S4- The Long Lost King

[Brother Amsel Ur (Bill), his bodyguard Ferris D’Gerum (Ray), guide/physician Hawkin Godling (Julian), Hepekarian scholar Moc’alm (Jen)]

They moved further from the Owlbear nest before making camp. Ferris gathered wood for a campfire but also found sturdy fir to craft a replacement staff for Brother Amsel. It was a restful night under the stars along the spine of the Rayesha Mountains.

Next Day: Sunrise glistened off Lake Benath to their east while casting long but dwindling shadows over Rethem to the west. They followed the cobblestone road along the spine they assumed connected the dwarven underground cities of lore. Moc-alm took hope his Hepekarian forebearers followed this same road centuries ago. “Look! An engraved flower upon that rock. Sunflowers are prominent in my lands.”

Hours of trudging till they came upon a stone pillar with dwarfish runes, “Do you suppose this is a way-marker, listing leagues to their next city?” The road came and went, broken by upheavals over the years. Amsel was relieved when Hawkin called halt to scout a camp, “That cluster of trees looks promising.” Ferris approved of its defensive layout. As they sat around the campfire, Moc-alm mused, “I hope no one has come before us to plunder my king’s tomb. Throughout all my research, I still haven’t uncovered the purpose of his expedition to these distant lands. My lord only took a small contingent.” Ferris reasoned, “Perhaps he sought dwarven knowledge.” Amsel pondered, “I’ve heard dwarves now live far east of the lake, near the Sorkin Mountains along the coast. Why did they abandon their cities in this mountain range?” Moc-alm offered, “Perhaps the veins in their mines ran dry.”

Morning: It was as if they strode upon giant steps as the road climbed one rise to then flatten upon a plateau, rise again to reach another plateau. Moc-alm envisioned, “As if we are approaching the throne of a great king.” All froze at the sight of a huge beast squatting before them! “Cover!” Amsel had never seen a dragon before… but heard they had wings. Doom that he could not outrun such creature, his eyes darted in frantic search of another small cave to hide in. Almost an hour till Moc-alm stepped forth, “I hear no breathing to imply it sleeps. No animal poses THAT long.” He stepped closer and laughed, “It is but a statue!” As all came forward, Amsel spotted another statue further up a rise, “It’s squat stature looks like a dwarven warrior charging the beast.” Amsel studied the statues and realized, “Look at the details on this dragon! The warrior was carved by dwarves while the dragon is a magically petrified wyvern! Moc-alm, were your ancestors great wizards?” Moc-alm admitted, “I said my people were excellent sculptors; I never said only with chisels.”

Noon: “Look, another flower rune!” And another off the beaten path that led to an odd cluster of boulders. Hawkin studied the unnatural formation as the skies darkened and began to cry tears. The rain washed dirt off a flat stone with more dwarfish runes, “Perhaps it welcomes all to their forgotten underground kingdom.” And then they realized the stone was the cap to a doorway partially buried by a landslide of dirt. “Don’t just stand there, dig!” It was almost 2 hours of labor before Ferris gave a tug on the exposed handles. He was assaulted by the rush of stale air escaping the dark opening.

2pm: Once out of the light rain, Amsel lit a torch to guide them deeper inside with Ferris at the lead. Stonework walls, ceiling, and floor made all guess dwarven, “Sorry Moc-alm ,but I doubt your people had time to craft such passage.” Amsel tied off a rope before Ferris led them down a 30-degree slope of stairs. They quickly ran out of rope as the passage went on for almost 120 feet. All failed to realize the top of each step slowly angled downwards such that suddenly Amsel lost his footing and slipped, dropping his torch, plunging all into darkness. Moc-alm also slipped. Long minutes before another torch was lit, to reveal they stood at the entrance to a large stone room.

“What was that?!” They heard the plink of small stones falling just outside the range of their torchlight. “Surely it is not a cave-in. Dwarves build sturdy structures that are said to last eons.” Hawkin equated the room similar to the crypt found near Rouhardy in Rethem at the western edge of the mountains, and thus suspected a lich stirring. Moc-alm offered calm, “My ancestors sought tombs at higher positions.” As they inches further into the room, they spied tree-roots peeking through the ceiling, causing the cracks, “Ah, the dwarves’ greatest enemy…nature.”

They moved around a stone-basin well and entered another room. At the far end: another archway opened into another room filled with at least 3 sarcophagus. Stone shelves offered trinkets and goblets and other treasure. Moc-alm reasoned, “At least we are the first as no graverobber would leave such treasure.” He stepped forward to inspect the runes… and barely managed to dodge the collapsing roof! [He had stepped on a stone trigger trap.]

They covered their noses to stifle the horrendous odor. The faint sound of movement above encouraged Amsel to thrust the torch higher: revealing a 9ft long caterpillar! [Carrion Crawler] Ferris jumped forward to protect his priestly ward as he raised sword and shield just in time to parry a lashing tentacle from the foul creature. Amsel lit a 2^nd torch as weapon while Moc-alm drew his dagger as Hawkin readied his spear. Moc-alm yelped as hot pain coursed up his leg where a tentacle struck, “Poison!” As the creature descended from the ceiling, another tentacle lashed at Hawkin, stinging his right arm causing him to drop his spear. Amsel lunged with a torch to drive it away from his alley without success.

Ferris lopped off a tentacle as Amsel handed a torch to the defenseless Hawkin. Moc-alm scrounged through his pack for his vial of torch oil as Hawkin dove away from another tentacle. Ferris hacked more tentacles but not those closer to Hawkin: now the guide’s left arm paralyzed, leaving him but a worm squirming on the floor to escape. Was this their doom?! Moc-alm threw the vial wide giving Amsel nothing to light, as the carrion lay upon Hakwin to feast with its maw.

And that’s when Ferris jumped on its back, wrapping his arms around its (neck?) to keep it from eating his friend. Moc-alm stabbed with his dagger as Amsle thrust the torch in the face of the creature trying to blind it, without harming his warrior protector. Yet the carrion was still able to sting Hawkin in the head, rendering him unconscious. Heavy breaths from an exhausting fight with dwindling light from Amsel’s lone torch. Yet Ferris found his discarded sword and sliced. The creature retreated up the wall and back into the crevice from which it appeared.

8pm: They rested in the crypt under Amsel’s dwindling torch, supplemented by his clothing, as they waited for Hawkin to revive. Only then did Ferris risk exiting the tunnels to gather wood for fire and more torches. And that’s when he discovered an odd indentation (handle) in the roof. He brought the others forward before he pulled down an intricately balanced stone slab that had steps carved into its backside. “Perhaps we should fully rest first.” Ferris reset the slab.

Morning: They climbed the new stairs which led into another chamber room that was almost identical to the dwarven rooms below. Yet all saw the paintings and writings that reminded the Harn trio of that Hepekarian crypt near Rouhardy. Moc-alm marveled at the pictograph story of the arrival of his ancestors meeting elven and dwarven kind. All understood the painting depicting the fight against the wyvern outside the dwarven underworld. Another picture of Hepekarian wizards with arms spread as they cast magic to construct this tomb. Moc-alm pondered the meaning of one passage written below the picture of the king’s burial, “When need for ancient aid, seek the honorable course.”

And just like the Rethem crypt, the trio heard the stone-on-stone grind as if another sarcophagi openning. They readied for the unknown while Moc-alm beamed with excitement as 5 figures came forth at the edge of the torchlight. The leader adorned in a gold and jeweled crown with his honor-guards behind him. Only Moc-alm understood the king’s words who recognized another dark-skinned member, “You are one of mine. Where am I?” Moc-alm explained this Harn: a distant island from their own lands. The king understood, “I assume you are here to serve me as I feel weak. Sacrifice yourself for your king.” Moc-alm’s jaw dropped as he spoke to his Harn allies.

As the Harn trio recognized their outnumbered and under-matched position, Moc-alm tried to reason with his king, “I can be your emissary unto this land, able to speak their language.” Yet the king laughed, “With your sacrifice comes your knowledge such that I too can speak their savage language. This land belongs to me. I would bring civilization to these savages.” And once again Moc-alm pleaded his case, “Thes men before you in their light skin are scholars to reflect civilization has already been achieved in your absence all these centuries.” Yet the king persisted, “Then they can bow down to their new king.”

And that’s when the trio and Moc-alm saw the spark in the king’s eyes as he raised his arm towards his honor-guards. Exit, stage right! They ran for the trap-stairs with the king taunting Moc-alm at a distance, “You bring shame to your people.” As they began closing the stairs, Moc-alm cursed, “Times have changed.” The last words Moc-alm heard before the tomb was re-sealed, “I will escape in time. What is a few more decades or centuries.”

Hikun: It was a long, harrowing trip back to the mining town. They waited for days for another supply ship to book passage home. And during that wait, one late night: Hawkin heard someone rummaging through his gear. He grabbed the arm thrust into his backpack at the end of his bed. The haggard man pleaded, “Sorry, hungry, can you spare…” The others woke, “You could have just asked while we were in the tavern.” And that’s when Amsel recognized the wounds upon the man’s wrists and ankles, “You are an escaped slave.” The man dropped his head, “The lord’s men are after me. Please, I am a loyal servant to Peoni first. Help me reach the kingdom of Kanday and the city of Aleath.” It was Ferris who understood, A free city. If a serf escapes to a free city, he has earned his freedom.”

EPILOGUE

And that is how Ferris hired his own personal cook.

Amsel laid the paper upon the table, “These are the rubbings I made of that dwarven stone set before the tomb entrance. Perhaps we should travel east to find dwarves to translate.”

It would be another year before they encountered such race who frowned, “What did you do?! The instructions specifically say dwarven bound. Do NOT open or release.”