K29 21 Highsummer
Dearest Ursula,
When last I wrote we had just reached Ekull, from whence we intended to seek out a lost Dwarven mine in the Stone Hills, said to contain many silver ingots left, for some unknown reason, when the mine was abandoned. While such a legendary treasure is worth seeking for its own sake, both Soren and I would like to find the answer of what could have driven a brave people to leave such a treasure behind.
Ekull was a study in contrasts from Oldbridge, where we had slept the night before. In Oldbridge we had met a large group of Pilgrims, protected by Clerics and Paladins. I had some hope I might see you among them, but it was not to be. Still, for merely assisting with the watches we were able to eat a fine meal after the morning Mass, leaving refreshed and renewed, and with our purses no lighter, a fine break from the fear of the previous few days. We passed through the whimsically named village of Ham on Wye, taking our midday rest and a meal at the Dripping Blade, where the sword of a slain orcish Overking still hangs on the wall. Days end found us entering a city crowded with people and musicians, Ekull. They have a budding Festival of Music, which I believe shall soon grow to gain the acclaim of the Four Corners Faire. To celebrate our arrival in safety and health, and with our purses full, we chose the Inn of the Golden Throne for the night. Even the mounts ate well.
We replenished our supplies of food, water, and equipment, including more arrows for Merrin, who can dispose of them at a startling rate. I have heard tales of adventurers who treat such supplies as an afterthought, as if food and water never run out, and torches burn forever, as if arrows simply appear at need. I assume the bones of such careless bands litter the wilderness and depths beneath. For while we seek to do deeds of renown, life is not some sort of fairy tale. While our Lord of course knows what is to come, He is no playwright ensuring each battle can be won regardless of our choices, as if we were merely players in some masque.
Merrin has taken Cosmin into tutelage in the bow, as Bill and Soren have for sword and lance. Cosmin shows a particular determination to master his new trade as man-at-arms as quickly as possible. He says we offered him a chance to serve, and he would not fail in that trust. I jested that I brought him into service to keep me alive, but I feel a great sense of responsibility to make sure he has the chance to achieve his own destiny. In any event, my own, less academic training, and my new sword, seem destined to leave me leading the way into danger. It certainly did on this expedition.
But before I (humbly, of course) extol you with my exploits in the Mine, in my last letter I mentioned Brother Cuy’s certainty that I would have to address more of what I held to be true. Bill is a native of Ekull and suggested that if we were to be delving into a mine, we should employ experts. And thus our party was off to Goblintown. Goblintown. Were it accounted as such it would be of the largest cities of the Realm with a population of humans and thousands of “humanoids”. “Humanoids”. Such an academic term for the green beasts of my nightmares. Orcs. Kobolds. Goblins. Even the half-breed issue of these monsters. Monsters, evil from birth, who, in order to save their pitiful lives, claim to have converted to the Faith. Regardless of the assurances of the Church, I find it hard to accept their sincerity. My skin crawled as Soren and Bill negotiated with the “Boss” of a small troop of five goblin “Sapper-Scouts”. Such a fine, civilized military name for infiltrators and assassins. You would be proud; I held my tongue. I have no love of going underground, so if my friends and proven companions felt they could be trusted to not betray us, and to give us advantages in the mine, then I would suffer their presence. I did notice Brother Cuy paying particular attention to my reaction. As if I, not the beasts, were the possible threat.
Fully equipped and provisioned, with our “friendly” Goblins following behind in white tunics with a large red Cross, purportedly a sign of their conversion, we set out the next day on the road North to the Stone Hills. I was glad my usual position in our growing column was in the lead next to Soren, with Cosmin between my back and the goblins. The trip, for all it abutted the wilderness of the Stone Hills, passed without incident until the palisaded village of Elm Hill came into view in the dwindling light of sunset. There, on a rock beside the road, was a meal setting of barley cakes and wine in very small glasses. Faint flute music could be heard from the nearby forest. Bill seemed familiar with this fairy ritual, and left an oat cake as our contribution to the… tribute? Bribe? The fae were not a particular area of my studies. As we entered Elmhill, to spend the night at the Last Inn on the Left, I learned there were even families of fae residing in the town, a rare situation in all the Realm. There is always so much to learn.
The morning saw us off on what we believed should be the last leg of our journey to the lost Mine. The day started off propitiously, as we met a band of Travelers heading South who assured us the road ahead was clear at least to Johnson’s Farm. We passed the Farm at midday and reached the Last Tower, the aptly named last fortification demarking the boundary between wilderness and the frontier in the early afternoon. A tower of treated wood, not even stone, with a small garrison, designed to watch the wilderness beyond. It offered no amenities other than a good well. We were now dependent on the supplies we carried with us, there would be no more inns, or villages, or civilization. Only wilderness and peril. The map I had discovered in my research, months ago in Oldbridge, put the rumoured location of Mine at approximately 3 hours at best from the Tower. We quickly agreed that searching for such a place in the waning hours of daylight, even for those of us who could see at night almost as well as in day, fell into what our mother called “borrowing trouble.” After all, our enemies, like our troop of hired “friends,” far preferred the night to the day.
I will include a copy of the map and directions, rather than repeat all the details. Suffice it to say that the directions were good, and with Merrin’s aid I managed to find a concealed entrance in a Stone Hill. We had found the Mine. I suggested the goblins check out the initial tunnel, well, I suggested Bill instruct them to do so. They reported a simple tunnel ending in a door. Your baby brother’s moment had once again arrived. Trusting to Faith, the skills Silas had taught me, and the luck my new sword seemed to bring I proceeded to examine the door. It was not locked, nor barred, and did not appear to have any traps. It seemed to simply be swollen in its frame. As you know, Silas believed that where skill might fail, strength must do, and I applied my own to the door. It surrendered, revealing a small landing, a crevasse, and on the other side another landing and door. A river flowed at the bottom of the gap, but the distance was well within my limits. As I examined the other door, my academic training once more came in as handy as Silas had suggested when we first met. Having been trained in magical writing, I recognized the faint traces of a Glyph of Warding. Clearly someone had attempted to bar access to the Mine. Which was almost as concerning as the fact that someone else had defied that warning and persisted on entering, as we were about to do.
The goblins surprised me. They seemed in their element as they quickly wedged open the doors to prevent them being sealed behind us and constructed a simple yet effective rope bridge over the chasm. Of course, I shouldn’t have been surprised, after all, they developed those skills to better infiltrate the mines of others.
On opening the door, we were faced with a choice, a tunnel led ahead into the darkness, and another off to our right. But we had little time to plan as a large skeleton construct, as if the remains of two monsters were knitted into one two-headed horror, skittered out of the dark toward us. Soren leapt past me, striking the beast with his flail. Bill attempted to strike it with his mace as I stood momentarily frozen, but he failed to harm it. The horror struck back in vengeance at Soren with its four, clawed hands and both fanged mouths. He managed to avoid all but the last bite, which drove him to the ground. That sight drove me to action, I slipped behind it as it loomed over Soren and struck at the joining of its heads with my magic blade, shattering the beast. From the construct’s eyes, one right, one left, gems rolled free, I scooped them into my pouch for later study. Brother Cuy ministered to Soren, healing my friend’s wounds and I gave him my hand to help him regain his feet. He, and Bill, had saved my life, enabling me to save theirs. We then had a moment of discussion, to continue our path past the fallen terror, or instead search the other corridor. In the end, we chose forward into darkness. The goblins fell in behind us. Their contract stated they would not fight to defend us but would defend themselves. With them following us we would have a rear guard for anything approaching from the other corridor. As that also left them as far from me as possible, it seemed a good arrangement.
We proceeded down the corridor, where we were met with another choice, doors to our left, and right, with the corridor continuing ahead. One door opened into what the goblins explained was an “ore washing room.” Apparently, their claim of mining expertise was not just talk. The other door, beyond an old spiderweb, led to a spiderweb of tunnels. My sword’s slight tremble reinforced our communal desire to have the goblins spike that door closed for our protection. Moving onward we found a set of tracks in the tunnel, disappearing into the darkness ahead, but turning under a set of large bronze-sheathed doors to our right. The goblins once again aided us with their knowledge, apparently in Goblintown they are employed as miners under the supervision of dwarven master miners, so they recognize the workmanship of this mine. I once again notice Brother Cuy’s gaze on me, was that the ghost of a smile?
After a bit of discussion, I opened the near door, while Bill with his magic shield from the ogre’s cave protecting his vision, investigated the room. A room with a massive blast furnace (again this information courtesy of our helpful goblins) and a door in the northeast corner. I tried to puzzle out the meaning, but dwarvish is not a language I had learned in my studies. While I struggled to parse some meaning, Merrin, of all people (that man is full of surprises and keeps them close to his chest), and Soren recognized to read “Mine Bosses Only.” As Bill pointed out, we were the closest thing in the mine we had yet seen that could be called its “Boss” and so we mentally and verbally asserted our right to enter to the darkness.
There was no key to the lock, but again my time spent in Fat Silas’ tutelage proved out. The door easily opened to my persuasion and once again I moved into the darkness with my lucky sword held high. Ahead, we saw the glitter of metal which was then blocked by what appeared to be a set of dwarven plate, with no occupant! We all leapt forward to strike, Cosmin and I missing, the unholy creation missing Cosmin in return with both blade and repeating(?!) crossbow. Our next attacks were more effective, my Dwarven sword cleaving the dwarven construct and young Cosmin striking the final blow. As it collapsed, we saw a rat’s nest in its armor. I later learned it was a Dread Guard, an animated armored guardian which fortunately had degraded over time. I say fortunately as we likely would not have survived if it were in any better condition.
With that terror also defeated we saw behind it that which we had come for. Beyond, gleaming silver in the torchlight, were 100 ingots of what our goblin hirelings announced, stammering in awe, to be pure chromium. A rare metal, used only by the Master Smiths of Khuz Dun to make their storied “incorruptible steel”. Indeed, our goblins almost fainted at the sight.
This was the treasure we had sought, and visions of wealth and acclaim filled our heads. The goblins offered to act as porters, not part of their Contract, in return for a bar apiece. A discussion broke out, with me asserting that discretion would be the better part of valor. We had finally decided to exit the mine, perhaps to return later, when one of the goblins asked in its horrid accent, “Do you hear that?” At that we all heard a faint ominous tapping in the distance. There was no more talk of further exploration, we fairly flew through loading up the bars and headed for the exit. The strange tapping sound of metal on stone chasing us down the passage. We had moved carefully on our exploration, but our exit was far more rapid. Still perhaps a half an hour passed before we gained the exit. The longest 30 minutes of my life. Along the way several of our party, and two of the goblins, paused standing and tapping their feet in time with the unearthly rhythm until shaken awake. Merrin was doubly affected and had to be physically led to the exit. Fortunately, we did not meet the source of the eldritch sound. The goblin’s rope bridge was a joyous sight and we were glad to see the sunshine even the sunshine of the wilderness of the Stone Hills. We wasted no time loading our mounts and pack animals as we had no desire to remain near the cursed mine any longer, particularly at night. We were once again fortunate, due no doubt to your prayers on my behalf, and perhaps a bit of the luck of my sword, to make our retreat to the Last Tower unmolested, arriving at that point of comparative safety just after sunset.
To my relief, our journey back to Ekull was similarly uneventful. Our faithful goblin hirelings performed one final service and introduced us to a Dwarven factor, a merchant in the employ of Khuz Dun’s Master Smiths, who offered us a veritable fortune for the Chromium. As I write we are in the midst of improving our equipment, engaging in training in our various arts, and enjoying being alive and, for the moment, wealthy beyond our expectations. Given the value brave young Cosmin and stalwart Brother Cuy have shown, and the utility of the goblins, who I had perhaps misjudged, to this expedition, we have resolved to seek out additional persons to hire into our service. There is strength in numbers, after all.
I will include copies of my maps and notes to this point with this letter. Remember me in your prayers, Big Bear. I have perhaps taken this adventuring life a bit lightly, that has definitely come to an end. I was glad that I was not forced to kill anything living, man or monster, and I now find myself questioning what makes a “monster” in truth. Certainly the unholy constructs we defeated in the mine would so qualify, as would the “Tapper” or “Rapper,” I have seen both names in my recent studies, the undead Dwarven creator of madness from which we fled in terror as the Dwarves had fled before us. But while the humanoids are undoubtedly inimical to civilization, our goblin Sappers show that, like men, as individuals they may be better or worse. On this I shall have to ponder, pray, and talk more with Brother Cuy. Be well dear sister, know your Dismal thinks of you often.
With love,
Dismas
Windage and Elucidation 