Difference between revisions of "ASCII art reward/M-S"

to the ground sputtering. Rognar had been born into a world of

summit of the corpse mound and surveyed the carnage. The siege had

been broken. Here and there, a wimpering slave of darkness put up

battlefield. Rognar smiled. It was a great day to be a dwarf.

He would never let the fiend escape again. That was what Neandar the

after the skulking kobold thief. For many seconds they fell, time

Fortress Guard. Wet matter slammed into the dwarf's face and gave

way. The dwarf smashed through a dozen giant spider webs and hit the

A huge standing ring of fire dominated the floor of the chasm. The

kobold made for the hell portal with all speed. Neandar stopped in

his tracks. It was one thing to plunge to certain death in order to

retrieve a granite puzzle box. It was quite another to cast oneself

into a dimension of ultimate evil. Yet these kobold cowards could not

be allowed to run about as they pleased. Lifting his axe over his

them. Shizenbubin was the tracker of the group, always hot on the

trail of danger. Shizentubin was her sister, skilled in the ways of

the blade so that no enemy neck was safe. Azoul Buck was the leader.

This would be a short quest indeed. A party of goblins had ambushed

the prince on his way to the castle. All the heroes need do is return

him unspoiled. It would be easy to intercept them then on their way

to the Black Fortress, given Shizenbubin's incredible skill. However,

time was not on their side. Goblins grew bored easily and might make

sport of the prince's bodily members. Azoul set the pace, a quick

trot through the woods. She smiled at the easily-won glory that

block which he had just slid into place. Ever since the Baron had insisted

rats. It couldn't be helped. Gold was gold after all, but it was just

The dwarf laid down on his bed and began to think about the next project. A

puzzlebox, perhaps, something challenging. Just as Doran was drifting off

"Ha! Keep trying you little demons," the dwarf chuckled. The scratching

continued. It was irritating, but the dwarf could block it out. Then there

was a grating scrape as the block moved an inch. The dwarf sat up and

stared at the wall in amazement. Impossible, he thought.

The block slid forward further. Small, clawed fingers worked their way

stabbing downward. The tool grazed the hand, leaving a spatter of blood on

the stone. There was a shriek, and the bleeding hand disappeared into the

hand. After a moment, the scratching began anew.

"Leave me be, you fiend!" Doran yelled, his chisel held toward the stone

block. The scratching became louder and more persistent.

crack. The beast had learned. The slab of granite was being pushed

directly from behind, and it glided slowly toward Doran. The dwarf backed

The block stopped sliding. There was now enough space to allow something to

not see behind it. For a long moment, nothing stirred. The craftsdwarf

At once, a creature leapt from behind the block and faced Doran. It was a

patchy-furred flesh stretched tight over its starved body. The thing

The dwarf stood, a vial in his hand. The ratman lunged forward and Doran

hurled the vial at the beast's face. The glass shattered, and the creature

clutched its black protruding eyes as they steamed. Doran rushed forward

"Pity about that. I was going to ask Mul to do some etchings for me."

pausing to take another swig of whiskey. "I can't believe how much trouble

replied. "Kogan's child was taken not long ago."

Meanwhile, Kogan stood with his axe by the chasm bridge. Ever since the boy

spiders. He would not be satisfied until the depths were devoid of life.

A foul wind blew up from the chasm. Kogan leaned to the side and peered

down over the edge of the bridge. The impact was sudden and the dwarf was

knocked on his back in the middle of the bridge. Kogan heard the sound of

"I am innocent of these crimes!" cried Fuglin as he was dragged away. Sitting in the dungeon cell, he could recall the cheers of the dwarves as the judge pronounced the verdict. It wasn't fair.  The adamantine wasn't his.  He was just holding it for somebody. Now in prison, he was left to rot. A guard stopped by his cell and poured a cup of gruel on the cold stone floor. Anger and despair were all he felt now.  From now on he dared not hope.

It had begun as such a small thing. Fuglin and the goblin had known each other since the construction of the fortress.  Fuglin was young then.

One day Fuglin visited the goblin, this time locked in the stockade.

"You know the path through the stone?" said the goblin.  "The one we built as children? You must go there and bring me what you find. It is the key to my release."

<pre>,.,.,.,.,@|#######&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&</pre>

The space was not built for more than a child, a narrow, twisting tunnel winding its way through the foundations of the fortress.  At the bottom, Fuglin saw a light, a silvery glowing rock at the end of the tunnel.  This must be it, thought Fuglin, a bribe to set the goblin free.  Hastily, Fuglin took up his pick and chiseled off a piece of the silver metal.

Something lay beyond the tunnel.  A hole the size of a dwarf's fist opened where Fuglin struck.  He could hear a strange howling within, no doubt another subterranean jungle.  The dwarf didn't stay to find out.  He squirmed as fast as he could, finally reaching the exit where he found the goblin, free from his bonds.

"You survived," said the goblin. "Keep the adamantine as a token of our friendship."

"Wait!" cried Fuglin, but the goblin had disappeared.

 

 

What happened next was hard to say.  There was a lot of smoke and fire.  Dwarves ran screaming through the fortress.  Captains shouted orders to soldiers they could not see through the clouds of burning vapor.  Fuglin was scared beyond reason.  He tried to follow the others, ducking when the monsters swooped down.

 

It seemed it would never end, then Fuglin came rolling out of the fortress gate just as another fire blast rocketed overhead. As it was, the demons could not, or would not set foot outside the fortress. What few dwarves that were left gathered at the hills below.  Fuglin recognized a blacksmith which with he had apprenticed.  Before he could speak the blacksmith pointed his finger.

 

 

Fuglin looked down, having until now forgotten the adamantine in his hand.

They called him Fish-Dwarf. He was the only worker in the outpost willing to brave the depths of the cave river in order to service the floodgate mechanisms when they became clogged with the seasonal muds.

It was that time again. The farming gates weren't operational, and the planting had to begin immediately. Fish-Dwarf had his tools, and the special fins he had manufactured were secured to broad feet. Everything was ready. The frightened faces of the onlooking children would not dissuade him. Fish-Dwarf understood that this was his calling. He was the only one that could save the outpost. The dwarf inhaled, and his chest swelled to nearly double its original size. Clearing his mind, the dwarf dove into the water.

Fish-Dwarf swam down the narrow tunnel to the gate mechanism. The water was murky and even with his superior vision he could only just see his hands sweeping ahead of him.

The upper portion of the mechanism appeared suddenly before him. The dwarf inspected the machinery quickly, mindful of his air, yet confident that he had at least a few minutes left. The top assembly was clear, so the mud must have worked itself into the lower gears. Fish-Dwarf pushed his way down.

The swollen rotting face of a lizardman greeted him, twisted into the gears. Not again, Fish-Dwarf thought, dejected. It would take at least three trips to dislodge all of the chunks. The dwarf removed the chisel from his tool case and began working it into the sticking jam.

pulled his way up on to the bank. He had finished his last cleaning

amaze us. You are a hero," the Mayor Kogan said, offering Fish-Dwarf

motion. "If only the river waters were whiskey, my life would be

Fish-Dwarf pondered a moment. "Indeed. Yet the search for the

crowd dispersed. As the others left, the mayor pulled Fish-Dwarf

"-- and yet, I fear you cannot stay long. I've received word from

King Dorazar. He has heard tell of your talents, and our liaison from

"My presence? Surely the engineers of the Mountainhome can manage the

waters. This was the Lake of Columns, the source of life for

Fish-Dwarf fit the blades into place on his fins. The citizens of

Fish-Dwarf. King Dorazar had charged him to slay the lurking threat,

and that is what he would do. Still, the nature of the creature

eluded him. It had been years since his last combat with an aquatic

occasionally harassed his own community. Steelpoint would not have

sent for him over such a triviality. Hefting his mighty trident,

There! Nestled between three columns was a gigantic bloated form on

the lake bottom. Fish-Dwarf swam closer, almost drifting. What

manner of beast was this? Great tentacles it had, and a toothy maw

as he sank slowly toward the sleeping fiend. As he prepared to

his arms to his chest. A force stronger than any he had ever

mouth as the breath was squeezed from his body. Fish-Dwarf

purple ribbons of the foul beast's tainted blood. The monster's grip

loosened and Fish-Dwarf was able to free his arms. His sight had not

deep into the creature. The monster's body convulsed and it raced

suddenly in the back of his mind arose a strange sensation... it was

the need for air, such as he had not experienced for many years. A

bottom, unmoving. Fish-Dwarf jammed the trident into it a few times;

the thing was dead. Now, the surface! Fish-Dwarf pulled his weapon

from the monster and swam upward, but he stopped immediately. As far

greeted him. The monster had fled into a great crack in the lake

longer visible.   Just the endless water and rock of the submerged

Suffering blighted the land with cruel hunger. Wagons brought foul

fungus from the dwarven mountains. It was barely enough to sustain

those base enough to eat such filth. The rest died. Paldadar rested

against the hilt of his great sword. He looked over his shoulder at

the dark stone castle. Turning his back on mud brick huts, the knight

wooden throne and the troubled king that sat upon it. The old man

brew unto the stone floor. A herald in a mud-smattered tunic rushed

"You were not summoned, Sir Paldadar," spit the herald. "Go ask the

The herald jumped away like a whipped dog. The king motioned the

"The gods have abandoned this place," said the king. "Only through

their glory will the days of bounty return. It is for this reason you

The knight ground his teeth. This was obviously High Priest Igland's

doing. But perhaps there was wisdom in punishing the arrogant

Farthlings for their many insults. Death by the sword was much

faces. He was still a knight, even if he represented the most

wretched of kingdoms. A frail sissy approached from behind, leading

two horses. Paldadar swung around, drawing his sword. There stood

Paldadar prayed to the gods for mercy. Would that a Farthling's bolt

find his heart soon that he be saved from further tortures. Together

majesty. All around the temple, peasants scrambled to snatch at the

scraps donated by the monks that poured rotten food down the hill. As

growing angry. "If their God of Suicide spreads his faith to our

kingdom, none of our desperate peasants will survive. You must strike

crossed in one place. This was the Bridge of Destiny. As the riders

said the bridge was guarded by an evil water troll. At the bridge,

Paldadar held up his gauntleted hand. The horses stopped, and the

knight dismounted. Paldadar drew his sword and walked out onto the

Green flames shot up from beneath the bridge. Horrid laughter pealed

across the blighted landscape. The knight turned to see Rodger making

tracks back to the temple with the speed of a spooked hare. Slowly

love," said the troll. "What will you tell them, knight? Is slow

"Where there is life, there is hope," said Paldadar. "Love will

Was the nation of love superior? He hailed from a place where young

hope to a strange country. He found Rodger hiding in a nearby bush

love. Cherry blossoms rained down on the two riders as they wound

their way through the hills. Even in these pleasant surroundings, the

demented nature of the Farthlings soon became evident. Bodies dotted

the road here and there, swords plunged into their own guts. Corpses

own lives. As the riders passed, skeletal bodies lifted themselves

At last they reached the capital of the Farthlings. The wind blew red

rose petals through the cold, dead streets. Even the cheerful sun

seemed dim in the vast tomb of a city. Rodger stared straight ahead

hopelessly thrown themselves over the side. A wide moat circled the

castle. As the two riders approached, a draw bridge was lowered over

the water. Paldadar thought he could see a crowned figure on the wall

beckoning them inside. As they crossed the bridge, Rodger made the

mistake of looking down into the water. The currents were filled with

the souls of those who drowned themselves in desperate sorrow. Eyes

==[[User:Onebadterran|Onebadterran]]==

===(14 July 2014)===

<pre>U/U/U/U/+++++\U+\U\U\U\U\U\U\U\U\U</pre>

shouted the stranger.

The Hearthpeople loyal to Lord Ambercan drew their weapons, but when

they saw the multitude of warriors the stranger had brought with her,

the loyal troops withdrew and fled from the hall.  The invaders

cheered while their victorious leader sat upon the throne.  With no

one to challenge them, the elite strike force, the Tombs of Wailing,

lay claim to the fortress town of Otla.

Away, slaying dragons, King Urlen heard news of the uprising days

later. One of the defeated Hearthmen approached the king in his war

when confronted with upsetting news.

"Ready my chariot," commanded Urlen. "We will see how tough the Tombs

of Wailing really are!"

===(01 November 2008)===

<pre>"",",.@,.T,"""</pre>

crones.  "Ole Brick-a-Branch will get you."  Nonsense, thought young

Davik as he rode his mule along the twisting green deer path.  The

about making a fire, Davik pondered the dark tales of Brick-a-branch

and his mischief.

Not even the elves dared enter the Wood at night. Something older

than time haunted these cursed trees, but this valley was the quickest

way to Port City, saving at least a month of travel. As the night

grew darker and colder, Davik fumbled in his pack to retrieve the

charms and idols he had nearly refused as the journey began.

A great shape emerged from the darkness.  It was a gnarled troll, as

old as the hills.  It picked up Davik by the ankle.

"Please, Ole Brick-a-Branch, don't eat me," said Davik.

Having said his name, the troll was force to lay the dwarf down.

"I will not eat you," said the monster, "If you can answer me these

riddles three."

Doran stirred the bubbling pot of syrup.  It was ready!  "Pour, pour, pour!" the dwarf sang.  Into the molds the syrup flowed.  "Another batch," the dwarf said, satisfied.

Just then, he noticed somebody standing in the doorway. "Ah, Glornol. What brings you to the kitchens this early?  Come to try a sticky treat?  I have some Anvil Drops cooling now.  Just a moment."

Doran turned to the tray on the table when he was startled by Glornol's shouting. "What is the meaning of this?  Isn't there a war on?"

"Even soldiers need sticky treats, Glornol!"  Doran picked up two chocolate goblins and began to speak in a high-pitched throaty voice.

"Ooo, it's Glornol!" the first chocolate goblin said.

"Glornol's scared of the mean, mean goblins!" the second chocolate goblin observed.

"Let's eat the dwarf!  Yummies for tummies!" the first chocolate goblin offered.

"The dwarf might eat me instead!  Oh no!" the second chocolate goblin replied. Doran held the goblin out to Glornol.

Glornol was not amused, but he snatched the candy from Doran's hand.  "Hrmph," he grunted, and biting the goblin's head off, he walked out of the kitchen.

<pre>...@T@..###S#</pre>

Taking a break from their duty, the two guards sat at a table with a scenic view of the chasm.

.......#####

Dolan was chatting with Aliz about the health benefits of dwarven beer when Aliz disappeared.   

Dolan sprang to his feet and saw that Aliz was being dragged toward the chasm, a thick rope of

translucent silk wrapped around his left ankle.  At the lip of the chasm, a bloated form slowly

reeled the line in with her spindly legs.   

Dolan knew immediately -- it was the Wolf-Mother of Darkness.   

He grabbed his axe and ran toward Aliz, who was now only a few more pulls from the beast.

As he was hauling ore to the magma smelter, the peasant Kogarak saw the situation, screamed,

dropping his load, and ran toward the barracks.  As he heard the sound of an axe ring against

stone behind him, he wondered if he would make it in time.

The axe had scored the stone floor where it had severed the silk line.  The Wolf-Mother chittered

angrily and pounced at Dolan, moving with surprising quickness.  Dolan was knocked to the ground,

the enormous body of the foul creature pressing him into the stone.  His axe clanged some distance

away.  The blunt knobs at the end of the Wolf-Mother's forelegs dug into Dolan's ribs as her

dripping mandibles drew closer to his face.  He grabbed her head with both hands, trying

desperately to keep her at bay.  A foul-smelling spittle dripped on to his cheek.

incredibly tough, but the steel blade left the appendage hanging by tatters. The Wolf-Mother

Wolf-Mother hesitated, her wound oozing white ichor as Aliz stood his ground.

There were several sharp cracking noises, and the Wolf-Mother crumpled, several iron bolts

protruding from her many eyes. In the distance stood Bomtek and the other marksdwarves,  

accompanied by Kogarak. Aliz rushed to Dolan. The dwarf was breathing heavily.

"My body feels like gravel. I need a drink," Dolan said.

"The Wolf-Mother is dead. Brace up.  I'll bring you your mug."  Aliz fetched Dolan's mug from

the table and brought it to the dwarf where he lay on the stone floor.  The mug was almost empty.

"The brood," Dolan whispered. "The night brood will come."

And so Alor, a wrestler of renown, found himself between a great boar and the wide river.  For six days they struggled, and as the sun descended behind the hills on the evening of the seventh day, Alor finally collapsed in exhaustion.  The boar spoke and said, "I too am tired.  The sun has fallen.  Let us rest." And so Alor and the boar slept, and the sun arose on the morning of the eighth day.

<pre>,.,B@~,~,~</pre>

"Gladly," the boar said, taking the flask up in its mouth.  "You block my path to the river, and now you offer me your flask.  Strange are the ways of your people."

"Your path? I was seeking to cross the river and found myself menaced," Alor said.

"The squirrels tell me I am a terror to behold when I am thirsty," the boar said as it drained the flask.  "Do I menace you now?"  The boar looked mild and plump.  Indeed, the gentle creature reminded Alor of his daughter.  

"No, I am not menaced.  I am reminded of home," Alor said fondly.  At that moment his stomach growled, for he had not eaten in some time.

"Daddy!  Daddy!" the little girl cried happily as she ran toward the mighty dwarf where he stood under the archway.

"I missed you, sweet pod!" Alor crouched down and lifted the child up to his shoulder, where she sat, beaming. "Have you been good while I was away?"

"I made a puzzle box.  See!"  The girl held out a soapstone box. The master craftsdwarf always started the young ones with the material since it required little strength to carve, though it crumbled easily. Even so, the box was quite exquisite.  

"That's beautiful. Now let me see here..."  Alor pressed a button and the lid popped open.  There was nothing inside.  "Hey, where's my treasure?" he said in mock indignation.

The girl took the box and made a series of complicated motions along the inside of the empty compartment. A second lid opened, revealing a piece of dwarven sugar candy.  The child giggled and smiled broadly.  

Alor scratched his head and laughed. Coren was only six, but she was already beyond him.

"Did you win, daddy?" Coren asked.

"Ah, the tournament?  Yes, sweet pod, there hasn't been a dwarf born yet that can beat your father,"  Alor looked at the puzzle box. "At least not at wrestling. And you know what else?"

"What else, daddy?  What else?"

"I met a talking boar and we became friends."

"Again?" Coren complained.  "I want to meet your animal friends soon."

"I'll invite them over for your party next month.  Until then, you have to work hard. Do you have a lesson today?"  

"Marble, eh?  That's amazing.  You really are your mother's daughter.  I'll walk you to the shop."  Together they strolled down the passageway.  Alor admired the carvings and architecture, occasionally pointing an engraving out and explaining its history, though his daughter had heard it all before. It had been two months since he left for tournament, and the wrestler had missed his home very much.  

"The three of us should have a feast tonight. What do you say?" Alor asked. Coren did not respond.

The dwarf looked down.  His daughter was not there. She was not in the passageway.  There was no sign of her.

"Goblins!" A scream echoed through the tunnels. "Goblins in the fortress!"

<pre>,..|mBL@+++++++g+</pre>

"I'm sure she's in there," Alor said from his place behind the boulder where he looked down upon the rusted iron doors of Chatteltomb.

"We must act now, while there's still time," the boar urged. This was the same boar that Alor had befriended by the riverbank, and it now came to aid Alor in his time of need.  

"The door is locked.  Even with our combined strength, I doubt we can force entry," the leopard observed.  This was the same leopard that Alor had befriended in the high grasses, and it also came to aid Alor in his time of need.  

"I've only challenged the depths of this black pit once in my life. It is a memory I have longed to forget, though it will serve me now," Alor said. "It sickens me that my daughter is kept there. The way to the dungeons will not be heavily guarded, as fear of this place keeps all but the foolish at bay. That said, the tower above is garrisoned with unnumbered horrors. If the alarm is raised, escape will be impossible."

The group made their way down to the entrance.  With some effort, Alor forced the key into place.  The great doors swung open with a grating noise, exposing a palpable darkness that hung heavy in the stale air like a fog of soot. The thick shadows were penetrated from beyond by sinister red lights which gave vague form to the smooth obsidian corridors.

"Several doors down, a goblin is standing," the leopard spoke softly. "It has turned to face us. I don't think it can make us out yet, but its night eyes are almost as strong as my own.  It is coming this way."

Indeed, Alor could barely make out twin spots of crimson shining in the distance.  The dwarf felt the leopard slip from his side.  In a moment, the crimson spots disappeared from view. No sound accompanied their departure. Alor and the others padded quietly forward, approaching the stairway and the dungeons below.

===(29 April 2007)===

<pre><+@?++&~~</pre>

The wayward manager Aliz stepped quietly down the last flight of stairs into the lowest depths of the abandoned halls. The air of the room was stale and warm. The light of the dwarf's torch illuminated a stone pedestal, on which rested a gray book.

"The Tome of Suffering," Aliz whispered. In its blood-stained pages, the collected wisdom of countless outpost managers waited for his perusal. Never again would his charges starve. Never again would they complain for want of whiskey.  Never again would Aliz have to consult the half-baked scribblings of his uncle Toran.

The ground shook and Aliz's ears were assailed by a deafening crash.  When the dust cleared, the entire chamber was illuminated by a sinister red glow. In place of the far wall was a yawning pit filled with bubbling magma and flames.  From the inferno came a betusked fiend, ravening, its slavering maw belching foul vapors through which stared its cruel bulging eyes. Its clawed hands kneaded the lardy folds of its corpulence as if it sought to make room for this latest morsel.

Aliz was terrified. The dwarf clutched the Tome to his chest. The horrific beast crouched by the magma pool, muttering in a grating whisper:

"It will be eaten. It will be eaten, the dwarf. Eaten. Eaten alive."

===Danrik Begin: (29 October 2007)===

  @@+,@\D/.+@

fortress, Danrik the marksdwarf took aim at the evil target, his heart

crash, all went dark.

  @@@++@+@@@@@@@@@@+,.%%%%|

"He's awoken," came the cry.  "He has awoken!"

The mighty warrior made his way out of the bedroom, supported by two

that the dead dragon had crashed through.  The dwarf led Danrik to the

courtyard.

"Speech!" cried the dwarves, "Speech!"

"Oh," said Danrik, "Well…"

A dark shape appeared in the gap between the walls, large and

menacing.  The dwarves grew silent as it cast its glowing red eyes on

the dwarf hero.

dwarf, how you saved the day!"

him and put the weapon in his hand.  The dwarf held the weapon high,

but collapsed, steadying himself on the hilt. The demon laughed.  It

had congealed into the form of a man wearing a dark cloak, horns upon

“If this is the best you can you can do, you have clearly lost,” said

The nightmare lord looked over the cowering dwarves. He pointed at

the gasping form of Danrik.  “Start with that one’s sister.”

the demon’s side.  The creature put its hand on her shoulder and the

A squire ran up to him and bowed his head.  “We will find Lady Andra,”

said the boy.  “You can count on it.”

“What is your name, youngster?” asked Danrik.

“I am called Blackbeard,” said the boy.

lord.”

“I go now to rescue Lady Andra from the pit,” said Danrik. “The road

will be long and hard, to the fiery heart of the mountain and beyond,

Blackbeard jumped up and down, raising his hand above the shoulders of

her captors, for all great tales end this way.

  kkk""",.@P@,P.,""kkk"k

It is said that every great journey begins with a festival of

drinking, but Danrik wasn’t in the mood. All he could think of was

that evil spirit with his sister and his soul burned with rage.  As

the others celebrated their bravery, Danrik strolled up the trail

toward Blood Mountain, kicking dirt clods as he went.

“You weren’t thinking of leaving without me were you?”  It was Blackbeard.

“Of course not,” said Danrik, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Let those fools drink themselves silly. We have a fair maiden to

save.”

Together, the two adventuring dwarves mounted their ponies and trotted

off into the darkness.  After a time the fires of the fortress

Haunted Forest. No one knew what kinds of wicked spirits dwelt there

for few ever returned alive.

“Why must we enter this dark place?” asked Blackbeard.

“Blood Mountain lies on the other side of this forest,” said Danrik,

“and nothing will stand between me and Andra. We rest here.”

“Here?” asked Blackbeard. “Surely you could have picked a less creepy place.”

It was true.  Danrik had picked a dreadful place to camp.  Everywhere

trees seemed to reach out to grab them.  Worst of all, they had laid

their holes, armed with bone knives, ready to cut the heart out of any

poor fool.

“Did you hear that?” said Blackbeard.

===(05 February 2012)===

  ~@//////+@/&@+\\\\\\\

Andra cried out as the grubby little goblin whipped her again. She

was locked in some sort of dungeon.  She couldn’t tell where for the

strange rough-hewn black rock was unknown to her.  She pulled at her

thought Andra, but this one will die first.

“Tell us, sister Andra,” said the goblin. “Does it hurt?”

The links of the chain exploded as the dwarf woman yanked with all her

might. The broken chain slapped the goblin upside the head, killing

it instantly. She undid her other hand and stole the goblin’s keys,

escaping the dungeon, chain still attached.

The view outside was terrifying. Pillars of fire rose up from lakes

of burning magma. Andra found herself standing on the narrow ledge of

a black pyramid at the center of the world. It seemed that she could

never escape this perfect prison.

Pulling the chain tight, the solution was obvious. She would find the

horned king and force him to take her back.  Then she began to climb.

The top was further than it looked.  It seemed she had been climbing

for days, maybe for weeks. Then she made the crest.

The scene was ridiculous, for there was Danrik holding a shank to the

demon lord’s belly while another dwarf was grappling him by the horns.

“I swear,” whined the demon.  “I don’t know where she is!  She must

have escaped!”

“Danrik!” cried Andra.

Danrik lost his concentration for a second and the demon slapped

“The knife!” cried Danrik. “It’s the only way to kill it!”