Sorry it's been a while, I've been busy with some other stuff. Not much happens this update, for which I apologize, but I'll put it here to keep the story moving.
A few hours later, our victorious party is back in Brushglazes. The noise of bartering, bickering, haggling, and hawking at the depot slowly stills and stops as I approach, holding my bloody sword aloft in one hand, and a giant egg nestled under my arm.
I proclaim the deed to the assembled dwarven onlookers: there is silence for a moment, then one dwarf mumbles "It was inevitable." There is a general rumble of agreement, but little outward rejoicing. Yet the dwarves still welcome me as a great and courageous hero - they are an understated people, not given to strong feelings. I accept their modest praise for what it is.
I spread the news all through the fortress, from the depot to the dining halls to the storerooms. Before we leave I hear rumors of out victory spreading through the halls.
Reactions are mixed, even in individuals: some acknowledge my heroic deeds, but still don't trust me enough to confide in me. I do hope I receive better reactions from my would-be soldiers.
After the news has sufficiently saturated Brushglazes, I decide to take the deep road through the mountains. I have heard of the great caverns below the earth, where mushrooms the size of trees grow in forests, and strange beasts twist through the darkness and feed on fungus, and sometimes on flesh. Besides, traveling on the deep road will let me spread the news of Dashran's death to more dwarves.
The caverns are truly a sight to behold -- except that they're so dark it's hard to behold anything. Our puny torchlight barely illuminates ten feet around us. Still, I see many wonders on the way: the stories of tree-sized mushrooms are true, and more, for some even take on a tree's shape. Fortunately the cavern's other wonders - the more dangerous ones - left us alone.
The road is long, and about halfway through the mountains we grow weary. It is impossible to tell how much time has passed in the world above, whether it is day or night; down here, the body's own strength is the only clock. I did not expect the deep roads to be so sophisticated, but it is truly a dizzying network of paths: they lead through fields thick with dwarven crops, rarely tasted in the overworld; and bridge over huge underground lakes, where the ceiling is so high and the bottom so deep down that ships could travel on them as easily as on the Sunken Sea.
We spend the night in a nearby mountain hall. Most of the rooms seem deserted, though clothes are spread all over the floor. I find a free room in better order and rest there.
The next day we finish the journey, coming out into the sunlight once again at the fortress of Scourclasp.
The desert sun is blinding at first, and it is some time before our eyes are again used to the light of day. The upper fortress of Scourclasp is one of the finest examples of dwarven architecture I have seen: the whole building is made from huge blocks of native silver, veins of the precious metal streaking through the gray rock and flashing in the sun.
It is past noon when we surface; we must have traveled for a long time into the night yesterday, and slept into morning. We strike out across the desert.
Late in the morning of the 27th, four days after Ado and I set out, we return to Danceconfuses. I worry for Ado - I do not believe he is ready to do battle against the goblins. I offer him a position guarding my castle while I am away, but he declines. I suggest that he go out into the world and hone his skills, perhaps clean out some bandits and roaming kobolds; he agrees, and we part ways. In any case, I'd much rather have skilled, disciplined warriors than soldiers-of-fortune like Ado, though I don't say this aloud.
Perhaps Ado isn't so keen to leave my service; he makes himself very much at home in my hall. Well, that's alright -- I said I could use a guard.
