Shadowrun - Earthdawn - Lliferock
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Chaiel spoke. “We need to teach them to respect liferocks.
They didn’t understand us when we spoke of the spirit force inside Tepuis Garen.” He walked up next to Wennith’s dead body. “I want payback for Wennith’s death.”
Shouts of approval rose from the brotherhood. And the shouts grew into a cheer, getting louder and louder until the entire brotherhood stood. Soon the cheer became a chant in the long syllables of the obsidiman language. They sang, “Victory. Respect. Death to the miners.” The brothers followed Ywerk and Tidre outside into the clear afternoon.
Pabl asked Jan and Celagri to take Abrin and Pontin outside with the rest of the brotherhood while he remained behind inside the temple for a minute. After they had left, Pabl approached Gvint. “Elder, there is still another, more drastic option that we might be forced to embrace.”
“Yes, young one?”
“The Ritual of Protection.”
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“Ah, that.”
“I know it has been a long time since it was last performed, and —”
“More than five hundred years ago, yes,” Gvint said. “When I was not much older than you are now. It is risky and dangerous, and its performance requires both Elders.”
“That’s why I want to continue my search for Reid Quo.”
“Still anxious to be Named, young one?”
“The liferock needs two Elders.”
“Yes, but not right away. I can’t let you go now. We need everyone for the attack.”
“Yes, but —”
“The solution you propose is drastic,” said Gvint, walking towards the verandah. “I have considered it, and you are right; it has merit. But the risks of searching for Reid are far greater than attacking the miners. Concentrate on the battle ahead, young one. We may discuss this again after.” They had reached the entrance to the temple and looked out at the clearing next to the Mynbruje statue.
Celagri and the dwarfs looked on, slack-jawed, as the troubadour, Hagnit Ye, led the brotherhood in a undulating dance. Drums rolled deep as obsidimen chanted, “Victory.
Respect. Death to the miners.” Many of the brothers had removed their clothing and painted their skin with colored chalk paste. Red and greens across the chest, blue and black swirls along the arms and legs. Their heads were individual-ized in orange and yellow patterns.
“Try to enjoy yourselves while there is time,” Pabl told Jan and Celagri. “We will discuss specifics of the attack in a few hours, after the dance.”
The chalk patterns gyrated and roiled with the movement of the brothers, giving them the appearance of a living mural as they danced. Their movements were heavy and slow, but graceful. Then, as Hagnit increased the tempo, the motion This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock
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grew light and agile.
Pabl felt the magic of the music stir something deep down inside him. And he gave into the feeling — an instinctive violence toward anyone and anything that threatened the rock.
He wanted to lash out and destroy them. Now. Kill them.
Watch their puny bodies bend and crumble under the onslaught.
He savored the sensation. Relished it, for the moment, because he knew they would need all their cunning, all their instinct, to defeat the ork and his cavalry. He pulled off his clothing to join his brotherhood, launching himself into the dance with abandon, his concerns about Reid Quo forgotten.
This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Chapter Thirteen
The cold shadow of evening hung over the caravan encampment like a damp shawl as Sarbeneck looked at the wounded Nuinouri. The tunneler lay on the floor of the green tent, brown dust rising around it. The fabric of the tent shimmered in the crystal light. The cloth was multi-layered, the outside woven from thick pine-colored thread.
The inside layer was a faint blue, almost clear. Sarbeneck could see the runes which were embroidered into the fabric of the intervening levels. The tent’s interior had been partitioned at one end to provide quarters for Nancri and the other magicians. The main area was vacant except for the wounded Nuinouri.
The elementals and the other tunnelers were at the mining site, carving away. And making good progress, if the reports were to be trusted.
“I think it will heal on its own,” Nancri said. She reached up the touch the claw-shaped clasp at her shoulder. The bird claw released, and Nancri let her brown cloak slide into her arms. “But it will take a while; the elemental water hurt it worse than I originally thought.”
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“How long?”
“At least a week in hibernation.”
Sarbeneck looked at the thing, a sleeping black worm, segmented skin dull in the artificial light of the tent’s interior. A week meant delays in the digging. Delays that he really couldn’t afford. “You have three days to get it back in the cave,” he said.
“That might kill it.”
“I don’t have a choice,” he said. “We can’t make enough progress without all three tunnelers.”
Nancri shrugged. “You’re in charge,” she said. Then, “Will we see any more of our obsidiman neighbors?”
“Undoubtedly,” he said. “I expect them to do something, probably at the tunnel. I’ve tightened security, and you should keep aware. They might target this tent when the Nuinouri are resting.”
Nancri smiled, the smoothness of her pale skin flushing with color. “They are powerful, but few in number,” she said.
“And they likely underestimate the defenses built into this tent.
They’d be better off attacking the tunnel.”
“That’s just what they plan to do.” The voice was high-pitched, whiny. Pontin’s voice, coming from behind Sarbeneck. He turned to see the plaited red beard, the coifed hair and the robe of blue velvet. Pontin was alone, no sign of his guards.
“How did you get in here?”
“Never mind that. The rock brothers will attack in the next few minutes. They plan to hit the elementals and the Nuinouri at the cave. I suggest you withdraw them now.”
“How do you know?”
Pontin moved a little closer. “I don’t have time to answer any questions, and you don’t have time to ask them. You must withdraw the tunnelers from the cave or they will be destroyed. After the battle you can continue to dig.”
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Sarbeneck noticed that the scarab brooch which Pontin had been wearing the last time was no longer on his cloak.
“Okay, I’ll go now. Is there anything else?”
“Yes, order your orks not kill any of the obsidimen. Just stop them, okay? We don’t want their deaths on our head.
Also, some of the townspeople have sided with the rock folk. A group of them will be creating havoc on the north side. Ignore them; they’re a diversion. Put a few big orks on thundra beasts in their path and they’ll turn back.”
“When are they —?”
“Now! You must move fast.” Pontin grimaced as though he was straining against some invisible force. Then he squinted at Sarbeneck. “Now, I need to go.” Then he vanished, leaving the faint shimmer of his outline in the air for a fraction of a second.
“What in the name of Vestrial —?” Sarbeneck saw a tiny golden glimmer in the torch light fluttering were Pontin had stood. The scarab brooch. Then it flew off up to the sky and into darkness.
“I don’t like him,” Nancri said.
“Neither do I,” Sarbeneck said, turning toward Nancri.
“Prepare the tent. I must get to the tunnel and find Gingret
h.”
He ran then, moving as fast as his short legs would take him. But he wasn’t used to physical exertion; after only a few yards his breathing grew labored and his chest burned. Still, he pressed on, passing the perimeter of the camp. Sarbeneck gave a curt nod to the heavy ork sentinel on her mount. The beast snorted at him as he lumbered past, struggling up the sloped trail to the mine. The muscles of his legs protested, forcing him to slow to a jog.
He scanned the area for Gingreth, but the beastmaster was nowhere in sight. Sarbeneck made his way into the mine-shaft. He located Riann and Jehrad near the back of the tunnel, black cloth covering their faces to filter the acidic dust This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock
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which hung in the air. Thick burlap robes draped the two dwarfs, acid burns scarring the brown cloth black in places.
“Stop everything,” Sarbeneck yelled. “We’re pulling everything back to camp. Now!”
The two elementalists turned to face him, a look of bewil-derment in their eyes.
Sarbeneck heard motion behind him, and he spun around quickly, expecting to see a group of crazed obsidimen ambushing them in the cave. But it was only Gingreth, rushing up the trail towards him. His black leather jerkin was covered in red clay, and the mud had spattered into the ork’s hair.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“I have news of an imminent attack. We have to get our elementals and tunnelers away from the rock. And it has to happen now!”
Gingreth’s voice boomed out. “You heard him. Let’s move out. Everyone back to camp, and get ready to defend yourselves.”
Jehrad said a few words to the elementals, and they stepped back from the rock. Two of them held squirming Nuinouri, their red glow cooling slightly as they moved farther from the rock.
Sarbeneck and the other miners stepped against the tunnel wall to let the elementals pass by with their burdens. “Gingreth, I want guards in here, as many as we can spare,” he said.
“But they are not to kill the obsidimen. Just keep them away from the camp.” He went on to tell him about the diversionary attack from the north side.
The miners followed Jehrad and Riann down the path back to the encampment, and Sarbeneck was about to join them when he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye. Movement?
No. It was only the golden luster of the rock near the back of the cave. He moved up close, drawn by the vision. The red This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock
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sandstone grew darker until it was almost black about fifteen feet in, but through the black ran a vein of shiny obsidian glass tinted with gold. Orichalcum.
Yes!
Sarbeneck found himself climbing over uncleared rubble to reach the rock. He wanted to touch the unpurified metal.
Smell it up close.
“Sir, I think we should get you back to the camp where it’s safer.”
Sarbeneck stopped, took a breath and shook his head to clear it. What am I doing? “Yes, Gingreth, you’re right of course.”
Just then, in the periphery of his vision, Sarbeneck noticed the wall of the cave move. A bulge formed from the curve of the tunnel, rapidly taking shape — head, chest, arms. What by Dis is that?
Sarbeneck jumped back, ice scissoring along his nape despite the heat inside the tunnel. He watched, mesmerized, as the form of an obsidiman emerged.
Sarbeneck ran.
Another obsidiman took shape, its skin painted with blues and greens like some primitive hunter. Then another appeared, looming large as Sarbeneck cleared the exit of the tunnel.
Gingreth closed in behind the dwarf, and a knot of orks surrounded him. Then the cave was full of the rock men, bellowing as they attacked. The sounds of clashing metal and crunching bone came to Sarbeneck’s ears as the orks pushed him down the path.
“Get him back to the camp!” Gingreth roared to the mercenaries. Then the ork screeched, calling like a raptor to his espagra.
The huge forms of ork cavalrymen buffeted Sarbeneck on all sides as his legs pumped to carry him back down the This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock
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rocky path. Screams and grunts came from behind him, and he knew that the fighting had started. All he could see was the armored bulk of the muscular, stinking orks surrounding him.
One of them pulled Sarbeneck off his feet — strong, hairy hands lifting the dwarf up onto the hard ridged back of his mount. The rank stench of thundra beast filled Sarbeneck’s nostrils as the huge ork rider held him in place with an iron-tight arm across his chest, and spurred the lumbering creature.
“I’m Tusq,” grunted the ork. “Keep your head down and hang on.”
Up ahead, Sarbeneck saw the elementals moving down the path, almost to the camp. And as he watched, his breath coming in gasps, a magical sphere of ice and snow blew past him, traveling toward the tunnelers. The sphere was like a miniature blizzard, floating in the air, targeting the tunnelers.
It grew and grew until it hit the elementals with a force that surprised Sarbeneck.
The thundra beast jostled and shook him as it hurtled down the slope. He watched as orks froze around the elementals, frost collecting on their hair and their skin turning white. Several orks fell, but the magicians weathered the attack and earth elementals continued.
“Duck!” Tusq bellowed, shoving Sarbeneck’s head down just in time to avoid an arrow. “If you want to live.”
Sarbeneck clutched tightly to the hard hide of the beast.
He just caught sight of a diving espagra, a glimmering blue streak in the bright light of the crystal lanterns. The blizzard sphere in front of them dissipated as the espagra attacked the obsidiman spellcaster on the cliff face.
The flying creature shrieked suddenly; one of the obsidimen had materialized a stone cage around the espagra, trapping it. Sarbeneck heard a loud crash as the cage and its This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock
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inmate plummeted to the rocks below.
Then the elementals were into the camp perimeter and entered the green tent. Safe, Sarbeneck thought. For now at least.
The espagra didn’t fare so well. Entrapped in the stone cage, it was crushed to death beneath rock.
Sarbeneck tucked his head down, chin against his chest, and hung onto the saddle with a white-knuckled grip. They galloped past a group of mounted orks and into the camp.
Tusq brought Sarbeneck up to the green tent before slowing the beast.
“You be safer here,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“Now I want to fight.” He gave a snaggle-toothed grin, visible under the visor of his helm.
“Of course,” Sarbeneck said. “Thank you.”
The ork rode off.
Sarbeneck stood next to the tent’s entrance flap, his legs weak and wobbly. A flash of red in the corner of his sight drew his attention and when he looked up towards the mining tunnel, he saw a line of fireballs speeding towards him. He dove left, hitting the ground as the fireballs crashed into the fabric of the green tent and exploded. Flames burst around him for a second, lighting up the night, then dissipated.
Heat singed his hair, burning the flesh on his exposed arms and face as he rolled across the ground away from the explosion.
“Sarbeneck! Get in here!”
He looked up to see Nancri above him, staring down at him with expression of urgency. He blinked, trying to get rid of the explosion’s bright purple afterimage.
“Hurry!”
Jerked out of his daze, Sarbeneck lunged for the opening. He cleared the fabric just as another barrage of fireballs This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mind
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hit, the explosions shaking the air like a dragon’s roar. Bright red light shone through the wall of the tent, but there was no heat.
“They’re wasting their magic on this tent,” Nancri said.
“If this is the best they can do, we don’t have much to worry about.”
Sarbeneck heard her as if through cotton. He knew he had been badly burned and should be feeling some pain, but his awareness was somewhere far away, outside his body.
The ground cracked and buckled just then, the floor of the tent lurching underneath them. Earthquake magic. The surging rock threw them all to the ground and caused the tent’s support poles to list sideways and groan under the strain.
“Check the Nuinouri!” Nancri yelled, pushing to her feet just as lightning struck the tent, its flash showing brilliant blue and white around the edges of the fabric, where the tent walls met the ground.
The thunder concussion ripped the air around them. Sarbeneck’s crouched body toppled over as the thunder blow hit him like a hammer. But still he could not feel it.
Then the rain came, like a downpour of hailstones. The rain pelted the tent with a ferocity greater than any normal storm.
Nancri brushed herself off, then tilted her head as she listened. “Death Rain,” she said, nearly yelling to be heard above the roar of the rain. “As long as the tent holds, we’ll be protected. I can’t say the same for the orks outside.”
From far away, Sarbeneck felt the lightening strike again.
He watched as Nancri covered her ears against the thunder.
“Perhaps we underestimated the rock men,” she said.
When Sarbeneck didn’t answer, Nancri gave him a questioning glance. “Garlen’s Grace!” she said, an expression of alarm on her face. “You look terrible.”
Suddenly, the pain hit. Agony cut through adrenaline.
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