I got to my feet and surveyed the scene. The ratkin guards had been moved to one side, and a pile of shining coins glittered near them. Loot. Then I thought of the halberd. I found it leaning against the cave wall. When I inspected the weapon, my jaw dropped.
The Foreman’s Toothpick
Quality: Epic
Durability 240/250
200-400 damage
+10 Strength, +10 Stamina, +10% Health Regeneration
“Guys, I know I already have one like it, but can I keep this?” I asked. “It’s so pretty.” I heard Alysand laughing, and Hana just mumbled something that sounded like, “Told ya so.” I saw that the weapon’s shaft was a plain wood, dark, polished, and no doubt high-quality, but it wasn’t magical. The spearpoint and axehead, though, were inscribed with runes of power, and they still glowed with pale blue light.
“It is a dwarven weapon,” Alysand said. “Sad to consider how such a foul host had come to hold it. No doubt some clan died defending their home. This is a fine weapon, though. I had the thought that if one were to combine the head of this weapon with the bone handle of yours, something truly magnificent might be made.” His eyes were filled with mirth as he said this. He knew me too well.
I compared the weapon to my own axe. The crescent moon of the halberd was almost twice as big as my axe’s blade. Yet when I hefted it, I noticed the weight was comparable.
“How on earth?”
“Mithril, of course. They are good smiths, but the metal they work with and the runes they use to inscribe them deserve much of the credit.”
I shook my head and imagined what it would be like to swing the hung thing around, cutting down enemies with ease.
“So, what now?” I asked at last. “You’ve looted them, and no doubt there are a few more of the bastards in the tunnels, but do we just leave now?”
Alysand’s face took on a grim expression. Then, without saying a word, he pointed to the back of the cavern. I looked over, and despite the burning torches all around, I saw an opening at the back that I hadn’t noticed before, too focused on the twisted trow and the ratkin elites.
“What’s back there?”
“I snuck close enough to notice that it’s incredibly hot in there, and, well…” Hana paused, grasping for words. “Something is breathing back there. Something big.”
The sound of my own laughter was loud enough to scare my companions. Tonight was going to be epic, no doubt about it.
“No time like right freaking now,” I said, spinning my axe in my hand.
We ate jerky and drank our fill of water. After a few minutes, we decided there was no reason to delay any longer.
The cavern grew hotter as we moved toward the rear passage. From a distance, it looked tiny, but the cavern itself was deceptively long, nearly a mile. The further in we got, the more the vast ceiling and walls began to close in.
A stone archway, carved by crude and hurried strokes, led to a tunnel that stood perhaps fifteen feet high. A bend in the path concealed what lay beyond, but now I could hear what Hana had mentioned: the sound of lungs so vast they could fill the sails of a ship.
I looked back at the party and buffed everyone. Alysand smiled and gave me a look. It told me that when the fight started, he would be using his as well.
The heat increased as I followed the tunnel, and soon, a dull orange glow lit the way ahead.
Another cavern opened up at last, and as I peeked around the corner, I saw a creature that froze my limbs with fear. Laying on a pile of iron ore, and sleeping contentedly, was a scaled monster. Not a dragon, but a cousin perhaps.
Anwar Flamestar: Elder Wyvern
Level ?
HP: ?
Abilities: ?
Question marks all the way around. Not a good sign.
The wyvern was less bulky than Marduk had been, but its length sprawled across the pile of scorching metal. I guessed if it stretched itself out, it might be close to one hundred feet long.
An instinctual fear took hold of my limbs. When we had encountered Marduk, she wasn’t sleeping. The psycho bear had jumped us, and the rest was a reaction. This was different. I could see everything, think clearly, and knew only was that running seemed like an excellent idea.
To my fascination and horror, Alysand stepped forward, walking to the edge of a small precipice that fell down into the bowl of the chamber. “Hail! Anwar Flamestar. Hail mighty wyvern of the Fafniri clan. I am Alysand Rowl Deschaney of Old Gil. I wish to speak with you but for a moment.”
Without moving, the creature opened an enormous eye. It scanned us and rested its gaze on Alysand. After a while it spoke in a voice of rasping steel and hissing steam. “I have heard of you, and I am grateful that Gil is no longer. Too long have you fire singers sought to meddle in the affairs of others. Why are you here, mage? And why should I not kill you at once?”
“Because I came first with words, not bullets. I simply wish to ask you a few questions. Has the courtesy of your house fallen so low, great master?” Alysand’s tone was even and gentle, yet his choice of words shocked me. Was the old man gonna get us killed?
A hiss erupted from the wyvern’s mouth, and he lifted his head from its resting place. “Question my house again and I’ll show you the courtesy of my stomach. I’ve answered you with words thus far. Ask your questions and be gone.”
“What do you know of the Rat King?”
A laugh filled the room, the wyvern’s sides heaving. “He has grown powerful for one so small. I know he could kill you easily enough. And I know he will hold his crown
