As his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the cavern in which they arrived, he looked around to get his bearings. There were four tunnels leading from the Nexus, as it was called, and each one lead to a different place. One lead to what was called the Netherbian Lair, a network of interconnecting tunnels and hallways that was loosely patrolled by the local militia. Traveling through there was simple enough for the experienced adventurer, but to those of lesser strength, the hordes of Fungus Fiends and Netherbian drones were always quick to prey upon. Many a time Juglar had come to the aid of young travelers in that place, and the Netherbian’s knew to stay away from him as he had sent countless numbers of them to meet their makers.
“You ready to go, Jug?” said Bashy. The troll was standing there amongst the crowd of newly arrived people, eager to get started on their quest to find their lost comrade. His lifemate, Sunnysky, had decided to stay down on Norrath, as she was needed back in the city of Kelethin, the tree city of the wood elves. She had said she would try to catch up with them when her duties were done. It was just as well, thought Juglar. He and Bashy both knew that what they were to do was going to be dangerous, and both of them would rather she be somewhere else and not in harms way if at all possible.
They made their way to Shadow Haven, the city of the Combine in which they would begin their search. They had traveled many weeks in search of any clue as to the whereabouts of their good friend Boarenor, and had nearly given up hope, until they had run into another of their good friends, Tinkl, a gnomish enchantress they had shared many an adventure with. She told them that the last time she had heard from Boarenor, is when they happened upon each other in Shadow Haven, and he mentioned that he had decided to that his time of going on adventures was drawing to an end. What that meant, Tinkl didn’t know, but he mentioned the desire to see the rest of the lands of Luclin. Tinkl was curious to know what Bashy and Juglar were going to do, and had agreed to go with them when the time came for them to go out into the wilds of Luclin.
As they made their way through the city, Juglar spotted a dwarf with a dark red beard standing near the entrance of one of the many drinking establishments in Shadow Haven. He smiled as he recognized the dwarf’s face.
“THARGRIMM!” he shouted, “You drunken bastard! How in the Hell are you?”
To this the dwarf spun around. Thargrimm Stonehammer, as he was called, was a childhood friend of Juglar’s, and a very good friend of Bashy’s as well. The dwarf was a cleric from Kaladim, and a healer of unsurpassed skill. Many a time he had come to the aid of Juglar and saved him when none other could. He hadn’t seen Thargrimm in years, and had begun to wonder what had happened to him. He looked around for the familiar dark blue Cobalt armor worn by Thargrimm’s brother, Baraks Stoneblade, to whom he was rarely seen without his company.
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, his search was ended when three barbarians came tumbling out of the bar engaged in a brawl with the aforementioned dwarf.
“Dammit Jug, just don’t stand there!” cursed Thargrimm “Give us a hand!” as he charged into the melee. With a nod to Bashy, Juglar rushed the closest barbarian and tackled him around the ribs. The audible crack of his ribs breaking and the following rush of air from the barbarian’s mouth as the air was forced from his lungs was a delightful sound. Juglar was always one to enjoy a good fist fight, and the bigger the opponent, the better. Bashy stayed to the side, as a good bar fight is to a dwarf as gnome kabob’s are to a troll. To be savored and enjoyed like a fine meal.
As he rained blows upon the bigger mans stomach and ribs, he could hear the expletives fly from Barak’s mouth and the ensuing sound of his fists connecting with flesh as he landed punch after punch on the barbarian he was engaged in melee with. Then a new sound rang out in the air. It was the sound of steel being drawn.
Juglar stood immediately at the sound and spun around. Four more of the northmen had emerged from the bar, and two had brandished swords on Thargrimm. No matter how good Thargrimm was in a fist fight, he was no match for a seasoned swordsman. Judging from the way they stood, relaxed and confident, they were professionals. The situation had just gone from a fun little brawl to deadly combat.
As he pulled his sword from his sheath and began to move to protect Thargrimm, one of the barbarians started to move on Thargrimm. Thargrimm was backing up trying to pull his shield that was strapped to his back in order to protect himself. “This is going to be close…” thought Juglar as time seemed to slow to a snails pace as he rushed forward in a desperate attempt to block the killing strike of the barbarians sword.
Just as he was bringing his sword up to block the strike, the barbarian writhed in agony as he was enveloped in a red haze of magic and his sword fell listlessly from his hands. He fell over in a heap, dead before he hit the ground. Bashy had entered the fray, and had used his power as a Shadow Knight to take the man’s life using what was commonly known as “Harm Touching”, an innate ability granted to Shadow Knights by the dark God’s of their religion to smite down even the mightiest of foes. The only drawback was that it left them weak, and thusly only able to do it once per day.
Juglar tripped over the dead man’s body and rolled to his feet in time to block another swing from the second swordman. He had no time to think, as he deftly parried the blow and struck forward and up into the larger man’s midsection. His sword exploded into the man’s flesh, a greenish hue emanating from the blade, a sign that the magic within the sword craved blood. The barbarian staggered back, and Juglar could see the light leave his eyes as he fell to his knees and then slumped over dead. The remaining two barbarians on their feet stayed their hand, not drawing their weapons as they could tell they were hopelessly outmatched.
“Never a dull moment, eh Jug?” Baraks said as he moved next to Juglar, an axe in each hand. Thargrimm stood behind them, as was a common tactic for warriors when accompanying a healer. “Protect your cleric, and he will protect you.” Was one of the first lessons all warriors from Kaladim were taught, and Barak’s and Juglar had learned it well.
The silence in front of the pub was deafening as the remaining two barbarians who could move helped the first three to their feet. Bashy snarled a warning as they approached their dead comrades, letting them know that any further hostility would result in their deaths. The look on their face showed that they were wise enough to heed the warning from the massive troll. Weakened as he was, he was still more than a match for the two northmen, and with two armed dwarven warriors along with him, they would have no chance at all. They gathered up their comrades remains and hurriedly made their way to parts unknown.
“The good thing about this place, is the locals tend to let you finish your business amongst yourselves.” Said Thargrimm, “Which is a good thing when you don’t want to deal with the local militia.”
“Aye, that is a good thing. Their beer is pretty good too.” Added Baraks.
At this, Juglar and Bashy laughed. The two brothers were always making light of any situation, and their love for beer and fighting was renowned all over Norrath. It was indeed good to see them again.
“So Jug… I see that Bashy has gotten you to come out from under that rock you’ve been hiding in since you’ve retired… doing… pottery, now is it?” Thargrimm joked.
“I thought he was making jewelry or something girly like that.” Added Baraks.
“Bah,” Juglar replied, “you two are just jealous that I don’t have to feed women drinks to get them to think I’m handsome. I have my good looks and charming personality to do that.”
At this, the three dwarves laughed in unison. Bashy rolled his eyes, as he had been around for many of these exchanges. To the unknowing, it could be seen as rude and inconsiderate at best, but to dwarves, especially close friends, this was a show of affection. To get the best of a dwarf with an insult was rare, and dwarves were constantly verbally jousting with each other.
The four of them went back into the pub, and sat down at a corner table, the bartender obviously nervous about bringing them a few more pitchers of ale. Bashy told the story of how Boarenor had gone missing, and of the impending evil gathering in a temple out in the middle of The Grey, an airless vacuum on Luclin that was unprotected by the magic that made the rest of the moon able to sustain life. Thargrimm and Baraks were grim as Bashy told stories of the Shissar, a race of snake men who had been thought to be extinct, but in fact had been living on Luclin, and thriving on the relatively unpopulated moon. With the ensuing rush to settle Luclin, people had begun to disappear without a trace, and the ones who were found would have been better left undiscovered. The Shissar took no prisoners, and only enslaved the Iksar, their ancient enemy from Kunark. To them, the Iksar were considered trophies to be had, from a time when they themselves had been slaves to the Iksar in ages past.
It saddened the two brothers to hear of the loss of Kwasmir, as they too had known him from their childhood, although he and Juglar were closer. Baraks muttered a blood pledge to Brell to help avenge his death. He had always been fond of the wood elf and his courage. Thargrimm said a silent prayer as well. They sat in silence for a few moments, the din of bar patrons droning in the background. Then Bashy stood up.
“We had best be on our way Jug, lest the trail get cold.” He said.
“You two don’t think you’re going anywhere without us, do you?” added Thargrimm.
“If you think that’s going to happen, you’re loonier than you both look!” chimed in Baraks.
Juglar and Bashy smiled, and nodded their approval of the two brothers decision to join them on their quest to find their lost friend. With that, the four of them strolled out of the pub and began to make their way for the tunnel that would lead them to the surface of the moon and onward to find the missing shaman.
