has four arms. The two lower were long and thin ending with 3 fingered hands. The other two arms that left the body on shoulder like joints ended in forelegs like that of a praying mantis with deadly sharp serrated edges. The creature's head was a long gaping maw with rows of razor sharp teeth that connected to exoskeleton horns that twisted up and around like that of a ram. Inlaid into the armoured skull were large bulbous eyes that looked like brilliantly cut onyx, though they remained lifeless.

“This creature is not of this domain.” Stronric thought aloud. “It does not belong in these halls. This creature is one of shadows and dark caves.”

Stronric moved around the dead creature noticing just how large and threatening this thing would have been in life. The humanoid torso alone was twice his size. The Canary pecked at the creature's tail causing it to unfurrow and slide down the handful of stairs. Stonric caught a glimpse of a smudged marking below it. A chalk line drawn below the creature.

Stronric went over and grabbed the long tail that was as round as a large keg of ale and pulled. He unwound the creature exposing a circle with demonic scrawl etched in salt and chalk. Stronric released the creature's tail and it landed with a meaty thud. The beast to otherworldly was not demonic mode or born. It was a twisted form of life below the earth and in dark tunnels.

Stronric noticed the dead did not rot, there was no tench of decay even though he knew this beast had been laying here dead for a long time. It was as if this place was trapped just as it was when the creatures fell. These beasts are those that should be the dungeon boss. Elite guardians of the depths of earth and darkness. Why are they here? Why are they stuck in time and place far from where they should reside. Stronric thought.

The Canary had wandered following the scent of earth to an arch way turning beyond Stronric sight. The bird screeched, its sound swallowed whole, usual for a hall so large to not reverberate sounds. ”I'm coming, yer mangy creature.” Stronric said.

Stronric joined the bird and they walked into the passageway. The walls here were carved wide and tall but left rough and rugged as the earth. Veins of crystal broke through the walls and ceilings, a mix of dim lights glowing of all colors. It was like being transported into the sky itself when it bled colors and stars. Stronric’s dark vision saw shades of black and grey but the glow of the crystal spread in greens, blues, purples and reds disrupting the darkness around him. As they continued, the colors shifted deepening all to one color, red. The air was shifting as well and the faint hint of sulfur, rot and corruption was floating in the undercurrents.

Stronric tightened his grip on his axe but pressed forward. The tunnel opened into a circular room. The veins all converged to one massive crystal in the floor, thrumming a deep red as if in warning. The stench was thicker here, but still far off, as if it was somewhere close enough to affront the nose but not at its direct source.

Stronric crept to the crystal, its surface was flat and clear as diamonds, not a scratch marred its surface. He placed a finger up on it and slowly the color stopped thrumming, but stayed a deep red, bathing the whole room in the color of blood. The crystal stayed that way as if waiting, but for what Stronric didn’t know.