The tale I’m about to
relate was inspired by a short story I read a few years ago involving
re-incarnation and things left undone in the past that could only be
rectified in the present. This tale is from a game I ran in Peter and
Carolyn Savoy’s world of Vahrdee.
It revolved (as these things often do) around the PCs who were assigned
the task of helping a Tzikki Bug-Folk envoy and her escorts discover the
source of a series of attacks on scattered hives that had been totally
destroyed. During the course of the adventure, the PCs discovered an old
lost Dwarven Hold. Their subsequent adventures both outside and inside
this lost complex, combined with their “mission” led me to do a quick
improvisation that worked to perfection. The result was some magnificent
roleplaying, problem solving and spectacular combat sequences. The names
of the main protagonists in the piece that follows were all eerily
similar to the names of the PCs involved. I suggest you do the same
name/race/class-wise if you wish to use this tale in your game. The
first portion is the dream they all had, the second portion is the
scroll/warrant of the Dwarven King from 5,000 years past which helped
fill in some missing pieces for the players. I hope you enjoy it and
maybe even get some ideas of your own from it.
The scene is a fortified room within the ancient halls. The PCs have
bedded down for the night and as sleep spreads her veil upon them all,
even the guards doze off and they Dream….
We formed a crescent in front of the large crystal formation at the
cavern’s northern wall. There were only 11 of us now and we’d been
fighting for hours this last day. Truth be told, none of us had had much
rest since the fighting began almost a week ago.
At first the Dwarves had been in shock as their city and upper halls
were whelmed on the first day. Then their pride and stubbornness came
back and, led by King Ironhelm, they began the fight for survival. But
it was evident from the 3d day on that there would be no survival. The
enemy were too many, too savage; and the Dwarves were too few. Too few!!
Who would have thought that 3700 Dwarven warriors, on their own ground,
fighting for their families and their lives wouldn’t be enough?
The Muhrohz, the Tainted Ones, just kept coming. They might be held back
for a short space, but then they’d come again and again and again. And
where the Dwarves held best, where it seemed they couldn’t be pried from
their positions, the filth-spewing Shamen of the Muhrohz leveled
crushing, powerful spells against which there was no defense. Then would
come the Pale One, the Deathwalker, leading his minions to war.
A Great Manotaur over 12’ tall, albino, his sickly pallor a sharp
contrast to the dusky dark hues of his lesser brethren. He’d lead the
charge, his red eyes gleaming in the torchlight, his giant axes cutting
swathes through the defenders with every rise and fall.
So ever downward, ever inward we retreated. Then came the terrible news
that somehow the enemy had entered the lower halls. Now the attack came
from below as well. The plan to evacuate was crushed, the families were
lost with the rest of us. There was no way out, no place to go.
Hell, it was pure bad luck we were even here! After one hair raising
scrape after another while serving Windemere, hiking all over the
continent trying to stabilize things while war broke out all around,
this was supposed to be cake. All he wanted was for us to deliver the
Affirmation Pacts to Ironhelm. So we did. Got here a week ago, handed
over the papers, thanks of a grateful ally, blah blah. Then Ironhelm
invites us to a feast, and we accept and stay overnight. The next
morning all Hell breaks loose.
Finally, last night the King comes to us with his Rune Priest (and
brother) Derax. They tell us of their plan, their “trap” as they call
it. How they’ve woven a Rune and how the Dwarf blood will feed it and
how the Viles (as some call them) will be sealed here once the last
defender falls. How the women and children already volunteered to start
the process rather than force their kin to slay them or fall into
Muhrohz hands. Then the King asks us what we want to do. He says he can
spare 50 warriors if we want to try to fight our way out. Or would we do
him the honor of joining him in the last defense of Iron Deep?
We take it all in and just look at each other silently. Nobody speaks
for a long time, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I don’t want to
die. Least of all deep underground surrounded by fiends who’ll feast on
my flesh once I’m down. The King offers a slim chance to escape and a
slim chance is better than none at all. But then I stop and think about
what I’ve seen the last few days. And I know, deep inside, that this
Magik is as powerful as the King and his brother say; that if a dash for
freedom were to succeed it would draw pursuit. And I for one don’t want
any of these Goathead bastards to escape. But I don’t want to die
either. I’m scared. And there’s so much I’ve left unfinished and more I
never even got to try. I look at my friends; my companions and partners
for the last 8 years. Nobody wants to die and if we had a choice we’d
all opt to be somewhere else right this minute. But we only have the one
choice, and its already been made.
I rise to my feet, look once more at my friends who all silently nod or
wink or blink acceptance and stride to where the King waits. I bow
deeply from the waist and kneel before the Monarch of this realm. “Your
Majesty,” I begin, “My friends and I are in agreement. We’ve been so
entertained by your Dwarven sport and hospitality over the last few days
that we wouldn’t dream of missing the grand finale.”
He smiles, and rising to his feet says, “We are honored by your
Friendship. Now get what rest you may, for on the morrow there shall be
a Great Slaying of Tainted Ones, and a great Victory over them.” Then he
and his brother move out of the room, back down the hall toward the
great crystal cavern where the Dwarves would muster in the morning. The
Dwarves and us.
I walk back to the others, sit down and lay back against my gear. “Its
all set then,” I murmured, “tomorrow in the Crystal Palace.” There were
sighs, snorts, and the rustling sounds of folk bedding down. But no
words. I suppose we were each still lost in our thoughts.
For my part I thought about these people I’d led here on Windemere’s
errand. 8 years is a long time for a crew like this to stick together. I
lost count long ago of how many times we’ve saved each other’s lives.
But that’s what family does, I suppose. Yeah, they’re more like family
than my own blood. I’d trust any of them with my life, my soul, my
honor.
There’s the two Dwarf brothers, Aryle and Angdar. You’ve never heard
such bickering or seen such nasty practical jokes as these two
constantly batter each other with. But put them in a fight and
back-to-back, shoulder-to-shoulder they’ll Stand, with implicit unspoken
trust in each other.
Randall’s one of the brightest people I’ve ever met. He’s funny and
always tries to be polite no matter the circumstance. But back him into
a corner with no way out and he’ll not hesitate to kill you with a
gesture. Mages are like that you know.
And Cougar. Why he calls himself that, none of us have ever figured out.
He’s about as quiet and subtle as a weasel in a henhouse and he’s not
the brightest candle in the shop. He’s a hell of a nice guy though, and
man can he fight!
I’ve seen Diro gentle horses with a word, and command wild things to do
his bidding. He never showed us much in the way of emotion till the
other day, when his marmoot and his rock lizard saved his life at the
cost of their own. He cried like a baby, swearing over and over he’d set
them free and commanded them away. But as gruff as he’s always been I
always figured that anybody who cares for simple creatures the way he
does is alright at heart.
Then there’s big Tohpang-Khalsah. 9 feet tall and built like a mountain,
and strong? We had no idea. Until this started he apparently had never
used his full strength. We realized that when he threw that steel door
40 feet down the corridor to cover our retreat. Never saw him mad before
either. But the Muhrohz have made him mad. With that hammer of his,
blood and bone fly like a fine mist when he strikes them.
Serrico the woodsman is unbelievable. None of us have ever seen such
accuracy. I mean we always knew he was good, but Damn! This is the stuff
of legend. Always quiet, always looking out for number one, but he still
comes through when you need him, always without being asked.
And Shallmut the Priestess. Going on and on about this God or that
Goddess, faith, miracles and such. She’s troubled by the talk that the
Gods have turned away from Vahrdee, but says nothing. Just goes on going
on. She counsels us, makes peace amongst us, heals our hurts, mothers us
when we need it and fights like a demon when she has to.
“Guys,” I said into the darkness, “There’s something I’ve gotta tell
you.” I continued, “I don’t want to be eaten by some Vile puke tomorrow.
But most of all I don’t want to die without saying what you’ve all meant
to me…if I have to die, I couldn’t think of a better bunch of people to
go out with than you guys.” I paused, “I love you all and wish you
well.”
There was a moment’s silence, then Angdar’s voice spoke up, “Well Marco,
we love you too….Wanna share a blanky?”
The room erupted in guffaws and laughter, loud, hearty and strong. “No
thanks twerp,” I replied, “I know where you’ve been.” And again
everybody howls with glee. I turn toward the wall and go to sleep
smiling. But with a tear in my eye for these friends of mine, who’ll be
gone tomorrow.
And now it comes to this. All of us are wounded, some more so than
others. For some reason the Muhrohz have pulled back, but we all know
that when they come again it’ll be for the last time. The bodies are
heaped waist high in front of us, enemy and ally alike locked in Death’s
embrace; terror, rage, shock on every face among the fallen.
Shallmut moves among us, binding wounds, doling out elixirs, healing
what she can. As she moves away I see the large, almost black bloodstain
covering her left side.
I can’t bear to look at Tohpan-Khalsah. I don’t know what keeps him on
his feet. He’s too big for the enemy to miss and he’s got such
horrendous wounds. But he’s still up, still ready for more. Then he
points with his hammer and rumbles, “They’re starting to move.”
Sericco says, “I’ve got about 30 arrows left. Get ready to make room for
me in the line.”
Arylle turns toward his brother. “I’m gonna fight longer than you,
asshole. I’ll die last and be a bigger hero,” he smugly says.
“You stupid bastard,” growls Angdar. “What if I save the Goatboys the
trouble and kill you myself? Then I die last and I’m the bigger hero.”
Randall shouts, “Here they come!” and launches a lightning bolt at a big
one with some horrific banner on its back.
My sword, Elvenkyne, sings into my hand as I ready myself. Shallmut
shouts prayers to the Lady, her staff glowing with power.
Diro and Cougar are next to each other, silent. Waiting.
The King and his brother lift their weapons in readiness, battle song
upon their lips.
And the tide of Darkness rolls forward, barking, bellowing, howling its
hate as it comes. Randall shrieks in agony as baleful green lightning
strikes him full in the face. He falls wailing to the floor as the flesh
boils away and his eyes burst from the hot crack of the lightning.
Serrico looses shaft after shaft. 30 time he shoots, 30 times the arrows
strike home, piercing heart, throat or eye. Suddenly he stiffens and
goes down, a black javelin in his chest.
Now the wave hits and one by one we fall. And as each falls, more of the
enemy swarm in. Diro..then Shallmut on the other side…Cougar..Derax…..now
me. Then the brothers die almost simultaneously. Only Tohpang-Khalsah
and the king are left now. Suddenly Khalsah is hamstrung and falls still
swinging his hammer. His last act is to reach out and crush a tainted
skull with his bare hand. Then their weapons rise and fall, over and
over and over.
Only the King is left standing and suddenly they pull back. As if by
magik their ranks part and the Deathwalker comes. Bellowing his rage he
charges; Ironhelm raises his axe, but too late. The first blow shears
through his spine, the second sends his head and crown rolling to the
Pale One’s feet. He stomps down, smashing them both flat…and darkness
falls…and wails of terror begin to flood the cavern as the echoing,
faint song of Victory from thousands of Dwarven throats is finally
heard.
So that’s how it happened and there’s no turning back, ever. It’s just
that there’s so much we never got to do, ya know?…If only we’d been able
to go on…if only…if..only..
The PCs awoke then and sought out the Crystal Palace. There they found
the remains of the fallen and laid them to rest after 5000 years. They
found also the following document, hidden upon the body of a headless
Dwarf warrior dressed in fine Dwarven plate.
Should any find the words here set, heed them and remember us to Vahrdee,
for even in black defeat we sow Victory against the dark.
Battle has raged for 6 days. They struck before dawn on 29 Nessan. We
never saw or heard them coming. The alarm bells only rang thrice before
the Gate was smashed. Then they swarmed in, Vile Not-Men. We had heard
of them, but never have we tasted such blood thirsting savagery.
The city and upper halls fell quickly on the first day. Then we rallied
and fought back. Alas, our might of arms and that of our allies is not
enough; what they cannot take by blade and talon they smash flat with
their wedge magik. Even Yuredon cannot slay them fast enough and I wield
my old Doomfriend and companion well indeed.
We do not have long now, yet we do not despair. Our Rune Priests have
laid a trap. We fall here, but these foul brutes will not see the world
again either. We shall fight them Hall to Hall, room by room. We will
sow such death among them while we can that they will hold nothing back
and come against us with their full might. Then shall Victory be ours
thou we perish before savoring it.
Freely given, our Dwarf blood shall make a Rune. When the last defender
falls, the Rune shall be complete. The Priests say the Rune is thus:
SO LONG AS CRYSTAL GROWS AND MAGIK FLOWS
THE VILES WILL EVER STAY; BENEATH THIS MOUNTAIN
FASTNESS, SEALED FROM LIGHT OF DAY.
With AoLe’s Blessing and Vahrda’s Will the enemy shall be trapped here
for all time.
Our Rune is strong. Our Wills are set. We die here that Light shall
live. Sing our Song, for we are Dwarven born.