Suggested Listening

Elruin gave it some thought. "I think we should take her with us. She's strong and we need lots of help to stop Claron." How the dwarf could accomplish such a goal was anyone's guess, but Elruin couldn't imagine how any of them could stop him either.

"It means hiding Scratch, but I struggle to consider that a downside," Cali said.

"Fine, I guess I'm outvoted, but for the record I think if Scratch was here, he'd be on my side, with a number of counter-arguments."

"Trust me, I know." Calenda took a seat next to the nest. "So we'll get our shopping done tomorrow. If we want to stick around here for a while, we could earn money and goodwill by clearing out the forests. If we want to take the morks up on their offer, we need our cart repaired, new animals to drag it, food, I could use new armor, and maybe some of that acid-protection sarite if we can find any."

"Can we sell our bandit weapons? It might help."

"Well, dwarves are always eager to buy scrap metal," Cali said. "I never knew why until today. But truth be told, we're better off keeping them. We can't afford weapons of high enough quality to replace what we've already got, and as fast as we cycle through Rin's toys, equipment is better than some small handful of billon."

"Or for experiments," Lemia added. "But she's right, we need tools a lot more than money right now. Especially if we're going to be in the wilderness which doesn't care how rich you are, unless you used those riches to hire a personal army."

"But we'll finish our preparations tomorrow," Cali said. "For now, Rin needs her sleep. Right now, she represents more than half this team's magic power. If she's not in fighting form, we're all in trouble."

As Elruin slept, who older guardians did their work in private. Lemia, studying the notes on necrotempered leather while working on the rote process of crafting more venomfire. The thought occurred to her that if she got hold of some goblin toxins, she could make a truly terrifying bomb.

Meanwhile Cali spent her time going through her martial arts routines, learning to adapt for the differences between her living and dead bodies. A core aspect of her entire style was understanding and awareness of her body at all times, which was hard to accomplish with her new unliving form. She'd been lucky thus far that they were fighting creatures, rather than intelligent foes, because any skilled fighter would spot her hesitation and exploit her mistakes.

Morning came, and with it a hug from Elruin to Calenda and the energy restoration she suspected she'd have to rely upon for quite some time. She bristled under the knowledge that she was so dependent upon Elruin, but it wasn't as bad as being under Garit's thumb, or worse yet Claron. Here, at least the dependency was mutual, as the poor child had little chance of surviving on her own.

Once back in the trading camp, it didn't take long for Ketak to find them. "So, does 'is mean you want to work toge'er, now?"

Calenda gave a nod, then took the role of team leader as nobody else seemed to want the role. "We've talked it over, and just need to make a few things clear. First, you'll have to bring your own equipment. You can buy out of your own share of treasure we find. Most of which will be in the form of sarite. We can loan some of ours, but it will be a loan. This includes food."

"Deal." Ketak didn't hesitate, she was confident her equipment was better than theirs, anyway. "But not i' you're going on the ocean. Dwar'es don't do well in boats. We part ways in the port, deal?"

Calenda hesitated to reveal too much of their future plans. "Deal."

"And second, we need you to synchronize with Rin," Cali said. "You are revealed, right?"

"I am. What's 'is about synchronizing?"

"It's a special technique that accelerates magic attunement between people," Cali said. "What's important about it is that Rin's death magic can hurt allies as much as enemies, so if we can establish some resonance, it makes everyone's life a great deal easier."

"Ah, is 'at what you call it?" Ketak looked at the little necromancer for a moment. "I should tell you, we dwar'es call 'at a marriage. I didn't 'ink humans had 'at type of magic."

"My team has... an unorthodox historian," Calenda said. "And more than one thaumaturgical scholar. I'm afraid we only use the magic for utilitarian value, not your cultural beliefs. I suppose we can waive the synchronization."

"I didn't say I wouldn't do it," she said. "It's a magic ritual, it means no'ing wi'out vows and duty, aside making us stronger. I wanted to see i' you knew, is all."

"We'll need to purchase the last of our supplies first, then we can do the ritual somewhere private," Cali said. "It's easier to perform when you don't have to worry about interruptions."

"Acceptable," Ketak said. "I'll come wi' you, keep 'em 'rom gouging 'eir prices."

As it turned out, they hadn't gouged their prices, not that Cali had expected they would. They burned through much of their supplies, providing a suit of chain armor for Cali, getting their cart fixed and some animals to pull it, and some other basic equipment such as several days of food which they might need on the road. The only unusual treasures they found were some sarite.

One, a powerful Forge shard that could hone a warrior to deadly accuracy, and another offered powerful regeneration and an aura of deadly poison that afflicted everything the wielder touched, including herself. That one went straight to Calenda's hands, since she was immune to the poison. It turned out she was also immune to the regenerative effect, but it was better than nothing.

Suggested Listening

Elruin sang of her abandonment, of her lost home, left to die in the wilderness.

The soft echoes of Ketak's scales changed the nature of the song, their shared pain.

"Oh, Mother, you worry too much. These are some of the safest tunnels we have." The young man, Tetark, did not speak in either language Elruin knew, but she understood him nonetheless. He was a handsome, strong stone-brother, or so his mother thought when she 'sang' of him. He was a good man, with freshly minted scales of steel ready to face the world and all its horrors.

"But they're fresh tunnels," Ketak insisted. There was nothing she could do to dissuade her son, for unlike the human society, dwarves did not grant any special authority of parents over their adult offspring, and it would be inappropriate to use clan authority.

"That they are, but we are well prepared." Tetark gave his hammer a not-subtle pat.

Ketak rested her hand on her son's shoulder, felt the furnace within him as it is within all dwarves. "We all are, but promise not to rush to your death."

"I promise, Mother."

It would be the last moment they shared heat.

Elruin sang, she sang of Calenda and her rescue, being taken to the safety of Arila, of being granted a new family.

Suggested Listening

Ketak rejected her song, the first Elruin had ever experienced such a thing. Ketak refused to accept Elruin's story. Her song of loss climbed in intensity, evolved into the song of the death for her sons, her daughters, and her home. The echoes of hope and mourning alike burned away, leaving nothing behind but hatred.

"We have to run!" Her coward of a husband pulled her arm. "They're coming up the tunnels! If we stay here, we're going to die."

"Then we die fighting!" She yanked her arm free, leaving long gashes in soft silver plating. "Send out the orders! Gather our warriors at the third banquet hall, use it as the choke point! Their only advantage is numbers, take that from them!"

She rushed for the hall, herself. She would avenge her children, no matter the price.

She never had the chance. There were hobgoblins in the halls well ahead of the choke-point, and they ambushed her on the path. Their acid-infused skin against her fire-infused claws. They fell screaming, their regeneration struggling against the cauterization of flesh. She screamed as well, for their toxic fluids took their toll, melting her claws and burning her fingers.

Individually, they were no match for a warrior like her, but there were no individuals amongst the goblins. They were a mindless hoard, a swarm of ants, with no care to the numbers that had to die so long as the swarm triumphed.

Still she fought, as the venom on her skin soaked inward, replacing the burning fire of her blood with the burning poison of theirs.

Then, the rumble-snap as someone enacted the final solution. The caves began to collapse inward, the stone dropping layer by layer. Some cowards had chosen to sacrifice the life of Helmar itself, rather than risk their own.

The stone fell atop them, crushing the goblins and Ketak with them. She survived, though it took her over a week to dig her way to the surface with her wounded claws.

So she sang, of the power of hatred to push people to succeed where they otherwise could not.

Elruin, unable to push for a more serene accord, changed her voice, sang of the struggles at her cousins' farm, and the bandits who were not bandits but sought to kill the babies. She sang of her fear and uncertainty while fighting them alongside Cali, of killing them one after another so that other, innocent, lives would not have to fight. Changed a song of a past worth killing over into a future worth killing for.

Ketak adjusted her song, sang of justice and defense, not far removed from her prior song of revenge.

It was an imperfect synchronization, for there were many differences between Ketak and Elruin. One was a dispassionate human child, the other an obsessed dwarf mother, but both could find common ground that there were terrible people who did not deserve to live. Even if Ketak would feel rather offended by the implication that goblins were people.

Elruin trembled, fighting down the stomach-churning emotions of being buried alive with the toxic remains of the goblins. The song could not be continued, not now, perhaps not ever, but it had served its purposes.

Ketak nodded, as dwarven mouths were not made to smile as humans. "We ha'e an understanding."

Elruin understood many things, now. She understood what fanaticism looked like. She understood that of everyone she'd ever met, Ketak would make the most terrifying of undead monsters. She understood that this woman would drive a species to extinction if given the opportunity. It took a great deal to rattle the little necromancer, but that sort of fervor was more than adequate.

"We have an understanding."

Soon, they left the safety of the walls through a gate that only barred them in so much as to warn them. "There are a lot of goblins in the woods," the hooded silmid warned. "Are you certain your team can handle them?"

"E'en our protectors speak in terror o' goblins," Ketak muttered. "Sonhome is lost, it simply does not know it yet."

Calenda began to regret inviting the dwarven woman along, but they desperately needed the physical power she represented if they wanted to accomplish anything of merit. "I assure you, we are well equipped for the woods."

They left the safety of the tree, then walked across the empty plains to the threat that was the forest. Elruin began to play her violin before she reached the edge of the forest, sending out the sounds that would tell Scratch they were returning to him.

"Announcing yoursel' to the entire wilderness?" Ketak said. "Can't say I was planning to start 'is soon, but perhaps it'll be better with 'e city so close. Let 'em see us 'ight, and maybe 'ey'll stop cowering behind 'e walls."

"I think she was announcing herself to me." A tall, bulky goblin stepped out from the tree line. He oozed black ichor from dozens of wounds that would have proven fatal twenty times over on a human.

"Troll!" Ketak stepped forward, ready to rush the larger breed of goblinoid. Her scales shook as she drew upon her native flame magic. Trolls were tough, champions of the goblin tribes, but no goblin did well against fire. "Stay behind me!"

"Relax, I'm on the good guys' side." The threat of destruction meant little to Scratch. "For a certain definition of good."

"You're not dead enough to be a 'good' goblin."

Scratch stuck his actual head out from the chest of the troll. "I'm willing to take that bet."

"Wh-what are you?" Ketak stepped to the side, then turned to look at the two mages and warrior that she now realized were allied with this creature. She was surrounded, but if they wanted to ambush her, they wouldn't have given her this warning.

"I am many, many things," Scratch said. "Undead abomination, centuries-old ghost, and aficionado of all the best sins. Narcissism is my personal favorite. For now, I am the thing that's been out here killing goblins to stave off boredom. Except this one, I've done everything I can think of to kill it but it refuses to die, so instead it persists in an agony that no merciful being would inflict upon any living thing. Call me Scratch."

Ketak hesitated while considering the circumstances. She had been taught her whole life that the abominations were the worst monsters of the world, and yet this was the first she'd met. It was a monster, and it seemed not to care if she knew it was a monster, but it was out here doing good work. "I'm Ketak. I hope you don't expect me to shake your hand."

"I can think of a better use for your hand," Scratch said. "Goblins don't die easy, and I've been trying to find ways to kill trolls while leaving a corpse, and it's not working. Come along, I'll show you. All of you."

"Why are you killing goblins?"

"They tried to hurt Elruin, and that's all the reason I need. Please, interpret that as a threat." Scratch slowed for a moment, then made his puppet hold his hand out to Calenda. "Here, some goblin sarite for you. Didn't find much, and I'm pretty sure at least one's dangerous for unshielded mortals. Better than nothing, I guess. But more important, I have replacement dolls."

Scratch led them to a rocky pit not but a mile away from the clearing. In the spring, it would have been flooded with water. In the summer, it was a dry rock-covered gully. Now, it was an abattoir of goblin flesh. Dozens of the small ones, each impaled by the throat on sticks wedged into the rocks. Some larger ones who looked to have died asphyxiating on each others' arms, and in the center another troll like Scratch currently used.

It was impaled by a dozen spears holding its arms and legs in the ground, and at least a ton of rock sat atop its chest. Several crows pecked at its face, even as it tried to bite them, for though the rest of its head was held immobile by wooden spikes, the jaw was free to move.

Lemia backed away, then turned and threw up on the rocks, while Calenda, Ketak and even Elruin looked on in shock at the massacre before them. Necromantic energy danced across the killing field, a small bonfire of taint that still failed to overcome the natural regenerative abilities of the troll. Several of the pinned goblins, however, had died some time ago, and were now struggling to escape their imprisonment.

"Like I told you, these things don't die easy." Scratch said over Lemia's retching in the background. "I had to get creative."