Chapter 2: Otherworld

[Gralhruk]

Grimajaw listens to the exchanged words, his thoughts going over what lore he knew of dragons. Little other than - as the wyrm himself said - knowledge passed down without experience, and not very much of that. They were known to be dangerous, clever, vain, and greedy. Much of that could be ascertained from their brief encounter thus far with the real thing - not a terribly useful assessment, truth be told.

"We've little enough with us, but maybe something you want. Still, wouldn't we just be exchanging tokens for tokens? All of what we have is from Aos."

[BigRedRod]

It's Karthas who answer the question while the dragon still considering its words,
"No. Not at all! A token is not just something from Aos. It's more subtle. Tokens are not transported here through the rift, or by the tearing around the Anchor when it slipped."
The warlock turns his back to the dragon to try and explain Grimjaw's mistake.

"Tokens have just slipped between the worlds of their own accord. I don't understand the mechanism exactly, but I think it's just a natural process. They gain their invulnerability, their ability to resist all but the greatest changes, from having a thin layer of planar material around them. We do not have that protection, nor do our belongings, as we came here complete. The oil lamp we took from the surface, that is our only token. That sheen wrapped around tokens is a manifestation of their alien nature. It is the stuff of reality stretched as far as it can be."
Karthas speaks with a pleading edge to his voice. The man was eager to educate, but also equally eager to avoid allowing his companions to appear weak or ignorant before the dragon.

Even after his explanation is finished, Karthas lingers a moment, studying the faces of his allies for uncertainty. And the dragon remains silent, apparently content to let the mortals discuss their situation before making an offer.

[itches]

"Well do we have to trade an object?" Lade ventured, finishing filling the empty water skins and reaching for the first blood filled one. Casting about for a place to empty out the noxious contents, he settled for a corner of the room and made his way over there and began to drain it. "Could we trade information, I mean we're from another world and there are plenty of weird things happening there, the RedMoon and such."

[BigRedRod]

The dragon's gaze locks onto Lade as the old warrior shuffles off to the side of the room and opens the waterskin. The contents have kept poorly and Lade is forced to massage the impermeable bag to coax out the larger clotted lumps of gore. It trickles down the monochrome cavern wall marking it with a deep reddish brown. It oozes downwards, building into a foul pool. Even with a good deal of rinsing, it was unlikely that any future contents would escape acquiring the vague hue and taste from its previous contents.

While Lade's actions have clearly provoked something from the dragon, it neither directly reacts or speaks. Instead, apparently content to allow the man to defile it's lair for the moment.

[Gralhruk]

Grimjaw fidgets for a moment as he observes the intensity with which the dragon observes Lade's obviously uncouth actions. The man never did have much sense, but he supposed dehydration might have drained what little wisdom was left. Still, no good could come of antagonizing the dragon - a fact which ought to be obvious, thirsty or no.

"Well, you understand why we're here and what we need. We're grateful for the water, that's certain, and grateful you've a mind to help us. But it's hard for us to offer something up for trade without knowin' more about you . . . I mean, from what the King said I expected a human. Never imagined a dragon, and I've never even heard tell of a dragon of your kind. Will you relate something of yourself?"

[BigRedRod]

For an eternity the dragon does not respond and remains intently focused on Lade's actions. With a sudden start it steps backwards, briefly adjusting the positions of its wings,
"Yes."

The reptilian creature seems to settle down. Slowly its focus moves between the party assembled before it. After a lengthy silence, it speaks again,
"I have misunderstood your intent. You wish to take from my hoard, to know of your chosen source and to know of myself. Already, you are indebted to me for providing you with water. Added to this, one of you appears to have taken it upon himself to spill foul liquids within my lair. I am not sure why he has done this."

The monochromatic fog surrounding its afflicted regions seems to sudden swell in volume. A few tendrils of the stuff snake out of the dragon's nostrils, and it continues in a lower voice,
"You have debts and demands. I require remuneration, it is the way of things."
The words flow more quickly, a sign of irritation in many races.

Flexing a wing, it adds,
"Your defiler has suggested tales from the world within. I would accept such words."

[Gralhruk]

"Mm," the dwarf grunts, his milky eyes searching the chamber around them before settling critically on the beast before them. It was like nothing he'd ever heard of, though given that they'd managed to end up in some other world it wasn't so surprising. He could feel the ghosts of his past piling up behind his eyes, memory of shackles and whips, otherworldly monstrosities feeding their inscrutable purposes with the souls of mortals. His big hands squeeze and he folds his thick arms as he fights down the specters in his mind. Stories, the thing wanted stories. He didn't know exactly what the thing was getting at, nor did he believe entirely it was what it seemed to be, but if a story would satisfy it for the moment, then it was good enough.

"Aos is old, even as the dwarves reckon, and their reckoning goes back near ten thousand years, and there were many years unrecorded before that. The world is split, as here, between the surface and the earth beneath. The delvings, the tunnels - these are the domains of the dwarves, of my people. It is hard to explain the world beneath, to compare it to what is in this place. We do not live in the dirt, be it sandy soil or rich black loam; that is for lesser races and creatures. The dwarves, be they Dumuzi or Khorvek, they delve in stone - permanence and function and beauty can be found there."

His milky eyes take on a far away look, his deep voice gravelly and sonorous, like a rumble from the depths of the homeland he so clearly adored.

"I could tell of stone - the dizzying list of types and formations and origins - and also of ore, gems and mining and the working of metals. Even could I tell of the clans and their custom, but of dwarves you already know something, and our history and habits are doubtless overly complex and equally boring to those who are not of our mind.

"No, I will tell instead of a world beneath a world, the caverns and creatures that exist in the unknown depths, far below the level where the dwarves delve within reach of the surface. For there I have been.

"Deep, the weight of the world above so great it was a constant presence. I do not know for certain, but perhaps a dozen miles beneath the dwarves lie caverns and tunnels that belong to forgotten horrors. Erethrum. the dwarves name them of old, but they have many names - Saccurundi, Dhagrahim, Illithid and others. Mind-flayers they are called in the world above, nightmare creatures to frighten children. They live, and even the fairy tales do not approach the horror of their world."

His voice drones on, almost a chant, for a long while as Grimjaw remembers what sights and sounds from his captivity that he could. Tales that freeze his blood and at times leave his hands shaking with rage, tales of nameless beasts and arcane rituals and foul magic that could warp a man's thoughts or leave him mindless, tales of a being so alien and inscrutable yet possessed of great intelligence and also a terrible hunger to feast on the brains of sentient creatures. Things he had wished forgotten he lived again; when he is finished lines of sweat run down his pallid skin and his great chest heaves. The days might be gone from him but their mark would never leave. In the sudden silence, he bows his head to hide his shame and regret and loss.

[BigRedRod]

There is a lot about the dragon that is atypical, even having never seen one previously. If this was some other creature pretending to be a dragon, then it was not doing itself any favours.

Still, the noble beast listens intently to the dwarf's words as he tells his story. Of the times he spent at the mercy of the mindflayers and his escape. There is an uncharacteristically brief pause between the end of Grimjaw's tale and the dragon's response,
"I accept your words offered."

Adjusting his position slightly, he continues. His eyes firmly locked on Grimjaw.
"I will take them in exchange for the location of your Keystone. They are worthy of this. I too have both knowledge and experience of the beings you call Illithid. As your land is not theirs, neither is this. And yet there is such a creature here."

In a smooth movement, the dragon whips its tail over its shoulder. The black indistinct length points downwards even as it seems to boil and evaporate into a fading fog,
"If you leave my lair there is a pit easily found. A deep sinkhole leading into the true depths. Follow this to its limit and you will find a terrible corruption. Within Aos, all things are marked as the living are here. I find this idea strange, that a rock should be worthy of its own hue. And yet, if you descend, this is what you will find. This is the work of the Illithid. It has created a lair of metal and machine for itself. It has chosen this place as it is forbidden to me. And it is at the centre that you find the throne of the old serpent - your source."

"I believe you are fated to face your enemy once again, proud dwarf."

[Tashalar]

Kjetil's ears heard what Grimjaw was recounting, but his mind failed to grasp everything he told. This safety measure of his mind that the Aart couldn't control kept him from imagining the terrors of which dwarven mums told just the harmless things to their children. And managed to frighten them severely with that. When Grimjaw finished, the dwarf showed the physical strain his tale had caused. But Kjetil felt in his guts that it was much more than physical strain. So much more.

Grimjaw didn't immediately react to the dragon's revelation that one of the hated mind flayers was on this world. Kjetil gathered his courage and spoke up. First things first. "If we are to face a creature of the kind you have told, we shall need to rest and gather our strength. The aftereffects of thirst and fatigue would be an adversary we cannot also face at this point."

He fell silent shortly, then raised his low and vibrant voice once more. "As Grimjaw has told of his home, I offer tales of mine. A realm of ice and cold in the far north of Aos. There my kind has lived for generations." He continued his tale, of the daily terrors the Aart faced and how they braved them. Of creatures living and hunting in the frozen wastes. After a short pause, he told his own story. Of how his family had miraculously survived an assault by two fierce orc tribes, how doubt had spread and how he had been sent out alone into the wilds to exact vengeance for the fallen and prove that the Gods favored their family. He had returned, touched by the Gods, victorious.

Kjetil finished with a short introduction of their Gods, mixing it with plenty of praise but also the occasional critique. The way of the Aart revealed.

[BigRedRod]

Again the dragon listened, obviously savouring Kjetil's descriptions of Aart society and daily life. Their closely ordered lives which exchanged freedom for security in the such a hostile land. A very different place to Edinway, on both sides of the world. The gods there too, worshipped in spite of their flaws, a very different concept to the perfect ideals found elsewhere.

Finally, in the lull when Kjetil has finished his tale, the dragon makes a movement which may be a nod. It shifted position slightly, the rolling black and white mist of its tainted leg moving closer to its horde,
"I accept your words offered."

"You have the knowledge needed to find your way home. I have given you the location of the keystone. And now, I give you access my horde. These displaced items will aid you in your return."

All eyes fell upon the collection of glimmering oddities stacked beneath the egg. All eyes except the dragon's, which turn towards Karthas,
"Six from my horde combined with the one you carry. This will suffice for your needs."
The words were more hesitant than the others. Doling out a portion of its own collection was not something this creature enjoyed doing. And yet, it had agreed. Apparently exchanging a description of the Aart, mere words, for something so valuable.

The sudden statement caught Karthas off guard
"Err, yes. I think so. More would-"
He looked from dragon to the horde, and seemed to think for a moment before answering again,
"I mean, yes, noble dragon. Err. Thank you."

"Then this second exchange is complete. I am pleased that none feel the urge to attempt trickery or deception. There is no need for you to encumber yourself if you intend to journey below. I will invite you to claim your tokens once you have seized the source."

[Gralhruk]

There are many questions in Grimjaw's mind, questions he feels certain this dragon could shed light upon, should he ask them. He stares at the great beast, sensing the alien nature of the creature and feeling, too, the weight of the debt between them. It was carefully balanced now; more answers would demand more payment. He leaves his questions unasked, not at all comfortable with opening the door for further bargaining.

"The dwarves honor their pacts. We thank you for your hospitality and for the information you have given. We will return as soon as may be."

So saying, he bowed once and left the chamber, thinking dark thoughts of the road down which they headed.

[Tashalar]

And there he goes to face the ancient enemy of his race, Kjetil thought as he looked after Grimjaw. The dwarf seemed determined, to say the least. Kjetil felt unease as he turned to face the dragon. He simply couldn't fathom what the creature expected of them and he had absolutely no intention of risking a fight with it. Was there anything else it required? What about the tokens they were promised - should he ask for them to be given now instead of later? Kjetil knew he had the power of persuasion that the spear offered. But that needed to be used wisely. No, now is not the time.

Kjetil looked at Lade expectantly, waiting for his elderly companion to react. But the man was just gazing at the dragon, lost in thoughts. Turning back to the dragon, the Aart got the impression it was regarding Lade, waiting for something. It wasn't obvious, more a subtle motion here and there, a twist of its scales. Kjetil pointed at the tokens beneath the eggs. "Those shall remain in your care until our return. If we fail in our mission, please see them as payment for that which we might... for that which we still owe you." Kjetil once more hesitated in case Lade saw it fit to 'pay' their debt this very moment, but he already turned towards the passage way which Grimjaw was walking into. A grim mission awaited. Kjetil hoped the Gods were with them. Silently he began to pray.