That winter, Snorri and Grimr spent much time in the last steps of Snorri's training. Grimr taught him the basics of Runic Inscription allowing Snorri to inscribe the simplest of Thungni's Runes, and he taught him as well the Runes of Forging and or Restoration. As they worked, Snorri learned more of the ancient songs of the Runesmiths which helped them to attune themselves to the Earth and channel the power of the Runes.
And, of course, Snorri worked on constructing his anvil. Grimir had set aside gromril for the facing and for the first time, Snorri found himself able to work the metal by using the Runic craftsmanship skills he had been taught.
Snorri spent the next few days pacing about the shop pausing periodically to scribble onto a drafting sheet he had nailed to a wall. Sometimes at night he would get up with a start and trudge over to the drawing board to erase or add new dimensions and design notes. When the time came he began to forge his anvil, it's size was modest but wide-based (much like Snorri himself) and contained etchings along said base that depicted his family crest as an honor to his father and Grimr's watchful eye.
Finally, with the construction of the anvil completed, Grimr accepted Snorri into the ranks of the Runesmiths. "One last task do I charge you with," he said. "Go back to Zhufbar and to Hargeld Runefinder. He is expecting you. Forge a hammer and on it place the Rune of Forging. That was the last task my master laid on me, and it is the last I lay on you. I have used that hammer for over a century and it has served me well."
Snorri glanced over to Grimr's beloved hammer and drifted off into another planning stage as to how he hoped Grungni would guide his own hammer's construction. "Aye, I shall set off in the morning."
Harald accompanied Snorri with a small escort, Runesmiths were too valuable to send off without some support, but the trip was uneventful. Hargeld received Snorri with some ceremony and welcomed him to the ranks of the Runesmiths. "So, Ironlegs, you are to make a Hammer of Forging? Good. My own has served me well. I am completing a project now, so you will have a few day's rest, but then you may work on the Anvil in the evenings."
With a reverential nod Snorri thanked Hargeld for his sacrifice and left with Harald. "It looks as if we have time to enjoy the hospitality." A rough hand found Harald's shoulder and playfully shook him. Snorri was still concerned about Harald despite him being cleared to accompany the trip. The sturdy warrior sustained a frightening blow but continued on nevertheless, that was the essence of dwarven blood.
"You should take things easy, my friend" he warned.
"Not that again," said Harald. "It's been months, my friend. I'm stronger now than ever before." Indeed, Harald looked it. Since his injury he had redoubled his training efforts and looked stronger and more confident than before. "Grugni, I think, has some plan for me yet."
"Aye, he does," agreed Snorri. "But still, you should only fight three men at a time and no more!" he said with a wink.
"Aye," said Harald. "But Sharptooth is good for another two."
Later that week, Snorri began his work. The Anvil of Doom was larger than he himself was and made of nearly pure gromril. He stood upon a ladder next to the anvil to do his work. The design was ancient, a hammer in the traditional mode, but his ornamentation was all his own.
With his tongue sticking out in concentration Snorri placed hammers and picks around the shaft in honor of his family's service to the mines and forging. Meticulous detail followed as Snorri inscribed the heads of his family for as many generations as he could remember, finally scribing a grand etching of Olaf Rockpounder (his multi-great grandfather) linking hands with Odmas (his father) to complete the work. He wiped his brow as the bellows roared and finally sat back content.
After he had worked for many hours, he returned to his lodging in Master Hargeld's house, singing the Runesongs he had learned to refresh his spirit.
And so it went for week after week, until finally he felt himself ready to make the final inscription and complete the task. He completed the construction of the hammer and inscribed the final lines of his Rune of Forging. He looked at his construction and his face sagged. The forging had failed there was no power in the hammer. Hargeld who had come to watch the completion, stepped forward. "There's no shame lad. It took me two tries to make my hammer and even now sometimes a Rune does not take. Go back to the forge."
The process began anew, Snorri proceeding with extra care. It was nearly six weeks before he again brought his task to completion and again it was a failure. Hargeld reassured him again, "The first Rune is always the hardest."
Six weeks of toil later, Snorri was coming to understand why the mightiest rune weapons were of such value. The labor that went into them was immense. With a silent prayer to Grungni he began to close the lines on the rune on the hammer. At the last moment, certainty flooded him. The Rune was completed and a dim glow seemed to come from it.
Frustration and dejection fled from Snorri's face as his beard began to quiver in the excitement. Large hands wiped his face as tears mingled with sweat rolled down his cheeks. The euphoria washed over him and he struggled to stand, once vertical Snorri Oddmasson stomped around and did a dance usually reserved for celebratory drinking ocassions.
"Now, lad, you are truly a Runesmith," said Hargeld. "Welcome to the brotherhood, Snorri Ironlegs Oddmason."
Celebrations aside, Snorri straightened up and accepted the honor and responsibility bowing to Hargeld. "Tis an honor I take with gladness in my heart and flint upon my mind. Grungni has chosen me, and I him to serve. My forge will burn bright and the clan will be provided fer."
"Now, let us drink and relax, Snorri. If you are like me, even your Ironlegs will be a little weak for a day or two. Then I'll set you on your way home," said Hargeld. He led the two out of the smithy and back to his home. Snorri just caught Hargeld's slight nod to Harald who waited within, then he was borne up in the arms of his friend.
"Congratulations, Snorri!" cried Harald.
"Ooof," Snorri grunted in the powerful arms of his friend. "Put me down!" he said jovially as his legs pumped away in the air. After feeling the solid earth once again under his feet, Snorri clapped Harald on the back. "Now we drink!" adding "I've some business to speak with ye about," parenthetically.
Several rounds of strong ale later, the celebration was winding down for Snorri did feel tired after his exertions. Harald hitched a stool close and topped off his and Snorri's ales. "Now my friend, what's this business you speak of?"
Snorri reached for his tankard and caught it on his second try. "Ye've met my sister Alfhildr, spittin' image of me dear mother she is. She's a fine woman," he added before taking a draught and wiping the foam from his beard. "Now a fine man like you needs a good woman, one who is full of fire and wide of hip. I would not dream of releasing her to any man, no indeed."
Briefly Snorri paused, whether it was for effect or loss of thought one couldn't tell. "I'd be obliged if ye would court me sister."
Harald gazed at Snorri in shock for a long moment, then finally took a long draught of his ale. "Ironlegs, you are one dwarf in a thousand! I had not dreamed ... of course, of course!" A strange expression crossed his face. "Would she have me, do you think? I'm not much to look at, nor rich, nor from a family as distinguished as that of Runesmiths ..."
Snorri hadn't thought that far in advance, and the sobering influence of the predicament caused him to ponder. Another swallow of the ale apparently brought clarity. "Why not?" he slammed his tankard to the table. "Ye are a powerful warrior that has protected me life many times, ye are worthy because I say so." Inwardly Snorri twinged for his sister was quite headstrong, he hoped that her reverence for Runesmiths would be as strong as Harald's. He leaned in close and whispered, "She has a mind of her own, she does. But by the fuzz on her chin, her heart can be won if ye show her the man ye is!"
"Aye," said Harald catching Snorri's enthusiams. "I'll make the attempt!" He subsided. "Should I bring her a gift? What would she like? Zhufbar has larger markets than home."
"Well, she's a good cook and keeps a good home. Pr'haps a new apron or broom," he suggested revealing to any listening in that Snorri Oddmasson did not understand women at all.
"Aye," Harald sounded a bit dubious about that plan. He brightened, "I know! As the saying goes, 'Ye can never go wrong with gold!' I'll find her some beautiful thing to wear."
"Tis true," agreed Snorri, "people do say that."
The conversation settled the two drank a few more toasts and went to their beds.
Snorri spend a few more days enjoying Hargeld's hospitality while Harald shopped. Then the two and their escort returned to Karak Kadrin. Grimir nodded upon hearing of the many attempts Snorri had made to craft his hammer, and then admired the finished product.
It was several days later that Harald presented himself at the forge and asked formally if he might court Alfhildr.
Snorri eyeballed Harald and walked around him, giving the traditional grunting which basically said that he was barely worthy to draw water. Finally Snorri spoke in an official sounding tone, "Harald Stonebreaker, ye have come to ask fer me to grant ye permission to court me sister. After sizing ye up and hearin' of yer deeds I grant ye the honor of pursuing Grungni's will fer yer lives."
After the painstaking ritual, Snorri broke out in a smile and shook the nervous Harald. "Now go, me friend, and make yerself known. She's heard me talk of ye and all that ye've done!" He brushed off Harald's shoulder and straightened his collar.
Harald, with as much courage as he had ever showed in combat went in to the dwarf maid.
* * * *Alfhildr had not rejected Harald outright, but as the saying goes, "A marriage must be built like anything else and haste makes for poor craftsmanship," so the courtship was slow. Harald spent a good deal of time at Halr Gormlson's house and Halr and Snorri discussed the progress of the suit with him often.
Also much on their mind over the summer was the settling of Snorri into his own smithy. As a full Runesmith it wouldn't do for him to be still in Grimr's smithy for too long, and Harald and Snorri spent many happy hours walking through the dwarfhold considering places to dig or expand.
Spending so much time together, Snorri was well aware of Harald's other ambitions. Harald had always been fairly religious, and for some time he had been considering seeking entrance into the Order of the Stone Wall, the militant arm of the cult of Grungni. It was no surprise then when one day he mentioned that he was helping a young initiate of Grungni who had been assigned a trial by the god to prove his worth to advance in the cult.
"A mine has broken through into some old, verra old, dwarvish mines," he said. "Ketil the Four Fingered has been told to clear them, strengthen the construction where it's needed, seal them off if need be and bring them back under the pick. I'm to help him. Who knows if the greenies or something else has infested them."
Snorri turned the page of the tome he had been reading and set it aside. "If there be greenies then trouble could lie behind each stone," he said. "Ye have given me your strong arm in the past and I'd like to return the favor." Pushing himself away from the table Snorri continued on "Yes, explorin' and assurin' these mines of our ancestors would benefit us all and bring smiles to Grungni. Ye can count on Snorri to accompany ye."
"That's kind," said Harald. "And if we find something awry, I'll be certain to let you know. For now, though, it seems to be quiet."
"May it stay so," replied Snorri.
Over the next few weeks, Harald kept Snorri informed as to the progress in the new mine, and all seemed well. Then one day, he arrived earlier than usual and waited impatiently for Snorri to reach a stopping point. "Snorri," he said, "I'd be obliged if you'd give me your opinion on something."
Snorri plunged the hot iron into the water bucket and blew away the hissing steam, "Aye, that I will."
As Snorri finished up shutting down the shop, Harald continued to talk. "We've been cleaning up and shoring up the old mines, as you know. But now we've found something which is disturbing and may also explain why the mines were closed off. There's a vein of rock down there like nothing I've ever seen. Black, soul destroying black."
"Hmm," Snorri grunted as he walked over and took a seat on a nearby stone bench. "Go on, tell me about the surroundings and what else ye have seen." The dwarven smithy furrowed his brow and tried recall if he had ever heard of such a stone.
"We've seen little else, but this rock in unlike anything any of us have seen before," said Harald.
Snorri considered, he had heard of black rock, so dark as to seem that it swalled all light, it was called warpstone, and was nothing less than frozen chunks of Chaos itself. If there was warpstone beneath Karak-Kadrin then they had a problem indeed.
"I've heard tales about such rock, " Snorri confided. "Can ye lead me to it?"
The trio left the others who were repairing a brace for a cross-shaft and went down a side shaft. "Where is Vagn?" said Ketil. "I left him here on watch and aaaaigh!"
The cause for Ketil's cry was the thing that lurched toward them out of the small shaft ahead. It possessed tentacles in profusion, several which seemed to terminate in mouths or eyes and its body seemed almost fluid, like a boiled pudding still in a bag. Most horrible, though, was the fact that it was still recognizable as having been a dwarf at some point.
"That thing has Vagn's face!" said Harald in disgust as he unlimbered Sharptooth.
Snorri cried out, "It is a beast of Chaos! show not compassion for Vagn is gone!" as he readied his own axe and shuffled in front of Ketil.
The creature, horrible as it looked, was not built for combat. The thre dwarves quickly put it down as at it heaved out it's last breath, they thought it said, "Thank you." Even in death the body continued to shift and mutate.
"Harald, we must let the clerics of Thungni know about this at once," remarked Snorri. "Tell them what you have seen and mention warpstone, this," he indicated poor Vagn, "must be disposed of." Snorri paced about and peered into where the beast had come from, "Ketil vacate this area we cannot allow any more of our brothers to be overtaken."
A friendly hand found Harald's shoulder, "when you return we shall see what danger lies beyond."
Dwarves can move quickly when need is on them. Soon the senior priests of Grungni and Thungni, as well as Grimr, had joined Snorri, Harald and Ketil. Haakon Twohammers, the senior priest of Grungni examined the remains of Vagn. "No doot aboot it," he said. "Chaos induced mutation. Let's see what we shall see, but I doot not we'll find warpstone." Drawing both his hammers from his belt, he set off followed by the others.
Not far beyond they found the vein of rock, and Haakon halted them some distance away. "Aye," he said, looking at the foul blackness beyond black. "Warpstone. Pure warpstone." He looked disgusted. "Now we know why this tunnel was blocked off." He turned to Ketil, "Grungni has set you a fearful task, lad. These tunnels can not be cleared unless this foulness is purged. But to touch it, or even stay near it for long, is to court the fate that befell poor Vagn."
Snorri shook his head, "then how can we rid ourselves of this blight? We cannot move Karak-Kadrin nor can we risk exposing ourselves to its blackness!"
"As I say, Grungni has set Ketil a fearful task," said Haakon.
"It gets worse," said Harald suddenly from the far side of the vein. "Look here," he pointed to the rock.
"Do not touch it!" shouted Haakon. "Even to get close to it ..."
"Someone has been mining it," said Harald cutting Haakon short. "Recently."
Snorri pushed his way to the fore and looked closely at the black foulness and then to the surrounding stone.
"When was this tunnel reopened and who has been down here?" asked Snorri looking to Ketil and Harald.
"Only we have been down here," said Ketil, "to my knowledge. We cleared the rubble from the entrance just yesterday."
"We have not been further down it," clarified Harald. "When we found this rock, we posted a guard and I went to see Snorri."
"This blasted stone has been worked with dwaven tools," stated Snorri weighing each word carefully, "who was assigned with Vagn, who has guarded and who has passed beyond them. We have an investigation!" Snorri began to stomp back to the entry way.
"Vagn was assigned alone. If any passed him, he would know and he is beyond questioning," said Ketil.
"But the tunnel goes two ways," said Conal Drakkirson, the priest of Thungni. "Do we know what lies at that end?"
"No," said Harald. "We posted Vagn there, but did not proceed further as yet."
Snorri did not want to be accusatory as to the dwarven guards for he knew that they too would be beyond reproach. "Then that way is where our greatest danger lies." He looked to Harald, "We should see where this tunnel leads."
"Aye," said Harald hefting Sharptooth gently.
To the priests Snorri added, "Perhaps there is some way to remove the stones safely?"
"Not that I know of," said Haakon as Conal shook his head. "But we shall pray for guidance."
"As will I," Ketil hastened to add.
"And I," said Harald.
"Good, good," agreed Snorri. "Until we return, no one should enter this chamber. By then we will be granted wisdom from Grungni as to what to do with it. Until then we must find who has harvested such a bane."
A guard was posted and Harald, Snorri and the three priests continued on. Beyond the warpstone lode, the old tunnel continued for only a short distance, then they found a newer shaft that intersected it. This construction was also sturdy dwarvish make. When they followed it, they found that it twisted and turned before it ended leaving them in what Harald identified as an old chamber from a played out section of the mines. The entrance of this end of the tunnel was concealed behind a pile of tailings as was cunningly constructed so that unless one knew it was there, it was nearly invisible.
"It appears that this tunnel was found before ye," Snorri said aloud. "Can we find out who was last in this tunnel? for they hold valuable information...if not the accursed stone. They have touched it, and could be beasts as we speak."
"There will be records of when the mine was closed," said Harald. "But this place could be easily reached by almost anyone."
"Nevertheless, it is where we must start," the dwarf responded deep in thought. "Pr'haps greed dwells in the heart of the men who did this. If we were to send word that the tunnel repairs were suspended fer a feast. They may return to harvest more of the stone, and we could catch them." Snorri looked to the assembled men to gage their assessment of the plan.
The dwarves nodded. "Setting a concealed watch on this tunnel would seem to be wise," said Twohammers.
Snorri agreed, "We need to find a spot that affords a good view of that vein. One that we can close off and catch the dogs who did this." He took a few steps around to look for an advantageous place to set up a base, "the knowledge of this tunnel does not leave this group," he cautioned. "Harald, choose a trusted man to accompany us. Twohammers we need ye to attend the feast so as to make all believe that it is important."
"It's twenty-six days until the next major festival of Grungni. If we wait til then, with a watch on the tunnel, then we need no excuse," said Haakon.
"Aye, but the presence of guards could deter our cowards. They surely know we have found their evil vein, and the demise of Vagn will spread as many mourn him. Pr'haps we can let it be known that Vagn's death has suspended our task? that would give them false confidence knowing that this area is unguarded."
"We could conceal the guard in this room" said Harald. "And would they not expect us to guard the other end of the tunnel? Or even seal it?"
"Yes," Snorri clapped his hands approvingly. "Let us seal the tunnel and leave the hidden passage untouched." He then began to look closely at the hidden tunnel to make sure there were no telltale signs of their having been there. "We can lie in wait, let us gather supplies as they begin preparations to seal it."
Harald rounded up a few trustworthy dwarves, including Snorri's old friend Thorfinn, and the Grungni initiate Ketil the Fourfingered. In all they were six, enough to take three shifts of two each with either Harald or Snorri or Ketil on watch.
It was three days later, with Snorri and Thorfinn on watch, when they saw a cloaked dwarf slip into the room, and with a few sidelong glances slip down into the hidden passage.
Snorri slowly rose and grabbed his axe. With a few gestures to Thorfinn to be careful the time had come for which they had prepared. Time spent waiting for this moment had seen both men express concern and care that whoever was mining the accursed rock and they would not take them lightly. Capture before killing was their goal.
Snorri motioned for Thorfinn to check to see if the dwarf was alone and walked over to the hidden passage to await Thorfinn's return.
In a few moments, Thorfinn returned, and indicated that the coast was clear. Their prey was alone.
Stubby, calloused fingers beckoned Thorfinn to follow as Snorri walked down the tunnel axe at the ready.
Thorfinn with crossbow cocked and at the ready followed.
Soon they came to the accursed vein of dark stone. The dwarf they followed was hard at work. A backpack lay on the ground beside him and near it was a thick-walled box. With thick gloves on and infinite care, the dwarf was placing a chisel on the warpstone and preparing to strike it with a hammer.
"Drop the hammer!" Snorri called out. "Stand down and ye won't be harmed."
The dwarf spun around with a shocked expression. Then a crazed look came across his face. "I won't be harmed? Hahaha, it is you, all of you who will harmed! The Grinning Moon will destroy you all!" He reached down into his box and came up with a hand full of warpstone. He took a bit and hurled the rest at Thorfinn, although it came up short. Then he charged the two watchers.
Snorri stepped to the side to give Thorfinn a clear shot and swung his axe low at the charging madman.
Thorfinn's bolt took the crazed dwarf in the arm and through the arm into the chest, a shot that would have killed a normal dwarf. The attacker, though, had already begun to mutate, sprouting tentacles which wrapped around the wound. It's legs went soft and rubbery as it closed on Snorri and as it sank to the ground, Snorri gave it a sharp blow with his axe and then stepped away.
The remains of the dwarf, screaming horribly from time to time, softened as if the bones had turned to water, then the flesh itself began to run, and in minutes there was only a pink and red pool where the dwarf had been, with bits of clothing and so on floating in it. As they watched, the heavier parts of the body began to settle to the bottom as the blood and other fluids floated to the top and began to separate into layers.
Snorri held out an arm to ward Thorfinn away, "Stand back. Keep yer distance, we don know what this is." With his axe ready, Snorri stood guard until he was satisfied there was no further danger.
"Go get Harald and the clerics, and bring some thick gloves," he said to Thorfinn. As the scout rushed off he slowly walked around the remaining effects of the slain dwarf and kept a safe distance from the corrupting stone.
"Aye," said Thorfinn and raced off.
Snorri carefully looked around the site, without touching anything, noting the thick walled wooden box with bits of warpstone still inside, the backpack which seemed to have nothing else in it, the chisel which had been dropped when the dwarf was surprised.
It was a long hour before the others returned. During that time, the remains of the dwarf had twice extended thin psuedopods up from the surface of the pool of goo, but they had collapsed back in seconds. For the last half an hour it had been completely still.
Snorri filled in the group with what he and Thorfinn had seen. "He, or whatever it was, called down a curse by the Grinning Moon. Does any of ye know about them?"
"Maybe he meant Morsslieb, the Chaos Moon?" offered Haakon. "It often presents an aspect like a grinning face, and one theory says that warpstone pieces are fragments of the Chaos Moon."
"Aye, twould make sense. For what purpose do these believers use this?" Snorri nudged the wooden box.
"Who knows?" said Haakon. "It is foulness given form, fatal to the touch," he indicated the pool of goo. "I've heard stories of fell sorcerors who use it power engines of evil."
"Then we have fell sorcerors operating nearby. This poor corrupted soul was harvesting the evil rock for someone. It drove him mad, and we are to be next if we do not put an end to it. Can we remove the rock and melt it in the heats of Grungni's forge? Can the clerics of Thungni bless it and render it powerless?"
Conal was shaking his head, "We have no such power over the foul rock. To touch it, to use it, is madness and death."
"Then," said Ketil, "it must be removed if not destroyed, dispersed."
"Aye, but how?" said Haakon. "Even now I feel its malign influence."
Snorri examined the box closely to see if it beared an enchantment or special construction that would block the stones corrupting power.
"Hmph," he grunted. "Without knowing how deep the vein stretches we canna know if removin' it is possible, pr'haps we could cover it with something, like melted ore."
"But that is for later," said the practical Harald. "What of ... that?" He jerked his chin at the pool of ex-dwarf.
As the dwarf burned, they examined everything they had found. There was the chisel and box of warpstone which were by the vein in the rock. The dwarf had been wearing leather pants over boots with puttees. A long sleeved shirt had its cuffs tucked deeply into thick long-cuffed leather gauntlets similar to those fencing masters used. There was a thick leather apron like that used by smiths or alchemists over that. A hooded cloak surmounted it all. He had been carrying a hammer, not one designed for combat, and a knife on his belt. A pouch contained a few mixed coins, all of Karak Kadrin minting. He wore almost no jewelry, a surprise given that the dwarvish love of beauty and craftsmanship tended to lead to extensive accessorizing; there was an earring of gold, simple but fine, and a curious necklace whose pendant was a circle of silver with a tiny crescent on one side of a deep reddish-purple.
Snorri fingered the pendant. "This design, the Grinning Moon cult?" he asked aloud passing it about to the more learned in such matters. "Has anyone seen others of similar design?" Snorri ruminated on the pendant, trying to determine who might have fashioned such a piece.
"Good thought!" said Haakon. "This does look like a moon, but which moon? Is it Mannslieb's silver just past full, or Morrslieb's evil mottling as a new moon?"
"That is beyond my knowledge," said Snorri deferring to the clerics. "This, however," he hefted the hammer and chisel, "bears the mark of Dirkad Haakonson. I will go speak with him and see if he remembers our miner."
"And we shall seal this tunnel for now, while I consider ways to more permanently deal with the threat," said Ketil.
Snorri was able to find the shop of Dirkad Haakonson with no difficulty. The smith was a heavily muscled, thick dwarf who worked with obvious skill and competence. Snorri waited for him to finish making a decorative twist in a knife handle and plunge it into the quenching barrel before approaching.
"Well met, a good day to hammer!" he greeted. "Snorri Oddmasson, a word with ye if I may," extending his hand.
"Dirkad Haakonson," said the smith taking the offered hand. "The Runesmith, aye? An honour."
Snorri nodded, still a bit embarrased by his position and the fame it bestowed. He fished into his bag and produced a hammer and chisel. "These bear your mark, fine craftsmanship indeed. Do ye remember who ye made them for?"
Dirkad examined them closely. "These are not custom pieces, and the chisel is of a design I have not used in some years. They have seen some use since then. Look the chisel has been sharpened a few times I would say, and the hammer has some chips taken out of it. The last lot of these I made was for export I think. To go to the mining camps near Breghoven."
"Breghoven," Snorri exclaimed. A series of grunts and mutterings followed and he thanked Dirkad. The path led to Breghoven, were this to be one to follow. The miner was local, as his currency implied. Snorri would have to look closer to home.
Days passed, and became weeks. The problem of the mine faded before the problems of daily life, as they do. They were never completely gone from his mind, though, as Harald told him of the progress below in sealing the warpstone shaft and clearing the other. A careful check was made every few days to make sure that no one was attempted to penetrate into the warpstone tunnel.
Then one day, a messenger came as Harald, Snorri, Hallr and Alfhildr were eating dinner. He requested Harald and Snorri's presence at the shrine to Grungni immediately to meet with Haakon Twohammers.
Snorri rose and apologized to Halr and Alfhildr. "Harald and me are needed," he said hastily grabbing a handful of bread and dunking it into his stew as he left for the shrine.
They arrived to find Ketil and Conal already there. "Good," said Haakon when they appeared. "Come see this." He led them into a small chamber near the shrine, and pulled aside a curtain. The sight that greeted their eyes was a terrible one. A dwarf, for dwarf it still was, was there face frozen in a rictus of pain. It was a dwarf, but just barely, from around the edges of the chest a mass of tentacles had sprouted and were now pulled in closely around the chest itself masking most of it from view.
"We found it by merest chance," said Haakon. "A group of watchmen saw something suspicious by one of the shafts to one of the old mines, so they gave the halloo. The two dwarves dropped their bundle and fled - they escaped, damn them. But this was the bundle they were carrying."
"Ghastly," remarked Snorri turning away. "By the old mines, you say? More fiends of the Grinning Moon, I fear." Snorri clapped his hands together, "we canna hope to guard every mine that has ever been dug. So there must be a place where they gather, a place where they take the harvested stones."
"Ghastly," remarked Snorri turning away. "By the old mines, you say? More fiends of the Grinning Moon, I fear." Snorri clapped his hands together, "we canna hope to guard every mine that has ever been dug. So there must be a place where they gather, a place where they take the harvested stones."
"Has anyone searched the shaft they escaped from?"
"It looked like they were heading toward the shaft, probably to dispose of this," said Haakon.
"Oh?" asked Snorri. "It is tainted like the others we have seen," Snorri nodded to Harald," but what makes it different?"
"Well, it hasn't decomposed into goo," said Harald.
"Aye, but why? and it is not attacking us." Snorri turned to Twohammers, "have you been able to determine what has afflicted it? this is the only one we have seen that has remained. Do we know who it was?"
"We're not sure who it was," said Haakon, "but we're trying to find out. As for the rest, it's dead, that's certain. Why didn't it decompose? It's the nature of Chaos! Never quite the same way twice."
"So it seems," murmured Snorri out of despair. "If this is recent then he should be missed soon, perhaps some will show concern. His associates are our target. Did he have a pendant?"
"We have not searched the body too closely as of yet," said Haakon. "And as you can see, the tentacles have clamped around this chest where the pendant might hang."
Snorri leaned down close to the corpse. He sniffed along the clothing, and examined the hands looking for telltale signs of mine work or another craft.
Snorri's examination showed little initially. The clothes were sturdy but unexceptional, although they, like the clothes they had found in the puddle were worn in a strange fashion - pants sealed with puttees, the one hand which was still normal was wearing a long cuffed glove, and a scarf covered the lower part of the face. The shirt was a rag, torn to shreds as the tentacles burst through. There was no belt pouch nor any other of the usual accoutrements one would expect to find; clearly the body had been stripped.
Snorri tugged on the boots. "These have been sealed like the last one, to keep something out." The absence of mud struck Snorri as odd, "at first I thought of the flooded tunnels, yet it does not appear so. Bugs? where would we find bugs could that be where they gather that requires such a precaution?"
"Or something else?" said Harald. "Dust! If they were working with this warpstone, it would create dust and they might wish to keep it away from their bodies. I most certainly would wish to!" He added fervently.
"Aye, although it did not help this poor soul. Inhaled it, he did probably." Snorri fluffed his beard and thought aloud. "To work this stone would require careful skills. Who do we know that works stone and can process something as dangerous as this?"
"Apparently no one," said Conal indicating the poor dead dwarf in front of them. "They seem willing to sacrifice themselves and others in whatever their cause is."
"Still it requires tools and a place to work in secrecy. They work at night, so we must look for activity. Keep an eye out for men carrying sacks, purchasing food, and disposing dust."
"Aye," said Haakon dubiously, "but 'tis easy enough to dig a chamber into one's floor or back wall."
"If that be the case," remarked Snorri, "then we will have hundreds more like this to collect. They are not few in number, this is four we have seen. The two who escaped are not the leaders, there are others and they may continue to add to their ranks."
"I doubt hundreds," said Haakon. "Surely there are not so many mad enough to join this insane group."
"Not willingly. I would think four too much to choose such a fate." Snorri scratched the side of his head, "if we could follow them to where they stay, or learn more about this Grinning Moon cult and their beliefs. Pr'haps the are preparing for a festival or ritual that requires this stone."
"That sounds likely," said Haakon. "But how shall we find them?"
"Only Grungni knows," replied Snorri somberly.
The only thing left to do was remove the dead thing's tentacles to see if a medallion as hidden beneath them. Distasteful as it was, it needed to be done. Harald said he would do the deed. Sharptooth struck quickly and cleanly removing tentacle after tentacle. Soon the torso was laid bare. Embedded in the flesh, as if it had grown around them, were several objects. First was a medallion like those they had seen before. There was also what looked like a silver cup, buried more than halfway into the flesh. An iron rod, perhaps 1/2" in diameter, six inches long with a disk an inch and half across welded to one end, and some fragments of wood made up the rest of the inventory.
Carefully, they removed the objects from the dead thing's chest, which involved cutting around the cup with almost surgical skill. When they had the cup in hand it proved an interesting find. It was a silver drinking vessel of good quality, with the mark of Freygoth Silvertongue clear on the bottom. The design was typical of the style that many dwarven households preferred where incidents and ancestors were depicted on the outer surface of the cup. None of those present recognized the family story illustrated, though.
Snorri carefully wrapped the cup and announced that he was to visit Freygoth Silvertongue. "Pr'haps he will remember who he crafted such an heirloom for. Harald, I might need your strong arm if he gives me a family name."
Freygoth was a rare dwarf indeed. Short, round, and with a cheerful gift of speech uncommon in dwarf folk. He was also a talented whitesmith. After regaling them for ten minutes with a story that had both Snorri and Harald laughing outright, he was brought round to the point.
Taking the cup, he examined it carefully. "Fine worksmanship. Clearly made by a master. Oh, look!" he said feigning astonishment, "it was made by my own hand."
"Skilled hands indeed," agreed Snorri. "Whose hands did you pass it along too, do ye remember?"
"Certainly I remember. I made this set, oh, thirty years ago or more for Kettri the Belcher. See, that's him there, and that's a belch," the dwarf let out a peal of laughter. "I miss old Kettri. Grond Kettrison hardly comes around anymore."
"Could ye describe Grond to us?" asked Snorri.
"Surely," said Freygoth. "About your height, a little leaner. "Works as a clark for the Crown, always wearing those robes those scribblers favor. Wears his hair a little fancy, braids down the sides." Freygoth added a few more details, showing the artist's eye that allowed him to carve figures that almost seemed to move on his work. "Lives in Kettri's old place, his now, near the Farmer's Stair."
"Many thanks," Snorri said with a nod accepting the cup back. Once outside he looked to Harald, "I am not sure if Grond is our corpse, or not. But soon we will know." The two dwarves made their way toward Kettri's former home.
The house near the Farmer's Stair was easy to find, with a handsome sign with "Grond Kettrison" written on it in handsome dwarf runes hanging by the door. The knocked and the door was opened by a young dwarf dressed as a servant. "Yes, my masters?" he asked.
"Good day, is Grond Kettrison home?" Snorri asked.
"No, he is at the chancellory," said the servant. "He should be back very soon though. His dinner is waiting."
Snorri produced the silver cup, "This belongs to him. Have ye seen it before?"
"Aye, it is one of a set he owns." His face closed suspiciously, "How came you by it?"
"A matter we will discuss with Master Grond when he arrives."
"Will you come in and wait?" he asked. "And who may I tell him is waiting?"
Snorri knocked the dust of his boots and accepted the offer graciously. "Aye, twould be a pleasure. Snorri Oddmasson is me name, and this is Harald Stonebreaker."
"This way." He led them to a chamber and bowed out.
Snorri paced around the chamber methodically taking in the surroundings. The chamber was furnished in the comfortable style of older dwarfhomes. with solid furnishings of wood and stone, and with a suitable display of gold and silver ornamentation. More silver than gold, reflecting perhaps the taste of the family over the years. Nothing unusual caught his eye.
The door opened again and the servant returned bearing a tray with a pitcher and two cups, which matched the one Snorri still held. "I've brought some ale, please refresh yourself," said the servant.
Harald stomped over to the pitcher, "What will you do when this Grond returns, Snorri?" He poured out two cups of ale and looked at the pitcher, "Nice work, more of Silvertongues." He walked back and handed Snorri a cup. "What do we hope to find here?"
Snorri accepted the ale, "I hope we can find out who our deceased is. Then we can investigate who he associated with and maybe determine who is behind these defilements."
As he lifted the cup, Snorri felt the tingle he associated with magic coming from the object.
He looked at the cup, examining it closely. "Harald, these cups."
Harald paused and looked at his cup, "Yes?"
"These cups, my cup, has the taint of magic. Here give me your cup," he reached out. Both cups had the same tingle, although there was something odd, almost fluid, in the feeling.
Snorri handed the cup back to Harald and fingered the cup they recovered. The cups seemed linked, somehow. The cup they brought with them had no such feel of magic.
"These are similar, possessing magic," he whispered to Harald. "This one, the one the creature had does not, yet they are from a matching set." The curiosity caused Snorri's brow to furrow. "We should not imbibe until I am sure what this magic means."
Harald regarded his cup with concern and then took both and replaced them on the try. "I do not like this," he said, fingering Sharptooth.
The door cracked and the servant peeked through the crack.
"Hallo," barked Snorri toward the door for he was perturbed to be spied upon. "Have ye something to report?"
"Ah, no," said the servant, opening the door wider. "I just, ah, wanted to make sure you were comfortable." His eyes darted to the pitcher and cups. "Is the, ah, ale to your liking?"
Snorri shot a glance at Harald, and picked up a filled cup "It's a bit foul on the nose, pr'haps ye should try it yerself." With cup in hand, Snorri brought it to the servant.
"Oh, no sir," said the servant taking a step back. "I wouldn't dream of drinking the master's ale," he said.
"Now now," he closed in, "ye are to see to us, his guests. We want ye to drink deep, don't we Harald?" Snorri hefted the cup to the servant's face with a determined look on his face.
"I really couldn't, sir," said the servant with panic beginning to show on his face.
"Are ye showing me disrepect?" questioned Snorri in an intimidating manner. Ordinarily he was a kind sort, but the suspicious behaviour of the servant coupled with the magical sensation he detected raised his dander. "Yer master will be the talk of the town about how his servants treat his guests. That canna be good, can it Harald?"
The servant taking advantage of the second when Snorri glanced toward Harald bolted through the door and slammed it behind him. The friends heard a bolt shoot home, locking them in.
Snorri turned to Harald, "That isn't good." With that Snorri rushed the door and called for Harald to help him.
The duo quickly forced the door, there was no lock, the servant had simply jammed a convenient table across the door.
"A suspicious sort, he is" Snorri understated. "Let's go find him."
Snorri scooped up a cup and tossed the ale out. As he did so, the magic tingle dissappeared.
"Tis the ale!" he exclaimed to Harald. Snorri looked to secure the ale for further analysis. He retrieved the decanter and tested it for the tingle. And was rewarded with the familiar feel.
He carried the pitcher and Harald unslung Sharptooth as they went in pursuit of the servant. They started a systematic search. After a few minutes, a door ahead of them swung open and a dwarf they had never seen before started to lob what was clearly a bomb at them. His hand struck the doorframe and the bomb was knocked loose to land at his feet. They had time to see a horrified expression cross his face as they each dove for cover.
The explosion rocked the confined area and they heard a number of screams and shouts from beyond the door, echoed by that of Harald who had not made it to cover quickly enough and had taken a large piece of shrapnel in the leg.
"Are ye alright?" Snorri asked Harald rushing to his side. "Can ye hold on while I see about those who sought to kill us?" Snorri placed the pitcher safely aside and hefted his axe, approaching the damaged doorway.
"I'll not let you face them alone," said Harald. He moved forward boldly, wincing slightly with every step on his left leg.
Beyond the door all was chaos, literally and figuratively. Half a dozen dwarves were scattered about the room, two of whose flesh was already beginning to pulse in an horrific way, shifting outward from the site of their wounds. The bomber himself was digging frantically at his own wounds with a dagger. The servant was below standing stock still and with his eyes closed, as if expecting at any moment to be struck down. The remaining two, one of whom was a woman Snorri was shocked to see, seemed capable of action. All save the servant wore long pants tied off with puttees, scarves across their mouths, and high cuffed gloves over long sleeved shirts.
The room itself was rough hewn, though sturdy, a long table ran along one side and on it were set a variety of tools and items related, Snorri thought, to bomb construction. He also caught a glimpse of what looked like pure warpstone on the table.
The woman grabbed a box of warpstone and charged at Snorri and Harald with a cry. The male dwarf by her scooped up a stool and held it like a club as he followed in her wake.
Knowing that to touch the stones was certain corruption, Snorri grabbed the door (or what remained of it) and pulled it shut. "Stand back Harald, there's trouble coming!" Quickly he braced for their assault and stood aside, his axe at the ready. Softly he prayed that Grungni heard the explosion and was sending out the ring of hammer to the others.
Harald hefted Sharptooth. A moment later the door was yanked open Sharptooth flashed and the fingers of the dwarf woman's left hand fell to the floor, followed by the box of warpstone which spilled down onto the ground. She screamed in pain and fear and was shoved aside by the man with the stool, Snorri chopped with his axe, a glancing blow, but enough to ruin the man's attack. Sharptooth flashed again, smashing the dwarf's hip to a ruin and sending him crashing down the stairs where he moaned and lay still.
The servant snapped back to his senses, "The Grinning Moon shall triumph!" he shouted and ran for a partially completed bomb on the table.
Knowing that Harald could not act as quickly as he, due to his injury, Snorri rushed after the man with a gutteral battle cry and his axe aloft.
Down the stairs Snorri flew, past the woman clutching her hand and the original bomber still digging at his wounds. Harald's cry of, "Snorri, no!" fell on deaf ears as the runesmith nearly dove at the crazed cultist. His axe blow slammed into the table as the man leapt back bomb in hand. He looked for something with which to light it, and his gaze fell on the candle lantern on the far wall. He ran for it with Snorri hot on his heels.
By the door, the bomber looked up and saw the the two below. "No!" he shouted and started to rise.
"No, indeed," said Harald slamming Sharptooth's butt into the bomber's head, knocking him senseless to the floor.
Snorri caught the servant just at the lantern and his axe flashed. The servant's head rolled free of his body and fell at Snorri's feet.
The two mutating dwarves were in no shape to do anything but scream as they sprouted eyes, mouths and suppurating sores some of which were just as quickly reabsorbed. The dwarf woman was in shock, the bomber was unconscious, and the servant and the dwarf with the stool were dead. The room was under control.
A few moments later the first of the neighbors began to arrive.
"How are ye, my friend?" Snorri asked Harald easing him to the table. The runesmith began to log the contents of the room, taking care to keep the completed bombs far from flames and more importantly looked for gloves to gather the warpstone rocks.
"Stand back," he barked as neighbors came closer. Securing the stones was his top priority as he placed them gently in the box. "Somebody get Twohammers!" he yelled.
The dwarves hemmed and hawed but with some chivvying sent one of their number to fetch the priest and the others were sufficiently impressed by Snorri's vehemence to leave the room alone.
Harald rested his leg on the bench. "It's nasty," he said, "but I'll live."
Snorri suddenly felt a chill. The bombs were packed with raw warpstone.
"Lie down," he said coldly to Harald and pushed him flat. "Don't say a word, just relax." The dwarf pulled Harald's own dagger and looked to his wound. With care, Snorri peeled back the ripped cloth from Harald's leg wound and probed with the blade hoping against hope that he would see stone within.
Snorri suddenly felt a chill. The bombs were packed with raw warpstone.
"Lie down," he said coldly to Harald and pushed him flat. "Don't say a word, just relax." The dwarf pulled Harald's own dagger and looked to his wound. With care, Snorri peeled back the ripped cloth from Harald's leg wound and probed with the blade hoping against hope that he would see stone within.
With a vast sense of relief, Snorri found the piece of shrapnel. It was a bit of iron from the casing of the bomb.
Wiping his brow, Snorri began to smile and chuckle bringing Harald to some concern. A calming grunt from Snorri set him prone once again and carefully he withdrew the iron, holding it up. "The clerics can finish up," he commented turning his attention back to the bombs and making sure no one came near.
"Who is the master of this house?" asked Snorri of the onlookers.
"Grond Kettrison is," said one dwarf. "As the sign says. Who are you and why do you not know whose house you are in?"
"Why does Grond Kettrison not know that bomb makers and enemies of the people are operating within his walls!" replied Snorri. "Pr'haps he needs to supply some answers!"
No one seemed to have an answer to that. A silence descended upon the various parties until a noise at the back heralded the entrance of Haakon Twohammers.
Snorri called out, "Here Twohammers, back here."
The priest made his way down, "By Grungni's beard!" he ejaculated seeing the twitching Chaos spawn and the various corpses and prisoners. "What is going on here?"
"The cup led here to question the master of the house, and he," a thumb jerked to the servant," tried ta serve us some enchanted ale. When we chased him he led us here, to a den of dogs making bombs with the accursed stone!" Snorri explained quickly retrieving the pitcher of offending ale.
"Where is the master of the house?" snapped Haakon. The crowd did not know, even when Haakon badgered them. "Well done, Snorri," said Haakon. "Go now seek aid for Harald. We'll take care of things here." Priests and Templars of the Stone Wall were beginning to secure the area and chase off the onlookers. "We shall ask of these," he waved at the prisoners, "many questions. Where shall we find you?"
Snorri told Haakon that he would drop Harald at his smithy and then try to find Grond at the Chancellory. So saying he helped Harald limp back to the smithy and laid him down on a chair. He went into the smithy and returned a moment later with his rune anvil. He placed it under Harald's foot, fetched his paint and began to chant. For half an hour or so, Snorri chanted and prepared himself to channel the power of the earth. Then he quickly and deftly began to paint the Rune of Restoration onto Harald's injured leg. As he completed the last stroke, the rune seemed to glow and sink into the leg. As it did, flesh and sinew knitted. In moments what had been a gaping wound, oozing blood, was little more than a scratch already beginning to scab over.
Over a protesting Harald, Snorri informed him that he was going to the Chancellory to find Grond. "Ye need to rest, I will be fine." He hefted his axe to shoulder, "If there be trouble I can defend meself. I shall return soon."
Snorri went to the Chancellory and spent a frustrating hour before learning that Grond had to go home two hours ago. He returned to the smithy to find Haakon and Harald deep in converstion over some of Snorri's ale. Both rose to welcome him. Haakon spoke, "Well, there's little doubt in my mind that Grond is in this up to his eyes. I don't see how that operation could go on beneath his beard without his knowledge."
"And Haakon says they were all Grinning Moon," said Harald.
"Aye, everyone wore that strange amulet. We haven't been able to extract all the information from the prisoners yet, but we will," said Haakon grimly.
Snorri grunted in the affirmative. "Grond had left the Chancellory before I arrived. Have we anyone looking fer him?"
"Aye, we do," said Haakon, shaking his head in disgust. "I doubt we'll find him, though. There are too many places to hide."
"We can only hope that those captured will reveal more of his group," Snorri said. "This may be much bigger than we thought. Were ye able to examine the ale?"
"Warpstone," said Haakon. "Dust and a few small fragments in the pitcher. Had you drunk it ..."
"By Grungni's eyes were we saved. Tis only that could keep a dwarf from downing ale!" Snorri said nudging Harald. Leaning back Snorri wondered aloud, "Was their purpose to bomb the city and unleash the vileness of Chaos upon us? was anything else found, any journals that could tell us of their plans."
"I think you are correct. The bombs are designed to hurl warpstone fragments into anyone around when they go off, the damage would be horrific," said Haakon. "Rest now. Come to the Temple tomorrow morning, the interrogation should be done by then."
The next morning, Harald and Snorri returned to the temple and were again ushered into the presence of Haakon and Conal. On the table before them were half a dozen of the now familiar amulets
Conal looked at Harald, walking sturdily into the room and said, "The power of Thungni's runes is truly great." He bowed to Snorri, "well crafted Runesmith."
"Let us begin," said Haakon. He pointed to the amulets. "Each of those you found in the house of Grond Kettrison wore one of these amulets, which would be enough to make their lives forfeit. Two survived long enough under interrogation to make clear their foul plans."
"Aye," said a new voice. "Plans which you stopped, lads." Into the room came King Ungrim Ironfist with two Slayer bodyguards, identifiable by their distinctive orange dyed strip of hair. "Carry on, Haakon."
"They planned to plant their bombs in the Temple of Grungni and set them off at the festival next month! The King would have been there, many of the high ranking officers of the army, most of the higher echelons of the priesthood. Grond Kettrison had easy access to the Temple working as he did in the Chancellory. The damage could have been irreparable."
"And your efforts prevented it," said the King. He removed from his arm a thick gold bracelet in the shape of a coiled serpent and offered it to Snorri. "You have my thanks." He removed a matching bracelet from his other arm and gave it to Harald.
Snorri accepted the gracious gift and dropped to a knee responding, "Twas my duty to clan and kingdom." After a pause Snorri returned to his feet and held the bracelet with reverence.
Haakon continued, "We learned some other things from the Chaos worshippers before they died. The Grinning Moon has at least three ranks. The lowest is the New Moon, all of those we have seen have been of this rank. This is their sign." He again pointed to the amulets. "Grond Kettrison is a Half Moon. The amulet is the same only with a half moon rather than a sliver of a crescent. The New Moons we found knew only one Half Moon, Grond himself. They had heard rumours of one above Grond, but do not know anything else.
"They worship something they call The Changer of Ways. They believe that they were working to overthrow the rule of Ungrim in Karak-Kadrin. They could give no reason as to why they should wish to. They were clearly expendable in the eyes of Grond and his superiors. Why else would they be sent to work with the foul warpstone? The warpstone which claimed one of the every few weeks. Usually they were able to get rid of the bodies without difficulty. It was our good fortune that the most recent cultist to be overcome lashed out wildly with his tentacles and gathered in that cup to his chest before dying."
"So," began Snorri, "we have revolutionaries among us. Grond Kettrison reports to a full moon who rules them all. Have we been able to locate the traitor?"
"Grond has dissappeared. He must have realized that you had discovered his workshop and fled," said Haakon.
"Do the annals record anything about this Changer of Ways? If there are others about, knowledge of their ways could assist us in pursuing them."
None of the others could recall anything that seemed to relate.
The meeting broke up leaving the participants to return to their homes and families. It was a somber group of dwarves who departed each lost in their own thoughts and each trying to determine the best way to combat the evil lurking in their dwarfhold.