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Nildi of Keldagrim

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Dreamweaver
Aug Member 2003

Dreamweaver

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***Blood on Stone***

Derran Ritcher, the well-known jeweler of Rimmington was chipping away at some hard outcrops of rock in the open cast mine by the Crafting Guild. With a wiry frame and wavy brown hair slicked back from his perspiring face, he was not of typical build for a miner, but he appeared to know what he was doing with his pickaxe. People often asked him why he bothered to collect and smelt his own gold when there was plenty for sale on the open market, but his reply was always the same.

“If I work to get it, I will work harder to craft it into something truly magnificent.”

This tactic did appear to hold some merit, because Derran’s jewelry truly was fabulously made. A Ritcher necklace was fast becoming the fashionable must-have item in the local area. Several of the influential and wealthy ladies of Falador were even starting to hear of his quality and talent.

But today he was not casting at his forge or engraving at his workbench. He was swinging his trusty steel pickaxe, causing sparks to fly as he struck the exposed rocks time and again. Truthfully, he collected his own gold right from the ground because he enjoyed the strenuous labor and liked the solitude of the private mine. A high wall had been built around the entire perimeter of the land that the Crafting Guild owned, and access was only by invitation from Tallon, the Guild Master. So Derran was able to pound away with very few interruptions.

Squinting to avoid getting flying fragments of rock into his eyes, he assessed his progress. A few more well placed blows and he would expose the next length of the gold seam he was currently excavating. But it was getting dark and the shadows were drawing in, making it harder to see progress.

A couple of hours later, Tallon, wearing his trusty brown apron as always, was making his rounds of the building and grounds, securing tools, clearing up after the day’s visitors and locking rooms for the night as he went.

~continued~

20-Nov-2006 00:42:55 - Last edited on 28-Nov-2006 11:31:01 by Dreamweaver

Dreamweaver
Aug Member 2003

Dreamweaver

Posts: 3,790 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
“That’s strange,” he thought to himself. “Derran came in this morning but I did not see him leave, and he always bids me farewell. That crazy guy must still be out there, chipping away. I don’t know anyone that works as hard as he does.”

Descending the stairs to the ground floor, the Guild Master turned to step outside into the mining area, shining a lantern carefully ahead of him across the uneven ground as he did so.

“Hey hey! Derran, are you still out there?” he called. “I have to lock up the Guild for the night.’

But no reply came, and there was no sound of mining activity either.

“Oh well,” he thought, “He must have gone home already.”

Holding the lantern high, Tallon picked his way across the floor of the mine towards where he knew Derran normally worked. Pushing unruly grey hair from his eyes, he trod carefully across the stone-strewn ground, not as young and sure-footed as he once was.

“I had better check, just in case he fell asleep, or something daft,” Tallon muttered to himself. Then he stopped cold in shocked silence.

Blood was spattered all over the rocky ground, and one of Derran’s boots was cast aside. Bending to pick it up, Tallon gagged, gasping for breath. The boot still contained a foot. Forcing himself to look over the next rock, he found Derran’s mangled body on the ground. Both feet were torn away and there were several deep punctures to his stomach and sides. A broken steel pickaxe lay discarded on the ground, its head covered in congealing blood. Most alarmingly, a single slash crossed Derran’s tortured face from top to bottom. Derran was clearly dead. The Guild Master stared in panic, not knowing what to do.

Then he noticed something: a scrap of parchment in Derran’s hand. Gingerly, he slipped it out and smoothed it open, curiosity overcoming revulsion. Two shaky words were scrawled onto it, the flowing script still recognizable as that of Derran’s.

“Shadows coming”

20-Nov-2006 00:43:19 - Last edited on 24-Nov-2006 10:21:54 by Dreamweaver

EldestGreen

EldestGreen

Posts: 8,074 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
So many interesting people getting killed. Reminds me of a Smeeze story, but this is better.

Congrats once more and incredible story all round.

<~>Draken, Gold member of TGP, Silver of TWE and Novelist of TAL<~>
^><^ Before me, even Fate will Burn. The Shadow Phoenix lies deep within ^>

20-Nov-2006 08:16:46 - Last edited on 21-Nov-2006 08:03:13 by EldestGreen

Dreamweaver
Aug Member 2003

Dreamweaver

Posts: 3,790 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
What an honor to be invited to The Golden Pen! I sincerely thank you for the opportunity and will be joining you all there as soon as I can.

Your support and acceptance of both my writing and myself is most appreciated!

Dreamweaver

20-Nov-2006 09:42:06

Bsalt1

Bsalt1

Posts: 1,576 Mithril Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
Man, this is quickly becoming one of my favorite stories, and I read alot. I bet you could become an author if you really wanted to. I hope they go to Keldagrim some time during this story. ;)

Until then, I eagerly await any further chapters!

21-Nov-2006 00:00:13 - Last edited on 21-Nov-2006 00:10:03 by Bsalt1

Dreamweaver
Aug Member 2003

Dreamweaver

Posts: 3,790 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
***A Meeting with the Necromancer***

As the Bounteous Lady sped north, skipping across the waves with new (albeit wizard-induced) youthfulness, Nildi sat in the stern, looking rather less excited.

“Is it just me being jittery,” Nildi muttered, “or are necromancers generally not considered to be particularly pleasant or safe people? I mean, what if we knock on his door just when he’s running low on corpses?”

Zavistic chuckled. “Do not worry! The Wizards’ Guild has a fine working relationship with him. Death is a very natural part of life, so is it not perhaps natural to see if it can work the other way around?”

“I do not think so,” replied Nildi, thoroughly unconvinced by Zavistic’s apparent logic. “Do we know his name, by the way?”

“Yes,” Zavistic replied. “He is known as Invrigar. I do not know his last name. He also has a servant called Irwin Feaselbaum. That fellow is a little too proud for his position. He considers himself invaluable and irreplaceable, as if the necromancer could not keep his tower without him, but needless to say he does everything Invrigar asks of him, and more. So he’s tolerated.”

The boat raced onwards, their own private gale propelling them swiftly across the sea.

Night had fallen by the time they drew close to the promontory of land on which the necromancer’s tower stood: a stark, black shadow against the night sky. By this time, all three wizards were exhausted after constantly summoning winds for several hours. So Zavistic suggested they find a place to camp for the night.

~continued~

21-Nov-2006 09:37:35 - Last edited on 10-Jun-2007 08:35:20 by Dreamweaver

Dreamweaver
Aug Member 2003

Dreamweaver

Posts: 3,790 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
“It will be quite safe here,” Zavistic assured Nildi, as they pulled their boat up the gently sloping beach. “In any case, it would not further our favor with Invrigar if we were to knock on his door at this time of night. He will likely be sleeping, just like any other normal person.”

So they busied themselves, building a small fire and cooking a couple of rabbits that Lavrus tele-grabbed right off the ground as they scampered past. Then they huddled around it for warmth as they drifted off to sleep.

Nildi lay awake for a long time. The tower, just a minute’s walk away, was oppressive and looming, and the smoke curling out of the fire made him think of ghosts and haunts in the air. But eventually his eyes became heavy and he fell into a fitful sleep.

A few moments later, Nildi became aware of a persistent poke in his ribs. He stirred groggily and opened his eyes to find Devlin nudging him with his foot. It was daylight already.

“Wake up, master Dwarf! You’ve been sleeping like a stone for long enough. The sun is already climbing high and Zavistic did not wish to tarry any longer.”

Nildi yawned cavernously then pushed himself to his feet. He must have slept for longer than he thought.

“Alright then,” he muttered, stretching his arms out, “let’s get on shall we?”

A couple of minutes later, the party found itself at the entranceway to the tower. It looked a lot less foreboding in daylight, with a broad set of shallow stone steps leading up to a pair of solid-looking oaken doors.

Zavistic hastened up the stairs and struck heartily on the door with the end of his wooden staff. A resounding echo filled the tower within and, shortly thereafter, a voice yelled out from the other side.

~continued~

21-Nov-2006 09:38:12 - Last edited on 21-Nov-2006 09:54:00 by Dreamweaver

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