The Golden Scales

9: Clash of gods

Nihilus was fast and lethal as he summoned a sword made of shadows to slice the neck of another of the warriors protecting the small tunnel. He didn't even had time to scream or make any noise before falling to the floor, discarded by the pale half elf.

"Damn, that was cool." Kilau said, her eyes wide open.

"Damn, that was scary" Antonius murmured.

The dead warrior wore pelts that left his arm muscles visible in a way the group could see the many tattoos covering them. Defense tattoos, according to Neven. Not-that-defensive tattoos, according to Nihilus. An inspection of the corpse revealed that he also carried survival material, like dried meat and cave mushrooms, ropes and climbing material and a large amount of salt.

"Why would he carry so much salt?" Neven asked out loud. Nobody provided a good enough answer, so they decided to continue walking, deeper into the ancient dwarven city of Alzungheft.

The whole tunnel smelled like sulphur and was quite hot. They've decided to leave most of their capes and thickest clothes outside just to not have to take them off during the fight. Neven and Ulfhärt moved with their bows on hand, separated from Nihilus and Kilau on the vanguard. The two hunters moved carefully, but even still, they assumed that the slight ringing sound of the chainmail they wore would be enough to reveal their position in a tunnel where any sound was magnified tenfold.

Behind them, Antonius advanced, accompanied by a Ling that, more than protecting him, was almost pushing him so he wouldn't lose the rest of the group. Because, evidently, Antonius' scholarly eyes analized every detail of the tunnel's construction.

"They don't seem rests from Blkrngest's colonists." he murmured to himself, hoping he'd have more time in the future to get his notebook and write down the great discoveries that he was finding "The style almost looks like Hgntfaht, but it's at the other side of the continent. I can only imagine the kind of stories the ones who built this walls can tell..."

"Yeah, yeah, you can only imagine. Now, go forward, they're leaving you behind again." Ling half laughed, touching his back to push the bard.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. I just like this kind of things a lot and..."

"And you wouldn't miss the chance to investigate it."

They continued advancing, a bit behind the others. The silence they were keeping was not the usual. This one was accompanied by what seemed like screams of pain and the rumbling of boiling lava. Every now and then, excavated in the old bedrock, they found some construction that in the old times could've been a house or a guard post.

"Do you think this used to be the poor areas of Alzungheft?" Antonius asked.

"I think dwarves don't have poor areas." Ling answered. "If they all dress in jewels and metal, which would be the humblest? The ones that just have ten quilograms of iron in their house?"

"There are, among dwarves, several castes, my friend." The bard answered. "At the top there's the caste of the Sons of the Mithrill, governing and leading. Under them, you can find forgers and scholars, the sons of Obsidian and Earth, respectively. And then there's the sons of Stone, the fighters. And below, you find the sons of Quartz, Sand and Animals, the lower classes, with the most humble jobs."

"You know a lot about dwarves."

"I know a lot about many things." The bard answered, proudly placing the hands on his hips. "And I especially like to learn about interesting cultures. Up here in the north there was the ancient civilization of Vigil, which is said to have been governed by giants. And I want to learn more about this magnificient and ancient civilization."