Shadowrun - Earthdawn - Lliferock

by Jak Koke

  “My employer and I researched this location when we were in Throal, and we found no mention of any communities or ‘liferocks’ that might be adversely affected by our mining. You should consider keeping Throal informed of such matters.

  Meantime, I have invested my entire business in this expedition, and while I understand your concerns and am sympa-This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock 

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  thetic, I just can’t let myself be swayed. The cost would be too high.”

  Gvint folded his arms across his massive chest, and shook his head slowly. “No, you do not understand —”

  “Please let me finish.” Sarbeneck took a breath and exhaled sharply. He hated this part of his job and wanted to get it over as soon as possible. “I can, however, offer you some moderate compensation if it will allow you to find another liferock —”

  Gvint broke into laughter. Deep and full, rolling like thunder from his chest. The other obsidimen also started to laugh, and Sarbeneck stared at them. Gingreth looked puzzled.

  The mean-looking obsidiman spoke up. “Perhaps we haven’t been clear enough,” he said. “We are the liferock, and the liferock is us. No distinction. Wounding it hurts us.” His eyes seemed to glow with black fire as he spoke. “Killing it destroys us. And you are killing it.”

  The others had stopped laughing, but offered nothing further. The mean one continued. “We will defend it with our lives. There are many of us, and we are strong. We will attack you again if you continue, and again, and again until we destroy you or die in the attempt.” He moved forward, darting out of the clot of orks around him, more quickly than anyone expected. He glided on a thin cushion of magical air, reaching Sarbeneck before the dwarf could react. The obsidiman pulled Sarbeneck into a tight embrace, his large hand closing around the dwarf’s neck.

  Sarbeneck’s back jerked in pain as he was lifted to face the rock man, eye to eye. “You talk of costs, dwarf. What of the cost of a life? How much value do you put on yours?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Sarbeneck saw Gingreth move.

  “Don’t try anything, ork, or I will crush his neck.”

  Gingreth hesitated.

  Gvint spoke. “Chaiel, please put him down. It won’t ac-This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock 

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  complish anything to kill him. The mining will most likely continue.”

  Sarbeneck tried to nod in agreement, but Chaiel set him roughly back to the ground. His feet had gone numb and he found it hard to maintain his balance. He took several deep breaths, fighting to keep the shakes from taking control. He hated showing fear.

  “I am sorry for the hasty actions of my brother,” Gvint said.

  “Normally, we are not a rash people.”

  “These are not normal circumstances, Elder,” Chaiel said.

  The third obsidiman interrupted. “May I suggest a compromise?” He spoke perfect dwarven without accent.

  From Gvint, “Pabl, this may not be the right time.” Then to Sarbeneck, “Perhaps we should return in the daylight.”

  Sarbeneck did not respond, still trying to compose himself. His fear was fading now, replaced by a growing anger.

  Threats put him in a foul mood. Dis take these obsidimen and their cursed rock. He looked at Pabl. “What sort of compromise?”

  “We will send a messenger to Throal to bring an arbiter. In the meantime, you must halt your operation.”

  “Impossible —”

  “Please listen,” Pabl said. “If the arbiter determines that you deserve to be compensated for time, effort and lost minerals, we will pay you a reasonable settlement price.”

  Sarbeneck thought about it. These obsidimen were so varied. One deadly, the next reasonable. “I doubt you have enough silver to pay me.”

  “We can get it.”

  “No, I don’t think you can. In fact I’m sure of it. You’re ask-ing for a concession from me, not a compromise at all.”

  “How about ten thousand silver?”

  Sarbeneck laughed, though the action hurt his throat.

  “Try increasing that number fifty-fold and I might consider This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock 

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  it.” He turned away, trying to bring calm to his temper before speaking again. These people ask too much, he thought. His back ached from being lifted, and he could feel the ghost sensations of Chaiel’s thick fingers on his throat.

  To Gingreth he said, “Escort our friends to the perimeter of the camp and make sure they don’t return.” Then to the obsidimen, “I apologize again for the death of your comrade; Nancri will be appropriately reprimanded. I refuse your compromise; the mining will continue. If you have vast riches, bring them and I will reconsider my decision. Until then, goodbye.”

  Pabl moved suddenly, bursting free for a second. His fist connected with the neck of the ork behind him, and the ork fell. He spun to place a hard kick into the groin of another ork, and Sarbeneck watched as the second ork crumpled to the ground. But the third cavalryman clobbered him with a mace to the gut.

  “Pabl, stop this!” coming from the Elder.

  Pabl fell to his knees. “You are a disgrace to your race,” he said, looking up at Sarbeneck. “All you care about is silver.

  You’re destroying as much of the world as the Horrors. I pity you.”

  “Pabl!”

  The mace came down again, this time hitting him in the back, and knocked Pabl to ground.

  “Take them away,” Sarbeneck said. He turned away from them and walked as casually as he could into his tent and breathed a heavy sigh. His left hand moved involuntarily to his throat. Next time, I’ll just have Gingreth kill them on sight.

  This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com)  Chapter Twelve 

  Pabl’s back ached, and images of Wennith’s death flickered in his mind: the crisped black bones and muscle; the burned stench rising in a fetid cloud from the gaping hole in Wennith’s chest; the brittle charcoal of his acid-spattered skin. Pabl couldn’t shake the vision.

  “I am calling a council,” Gvint said. “We will find a way to stop this mining.”

  He and Chaiel stood with Pabl at the foot of the cliff about a half mile from the encampment. The ork and his mercenaries had left them there, mostly unharmed. Chaiel had checked Pabl’s wounds and determined that they would hurt for a while, but nothing was broken or permanently damaged.

  Next to the cliff, the jungle gave way to boulders and jumbled hunks of fallen rock. Here, the night air blew cool and fresh, carrying the alien scent of fire and food animals from the camp. The rock before them radiated warmth, felt reassuring to Pabl’s touch.

  Chaiel looked at Gvint. “You should have let me kill the dwarf,” he said.

  Gvint frowned. “It may yet come to that,” he said. “We will 94

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  discuss options at the council. Pabl, do you think your friends in the village would be willing to help us?”

  The question surprised Pabl. “Yes, Elder.”

  “Please ask them to join us at the council. Their aid might be of value.”

  Chaiel interrupted, “Are you certain that’s wise, Elder? I mean, they aren’t —”

  “If Pabl trusts them, then I will,” Gvint said. “They are not of the rock, and therefore their perspective differs. It is that al-ternate view which I seek.”

  Pabl turned to look along the cliff in the direction of the village. The rock rose like a dark monolith on his right, giving way to an overarching canopy of sky high above. Stars shone in the canopy like pinpoints of white-hot stone. “I will go now,” he said. “Then join you at the temple.”

  “V
ery well. Pabl, the council will await your arrival.” Gvint approached the rock and merged with it, melting into the stone. Then he moved up the cliff face, a bulge under a skin of rock, climbing into the sky. Amazing, Pabl thought. To be able to move inside the rock like that. Perhaps someday. .

  Chaiel followed Gvint, climbing the traditional way, his hands and feet anchored in the rock. Soon they were too far up to see, leaving Pabl alone with the sound of the wind and the sight of the moon’s silver sliver, just cresting the mesa wall.

  Pabl took a heavy breath of the clean air and moved along the rock toward the village. He avoided the main trail, walking and climbing next to the mesa wall to avoid any unwanted encounters. It took him about an hour to reach the village. He found Jan and Celagri in Samson’s Inn.

  The room was nearly empty due to the late hour; only three diehard teeth throwers remained. Jan and Celagri sat alone at a table against the wall well clear of the drunk gam-blers.

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  Pabl went directly to their table. “My Elder has called a council,” he said. “Miners have desecrated the tepuis. They killed one of my brothers and have refused to stop the digging.

  They have an entire ork cavalry, well-armed and strong. They did not listen to our pleas.”

  Celagri looked up, and for the first time Pabl noticed that she was dressed in full traveling gear, hair pulled into a tight black knot. “I saw the mining camp,” she said. “And I saw most of the battle. I’ve told Jan everything.”

  “My Elder wants you to come to our council,” Pabl said.

  “We might need help.”

  Jan looked up, giving an exaggerated yawn. “I will come, and I’ll tell Abrin — my friend on the village assembly. He’s the one who tried to convince Pontin Nemish to clean up his shantytown. Abrin might be able to get the assembly to help you. I know they are still cursing the ork cavalry for the mess it made.”

  “Do you trust him?”

  “Yes,” Jan said. “I’ve known him since I was a child.”

  “Good. Hurry and get ready; I will explain the situation as we climb.”

  Celagri spoke, “I’m ready.”

  “I’ll go get Abrin.” Jan stood and walked out of the tavern.

  Pabl and Celagri waited in the center square. Abrin and Jan returned a short time later, with three other dwarfs following. Abrin approached Pabl. “I am sorry to hear your news,”

  he said. “We will do what we can to help.” He turned towards the three other dwarfs. “This is Pontin Nemish, illusionist and leader of the village assembly. Pontin, this is Pabl Evr of Tepuis Garen.”

  A red bearded dwarf stepped forward and bowed low. “I wish our meeting were under better circumstances,” he said.

  “On behalf of the township of Rabneth, I would like to offer our aid to the Garen Brotherhood. May we join your council?”

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  So you are the slum monger who runs Pontintown, eh?

  “You may climb with us,” Pabl said, “though I cannot guaran-tee my Elder will allow you to participate in the council. Have you climbed the tepuis before? The trip up is quite rugged.”

  “No, but we are ready.”

  Pabl nodded, then turned and led the way out of the village, heading along the west road, toward the trail of the First Merge. Pontin walked next to Pabl and spoke of his plans to refurbish his tenements by the stream. Pontin apologized for offending Pabl, assuring him that no disrespect toward the Garen Brotherhood was intended. The shantytown’s dilapi-dated condition was merely an oversight which he planned to remedy shortly.

  Pabl listened to this diplomacy with growing indifference.

  He did not like this Pontin Nemish. Too much talk. Words did not matter; only deeds would convince him. His lack of response eventually shut Pontin up.

  The trail of the First Merge rose up the rock on their left, cut and bolstered into the side of the cliff. The tepuis sloped more gently on this side, but even so the path proved a difficult climb in the dim light of the stars.

  They climbed for many hours, drinking from a narrow rivulet which ran along the path for a short distance before plummeting over the edge. The trail was haphazard and difficult. In some places, the path simply disappeared into the un-yielding face of the rock, only to start up again forty or fifty feet straight above.

  The sky lightened in the east as they neared the point where the path left the cliff face. The trail angled up through a deep, rocky crevice that cut toward the top of the mesa, cold and dark and wet in the pre-dawn hours.

  They spoke rarely, Pabl preferring to listen to the wind and the waking of the rock. Mountain tigers and Crojen often made their lairs in the pockets and caves; it was best to be This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock 

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  alert. As the sun rose, hot in the clear sky, the sounds of the tepuis came to life — high screeches of birds and the throaty rhythms of iguanas and skinks.

  Two and half hours later, the group had made its way through the Dance of Stones to the temple above the riflev waterfall. They were the last to arrive, though Gvint gave them time to clean off and change clothes before calling the council to assemble.

  The whole brotherhood was there, faces grave and solemn.

  Wennith Nar’s body lay next to the Alqarat, his chest and legs draped with a funeral covering — a heavy blanket of gray and brown. Pictures embroidered on the blanket told the legends of The Valley of the Elders, of the Council of Four and how each element — Air, Fire, Earth and Water — would reclaim part of the dead body. How the spirit would rejoin the liferock.

  Gvint stood over Wennith’s corpse and placed a horkla on the head of the dead obsidiman. “The circumstances of our gathering are familiar to all of us,” he said. “Ganwetrammus is threatened by the mining camp. One of the brotherhood has been killed. We must decide what to do.”

  “Why do we allow these dwarfs and this elf at our council?”

  It was Chaiel’s voice.

  Pabl stood and addressed his brothers. “The dwarfs represent the village of Rabneth; they support us against the miners. And the elf is my friend. True, they are not of our brotherhood, but they want to help us.”

  “They are energy-wasters. They share heritage and race with our enemies. When has friendship ever come before kin-ship?” There were murmurs of assent from the others. Even Pabl didn’t put his friendship with Jan, which was closer than any he had, above the concerns of his brothers and Ganwetrammus.

  “Chaiel,” Pabl said, “Do you condemn all members of a race This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock 

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  for the actions of a few of its members?”

  Chaiel was not going to be so easily calmed. “No, of course not. But this matter is for the Brothers of Tepuis Garen. Out-siders, regardless of their loyalties, are not invited.”

  Gvint interrupted. “We don’t have time for this,” he said.

  “We are in a dire situation and can use all the help and input we can get. I see no reason to exclude them from this council.

  They can stay.”

  “But Elder —”

  Gvint silenced Chaiel with a look.

  Pabl sat down, as did Chaiel.

  “We have a choice to make. Peace or war. Diplomacy has failed and I do not think it has a chance for success. Their leader, Sarbeneck Haspain is a salesman, not a negotiator. He cannot be trusted. His anger at Chaiel’s attack will fade in time, but his unwillingness to stop mining will not. Unless we can pay him enough.”

  “How much does he ask?” Ywerk Fri said from where he stood in a
full-length black robe.

  “Too much,” Gvint said. “When Pabl offered him gems worth ten thousand silver, he scoffed at us. Money means a great deal to him. Besides, I would be hesitant to pay it anyway. He has no right to be here.” The Elder sighed. “Which brings us to war.”

  Gvint paused for heartbeat and a slow breath. Then, “Unless there are serious objections, I propose that we attack the mining camp.”

  A rumbling murmur passed through the temple, but no one spoke.

  Gvint continued, “The attack should try to cripple their mining operation. We will ambush them at night, and will target the elementals and the Horror spawn. We do not want to kill the miners or cavalrymen if we can help it, but we will if it is necessary to accomplish our goals. We need to disable This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock 

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  their ability to mine. Do you all agree?”

  The temple chamber was mostly silent, but Pabl felt the consensus was with Gvint. He was their Elder and he knew what was best. Even the dwarfs from Rabneth did not speak out against him.

  Tidre Ghi stood. “I agree that we should try to disable them. But their mercenary force is strong, and they will be expecting an attack. What happens if we fail to stop them?”

  Chaiel got to his feet. “We cannot fail. If this attack doesn’t discourage them, we will try again, and again until they get the message. But I think we’ll succeed.”

  “Ywerk and Tidre will plan the attack,” said Gvint, raising his arms. “Chaiel, Pabl and I will provide you with any information we can about the layout of the camp. The ambassa-dors from Rabneth should discuss their role in this with Ywerk and Tidre. Perhaps some of the villagers can provide a diversion. Now, we prepare for battle.”