That night, we watched as the mountains to the north burned. I stayed awake long into the night, watching the flames spread down the side of the mountain. How many had died within Groznia? Had they managed to escape by fleeing for the surface as we had done? Or had the dwarves instead decided to bury themselves deeper into the earth, retreating down the long-sealed tunnels beneath their city?
I hoped that it was one of the two, and not the far more likely third option.
As we traveled, we could not help but notice the burned mountainsides we passed, and the thick stench of smoke that seemed to hang in the air at all times. Despite these omens, however, we encountered little trouble as we followed the wide road south and west.
Upon arriving at Limerock, however, all hope of reinforcements or a moment's peace were shattered. The town, which rested at the juncture of a 'T'-shaped split in the road, was aflame. Dark pillars of smoke rose upwards from the city, blotting out the setting sun in the distance.
The faint sounds of screams echoed through the mountain pass, urging us forward and into the burning town...
It was clear from the moment we entered the burning city that Limerock was doomed; too many buildings were aflame, and no brave souls had stepped forward to attempt to fight the fires. Thorail's sharp eyes soon pointed out a possible reason for the desertion; wheeling above the center of the city were dozens upon dozens of flaming bird-like creatures. Occasionally the creatures would swoop down, creating an eerily beautiful scene as their flaming bodies traced glowing trails across the night sky.
It was as we were marveling over these strange creatures that the Ironkicker brothers barged onto the scene. A door to our right was kicked open as thw two dwarves stepped out of the non-burning building. Each were short and stout as is typical for dwarves, and long of beard. They carried a heavy chest between them; at the time we knew nothing of the riches it held, only that it was obviously very, very heavy.
Aragul rushed forward immediately and began to assist them with the chest. They nodded their thanks as the three of them lifted it onto a nearby cart, to which an ugly pony had been hitched. Once the chest was safely stowed, the dwarves made their introductions; they were Grodin and Brodin, brothers who operated a small business within the city. They did not know what had happened to the city, only that sometime earlier in the day it had caught fire. There were more than a few curses directed towards the humans of the city; though the dwarven buildings were primarily stone, the wooden buildings the humans had constructed within the city provided more than enough fuel for the fire.
Despite their obvious disdain for my race, I could not help but see the wisdom in their argument.
As Aragul and I spoke with the two dwarves, we were unaware of the danger creeping up on us. Thorail's shout was just enough warning for us to turn and lay eyes upon the strange creature which I have dubbed a 'bomb.' It resembled nothing so much as a floating orb about two feet wide, with a leering face and wide, slanted eyes. Its skin was a deep crimson color, and the whole of its body was wreathed in yellow flames. It was like something out of a nightmare.
I barely had time to stumble backwards as the beast clamped its jaws onto Brodin's shoulder. The dwarf's eyes widened in pain and surprise as he staggered forwards, waving his arm wildly in an attempt to strike it or shake it loose. Fortunately, my companions were not as prone to panic. An arrow from Thorail struck the creature dead-on, which leads me to my next (and most important) observation about these bombs: They explode when they die.
There was a deep "FWOOSH" as the creature exploded in a wide sphere of flame, causing me to stumble backwards in surprise and Brodin to fall to the ground. Thorail rushed forward and called upon the blessings of his goddess to stabilize his condition, but he informed us it would be some time until the dwarf would awaken. We did not know then that such a thing would never happen.
Grodin and Aragul lifted up the dwarf's unconscious body and attempted to make him comfortable in the back of the cart. Meanwhile, Thorail and Elwood had begun to search the surrounding buildings for survivors as I double-checked the hitchings of the horse. I had only just finished when Thorail cried out that he had found someone.
The building was one of human construction, and was a two-story construction made primarily of wood. Wood that was even now aflame and crackling with heat. Elwood had found a shovel and had begun shoveling dirt onto the flames in an attempt to create a path through the flames which choked the doorway. After shouting for a few moments at the survivors, Thorail hesitantly darted into the building, though he did not pass very far inside. Evidently his wood elf heritage had instilled within him a very deep fear of fire.
Aragul had no such fears, though. Without another word he charged into the flaming building, pushed past Elwood and Thorail and disappearing into the flames. Minutes passed as those of us outside the building waited in anticipation, hoping that the brave dwarf would survive. Our hearts leapt into our throats as a crash from inside the building deflated our hopes; surely there could be no surviving such a thing.
And then, the impossible! First one, then two, then a three dirty, soot-stained humans stumbled out from the flaming wreckage, coughing and wheezing. A few more tense moments passed before Aragul, Thorail, and two soot-stained dwarven men staggered outside. I do not know what had happened inside, but one of the dwarves attempted to smack Thorail on the back of the head, but the half-elf was simply too quick. With a few grumbles in his native tongue, the disgruntled dwarf joined the others at the cart.
Speaking with confidence and great charisma, Elwood spoke to the survivors, warning them that Groznia had fallen and instructing them to wait outside the city. Everyone agreed with only minimal protests. Grodin, meanwhile, was to take us to the south side of the city and wait for us while we scouted out the strange flame birds. Thorail and Elwood suspected that there was more to the flames than a simple spilt lantern, and Aragul and I could hardly disagree.
Once the refugees and the Ironkicker brothers were safely outside the city, we gathered our things and prepared to investigate the city's center. Once more Aragul brought the strange locked case with him; not for the last time, I was forced to wonder exactly what was so valuable that he could not even leave it with one of his kin.
We moved quickly through the burning city, careful not to approach any of the buildings too closely. The heat was palpable even from the center of the street; the odds of anything surviving inside one of the buildings this close to the fire's source were slim. The only buildings still standing were those of dwarven construction, and though their stone foundations were unaffected by the searing flames, fires raged within them as furnishings and household objects were consumed.
At the center of the city large stone buildings surrounded a wide plaze in a circular design. Flames roared from the windows of the building as dozens of the flaming birds wheeled and careened overhead. But what caused us to pause was the strange sight at the plaza's center. A five-foot wide ball of flames hovered over the charred and blackened cobblestones, surrounded by writhing tendrils of flame which leapt from its core to caress the surrounding area. The air shimmered with a great heat that could be felt even from our distance.
My companions had only just begun to look away from the sphere when it unexpectedly convulsed and doubled in size. The increased heat washed over us in a wave, and sweat broke out across my forehead. Even in my simple clothes I was sweating heavily; I can hardly imagine how uncomfortable Aragul must have been inside his scale mail.
There was a stirring from within the sphere, and suddenly one of the flaming birds we had seen overhead burst forth from its center. And then another. And then another. And then another. This would not have concerned me overly much, save that the creatures immediately began to dive at and attack us, as if guided by some malign intelligence.
My companions immediately went to work dispatching the firebirds, Thorail with his bow and Aragul with his crossbow. Oddly enough, Elwood did not use a weapon, instead calling upon his heavenly powers to throw orbs of shining light at the small creatures. At some point during the fight, one of us - I forget who it was, exactly - called out and pointed upwards towards the roof of the town hall. There, wrapped in a veil of smoke and haze, was a tall figure in a crimson robe. I caught just a glimpse of silver hair and fair features before something was pressed against my chest.
Looking down, I saw that it was Aragul's crossbow; one of the bomb creatures had appeared from the flaming sphere and was floating towards the group. Taking his crossbow and bolts from him, I attempted to hold back the firebirds as he drew his halberd and charged towards the creature. It exploded as he sliced it into two halves, but it would take more than a few flames to drop such an experienced warrior.
My attention was quickly diverted by the diving firebirds, and I loosed bolt after bolt into the sky in a futile attempt to hold back the flaming creatures. That I dropped only a single such creature is a testament to my lack of training with such weapons.
As I filled the smoke-choked sky with poorly aimed bolts, Thorail, Elwood, and the high elf atop the building shouted back and forth in elven. I do not know what was said between them, but a moment later Thorail turned his attentions from the firebirds to the figure. The veil of smoke wrapped around the man interfered with his aim, however, and only the second such arrow struck true.
It was at this time that Aragul, having dropped two more of the bomb creatures and survived their explosions, forced his way through the door to the town hall and into its smoke-filled interior. My attention was quickly pulled upwards, however, as the high elf raised his hands to the sky and began to chant in some foreign tongue. Almost instantly the sphere of flame responded, doubling in size until it filled nearly the entire plaza. Thorail and I both fell back, obviously the intent of the spellcaster. From the corner of my eye, I saw Elwood barely manage to duck beneath a tendril of flame almost as large as he was; had he been a second slower on his feet, I doubt he would have survived past that night.
The sphere continued to expand, and things seemed hopeless. Just then, however, I saw the figure turn, his eyes wide in surprise as Aragul appeared behind him, charging at full speed. The dwarf's meaty shoulder connected with the high elf's thin body, propelling them both from the top of the building. Aragul, weighed down by his heavy armor and bulky dwarven body, struck the ground with enough force to shatter the charred cobblestones.
The high elf was not as lucky.
I saw a brief moment of flailing arms and flapping robes, and then the figure plunged into the sphere. Flesh was burned away in an instant as his robes incinerated and the sphere began to pulsate. There was a sudden flash of painfully bright light, forcing me to look away, and then the orb (and the high elf) were gone.
Thorail tended to Aragul's wounds, calling upon the blessings of his goddess once more to bring the warrior back to consciousness. He then inspected some charred remains left beneath the sphere, discovering a small, fist-sized ruby that burned him at his first touch. Wrapping it with a small piece of cloth, we decided that it was time to take our leave and head further south. Aragul wished to search for some supplies and inform the other refugees before we left, and so we split, with Thorail and Elwood returning to the card while Aragul and myself left to gather the refugees.
Once we had done so, we made our return trip through the burning city, only to be surprised by the sudden appearance of Thorail. He was being chased by one of the bomb creatures, which Aragul quickly dispatched. Evidently the cart had been attacked while we were within the city, and both dwarves were now dead. Elwood had been knocked unconscious by the death throes of a second such orb, though Thorail had managed to stabilize him.
After returning to the cart and ensuring that Elwood was comfortable, Aragul inspected the contents of the chest, only to find that it was filled with gold and silver. Vowing to return it to the Ironkicker clan, he locked the chest and placed the key around his neck. I could not help but notice the jealous glances Thorail made towards the treasure, however.
With the pony dead, Aragul surprised me once again by pulling the cart out of sight of the burning city, where we camped for the night. My back was sore and blisters were forming on my face and hands, but I was alive and thankful for it. I muttered a brief prayer to my god Lunskor, thanking him for his blessings and support, before laying down to rest. Sleep came suddenly, and I drifted off without a further thought.
It was to be the last good night's sleep I had in quite a while.
