The Miner’s Gambit | A Thora Silentblade tale

Silence settled upon the cave as the screaming goblin’s body fell to the ground. Thora’s eyes scanned the rafters of the chamber they were in, looking for an ambush or signs of more danger. Everything was quiet as the group spread out and investigated the cave system. While the others busied themselves with the main living quarters, the dwarven soldier took silent steps around the outer walls of the room, searching for something that shouldn’t be there. A shrine to a loved one stood oddly out of place amongst the otherwise dull room, but Thora dared not disturb it. While the dwarf had few qualms about taking a life when needed, disturbing a ritual site was not at the top list of “Things to do”.

Crossing over to a back corner, the outlines of something strange were picked up in the gray shades of Thora’s dark vision. A secret alcove of some sorts, stuffed with children’s toys and dolls. Such a strange thing to collect and steal from farmers. Why hide them? And why decorate them with goblin features and collect little animal toys? Something didn’t add up.

Thora began collecting the toys to examine them more closely when one of them seemed to sag with extra weight, feeling as if it was filled with rocks. Using a knitting needle to carefully pry open the doll’s seams, the dwarf found that the stuffing had been removed and replaced by some sort of burlap material, perhaps even a sack. Dumping it out, Thora found a collection of various precious stones.

Zearach, who had hung back and had been watching the dwarf’s investigation, saw the pile of jewels come tumbling out and immediately began slashing the other toys apart, looking for any other riches. The poor children’s toys fell to pieces and rags at the elf’s feet, yielding nothing extra, but also meaning no children’s toys being returned to their rightful owners.

Joining up with the rest of the group, they found that the bard had managed to put together quite the collection of bodies and gear by the campfire. Neatly sorted and set aside, there seemed to be nothing particularly interesting, but at the very least the items could help some folks back in Wilted Gulch. One finding during Alandal’s search had very much pleased Duanne, though. The tortle sat with his fingers completely bejeweled with the many, many, rings that the goblin leader had been wearing. It was an odd sight to see, but the dwarf was starting to have an idea forming based on the collection found in the alcove. The former smithy’s mind was wondering what Duanne’s shell would look like with some custom jeweling?

It took time to find all the hiding places that the goblins had used for their ill-gotten gains, but none of the adventurers were in any particular rush at the moment. After finding all of the stolen items, Thora turned attention to the remains of the cavern dwellers. It didn’t feel right leaving them out like this and it seemed like the nearby cave-in might make as good a place as any for a burial. Alandal also seemed up for the task, but none could really remember how goblins buried their dead, if they did at all. Even the elf was willing to lend a hand as they started moving stones, though Zearach pulled a muscle early and needed to sit out the rest. The dragonborn and dwarf lifted stone after stone, with Duanne shouting instructions out to Alandal to help him along. Thora smiled as the bard lifted the rocks. For a dwarf, this type of work was part of their bones, but the work always went better as a team.

A hero’s welcome

The town was only a few hours away, so the sun was still up when they reached Wilted Gulch. Thora sat in the driver seat again, the wagon loaded up once more with gifts for the townsfolk. As they reached the outskirts of the town, the scene before them was barely recognizable as the Wilted Gulch they had arrived at just a few days ago. People milled about everywhere, at least ten times as many folks in the streets as before. Friendly neighbours greeting each other with a smile and a wave, folks shopping and stopping to chat. There was hope in the air.

It was at that moment that the dwarf heard the drumming.

In the back of the wagon, the bard had jumped to his feet, a steady rhythm playing in their arrival. At first, the beats seemed to flow amongst the steady rhythm of the horses, but then the complexity of the pattern took shape. The dragonborn’s voice slid in and out of the beats, telling the tale of their victory over the raiding bandits. Alandal might have been off the other night, but right now the bard had the town eating out of his hand! Cheers were going up from upper windows and the folks in the street started clapping, waving arms, and following along behind the wagon as they made their way to Sheriff Deen’s office.

“Back so soon?” called out the sheriff, as Debbie Deen hobbled out of her door to greet them. She was still using a crutch and a little surprised to see them already. Alandal filled the Sheriff in on the past few hours and brought her to the back of the cart to show what they had found. Deen had a list of personal items that the folks in town had submitted as having been taken, and the crew in the back of the wagon were able to find everything amongst the piles of recovered treasures. Thora made sure to mention the water source they had found, certain that in a dry place like Wilted Gulch it might be helpful to have a nearby spring water source.

While Thora and Zearach tended to the horses, Alandal and Duanne had a chat with the Sheriff about all the commotion in town. It seemed a day of celebration was being had, “Sheriff’s Day”, and they would be invited. Joining Deen over at her brother’s tavern, the heroes found the party had already started. The mood was infectious and Thora moved to the bar to pick up a mug.

“To Wilted Gulch!” the dwarf cried out to the room, raising the drink high. It was good to see everyone in such a good mood. Settling in by a card game with a drink and some wool, the soldier pulled out some knitting needles and passed the time, learning about the game. Duanne tried his hand at a few rounds of cards, a game called the “Gambit of Wilbur”, but lost a bit of gold to the experienced players at the table.

Across the room, Thora noticed the elf puzzling over some sort of dice game. Duanne leaned over to explain that he had seen that particular game called Genasi’s Favour during his past travels. It was a tough game, the tortle warned, and Thora could believe it. The elf seemed frustrated, but the wonderful rhythms that Alandal was playing were keeping everybody in a decent mood, despite the bad luck with the gambling. The dwarf felt relaxed again and briefly wondered what the next day might bring. Perhaps there would be some time to work at the forge? That was Thora’s usual way of making herself useful to the locals.

The chase

When morning came around, a big feast for breakfast was awaiting them in the main hall. The new cook they had hired definitely knew how to cook a meal! Thora was just settling back after finishing off a chunk of bread and cheese when the Sheriff came striding in with a bag of gold and a look that said something was wrong.

Placing their reward on the table, Deen spoke quickly, filling them in on some overnight drama. Apparently, perhaps after a few too many drinks at the bar, the miners had decided to take some matters into their own hands. Inspired by the tales of heroism spread by the adventuring party they had taken off to retake their mine from whatever evil was lurking there. What had been a problem for another day had now become quite urgent.

Tapping Zearach on the shoulder, Thora indicated to the elf to come along and help get the horses saddled and hitched.

“We ride in twenty, get your things” stated the dwarf, stuffing a few loose items back into a pack on the ground. With a half salute to Deen on the way out, Thora stepped out into the dry air of early morning and headed for the stable where they had left the wagon and horses.

Duanne quickly went off to Old Patrick’s, a local smith, to gear up, while Alandal handled settling things up with Deen on the reward. The group was quick, they were geared up and at the wagon before Thora had even gotten the final reins attached. Zearach urged his horse forward into a gallop as Thora steered the wagon into the elf’s wake of dust. It was time to ride!

They kept a decent pace, certainly better than what the drunken miners would have been making, but those fools had many hours of a head start on them. It was going to take a lot to make up the ground. Duanne and Alandal silently rode in the back as Thora focused on following Zearach’s trail, the sun beating down on them over the hours. As a beautiful desert sunset began to spread across the sky they had still not been able to catch up to the miners. If they had any hope of stopping this foolish mission they were going to have to force their way through the night. The bard tried to sleep in the back, even with all the bumps and creaks along the way. As the moon rose, Thora noticed that the moonlight kept reflecting off of what seemed to be eyes on the side of the road. There one minute, and then gone as the wagon raced along in the dark. It was good fortune that both Zearach and Thora had such excellent vision in the dark or this would have been quite the dangerous ride.

As the night wore on, they suddenly noticed a light in the distance, off the path. Not wanting to lose too much ground, Thora slowed the pace of the wagon while Zearach went to see what it was. It was only a few minutes later when the elf returned.

“The place smells, badly” reported the ranger. “Hide tents, a giant bonfire, and animal skulls on posts. It didn’t look like a welcoming place, and certainly didn’t seem like the miners camp.”

Thora hadn’t spent a lot of time outside the Sakhar mountains, but even in the mountains there were tales of things like this. Under the mountain, the dwarves called them the Hund’dharok, or gnolls in the Common tongue. The mountain-dwellers didn’t behave exactly as what the elf had described, but it was close enough that Thora wasn’t comfortable with the idea of what might happen to the miners.

The group dismounted to learn more from the tracks, trying to piece together what happened. Bending low to the ground, Thora and Duanne carefully picked out the various tracks as Zearach attempted to explain the movements. It seemed as if the horse tracks had all clumped together in a single point, possibly circling together as they were stopped. Duanne noticed a pile of horse droppings in a single location, indicating the beasts had been nervous and kept in a single place for a while. There were a few tracks leading away, including a slightly bloody track leading backwards, but the sudden deep impressions of hooves in the dirt indicated that the group had taken off at high speed towards the mine.

Mounting back up to the driver’s seat, Thora got the cart moving. Slowly at first, and then picking up speed as the urgency set in. It wasn’t long, though, until Thora tugged on the reins to slow down their speed. There was something ahead in the dark, blocking part of the road. it might be a dead animal, perhaps a horse, but the dwarf could also hear the sounds of whimpering.

Not wanting to lose too much ground, Thora kept the wagon moving slowly as the tortle wizard dropped down from the back to investigate. There, at the side of the road, Duanne found a dying dwarf with his stomach cut open, groaning for help. The bard and wizard worked together to heave the miner up onto the back of the wagon. Blood was draining quickly from the miner’s wounds and he wouldn’t survive long, but Duanne was ready. While the wizard wasn’t a healer, in the strictest of sense, he was damned good with a kit! In seconds, the tortle had his gear out, his claws working quickly in the moonlight to sew up the miner’s wounds. Within moments, Duanne leaned back from the quick bandaging work before him, one near-death miner barely clinging to breath in front of him, but stabilized for now. At least they had saved one of the fools!

A giant cloud of dust kicked up behind them as the wagon rushed forward as fast as the exhausted horses could go. The rest of the fleeing miners couldn’t be too far ahead, less than a few hours, but they had gnolls hot on their tail and would not be slowing down. Even at this speed, Thora wasn’t sure they would make it in time.

The two horses pulling the cart galloped as quickly as the dwarf deemed safe. About two wagons lengths ahead, Zearach was leaned down against the neck of his ride, expertly guiding it in the moonlight and calling out any obstructions on the road ahead. They had to make it.

Behind Thora, in the cart area, the dwarf moaned in pain. Duanne’s amazing work with his medical tools had sewn up the gash on the miner’s belly and stopped the bleeding for now. After being bandaged up and brought to with some smelling salts, the miner told his tale.

“Garrett saw the fire and decided to go have a chat with them” the dwarf began. “They’ve always been decent enough neighbours, never causing much of a ruckus. We had animals to trade as meats.”

The miner coughed a little, clearly having trouble getting the words out in his current condition. The cart bobbed and bumped as it struck rocks in the road, threatening to send them hurling out at any moment.

“The next thing we knew, there was this bloody scream and then eyes coming at us in the night. We panicked, made the wrong turn, and started heading for the mine. When they caught up, it was horrible. They cut into me and were yelling about the mine and the ghosts. Garrett must have told ’em about it.”

Thora was too focused on the road to hear much of the detail of what was being said, but the dwarf raised an eyebrow at the mention of ghosts. The soldier hadn’t had many dealings with the spectral creatures, but dealing with animal spirits was no laughing matter from what the elders had said. There were always a few back in the mountains who would tell tales of strange noises or sights in the mines, often explained away as glints off the mithril or a trick of the stone echoing boots. This miner’s tales seemed familiar… strange sightings in the dark, miners disappearing, bodies being found. It sounded an awful lot like those early days before the invasion came in full below the Sakhar mountains. Thora could only pray this was something different.

Thora’s strong hands tightened on the reins, mentally pushing the miner’s tale out of mind. The road… focus on the road. The dawn’s light rose over the horizon as the tired group of heroes pushed onwards. Thora could feel the focus slipping a little but this was no time for weakness. They had left Wilted Gulch early the day before and ridden through the night, accomplishing a two day trek in just under a full day. The horses were as exhausted as Thora was, and would have to rest soon. They would get their wish as a few minutes later a sight both welcome and unfortunate rose before them: the gates to the mine. Were they too late?

They could hear screams and shouts from the other side of the large log gate that was closed before them. Leaving the wagon and horses tucked behind a large tree, and the injured miner resting, the group dismounted and prepped to bust in. Moving quickly, Thora ran for the guard tower next to the gate, clambering up as the rest of the group surged through the main doors. Hyenas were chained up everywhere, a large gnoll chewing on some bloody piece of meat by a large fire. They had one shot to get as many by surprise as possible.

The dragonborn’s entrance was definitely a surprise to those behind the door! His large reptilian maw opened wide, letting a stream of lightning stretch across the room, frying several of the hyenas. Up in the guard tower, surveilling the scene below, this seemed like the perfect distraction for Thora. The dwarf pulled out a shortbow and took out another hyena before leaping down into the fray with the others.

Weaving and and swarming around the hyenas, the group began taking them out swiftly as the large gnoll charged in at them to protect the gnoll tribe’s pets. The barbaric warrior before them swiped at Thora, trying to break through the dwarf’s defenses, but the dwarf was able to deflect the blow away.

“We were just going to eat them!” shouted the hyena-faced warrior, seeming surprised at this turn of events. Thora and Duanne didn’t take time to respond, as the tortle circled around the gnoll, boxing him in. The wizard shocked the beast from behind, sending arcs of electricity through him as Thora’s blades cut deep, bringing the creature to the ground.

Pausing for a moment to look around, Thora wondered briefly who the beast on the ground actually was. Did they have a family? Thora had been trained to be efficient and slice first, ask questions later. So really, if the soldier was being honest, which one of them was the beast?

Ahead, the elf investigated a large trail of blood which seemed to be from the remains of some slaughtered animals. It appeared that the donkeys, mules, and other pack animals that the miners had brought with them had been slain and dragged to a large fire to be cooked. There were no immediate signs of the dwarves, but it seemed that they had somehow escaped and Zearach found tracks indicating they had gone deeper into the mine.

The large fire crackled in the room, sending strange shadows across the walls of the mine entrance. To their left stood the darkened tunnels and tracks of the mine, certainly the way the dwarves would have fled. Wiping the gore off both blades, Thora put the philosophical thoughts aside to focus on the mission: Find the miners, save the miners, don’t think about the ghosts. Simple enough.

It was time to hunt!

Credits

Cover image: “Moonlit wagon ride” generated by Jason St-Cyr using NightCafe
Tavern image: “Dragonborn drummer” generated by Jason St-Cyr using NightCafe
Road landscape image: “Going down the road” generated by Jason St-Cyr using NightCafe