Discussing their respective recent experiences in Nine Mountains, Shakewell and Doc compared notes on characteristics of their respective UIs and stat sheets. Shakewell’s map had much greater functionality than Doc’s and the increased range and detail from the sniper/assassin’s version had allowed him to quickly locate Doc after touchdown. Shakewell also had an ability called Eye of the Crow, which gave him a sort of ‘remote viewer’ capability, where he could select a position on his map and visually inspect the surrounding from that fixed, distant point of view, making him an incredibly functional scout.

It was Shakewell’s view that he could progressive expand his observable perimeter by deploying his Eye of the Crow to the edges of his map and that by systematically peeking beyond the edge of the map boundaries, he might eventually discover some sign of the four outstanding members of Squad Durnir. Shakewell expanded on this by staging his Eye of the Crow viewpoint on elevated terrain to maximize line of sight, as a variation on the ancient “knoll hopping” land navigation technique.

Based on their current understanding, Durnir squad members would show as blue icons, but only within the constraints of their map radii. Shakewell was confident he could locate a team member in less than an hour with strategic use of Eye of the Crow. As he searched, Shakewell stood in trance-like stillness and Mjuulborn regarded him with curiosity. Doc, for the first time, noted Shakewell’s clothing, which looked like bespoke dark leather motorcycle gear. No standard battle dress uniform. Pretty stylish actually. Doc regarded his own appearance and likened the style to ‘Bronze Age hobo’ with a strip of beef jerky around his neck for an stylish touch.

“He’s a great warrior, isn’t he?” Mjuulborn quietly asked Doc.

“Yeah for sure,” Doc answered, “we all are actually.”

Mjuulborn followed up with palpable anticipation: “There are four more? And together you are called Durnir?” Doc nodded twice in the affirmative. “Why would you choose this name? You, as First Humans? Durnir?”

“I have no idea actually.” Doc replied. “You know what it means?”

“Yes of course!” Mjuulborn blurted, looking around in disbelief. “Durnir was an ancient hero of our kind. He fought the elves and led the defense of our once great city—Svartalfheim.”

“So does that mean your city, what do you call it? It was conquered eventually?”

Mjuulborn nodded solemnly, “Yes, once the elves became servants of the Jotnar, we could no longer resist their combined strength.”

Doc considered this, “So the elves are the bad guys? I thought they were, like, pretty with pointy ears and lived in forests or something like that.”

“No, no.” Mjuulborn retorted. “They are vicious creatures. And the forests disappeared from the Nine Mountains a thousand years ago. The elves cursed themselves by enraging the goddesses of nature, who blighted their own land. Fields and forests became salt and rocks in a generation and the elves crept into our underground caverns to hunt. And they fed on us, the dwarves.”

“Elves eat dwarves?” Doc said loudly enough to draw Shakewell’s attention. Mjuulborn nodded with a repulsed grimace.

“Nasty…” Shakewell muttered.

“And the magic of the elves itself grew cruel.” Mjuulborn went on. “The dwarves focused on control on the forge, the heat of the earth, the mutation of metals, the shaping of tools—powerful magic of creation. A creation which benefits all. The elves, however, once enthralled with the spirits innate to trees, grass, stones and even the wind—became obsessed with the magic of death and illusion—murder and trickery. And the First Humans, allies of the dwarves and practitioners of magical arts which controlled the elements, slowly vanished from the Nine Mountains.”

“Great story,” Shakewell interjected. “Don’t worry I’ll kill those elves no problem.” The matter of fact delivery of this statement seemed to impress Mjuulborn.

“Hey, you see anything yet?” Doc asked Shakewell.

“Still searching.” Shakewell replied. “This Eye of the Crow thing is awesome. I can see all over, as long as I choose stationary points. Wish I could see stuff while flying around like a drone.”

Doc asked, “So what are you seeing then?”

Shakewell explained, “Well, they call this Nine Mountains for a reason. The farthest I can see it out is a permiter delineated by nine more or less equidistant mountains. Inside that perimeter, there is a large expanse of land largely bereft of vegetation, with steep, craggy complex terrain, maybe formed by glaciers of something? Lots of ice and snow. Plenty of different types of ice it seems. Black ice, white ice, freaking dirty-ass ice. Ice in weird shapes like the fountain froze all of a sudden. Some weird-ass critters too, plus Stonehenge-looking structures and shit. I don’t know.”

“See anything that looks like food?” Doc thought—was he hungry, did he need to eat?

“Nah,” Shakewell replied, still gazing in to the distance. “Except maybe some of those wasp shit omelettes your little buddy was talking about.” His head shifted back and forth as if he was scanning the horizon. “It’s rough humping for sure.” Shakewell’s concentration seemed to shift back to his work and Doc left him to it.

“So what made the elves go bad?” Doc asked Mjuulborn.

Mjuulborn replied, “Of course, the meddling of the Gods.”

Doc thought back to the conversation with Cowcatcher in the parking lot of Spanky’s, which seemed like weeks ago. “You mean like, Odin and Thor?” Doc felt dumb the way he said that. Shakewell snickered, multi-tasking, listening in. Mjuulborn didn’t reply. Doc hesitated and then asked, “Have you seen them? The Gods I mean.”

Mjuulborn shot back: “Only their progeny, their slaves, the wasted and rotting gifts of their worshippers and all the heaping piles of shit that spew from their godly asses, taking the form of curses, omens, surly prophets and crazed witches! Cursed a thousand times over, we dwarves no longer fear them. What more can they do to us? Odin once smiled upon the dwarves, we built their walls, their rings and chains, their swords and shields! Why has the one-eyed father forgotten us, and chosen the butt-sniffing Elves of Billingr over his most mighty and loyal servants?” Mjuulborn wept openly.

Doc received a prompt for an incoming text message from Shakewell: “Best dwarf ever lol.”

“Fucking tragic this little guy.” Doc messaged back.

Shakewell: “It’s all shit and asses this this dude wtf? I guess we know why he worships the one-eyed whatever ;)”

Doc laughed out loud at that one. A new field populated on Doc’s stat sheet:

Lore/Nine Mountains: 20

“Thanks Mjuul I feel like I learned something just now.” Doc said, patting Mjuulborn on the back.

Mjuulborn smiled and calmer now said, “Tell me about your comrades, the ones you seek.”

“Well,” Doc said, wondering where to begin. “Aside from Shakewell the sniper and me the medic, there should be four more out there. There’s Cowcatcher—my oldest friend on the team—he’s the team linguist. So, at least most of the time, he is fluent in the local languages where we are operating. He is also cross-trained in intelligence and communications.”

Mjuulborn asked, “He speaks the language of the elves?”

“I don’t thinks so.” Doc replied. “Then there’s Janissary, she is the heavy weapons expert. In a straight head to head fight, she can do the most damage. She is also the toughest physically. I’ve seen Janissary take heavy fire, sustain serious injuries and she just keeps putting rounds downrange. I’m talking hundreds of rounds a minute. You have to see it to believe it.”

Mjuulborn nodded and muttered, “Deadly…”

Doc added, “Yes but actually the most deadly overall is probably Hellchik. She’s an Air Force Combat Controller.” Mjuulborn looked at him quizzically. “Basically that means she can call in death from the sky, with extreme force and precision. From up close, or also far away.”

Mjuulborn nodded, “I’ve heard the First Human’s had Stormlord’s among them.”

Before Doc could clarify what Mjuulborn meant by Stormlord, Shakewell announced. “I found one. It’s Janissary, she’ll be in contact soon. We move now.”