Madness in the Undermarch

Undermarch, the great Underworld highway rolling along beneath the earth. Filled with fat merchant wagons, laden mules and travelers from afar all making their way between Underhome, the Dwarven city under the mountain called Forge and the great Dwarven outpost of Anvil.

The longest and most renown of the trade and security routes in all of the Dragon Empire, it is the pride of the Dwarves and the relief of many a traveler hoping to avoid entanglements with Orcs, the Hell Marsh residents, or gods forbid, a giant out of the Giantwalk.

Recently merchants and caravans travelling the Undermarch have been waylaid. The merchants left dead and their goods stolen. The Undermarch Officers, appointed by the Dwarf King’s military, have been unable to locate this new threat. The Dwarf King, his majesty Durib Goldbiter, has decided to look for help from groups of adventurers and mercenaries to stifle this new threat, not wanting to allocate resources from elsewhere in the Dwarven empire that are needed to defend against the encroachment of the Orcs, the denizens of Hell Marsh, and the threats from the Giantwalk above the Undermarch or from the poisoned Drow residing deep below in the Underworld.



You start at a small town near Anvil, with the name of Trunks, only sixty miles from it. For some days now, you are hearing rumors of trouble in the Undermarch. At the start of this day, a dwarf emissary with a small contingent of followers appeared at the small town in a wagon. This dwarf, named Thorin Angryface, stopped his wagon at the center of the only square from Trunks, a small square of beaten earth. He forwarded his intention for all villagers present at the square. He is recruiting mercenaries in the name of Durib Goldbiter, and now he is patiently waiting.

This news spread like fire in the small community. The day is close to the end and the dwarf will move next day to another settlement to continue his recruitment mission.

At the border of the square, a man dressed in a tattered and dirty white robe scans his surroundings with fast movements of his head. He is supporting his weigh with one hand over a building, a tavern that is starting to open its doors. The name of the tavern is written at a wooden sign at the other side of the building, The Full Wagon. He looks deeply confused.

Where I am? He asks and is ignored by two men entering the tavern.

Welker stepped out of the Copper Rivet strapping a leather satchel of spare scales and, as a coincidence lost on the Half-Orc, rivets to his belt. He was currently dressed in brown pants, open brown leather vest, and a black head wrap. He could worry about purchasing other goods later, for now he wanted to get a reservation with that ebony lady, Nallatha again and spend some of his coin on some of the local brew. He nearly tripped on a halfling that wasn't watching where he was going he growled and just kept on going until he heard the man ask where he was. "You in Trunk," was his short answer as he continued on his on way.

Location: Trunks
Date: Hekatombaion, 17
Time: 17:31

The name didn't help the confused person, not even a little. He never heard of this town before. But that isn't exactly uncommon these last days. He remembers only a few disconnected images and there are large gaps in his memory.

He feels that he needs to sit or he will fall from dizziness. So he sits right at the beaten earth near the tavern while he recomposes himself.

At the center of the square, a dwarf with a long black beard, a huge deformed scar on his face and one white eye cries very loudly again. "ON THE ORDERS OF KING DURIB, I AM HIRING MERCENARIES." The halfling approaches the dwarf, curious about that situation, uncommon in these parts. But one look at the face of the dwarf makes he perform a hasty retreat to somewhere else.

The dwarf only grumbles. The only applicants were drafted at the first light of the morning, and since then no one else. A number not enough to consider his mission ended.

Just a few moments later, an elf with a long red hair, dressed with the garb of a hunter, strides near a half-orc in the front of The Copper Rivet without acknowledging him and stops at the front of The Full Wagon. At the same moment a human with dark hair, starting to go gray, dressed like a merchant, a successful one, comes from the other side, passing near the confused person.

He stops to examine him.

"Are you alright?" The merchant says.

"No... I mean... Yes. I am good, just feelin like drunk."

"Do you need help? There is a church two blocks from here. You can find help there."

"No, but thanks."

"You are welcome. Farewell and good luck." The merchant says leaving the person there, but a little worried.

When he reaches the front of The Full Wagon, he meets the elf and greets him, forgetting about his previous encounter.

"Hi, Illyen." The merchant says.

"Hi, Quinn." The elf responds, and than they start to talk about amenities right there at the front of the tavern.

"ON THE ORDERS OF KING DURIB, I AM HIRING MERCENARIES." The dwarf in the center of the square cries again.

Hearing the dwarf in the square calling for mercenaries outside he considered if he needed to get out there and volunteer his name before it was too late. As he stood in the lavender perfumed room he finished talking with the Dwarven mistress who ran the place, a stern lady somewhat softened with age called Mother Grelka. As she brushed away one of her many jewel braids from falling in her face she said, "Nallatha left with a couple of my other maidens here to buy some more silks for the rooms and the caravan they are traveling with will not be back for a few days. Can I interest you in another one of the maidens you know?"

"I don't. Are there any my size?" Welker asked, before the Dwarf in the square called out again. "Actually forget it. I need to go and give that dwarf what he needs. Some hired muscle,"

"Well, if you decide to get some manners I might have someone for you. Good day," Mother Grelka said, slight irritation in her voice. She left flipping her grayed braids back, turning to attend to other costumers who had not found a companion yet. Welker groaned, he hated it when people acted like that, but he was able to take out any of his frustrations out on someone in battle. He walked back through the door and towards the square.

The man was still standing confused out in there, "Still there. What did he get drunk on?" He shook his head and made a detour away from attempting to get hired. "Hey, you! Where are you from?"

Ludwig/John

"I am from..." He strains his face searching for an answer in his muddled memory. He looks at the stranger abashed, with a hint of fear in his eyes. "I cannot remember..." He lowers his head into his arms and slowly he starts to weep, showing a blue hourglass tattoo at his left forearm.

He doesn't weep for five seconds when he suddenly stands up with his posture completely changed. Where there was sadness and confusion, now there is only scorn and determination.

"Enough of this moan. I am getting sick of all this whimper." He says annoyed "Why must it be always like this?"

Welker wanted to curl his upper lip over over his left, and only remaining, tusk. The change in personality unsettled him, not from something he experienced himself but campfire stories veterans of Company Twelve Pelt told. "You- you're not, what's that word... Possessed are you? I don't know how to handle that,"

His feet wanted to start running away, but after bumping a dwarf who seemed in a particularly foul mood while on his way to the tavern, Welker let the idea fade. His eyes never blinked while watching the changed man.

Ludwig/John

Possessed? How quaint! Yes, I think I am guilty, dear stranger. I am certainly possessed of an overwhelming intellect and an extraordinary amount of knowledge.

He moves from the wall and pats his dirty robe, trying to remove some of the dirt accumulated. I will need a new robe. But I am fairly sure that you mean that pitiful scene. It is just the side effects of the memory reorganization process that occurs with a new body. It will fade with the time.

"Yeah, robe and another body," Welker said unsure how to take the mood change. The fact that the man's other personality blew off the possesion bit so easily and with a laugh, even if vain in his mind, eased his mind a little, but only a little. Still there was a piece of him that wanted to stand true, even as he feared what power he might not be able to face completely stood before him.

"Not my job. I'm just here to answer the call for what's going on in the Undermarch," As he turned to walk away something told him to stay there just a second longer. "You wouldn't have talents that could help in ending these problems? Fighting, searching?"

Ludwig / John

"I am here to join this feeble quest." The white robed man answers pointing to the crying dwarf at the center of the square. "I have many talents at my disposal, but I don't think I need any of them to solve this matter. The answer is an ululating obvious."

He shook his head as the robed man just walked where he originally meant to go. It told him that the robed man might have skills. It also meant they might have the same goals for now. That was enough to allow him to put on his steely mercenary act again without fear of breaking it. He followed along to the Dwarven recruiter.

"Welker One-Tusk, Company Twelve Pelt trained mercenary. Ready to fight,"

Ludwig/John

A professional mercenary. Very good. And I am Ludwig. Ludwig von Strickhausen. Now let's proceed to inscribe our names onto that dwarf's contract. John says.

Location: Trunks
Date: Hekatombaion, 17
Time: 17:34

Meanwhile the conversation between the merchant and the elf hunter proceeds at the front of The Full Wagon.

"What are you doing here?"

"Trading as always. But I will stay here for a month at least. I am waiting to receive a special cargo." He makes a short pause before asking. "And you, Illyen? Strange an elf at dwarf's territory."

A loud group of humans approaches the tavern and stop at the front of it making the previous conversation impossible to be heard.

At The Cooper Rivet, the front door is suddenly opened and a half-orc is thrown by mother Grelka at the square. "Welker, you forgot to remove the worthless of your brother from my establishment."

Welker turned around and looked down the street seeing his "brother" being tossed out into the streets. Grogash wasn't really his relative, but he didn't even bother telling people they weren't really brothers anymore, it just saved time that way. It was just like how he didn't even bother how his "brother" got into trouble. It was easier to tell what he didn't get into.

But it didn't mean he had no feelings for the mute brute.

"Oh for the Emporess's love," Welker said as he walked up to Grogash. Welker helped to his feet the thrown down half-orc and starting to dust him off. "Didn't I tell you to wait in the room? Why won't you listen? Never mind, we might have a job to work on,"

Grogash only nodded, though the look on his scarred face indicated he didn't completely understand.

"Just come along," As he turned to return to the recruiter he saw a couple of dwarfs paused in a conversation staring at him. "What are you looking at? Get back to your business,"

Ludwig/John

Ludwig approaches the dwarf recruiter followed by the two half-orcs. For a dwarf whose name is Angryface, he has a candid and mellow face, if a person is able to look beyond the scars. The dwarf is about to cry once more when John hawks to be noticed.

"Hi, good dwarf. May I question what is exactly the nature of the enterprise and the monetary reimbursement that is being offered?"

The dwarf's face brightens as he hears the question.

"Of course, his august majesty, king Durib, is recruiting volunteers to serve as henchman in the protection of the Undermarch. It is being offered 5 sp per day plus accommodations, and 50 gp at the end of the job. With a chance to win 450 gp if you are able to discover what is causing the ruckus."

"That seems adequate. Please inform the king to separate the money to me right after my arrival."

The dwarf frowns deeply. "I suppose you will join then."

"Seems like we three are," Welker said. He was not sure how to take the frown the dwarf had on his face, but it likely wasn't anything good that had his face tightened like that. "What? Seems you should be greatful that someone took this job," It was then he felt a finger tap his shoulder. "What?"

Turning he saw Grogash pointing out the stand where some fresh baked bread was being carted out. Smells of the yeast used in the baking came from its direction. "Not now," Welker said clearly embarrassed that his child-like brother was ignoring why he came here. "This is Grogash. He's missing some things in his skull, like most of his tongue, but he still has his ability to fight,"

Grogash tapped him again.

The dwarf just shrugs and turns to pick something at the wagon.

"This is your contract. Just show it to Sargeant Vaak Darzak at Anvil signed and you will be hired. But I have to warn you that if any of you break the contract before the end, he will not receive any gold piece."

He looks appraisingly at the half-orcs while passing the papers. "And I have another warning for you both. Don't do anything foolish and use your badges all the time at somewhere visible. You don't want to be confounded with orcs at a dwarf stronghold."

"I'm used to this. Even wearing mercenary colors in Axis people are ready for me to become a savage," Welker says taking the papers. "They are only half right though. I save my savagery for the battlefield. Or a tavern," A smile comes across his face, revealing the broken stub of his broken off tusk.

A pair of voices rang out over the crowd from an unmarked, but well cared for building, likely a home of Trunk's settlers. "Where were you last night?! Not warming another bed were you,"

"Blast it woman, must the whole town know our business?"

Grogash just stared off in the direction of the shouting.

The dwarf named Angryface calls his followers, three other dwarfs dressed as warriors, and make a motion of his hand indicating that they are leaving.

"I think that is enough for today. Tomorrow at this square at dawn, a wagon was hired to take everyone recruited to Anvil. Be there or you will have to go by your own means."