Road Trip to the Dragon Isles - Deep Shale Hold (Part 2)

03 Newkolt 349 AC

Davaa carefully lifts Harvek’s body across his shoulders with quiet reverence, despite his injuries.

Arthur helps Altan to his feet.

The archer winces immediately. "There is not a single part of this that I don’t hate."

"When we return, I will use whatever magic is available to me to continue mending your wounds," Agnes tells him.

Granite nods, "May the stone remain above you and guide your road upward." His eyes drift to Harvek. "When the rest of us return to the surface, I will speak with his family."

Then the two wounded Khurs begin the slow journey back toward the surface, disappearing gradually into the distant glow of quarry lanterns behind them while carrying Harvek home.

The group watches them go until the darkness swallows them completely.

Phineas takes up his Don't-Stub-My-Toe-in-the-Dark-astor and points it down the tunnel.

A perfectly circular shaft roughly forty feet wide descends straight down into blackness beyond the reach of Phineas’ crystal light. The edges are melted smooth.
Agnes steps closer carefully and peers down. “…This isn’t natural.”

“No,” Granite agrees quietly.

Arthur notices fresh scrape marks around the shaft’s rim.

Phineas kneels near the edge, adjusting his spectacles. “The stone around this opening has been exposed to tremendous heat and corrosive erosion simultaneously.” He looks upward slowly. “Whatever made this… did so intentionally.”

Arthur reaches out and touches the scrape. "Well, it's now or never." He stands up and looks back at Granite. "I feel like we're going to have one hell of a fight on our hands shortly."

Granite steps up beside him and peers down into the shaft without flinching. “Aye, lad.” the dwarf rumbles. “Feels like we’ve reached the part where the tunnel stops askin’ politely.”

Phineas adjusts the settings on his glowing crystal device and leans dangerously close to the edge. “I would like to officially state that this resembles every terrible decision recorded in mining history.”

Agnes folds her arms. “And yet here we are.”

The grinding rumble echoes again.

The dwarf looks around the ancient chamber slowly, eyes lingering on the strange geometric carvings lining the pillars. “This place wasn’t built by miners,” Granite says quietly.

Phineas nods immediately. “No. These proportions are wrong for habitation.” He gestures toward the circular shaft. “And that opening wasn’t excavated to reach somewhere, it was made by something going through."

Agnes’ eyes narrow sharply toward the darkness below. “Something’s coming up.”
All of them hear it now.
A heavy scraping sound against stone.
Slow... Massive... Approaching.

Arthur cracks his neck. "Well, I believe it is time." He prepares to strike the moment he can. "I sure hope we only deal with one."

Granite doesn’t take his eyes off the shaft.
“Aye,” the dwarf rumbles. “One’s a problem. More’n one’s a funeral with extra steps.”

Phineas, despite himself, edges slightly back from the lip while keeping his crystal trained downward. “Realistically, it would be weird if they traveled in packs... herds.. not flocks... hmm... I'm not sure what a group of delvers would be called... a vein? A vein of delvers?"

Agnes touches the gnome on the shoulder. "Professor... focus."

"What? Oh, yes, of course, my lady, just a little speculation to take the edge off as it were," Phineas replies as he adjusts his Shock N' Awe-atron and Gat-inizer.

Agnes shifts into her draconic form and moves closer to Arthur.

“Whatever it is… it knows we’re here now.”
Durnic tightens his grip on his weapon, knuckles pale.

Another sound rises from the shaft.

Stone groaning.

Something massive pulling itself upward through the tunnel—WHUMP...  DRAG... WHUMP... DRAG...

Granite lifts his warhammer slightly. “No more talkin’,” he says.

The darkness below finally breaks.
A shape begins to emerge at the edge of visibility scraping against the circular shaft walls and sending showers of stone dust raining into the chamber.

Arthur whispers to himself, "Malazzarr, give me strength." He rubs Agnes’s leg, then prepares for what's to come. "Ok, fellas, let's beat this thing and get some food."

Agnes turns. "My knight, you do many things well." She shakes her head. "Jokes are not one of those things."

Phineas snorts loudly despite himself.

Granite barks out a deep laugh. “Aye! Lad fights like a legend and jokes like a sagging roof!”

Even Durnic cracks a weary grin.

The air fills instantly with the smell of burning stone as corrosive slime sprays across the rim of the shaft, eating into ancient rock like snow thawing in the spring. WHUMP...  DRAG... WHUMP... DRAG...

Durnic shouts, “DON’T LET IT TOUCH YOU! ITS SLIME EATS THROUGH ARMOR!”

Lawbringer flares beside Arthur like a second sun in the chamber.

The Delver’s head tilts slightly. It lumbers forward, an unsteady path with dozens of tiny course corrections as it closes on the group. "MOOOOOOORRRRRRREEEEE."

Arthurs eyes widen for a moment "MORE WHAT?!" He shouts back already making his move, he pulls out a handful of gold coins, remembering the story they were told earlier and throws the gold to the side.

The Delver instantly pivots and slides across the gold, slurping up the metal as its powerful acid dissolves it into liquid. The creature shakes and shudders. It wipes its face with its front limbs, sniffing around.

The Delver trembles violently. Not from aggression. From need.

It scrapes its limbs through the scattered coins, searching for more that aren’t there yet, as if its senses are suddenly confused and panicked.

Phineas stares in horrified fascination. “That is… not normal predatory behavior.”

Granite’s expression hardens. “That ain’t hunger.”

Its corrosive slime output sizzles against the stone floor in uneven bursts. One limb scrapes its own face repeatedly, as if trying to clear sensation overload. Its breathing becomes rapid, uneven.

It turns slightly, searching. Sniffing.

And when it doesn’t immediately find more metal it whimpers.

Durnic swallows. “Like a drunk without drink…”

The Delver suddenly jerks its head back toward Arthur, recognizing him as the source of tasty gold.

“METAL…” it rasps.

Phineas turns the dial on the side of the Shock N' Awe-atron. "My boy, feeding that thing may have been a mistake...."

"It's definitely under the influence of some sort of magic or artifact. I think we have no choice." Arthur takes a deep breath. "I have a bad feeling about who or what is controlling this."

"No, lad. The mine's been runnin' outta copper for years," Granite grumbles under his breath. "I think we just found out where it's been goin'."

He watches as the creature scrapes at the floor where the last traces of dissolved gold remain.

Arthur blinks. Then looks back at the Delver. The signs suddenly fit together. The missing ore, the disappearing mining parties, the rumors of a deeper copper vein.

Phineas slowly lowers the Shock N' Awe-atron."...It's addicted to copper."

Granite nods grimly. "Aye. Found itself the richest source of metal in the region and gradually become obsessed with it."

The Delver suddenly slams one forelimb into the floor, cracking the stone.The creature starts becoming agitated again, the brief satisfaction from Arthur's gold already fading.

"Think about it," Granite says. "A beast that naturally craves metal finds a vein bigger than any dwarf's ever seen. It gorges. It keeps gorgein'."

The Delver lets out a frustrated growl, its claws digging furrows in the stone.

"And after years of it..." Agnes’s eyes fall upon the creature, "It can't stop."

"Aye," The dwarf's voice is heavy. "Not evil."

The Delver roars and charges.

"Just ruined."

Arthur feels bad for the delver knowing it can't help itself or stop anymore. "Let's put it out of its pain, then." He grips Lawbringer's hilt and the blade flares to life. He charges to the left of the delver, "May you find peace in death, poor soul."

The creature, still associating him with the metal it so desperately craves, groans, "MO-O-O-O-RE!"

Drops of acid fall from the creature as it pursues the paladin, hissing against the ground as it melts the stone. Arthur continues trying to draw the monster away but it suddenly lunges, closing the distance and reaching out to smash the paladin with a powerful forelimb.

Arthur manages to raise his shield to block but the blow is nigh-overwhelming, knocking him back several feet. Worse, still, the acidic slime spatters against his armor, causing smoke to rise from each spot the mucus lands.

The paladin swings Lawbringer, its holy fire blazing like the sun. The blessed blade slashes across the offending limb, opening a narrow gash. The flames cause the delver to jerk its arm back but the divine power of the relic does not flow as the brute is not evil.

Agnes opens her mouth and unleashes a blast of arctic cold directly into the delver's right flank. The blast catches the fully exposed side, freezing the acidic slime covering the monster's body.

The whine of the Shock N' Awe-atron cuts through the air. Phineas yells, "I'm helping!" and slams the handle forward, releasing a thunderous crack of lightning. The bolt hits the stony hide and is partially deflected, striking the ceiling and causing the entire tunnel to shake but the monster continues its pursuit of the Lankhmarite.

Granite rushes in, warhammer raised in a two-handed grip and brings it down in a powerful arc but the weapon bounces off, failing to penetrate the delver's thick armor.

Arthur tries to keeps it focused on him, striking with Lawbringer again and again. "Malazzarr, give me strength!"

The acid still clinging to Arthur continues to burn as the delver slams him with another bone-crushing hit. More pockmarks appear all over his armor as the acid begins eating its way through the enchanted steel but the paladin continues to fight back. He lands a single solid strike, opening another gash in his foe's stony hide.

Ag'nessallynn rushes to her knight's aid, throwing herself onto the delver's side and sinks her fangs into its armored body. The creature roars and bucks but she holds on and manages to slash one of its eyes with her claws. The orb explodes in a burst of goo, ripped away by the silver dragon.

Phineas switches to the Gat-inizer, fearing more collateral damage could bring the roof of the tunnel down on their heads. Four glowing bolts of pure energy pepper the delver. The monster groans under the assault.

Granite continues to slam the delver, smashing the spots with Agnes’s cold froze the acidic muck, cracking bones with each hit. A final blow to the side of its head finishes the beast and it falls, collapsing onto the floor of the mineshaft. 

Arthur quickly dumps water onto his armor, trying to wash away the acid. "Damn, I'll need to get that repaired." He looks up, "Do you think we'll find any more?"

Granite glances over at Durnic. The Roadwarden shakes his head. "It's unlikely. Delvers need so much food that competition between them is fierce." He looks at the fallen beast, "And given the way this one was acting, he likely drove others of his kind even further away than normal."

Granite gives the slain delver one last look, "Let's get back topside, lad. Nothing to be gained standing around here. We got our own, need tendin'."

Arthur nods and turns making his way topside with the others. "I hope Altan and Davaa are okay, and Durnic, I'm sorry for the loss of your friend."

Durnic nods, "Thanks. He went out well, died fightin'. A dwarf can't ask for more than that."

Arthur pats him on the shoulder and begins the hike up and out.

The return trip takes about two hours. Nobody speaks much. The tragedies of Harvek's death and everything having to do with the delver has cast a somber mood over the procession.

Phineas eventually puts away the Shock N' Awe-atron and carries only the Don't-Stub-My-Toe-in-the-Dark-astor, its steady glow accompanying them through the darkness. Even he remains unusually quiet.

Agnes walks beside Arthur in silence for much of the journey.

Granite leads from the front, his hand occasionally brushing the stone walls as if reacquainting himself with an old friend.

Years of missing ore, a mystery solved, and a price paid in blood.

At last, a light appears, faint at first but it carries with it the smell of fresh air and the scent of smoke from the forges.

As the group emerges from the mine, shouts burst forth from the crowd.

"THEY'RE BACK!”

“GRANITE'S RETURNED!”
More voices follow.

"The Baron!"
"The true Shalecutter!"
"Granite saved us!"

Then cheers.

Granite sighs, "Here we go."

Phineas smirks, “Congratulations, my lord.”

Granite turns, leveling a stare at the gnome and smiles, "Professor, ye call me that again and I'll be pitchin' over the edge of the quarry. Ya hear me?"

The gnome raises his hands in mock surrender and smiles, "Have mercy, my lord. I'm just a poor confused Gnome who doesn't understand the niceties of dwarf culture."

Granite chuckles, "Mercy granted, Professor." His face becomes grim as he turns to address the crowd.

The celebration quiets. His voice carries across the quarry. “Harvek Ironthane fell holdin' the line.”

The cheers stop immediately. Heads bow. Helmets come off. The mood changes in an instant. "He died defendin' his people, a true hero. His name shall be engraved on the gates of the Deep Shale Hold, adding the strength of his spirit to the stoneward of the ancestors."

The dwarves all reply in unison, "A stone set deep."

"A name cut true," Granite calls out.

"A wall made stronger," the dwarves call back.

Granite turns back to the party, "We won't be makin' it any further tonight. Fargain will set us up with some rooms and we can resupply - leave first thing in the morning."

Agnes adds, "I will use what magic I yet have to mend our wounds as best as I can."

"Davaa and Altan need you more." Arthur gives her a somber smile and nods. "I'll be alright."

Granite gets the group moving. "Well, I suppose we tell Fargain all about what happened and then get some food in our bellies and sleep behind our eyes."

The dwarf points toward a broad stone staircase leading deeper into the hold. As they begin walking, the atmosphere gradually lightens. Not happiness, but calm, settles over the hold. The danger has passed. Life will continue awhile longer.

Arthur walks up to Granite, "What can I do to help the family? Anything at all? I'm not well versed in Dwarven customs, unfortunately. But I would like to help in anyway I can."

Granite is silent for several steps. The question clearly catches him off guard. Finally he sighs. "Truth be told..." His voice grows quieter. "I don't know."

They continue walking through the stone halls while dwarves respectfully step aside to let them pass.

"Harvek wasn't married. No children. His folks passed years ago." Granite frowns. "I think he has a... sister?"

Durnic, overhearing, nods. "Aye, Brunna. Runs one o' the foundries."

For a few moments, nobody speaks.

Dwarven children peek around corners to stare at the returning heroes while miners and craftsmen offer respectful nods as Granite passes.

More than once Arthur catches someone whispering, "The true Baron has returned."

Each time, Granite pretends not to hear.

Durnic rubs his beard thoughtfully. "Ye already did more for Harvek than most ever get. Ye fought beside him. Ye stood the line together."

Granite nods in agreement. "A dwarf doesn't fear dyin'. He fears bein' forgotten."

They pass beneath an archway carved with generations of clan marks.

Durnic continues, "Tomorrow there'll be a remembrance. Stories. Ale." The Roadwarden smiles sadly, "If ye want to do somethin'... come. Tell his sister how he fought. Tell her he saved lives."

Granite's voice rumbles softly beside them.
"Tell her his stone was set deep."

Durnic nods. "That's worth more than gold to a dwarf family."

The corridor opens out into a vast hall carved directly from the living stone of the Delving. Massive stone pillars rise in ordered rows, each etched with clan marks, runic histories, and old victories. Braziers burn along the walls in steady orange light, their flames reflecting off polished basalt floors worn smooth by generations of boots.

Stone tables are spread across the chamber, covered in maps, ledgers, ore tallies, patrol reports, and sealed scrolls stamped with clan sigils. Courtiers and scribes move between them in steady rhythm, exchanging clipped updates, marking routes, adjusting supply lines, and recording the constant churn of life in the Delving.

At first, a few of them glance up as the party enters. Then more. Then all at once.
The room begins to quiet.

Fargain stands at the central table, one hand braced on a stack of reports, the other gesturing as he speaks to a pair of advisors. His chain of office catches the lanternlight, the polished metal reflecting the order he has been struggling to maintain.

Fargain’s expression changes instantly.

The tension in his shoulders releases as though someone has cut a binding cord. Then he smiles, straightens fully, pushes himself away from the table, the weight of leadership visibly easing.

“You’re back,” Fargain says quietly.

Granite steps forward. “Aye.”

That is all it takes. Fargain lets out a slow breath and nods once, as if confirming something he has been refusing to fully believe for too long.

Fargain's eyes survey the party. His takes in Arthur, Agnes, Phineas, and the others—bloodied, exhausted, but standing.

His smile fades slightly. "You found it."

Granite nods once. "Aye."
Fargain studies his cousin for a moment.
Then simply says, "Come inside. Tell me everything."

And for the first time in many days, the prospect of a hot meal, a soft bed, and solid walls around them sounds like a gift from the gods themselves.