Escape from Darom, page 5
“Are the two of you going to kiss or can we get moving?” Mutoline dryly asked as the Dwarfling jerked away while Zeven scrambled to his feet, “I’d still like to have a chance to see the forges before heading back tonight.”
“Girl, ye be pushing it to the limit at times,” Belkar grumpily said as he took the lead once again, “Come on, let’s get a moving before we draw the attention of the patrol.”
With a wordless shrug, Zeven followed the children and their miniature guide as Bright Claw plodded along behind them. While a number of Dwarves gave them dirty looks for blocking the path, they quickly hurried by since their group was moving slower than regular traffic. It sort of reminded Zeven of visiting a big city as a tourist during rush hour.
Crossing the middle of the expanse over the cavern, Zeven was surprised to feel his fur rippling in the strong wind coming from below the bridge. It was enough that he bet a Dwarfling like Belkar could catch the updraft with a wingsuit if they had them. How was that even possible inside an enclosed mountain? Seeing the confused expression on Zeven’s face as he peered down into the depths of the mountain, Mutoline came to his rescue.
“Surprised at the strong air currents coming up from the bowels of the mountain,” Mutoline asked, arching an eyebrow at him questioningly.
“Um, yeah,” Zeven sarcastically said, “it’s not something I’d have expected inside an enclosed mountain cavern.”
“Yeah, I guess that would make it somewhat odd to outsiders,” Mutoline agreed, “but it’s due to how the founders set up the air circulation vents for the city when they were carving out the cavern.”
“Air circulation vents,” Zeven asked, surprised that the Dwarves would understand that people needed fresh air to live.
Though, on second thought, Zeven figured it was impossible to be effective miners without having that basic level of knowledge. While they might not understand oxygen needing to be present in the air, even back in the Greek and Roman times, miners knew of “bad air” that existed in mines. If Zeven remembered his history correctly, they designed ventilation shafts to resolve the problem by creating air movement by the use of convection.
“Yeah, air circulation vents are what makes Dwarven cities possible,” Mutoline explained as her tone took on that of a teacher’s, “The founders used them in conjunction with the lava flows below to draw fresh air deep into the bowels of the mountain. Circulation is created by the cool air heating up and rising again and makes the strong wind you’re feeling against your fur. This process removes the bad air while forcing fresh air into the various caverns and tunnels that we live and work in. Without that, we Dwarves couldn’t have built our great underground cities.”
“That’s surprisingly interesting,” Zeven appreciatively said as they approached the entrance to the Spiral, “I’m a little surprised to hear that Dwarves know about bad air.”
It was much larger up close than Zeven had first realized. The columns were more like three separate curving ramps that gradually traversed its height, reminding him of a Barber’s Shop pole of varying colors but with spaced out non-moving rings. That’s because each bridge landing only connected to the Spiral at specific levels.
Between those gaps were three separate two lane ramps with a pedestrian way like the bridge they traversed now. Each started at a separate interval and traveled in a curved path around the spiral. The first, Zeven could see, was for all the down traffic, while the second were for those traveling up the column. Interestingly enough, the third seemed to be reserved for the Dwarven patrols and guards.
“That’s why Dwarves used to wear candles on their helms when we first started out mining,” Mutoline explained still in her “teacher” mode, “and why smart Cave Rangers such as Belkar usually carry lanterns with them when they’re Spelunking.”
“Spelunking,” Zeven sputtered out in surprise at hearing the modern term for cave exploration.
“Huh, so that be the reason behind why lanterns be part of our basic kit,” Belkar harrumphed from up ahead. Mutoline’s history lesson must have been pretty interesting to the Dwarfling for him to not be trying to needle Zeven for his questions.
“Yeah,” Mutoline replied, glancing back at Zeven in surprise. The look seemed to say, how could he know about bad air but not the name of the Skill, “Spelunking is the Skill you get when you’re Adventuring underground.”
“Appreciate the information, Mutoline,” Zeven self-consciously said, trying to come up with something that sounded reasonable for his eclectic knowledge, “My Clan does a lot of mining but I hadn’t acquired all of the Skills needed for learning it myself before our home was raided.”
It was pretty simple to step onto the Spiral from the bridge. There was a slight slowing down of the pedestrian traffic as everyone merged together onto the ramp into their various groups. Though, for them, Bright Claw’s bulk made that somewhat easier. No one particularly wanted to crowd the massive Grizhawk. While it was an angled decent, it was more like walking down a handicap ramp before a building.
“The Spirals are always so slow when ye be trying to get where ye want to go in a hurry,” Belkar grumbled from up ahead as they followed the flow of traffic down, “Ye be thinking by now the King would’ve made a separate Spiral for foot-traffic only.”
“I don’t know, Belkar,” Lokuth doubtfully said, “How would you determine who used it and how fast they could go?”
“They could make a special ramp accessible by pass only that you paid extra to use for moving quickly,” Zeven distractedly said, as his head swiveled from side-to-side taking in the sights.
The small communities of hanging buildings in-between the larger mini-city like areas were fascinating. It almost was like being inside a high-tech termite mound, he thought with a laugh. Looking below them on the Spiral, Zeven noticed a number of mid-levels spread out below them like floors on an elevator as he continued explaining his idea.
“The pass could help pay for the cost of construction,” Zeven said, taking the idea directly from the concept of modern-day carpool lanes, “with slower traffic keeping to the right of the ramps and faster traffic passing only on the left.”
“I guess that would work,” Mutoline said, thinking over the concept.
“Isn’t that a lot of rules for someone to have to remember to use just to travel on a road,” Belkar asked, torn between liking the idea and wanting to ridicule it at the same time.
“That’s the greatest part of the entire concept,” Zeven said, smirking at the annoyed look on the Dwarfling’s face, “you only get access to the fast-travel route if you’re willing to abide by the rules.” He shrugged as Belkar glanced back at him. “Those rules are what’s necessary to stop others from slowing down those that are in a hurry.”
“Look Zeven,” Doufalynn excitedly said, pointing at the next level, “that’s the entrance to the Trade District!”
“Damn, that’s impressive,” Zeven said as his eyes followed the bridge from the Spiral to the far side of the cavern.
This was an ornate decorative entrance to one of the larger city areas that Zeven hadn’t yet seen. Wide steps lead up from where the bridge connected to the cavern, leading up to a massive entrance that was lit up with a number of red-glowing Mage Lights. The two largest being held by two massive carved Dwarves that guarded the entrance. It sort of reminded him of when his ship had dropped anchor that one time in Aqaba and he’d visited the Al Khazneh’s temple in Petra but newer.
“The first stop we’re going to want to make is at Graymail’s Superior Weapons and Armor-” Mutoline was just beginning to say, when a shout from behind cut her off.
“Get the fuck out of my way,” the familiar voice of Phats bellowed out on the top of the ramp behind them, “Move you slow dumbasses!”
“Isn’t that the newfar from earlier,” Mutoline asked as her voice took on an edge.
“Yeah,” Lokuth angrily agreed, “he must’ve gotten away from the guards somehow.”
“Should we stop him,” Doufalynn said as her hand went to the dagger on her hip.
“Naw, let him be,” Belkar said in a no-nonsense tone, catching the children by surprise, “Ye don’t want to come to the attention of the city guard, especially not by fighting in public even if ye be trying to help. They’ll just as likely take ye into custody as the criminal they’re trying to catch.”
“But,” Lokuth said, looking back and forth between Doufalynn and Mutoline for support, “I thought we were supposed to help the House Guard whenever we can?”
“That’s the Clan’s House Guard, not these overeager bully-boys,” Belkar said as the children nodded in understanding, “Besides, not everything requires direct confrontation.”
That nugget of wisdom surprised Zeven. At least, it did coming from Belkar. He would’ve thought for sure the Dwarfling would’ve wanted to fuck with the newfar as the sounds of guards’ galloping mounts in pursuit came to their ears. You know, simply because Belkar was an asshole like that.
At the same time, Zeven figured it was probably for the best. There was no need to get on yet another group of asshole’s radar and it sounded like the guards didn’t take kindly to anyone fighting in the city. That last part most especially was why Zeven simply stepped back with the rest of their group as Phats raced past them at a sprint. You didn’t want to come to the attention of the local law enforcement in most of the countries his ship had dropped anchor in. Besides that, he had enough people after him and didn’t need a new group of dickless wonders to add to the list, when Zeven noticed the evil smirk that suddenly flashed across Belkar’s face.
“Shit on me,” Zeven managed to get out just as the Dwarfling stuck his bare foot out in front of the fleeing player.
Before Phats realized what was happening, his legs suddenly went out from underneath him. He soared impressively down the rest of the ramp windmilling like an idiot the entire way. Zeven couldn’t help but snicker at the shocked look on the guy’s face as he slammed face-first into the hard stone at the bottom of the ramp. As the pedestrians jumped back out of the newfar’s way, Phats slid to a crumpled unmoving heap with what was probably a short Stun effect.
That was the break the Dwarven guards had needed. Within seconds, a group of five mounted Dwarves galloped down the ramp on the backs of what looked to be Battle Rams. Zeven watched them surround the downed Phats in his skivvies just as his Stun started to wear off. It was a scene he’d seen played out all too often to drunken sailors and mouthy tourists in the past. Before Phats could sprint away, the burly guards were on him, pummeling the shit out of him with the backsides of their Bearded Axes.
“Gah,” Phats screamed, trying to cover his face and chest to no effect as the guards worked him over, “I give up … I give up!”
“Oops,” Belkar casually said, turning back to smirk at everyone’s surprised faces, “that’s going to be leaving a mark.”
“Damn, Belkar,” Zeven said, shaking his head, “nicely done.”
“Yeah, Belkar,” Mutoline agreed, her eyes wide as she watched, “that was pretty smooth.”
“It’s best not to be letting arses like that realize who screwed them over,” Belkar said in the same serious tone as before, “and why ye don’t want to come to the attention of the city guards.” Shrugging his shoulders, he turned around and continued down the ramp nonchalantly, “And ye be right, Mutoline,” he said as his voice turned casual once more, “stopping at Graymail’s first would be for the best. It’s going to take a bit to craft whatever armor and weapons this walking carpet is gonna need for his quest.”
Zeven was unsurprised to see the rest of the pedestrian traffic continue on their way as if nothing had happened. They simply walked past the commotion without a second look as if it was a regular occurrence. As their group caught up to the ugly scene, Zeven’s blood turned cold at the black gravestone that suddenly appeared next to Phats’s unmoving body.
“You can stop hitting him now, Krarrus,” the leader of the guard group said, letting out a gruff laugh, “he’s dead.”
“Did you get your level with that, Daresal,” another guard asked as she stood up straight and cracked her neck.
“Yep, I just hit level 53,” Daresal happily said, slipping his axe through his belt, “Are we done here, or does anyone else need to level up.”
“Nope, you were the last,” the leader said, mounting up on his ram, “let’s go ahead and chain the idiot up once he spawns back in so he can work off his time in the pits.”
“Aye, Sub-Leader,” the group chorused.
That was as much as Zeven caught before they were out of range of the group. And Phats probably thought he’d gotten away on his own. That was a bit too much realism right there, he thought, as a shiver ran down his spine while Belkar led them out onto the bridge that connected to the entrance of the Trade District.
“In case ye didn’t get the gist of that,” Belkar said under his breath, slowing down enough so that Zeven could hear him, “Don’t get caught breaking the law or fighting if ye can be helping it, but if ye do, don’t run away from the city guards if they catch ye. Otherwise, ye’ll be farmed for a bit of experience points.”
“That’s crazy,” Zeven said, shaking his head, “How do the Dwarves even know about all of this?”
“We get a lot of newfar coming to Aeroch Nor,” Belkar answered as if that was common knowledge, “it was easy enough to be figuring out and taking care of when the same set of losers kept appearing and causing havoc.” His face turned suddenly serious. “Best thing ye can do if ye be finding ye-self in that situation is to offer a bribe. Just make sure it’s at least a gold per guard that be taking ye in or they’ll just be taking yer coin before beating ye down for the proffered insult.”
“Why are you bothering to warn me about all of this, Belkar,” Zeven asked, giving the Dwarfling a hard look. While the whole concept of giving direct bribes was foreign in the United States, it was more common than not in most of the overseas ports that his ship had dropped anchor in and was considered an acquired skill amongst experienced sailors for getting out of tight spots, “I thought you didn’t particularly like me.”
“I don’t particularly dislike ye either,” Belkar admitted to Zeven’s surprise, “Don’t get me wrong. Yer a right arse that doesn’t take any lip. While that might be annoying as shit at times, it be respectable in my book. Besides, with ye being a clanmate and everything.” He cocked his head around to eye the Spiral where Phats had obviously been recaptured upon spawning back in at his gravestone and was now in the process of being half-dragged down the ramp behind the guards’ rams, “ye don’t deserve to be slaughtered like that.”
“Um, thanks, Belkar,” Zeven said, running a clawed hand embarrassingly over the fur on his neck.
“No problem,” the Dwarfling said letting out a comradely laugh, “Though, that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna be gettin yer furry arse back for calling me a Buggering Buckaru.”
“Honestly, Belkar,” Zeven said, chuckling at the friendly threat. It was like being in the Navy all over again, “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Walking up the wide stone steps that led up to the entrance of the Trade District was cool as all get-out. It gave Zeven the feeling of a vibrant city that celebrated in their accomplishments. Looking up at the hundred-foot-tall stoic Dwarven statues that guarded the entrance, he was stunned at how alive they looked. Every hair of their beards, the wrinkles on their faces, and other details worked into their armor and cloaks, it was a stunning level of craftsmanship. Zeven half-wondered if they weren’t Stone Golems similar to the mechanical ones that he’d seen walking the streets of the Gnome city of Haldale.
As they passed through the archway, Zeven took note of the thick stone doors that could be closed in case of an attack. Looking up at the tunnel’s ceiling, he noticed the murder holes built into the stone and the portcullises that were ready to be dropped at a moment’s notice at both ends of the short tunnel. Stepping out into the wide cavern of shops, Zeven took note of the series of stone barricades that could be hurriedly pushed into place across the opening as temporary fighting positions to be used by the troop of twenty city guards that were standing in groups around the exit.
There was no way a thief was going to grab something and easily run out of the Trade District from the look of things, Zeven thought to himself. Not that he’d been planning on doing anything like that in the first place, but it was probably something to be aware of in case he had to throw down with a group of PKers. Not that he expected there to be any triple A players here but it was best to know your environment. Not that there looked to be anywhere safe to run to if the guards were after you. While that would suck for him, if the shit hit the fan, it was great for the shopkeepers and an excellent tactic for the Dwarves to promote their economy.
“Children, close it up behind me and ye be keeping it tight,” Belkar commanded in a no-nonsense tone, “Zeven, yer in the rear. Everyone make sure ye be keeping an eye out for any Slagsmiths, Densehides, and Embergrains that might be in the crowd.”
How were they supposed to do that? Zeven silently wondered. Did they have the ability to cast Identify or were there some common characteristics to those Dwarven clanmates? Not that anyone said a word as their group closed up behind one another as Belkar led them through the packed streets. Even though he tried to keep focused on the simple task, Zeven couldn’t stop his head from rotating from side-to-side like a country bumpkin in the city for the first time.
Everywhere he looked, there were Dwarves from all walks of life. Warriors, farmers, crafters, miners, traders and more were all going about their daily business of buying, selling, crafting, or bringing in new raw materials. It reminded Zeven of why he’d started to view the people of The World as real beings and not simply scripted digital code like in other MMO games.
