Chapter II - Into the Mountains

Adrasta's move couldn't have come at a better time for Otto. A surge of hope and strength comes to him, as he watches Ardan bring the first statue down.

Otto stands near the door, listening to the stomping of the marching lump of stone. "Here comes the second....here it comes....", he thinks, as he winds up with the hammer.

He sees the tip of the stony sword as the statue begins to enter the room, and Otto coils to strike. He sees in quick succession the knee, the chest, and the dead, stony visage of the statue.

But only for a moment. Before the stone warrior fully enters the room, a hammer whirls in a broad, horizontal arc. The impact of the hammer's head against the statue's stone chest makes a sharp cracking sound, shattering the stone. Otto imagines to himself, briefly, that their dwarven foes were treated to the sight of a statue entering the room, and a pile of dust ejected from the doorway barely a moment later.

For just a brief flash of time, the air hangs heavily in silence, and in the distinct absence of stony footsteps on stone floors.

"I hope you are made of stronger stuff than stone, my friends...", he calls from the room to the dwarves outside.

"Perhaps you've come to your senses, and are willing to speak with people who never intended you harm? Or, you'd care to share the fate of your violent friends. It may be that you could consult what remains of your stone guardians -- perhaps they can guide you to wisdom. It matters not to me, either way, but make whatever choice you feel you can live (or die) with, and get on with it."

Otto really doesn't know what to expect, but if there ever was an opportunity to parlay, this was it.

Ardan uses his mace to sweep the legs of the hobbled statue. It lands on the ground with a clatter. Ardan finishes it off with a solid smash to the crotch. The statue lays still.

There's a pregnant pause - are the dwarves considering the cracking stone and the plumes of dust rolling out of the Infirmary? - before one of them breaks the silence and shouts back:

"NEVER INTENDED ANY HARM?!" the voice replies shrilly. "You tipped Bachan Budur over the wall onto his head and you NEVER INTENDED ANY HARM?? Step out here and tell us that with a straight face! We know Twinkle Toes did it!"

Naesala shrugs.

"You stay there! You stay there until you suffocate! Or should we add some more fuel to your fire??"

Indeed, it is getting smoky. Rock dust isn't flammable, is it? Well it doesn't make it any easier to breathe, that's for sure.

Tecumseh wrote:

"NEVER INTENDED ANY HARM?!" the voice replies shrilly. "You tipped Bachan Budur over the wall onto his head and you NEVER INTENDED ANY HARM?? Step out here and tell us that with a straight face! We know Twinkle Toes did it!"

"You misremember, yes? Prior to Bachan Budur's 'mishap', your friends fired upon us from the parapets, injuring a few. We had made no threats, we had made no attacks. Or have you taken complete leave of your senses, and forgotten that part?"

Otto listens for a moment, hoping to learn what goes through their heads.

"My name is Otto. I am a craftsman, and had never seen such magnificent works in stone! It was my hope to make friends here, but only found the pointed ends of crossbow bolts and mockery. We responded in kind. And from what I see of the one lying outside the door, he seems to have been stealing from these halls, and apparently, from you."

He looks at his companions, and gives a wide-eyed shrug.

"Do you abide here? Or were you here with him to plunder, as well?"

Otto takes this chance to draw a second hand axe from his pack, in case an opportunity presents itself to split a skull from a distance. He prefers that it won't come to this.

There's no response.

Then, THUM. THUM. THUM. Footsteps.

Heavy. Rhythmic. Marching. Stone.

The ground shakes. It vibrates like drums in the deep.

They are coming.

"Welcome to your TOMB, Otto the craftsman!"

A plan is formed: the band of adventurers will rush to the left, with Ardan and Otto bouncing on the dwarves ahead while Adrasta guards the rear flank.

You rush out to catch them by surprise. They're waiting for you with raised crossbows.

A shout goes up: "OPEN FIRE!" And they do, although their aim is no better than the dwarves up on the wall earlier in the day. One passes by in the general vicinity of Otto, while the two aimed at Adrasta hit the floor long before they reach their target.

The dwarves with crossbows start to furiously reload, but it's clear they aren't deeply experienced and it takes them precious seconds to complete the process. That's just enough time for Otto, Ardan, and Naesala to break out in a war cry and charge! The dwarf with a shield bravely steps forward to intercept them.

Otto reaches the dwarf with a shield first. He swings his mighty hammer in a sideswipe: it catches the dwarf's shield and nearly rips it off his arm. That leaves the little man exposed to Naesala, who shoots out of nowhere to punch the dwarf in the face. His nose pops like a splattered bug and he drops in a heap, sprawled out backward.

"Bara Bwngy!" the dwarf with a crossbow cries, alarmed at the fate of his friend. He raises his crossbow and fires it straight into Otto's chest, who is only a short distance away. It's a good strike and wonderfully true. Had the dwarf shot someone else, it would have broken a rib or pierced a lung. But Otto has a veteran's luck, and instead the bolt hits a particularly dense piece of glue and stops cold. There's still a bolt sticking out of Otto's chest, but the man is no worse for wear.

Behind you, the dwarves with shields break into a run and charge your position. They're still a good 60 feet away, huffing and puffing as fast as their little legs will carry them. Their friends with the crossbows let loose another volley, this one more incompetent than the first. One bolt hits the ceiling while another flies away at such an improbable angle that one must wonder if the dwarf's aim was that bad on purpose. Still, Adrasta has two little halfers charging her position and they'll arrive in just a moment...

The last meters Ardan starts sprinting towards the dwarves. The mace he takes in his offhand and his ghostly sword appears in his hand. Immediately he feels the comfort of his spirit weapon flow through his arm. When he reaches the dwarves he pushes the dwarfs weapon aside with the mace and sinks his sword deep into the dwarf. The momentum of the charge, plus the resistance free hit make the sword disappear until the hilt in the foe. Immediately the victim goes limp and sinks down. Ardan tries to pull his sword, but it won't nudge. With a sigh, he releases his weapon, only to let it materialise outside of the dwarf.

Ardan turns around, when he hears the charging dwarves. Then his eyes fall onto the horn that is still hanging around the dead senior dwarves neck. Then, with sudden realisation he yells out to Otto and Adrasta "The horn! I'm such a dwarf! The horn is the key! They sounded it both times and the statues came to life! We need to get there and get it. If we sound it, I'm sure the statues will follow our commands!"

The rest of the battle concludes quickly.

Adrasta pulls a hand axe out of god-knows-where and throws it adroitly, driving it firmly into one of the charging dwarves, who drops.

Otto steps forward and, with a mighty sweep of his hammer, knocks the other charging dwarf aside as if it were a child.

The two dwarves with crossbows had discarded their weapons to join the charge. They roar fiercely, no doubt inspired for revenge, but they are little threat. One swings at Ardan, who sidesteps nimbly before dispatching him. Naesala races forward and delivers a flying kick to the face of the last one. He falls with a clatter of sword and armor.

"Behold!" Naesala announces, pointing off into the darkness at something you can only hear, not see. "A dozen golems approach. A hundred yards at most, likely less. We must be gone in sixty seconds... with enough of a lead to ensure our egress."

Adrasta goes to retrieve her handaxe. "If you're going to do something, Ardan, do it quickly! If you're wrong, we'll have to leave in a hurry."

She puts her axe back into her bag and pulls out a torch, then lights it with her tinderbox.

"You start running, if this doesn't work, at least I might stall them. Go! Just leave me one torch. "
With that Ardan turns towards the dark tunnel through which the statues supposedly are approaching, lifts the horn to his lips, hesitates for short and then blows into it with all his strength.

Otto runs back to the fallen leader, the path lit by Adrasta's torch. He absentmindedly wonders where the next attack will come from...hoping beyond hope that the blowing of the horn will call off the relentless attacks by the statues. While running, he fumbles at his belt for the pieces of rope he'd cut earlier. Intended for binding the hands of prisoners, he has another use for one of the cords now.

Finally, in the dim light of the torch, Otto sees the corpse of his stubby nemesis. He spies the glint of metal around his neck, somewhat tangled in the dwarf's hair. Otto kneels quickly, loops the rope through the bundle of necklaces, and through a hole in the dwarf's jerkin received during the fighting. He ties a quick knot, so the necklaces won't easily fall off the body. He grabs the collar of his dead enemy, and with a quick heave, hoists him over his shoulder, and turns to run back.

"Ardan, are you ready?"

Otto and Ardan race forward as Adrasta readies a torch for the darkness.

Otto and Ardan can see what they're doing by the light of the flaming shields, but they still can't see the approaching statues. All they can hear is the ominous THUNK THUNK THUNK of their rhythmic footsteps. Each stomp is in perfect time with all the others, maximizing the shaking of the ground.

While Otto is fussing around with a piece of rope, Ardan takes the horn from the senior dwarf. The horn looks like ivory, carved with shapes that Ardan doesn't have time to study closely. It's on a leather sling and is easy to remove from the deceased dwarf's care.

Just as Otto slings the corpse over his shoulder, Ardan blows the horn. OH, HEAVENS, IT IS LOUD!! It deafens you just as it did before. Ardan and Otto can yell at each other, but any verbal communication with Naesala and Adrasta is impossible.

But even if they can't hear them, Ardan and Otto can still feel the vibrations. THUNK THUNK THUNK. The statues continue to move toward you, step by step.

Adrasta winces at the horn's loud bellow, thankful she's standing well away from it. She can still hear the statues coming. If the horn could stop them, then clearly Ardan hadn't played the right note. "Naesala, go ahead and make sure our path is clear. I'll herd the kittens." She waves her torch to draw Otto and Ardan's attention, then motions for them to come. "Come on, malakias. Let's move!" she says, mouthing the words in an exaggerated manner.

She starts moving towards their point of entry, looking back over her shoulder to make sure the two men are following.

Well, that was anticlimactic. Ardan thinks while staring into the dark. Are the statues now running to help him, or to stone him? He stays trying to see what is ahead. His heart pounds almost in sync with the statues lockstep.

         The horn sounds.



What comes after the horn, Otto really doesn't know. He hears no *tromp tromp* of the marching statues. He hears nothing of Ardan. He hears nothing of his own movements. There is just a painful, ringing silence, and a memory of a sound beyond his comprehension.

He heads as quickly as he can back towards the pipe that serves as their entrance and (hopefully) escape. Trying to clear his head, he counts dwarves as one might count sheep. A dozen, perhaps? And two statues? How many dwarves are left, and are they traveling with the stone warriors? He doesn't know. The only thing he knows for certain is that they must get back to the pipe. He continues to run in an eerie personal silence.

Adrasta waves a torch to get everyone's attention. Naesala is shouting something but Ardan and Otto can't hear it. It's clear from her gesticulations that Otto and Ardan need to take cover NOW.

Otto uses the dwarf - who, let us remember, is missing part of his face courtesy of Otto's axe - as an improvised shield. Ardan darts in front of Otto, using both Otto and the senior dwarf as cover. Then the rocks start raining down, clattering all around against the stone streets.

Otto can feel them hitting the dwarf and bouncing off the corpse; he's thankful for the cover that the dwarf provides. But while the dwarf protects Otto's head (ironically, given what Otto did the dwarf's head), the smaller man doesn't shield Otto completely. A rock finds its way through the defenses and hits Otto in the back of the knee, causing his leg to almost buckle. But Otto powers through it and pushes forward, racing the statues toward the sewer pipe that promises salvation.

"But I was so sure..." perplexed and disappointed Ardan waits for a break in the rocky rain and then darts back down the hall, ever following the dancing light of Adrastas torch. How they would climb down with the statues in their head back he doesn't know...

Otto and Ardan race toward the end of the street, where they can turn the corner and break line-of-sight. It helps that Otto is strong enough to run at full speed while carrying what's left of the senior dwarf over his shoulders. Ardan does his best to stay in Otto's shadow, which seems to work. Some of the attacks come close to Ardan - even alarmingly close - but none connect.

Otto and Ardan follow Adrasta's torch as a beacon of light and hope. But the question remains, can you get to the sewer pipe and down the cliff face before the statues reach and overwhelm you?

Turning the corner at the end of the street, the attacks cease. The vibrations of the statues' footsteps can be felt in the ground as they continue to stalk you. Otto and Ardan's hearing comes back ever-so-slightly, allowing communications at a yelling volume... if anyone has the breath to spare for a shout.

Thankfully for Otto, the lack of a beating heart means that the flow of blood has all but stopped. Still, the awkward bobbing motion of the corpse annoys Otto to no end. It occurs to Otto, quite unhappily, that even in death, the runt has managed to find a way to aggravate him. He imagines that somewhere in the afterlife, the dwarf is still laughing at him.

The thoughts begin to fade as the echoes of his surroundings return. The dwarf feels heavy, but he steels himself, shifts the dwarf's weight on his shoulder, and gets back to running.

He breathes heavily to Ardan, "Have you tried commanding them to do anything, like stop?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, just continues inexorably to the pipe like a stubborn pack mule.

The tunnel ahead is dark. Adrasta already turned the corner, the light of her torch is but a faint memory of hope ahead. The tunnel even feels darker than before. Was that because of the dark thoughts? Ardan isn't sure about anything anymore. His legs are moving mechanically, he doesn't need to think about it. This is one thing he knows from before. It's better to run and live than to stay and die stupid. He had forgotten that for a moment, when he ran back for his horn. The wretched horn. It's still dangling around his chest. Probably worth a pretty coin in the right places. Here? Right now? Worth a less than northing. He is angry. Not only did it not bring safety, it nearly deafened them. Again.
What did Otto say? Did he tell them to stop? But the dwarves also never gave commands and the statues did their subconscious bidding. For a moment he catches himself begging the statues in his mind to stop. But then he stops. What's the point... "I did not ask them, no. Neither did the dwarves..." he shouts, then falls silent again. He knows that speaking an unnecessary word on the the run can be the difference between getting where you need to be on time and being too late or too slow.
He continues to run hoping beyond hope that the others have a better idea about getting out of here than he did.

It's a race to the exit. You're running so fast that you're there before you know it. It seemed farther away... but when you were on your way in you were moving slowly and carefully. Now, at a sprint, you're there in a flash.

This is a mixed blessing. You get the sense that you were moving faster than the statues which - for all their magic - do not seem to run. So you have a bit of a lead on them, but with the exit so close, your lead is not as large as you would hope. It will be a race to get down the rope before the statues arrive and drop stones on your head. Or, you know, cut the rope. Can golems think abstractly? You don't want to find out the hard way, since the hard way involves hitting granite at 100 feet per second, or about 100kph.

There's a moment of pause before you jump into the sewer pipe, which is only five feet wide and requires you to go single-file. Whichever order you're going to climb down in has to be the order you go into the pipe.

"I'll go last," Naesala insists, cutting off debate. "I'll hold them off. I don't need space to throw hands, nor the rope to descend."

The prospect of descent is intimidating. It's about 200 feet to razor-sharp rocks below. While there are stakes to help anchor the rope, you don't want to put them to the test. At the same time, they stop you from rappelling the whole length at once. Similarly, how many people can you put on the rope at one time? Ascending, you went one by one. Do you have time for such luxuries?

And what about the senior dwarf? It Otto just going to sling the body out the pipe and have the corpse hit the ground like a burlap sack full of beef stew? Decisions, decisions.

Thelonius wrote:

"I did not ask them, no. Neither did the dwarves..."

Between huffs, Otto wheezes "Maybe dwarves do not have to ask, and maybe we do. If you suffer from boredom, perhaps you could try whilst we run for our lives..." Otto chugs along with a winded laugh. He wonders how many heads he can separate from their bodies as the statues emerge from the pipe. Surely, the group will be overwhelmed...

Adrasta can see the light at the end of the tunnel. She chuckles. It was rare that idioms could be taken so literally. She tosses her torch aside and secures her shield as she closes the last few meters.

She takes a second to look back, seeing Otto and Ardan huffing and puffing as they neared the exit. With a quick nod, she grabs the rope and starts heading down.

<<Night - Day 4 - Early Spring - Dwarven Fortress - Wilderness>>

Adrasta hunches over and shuffles down the pipe. The only light at the end of the tunnel is a sliver of moonlight. Looking over the edge of the pipe she sees pitch black below. She retrieves the torch and drops it over the side, hoping that it will at least illuminate the bottom. There's a big shower of sparks when it hits the ground hundreds of feet below but it stays lit and offers a destination.

Adrasta grabs the rope and begins her descent. In many ways climbing down is more difficult than climbing up. The rope offers good handholds and the iron spikes hold firm, but finding good footholds in the pitch blackness is largely due to luck. But she also knows that she has to hurry because the others will be following. Or, if they're not following, they're dying. The rope might not bear the weight of two so she needs to get down as soon as possible.

It's not graceful but she makes it to the bottom without slipping or falling. She calls up to Ardan to begin his descent...

Ardan heads down the rope as Otto emerges from the pipe. Otto, thrilled to drop his dwarven 'companion', puts him in the end of the pipe, arms outstretched. With the edge of his hand axe, he quickly cuts the loop around the necklaces, tucking them away.

The moment he dreaded has come, and he finds himself somewhat sickened by what he must do. He'd hoped to avoid it, that the statues would magically stop, and he'd have time to remove the rings properly. But time didn't appear to be on their side, as he raises his axe not once, but twice, each time bringing it down on one of the dwarf's wrists. The second cut makes a distinctive 'whumpf' noise that strikes him as odd.

"Freya's left nipple!", he mutters under his breath, as he puts his hands into his belt pouch. Well, not exactly HIS hands, but hands nonetheless, and since he was in possession of them some might argue that they were indeed 'his'.

He grabs the rope, and with his burden lightened considerably, he descends quickly. He discovers with a sick feeling that the 'whumpf' noise wasn't the sound of his axe on the dwarf's wrist, but the sound of Ardan landing quite poorly.

Otto's startled gaze goes to Adrasta, at a loss what to do.

Hurrying down the tunnel, Ardan is mostly concentrated towards back instead of forward. He reaches the rope, his thoughts still with the statues. What does the wretched horn do? It's certainly not a normal horn, producing such loud sounds. But what was it connected to, if not the statues? Deep in thoughts Ardan grabs the rope and hastily starts his descent. But quickly he misses a step, barely manages to hold himself only to miss the next step. This time the force of the slip is too much, he loses the grip to the rope and falls...
For all moment it's a serene feeling. Gone is the exhaustion of fighting and running and climbing. Gone are the dark stone walls around him. Only air and silence and *smack*, with a dull thud he hits the ground and everything goes black.

Adrasta looks up just in time to get out of the way as Ardan tumbles to the ground. She looks back up to see if the statues or some unseen dwarves have caught up to her companions, but she only sees Otto's form climbing down. No sign of enemies.

She kneels down next to Ardan. He's a mess, but still has a pulse. She channels her energy and coaxes his body to speed up its healing. His wounds stop bleeding, his bones set, and scabs form.

She looks up as Otto gets to the bottom, seeing the surprise on his face.

"Don't worry, he's alive," she says. Ardan begins to stir. "See? Now, let's get out of sight before those damn statues start lobbing rocks at us." She stands back up, then starts heading down the mountain.

Adrasta can barely see the pipe up above. There's a shadow of forms that can barely be discerned by the moonlight and weak torchlight. She watches in horror as Ardan slips. Miracle of miracles, there's a ledge in the rocks that he bounces off of, slowing his descent somewhat. There is - if you look hard - a certain grace to his falling. One can tell that he is an elegant jumper and accustomed to falling distances that would shatter most ankles. That looseness seems to save him as he bounces off the rocks once, twice, and then faceplants at Adrasta's feet.

Luckily Adrasta went first and was waiting for him. Had she been in Otto's place, could she have descended quickly enough to put Ardan back together? Would she have even known about the fall? But she's here, now, in the right place at the right time to lay hands on Ardan and repair the broken bones that had severed various arteries around his body. After 30 seconds there is merely a battered Ardan instead of a broken one. After a day of rest, the only thing that will still be bruised is his ego.

Otto reaches the bottom of the rope and only has a moment to contemplate Ardan and Adrasta before there's a commotion up above at the pipe. There's a clanging, a deep ringing as if the pipe were a bullhorn. One imagines stone soldiers swinging at Naesala and missing, their stone swords echoing down the length of the pipe. A moment later, Naesala springs from the pipe and clings to the wall like a spider-themed superhero.

"RUN!" she yells down at the trio below, not knowing about Ardan's hiccup. "WHY DOST THOU STAY?!"

A moment later, a stone statue reaches the lip of the pipe and looks down. Naesala - sneaky Naesala - has climbed above it in anticipating of exactly this. She reaches down from her perch and YANKS the statue off its feet. It topples forward, over the cliff and into the darkness. From your vantage point below, you see the silent shadow racing for your position before it SLAMS into the rocks and SHATTERS into a thousand pieces. The shrapnel of pebbles and stones bounces off your armor.

The trick only works once. The next statue comes to the lip of the pipe and swings a sword up at Naesala. The crafty elf leaps to the side, defying gravity as she does, as the statue swings at her impotently.

"FLY, YOU FOOLS!" she bellows down, buying you a few more moments to run down the mountain toward the woods where your mounts await you.

Upon hearing Naesala's voice from above, Otto shakes out of his dumbfounded reverie, and starts to move. Taking what cover he can, he makes his way down the hillside. Happily, he doesn't hear (or feel) the drumming, pounding footsteps of the statues, and stony death does not rain down on him from above.

He makes for the woods with his companions, hoping they can find the horses easily enough in the darkness. Otto pauses to pull a torch from his backpack, and lights it with some satisfaction, and an ever-lessening fear of doom clawing at his back.

With that sense of relief, Otto's thoughts turn to carving. It seems like ages since his last whittling, and he looks forward to that soothing, settled feeling he gets from recording a moment, person, or place in wooden relief. His mind drifts to thoughts of carving the silent, brooding fortress, so full of promise, and capturing the faces of the dwarves...those swarthy dwarves...those arrogant, smug, scum-sucking dwarves who attacked them, hurt them...that son-of-a-WHORE firing at us from the wall...

Otto can feel his face turning red just thinking about the dead leader, and he wishes for an instant that he could kill him again. What infuriates him the most is the dead dwarf has somehow robbed Otto of his calm and simple peace. He doesn't know how to carve this.

Adrasta makes a rude gesture in Naesala's direction as she trots down the mountainside. Did the Elf think they could all run up near vertical surfaces like she could? If the mere humans that Ardan, Otto and Adrasta were were to run any faster, down a hill, in the dark, they would surely break their necks. There was only so much the medic could fix.

It is with great relief that Adrasta sees that their horses are still where they left them. Wanderer paws the ground as she gets near, the annoyance plain in her eyes. Despite the late hour, she seemed eager to lead Adrasta into some coniferous trees' branches, or under some low fallen log.

The medic pats the mare's flank. "Not tonight, you cantankerous poutana. At first light."

She plops herself down on the ground, taking deep breaths to settle her racing heart. Sleep would come easy tonight.

Their freshly-built campfire crackles peacefully, warming the tired and sore travelers. "If you will pardon me, I'll avail myself of yonder stream for a little washing."

Otto stands, setting down the large hammer, but carrying his 2-handed axe along for company. He's mightily impressed with the hammer, but the axe is an old friend -- and he could use a friend about now. He pulls a torch from his backpack, lighting it in the campfire's flames, and turns toward the creek. His leisurely stroll seems aimless as he fades from the campfire's light.

He kneels by the babbling stream, shallow water tumbling over rocks polished by time. From the pouch at his belt, he removes the stiff hands of the fallen dwarf leader, and gives them a disgusted look before setting them down. His demeanor grows even more agitated, as he feels a sudden and intense itching under his left shoulder. He tries to reach it, to no avail. Otto reaches for his axe, before an idea hits him. He squints, contemplating the act, then shrugs, apparently surrendering to the idea. He picks up a dwarven hand, reaches over his left shoulder with it, and gives his shoulder a scratch. The relief is immediate. "Ah, thank you, Mr. Dwarf...you were good for something, after all", he mutters.

Somehow, this steels him, steadies him. He pulls out his hand axe, tests the blade for sharpness, and settles the blade ahead of the dwarven knuckles. He carefully rocks the curved blade back and forth, careful not to nick the rings. He's done such delicate work for years with axes, though admittedly not on such a....material. Within minutes, the job is done. He picks up one finger at a time, and removes each ring at the severed end. Otto takes each ring, rinses it thoroughly, and puts it on his pinky finger.

Finally, he scoops the hands and digits, heaving them as far as he can across the creek before washing his hands, and then his face. He breathes a deep sigh, stands, and returns to his friends at the campfire. He shows them the rings and the necklaces, before losing himself in thought as he stares at the fire. It isn't the night for whittling, but it will be, soon.