Baerg stood tall, a whole four feet, framed by lightning. As his black, leather boots crunched upon the rubble of fort Helroq’s northern wall, he felt a sudden change in the atmosphere. He put on his cracked, helanphium helmet, then brushed his hands down his chainmail to the twin hatchets strapped to his belt. His strong, ginger beard looked magnificent as the mist enveloped him. The rain hit down hard upon him, but dwarves are made of stronger stuff than humans, so he thought little of it. His determined eyes, surrounded by wrinkles, darted from soot covered buildings to burnt down shacks as he searched for his prize. He was distracted from his search by a sudden twinge in his right shoulder; the injury left by that crossbow bolt still hadn’t fully healed.
As he crept into the old, abandoned tavern once known as The Troll’s Cart, he was hit by a sudden feeling. He knew exactly where to look, and so he jogged over to an upturned, blood stained table, with the goblin rune for death roughly carved into it, and moved it aside. Suddenly he spotted it, an old, brass telescope, with sapphires embedded into it. The light coming through the cracked windows reflected perfectly off of it. He picked it up and glanced through it, realising that despite all that it had been through, it was still in near pristine condition. As he slowly dusted it, he was struck by a sudden vision. A vision of burning stars, much like his own sun, as well as vast nebulas, slowly being pulled into all-consuming black holes.
He sought to look through the telescope again, but this time instead of seeing the distant wall up close, he saw a glorious image. He was standing, in full kayshium armour, in the centre of a spectacular battlefield. He was hefting a mighty battleaxe from foe to foe. One second it was embedded in the skull of a huge, black orc, the next splitting the stomach of a drow. He saw in his eyes a mad battle lust that overtook him as he fought and sung heartily.
This vision was replaced by one of himself in the legendary dwarven halls of his home city, Ysblennydd. The telescope was being presented to the steward of the Lord of the city. He was a magician, about six feet in height, dressed in vivid, emerald coloured robes, wielding a great, ebony staff, but more importantly and unusually, he was human. In return for Baerg’s deed, he was gifting him the kayshium armour and the huge battleaxe.
All of a sudden the building shook and he froze, brought immediately out of his reverie. The telescope was shoved unceremoniously into a pouch tied to his belt, and he sprinted outside as fast as his stubby legs could carry him. Dwarves are naturally underground creatures, and so even a dwarf not used to the mines can recognise an earthquake, and they definitely know not to stay underground if one occurs.
As he shot out of the sagging doorway, he was confronted by a completely unexpected sight. Not ten feet away was the steward, Fálinshapow. Either side of him stood a troll, covered in thick, tough plates of natural scaled armour. Behind him stood a drow, much like an elf, but with greyish, navy skin and a mean demeanour. The drow had a nasty grimace plastered to his face, and his bow was aimed directly at Baerg, who tensed and changed into a stance showing that he was prepared to fight his way out.
As the steward slowly reached out his hand, the chunk of amethyst on top of his staff glowed, and the telescope shot from the pouch cinched to Baerg’s waist, and straight into the hand of Fálin’. Baerg could only watch as the strange group departed, with a sly grin unfolding upon the rogue magician’s face.
