Sprat - a short story

This was a short 500-word story that I wrote for the Black Library Open Submissions in 2021. They were after something for the Age of Sigmar setting, to accompany the Dawnbringer Crusade narrative, just a 500-word excerpt to show what the story might look like. I wanted to write something from the perspective of greenskins (surprisingly), and wanted to try and make a whole story fit into the 500 words that could be expanded later. My intention was to expand on the view of this orc warband from different perspectives, should they take it forward... unfortunately, it wasn't what they were looking for, so they rejected it. But some of my friends liked it so I might see about expanding it myself in the future. Hope you enjoy it!  

A Journeyman's Tale, Exploring Birch Vale - part 4

A Journeyman’s Tale,
Exploring Birch Vale

Part 4 – 4^th November 2021

The journal of Bori Ironhelm, cleric of Moradin and master of the forge.
Journeyman in the Explorer’s Guild.

Previous - Chapter 3

Ranging Far and Wide

As we sat by the fire eating the warming stew that Cydor had prepared, he outlined what he wanted us to do. He fixed us with his hard, green eyes and told us that he reckoned the necromancer must have had a cache of warm clothing and supplies somewhere nearby – how else would he have navigated the frozen wastes to the north? Of course, while that might be true, we were fairly confident that he could have made the journey simply by wearing the enchanted boots that now clad Merla’s dainty feet – the halfling felt comfortably warm while wearing them, no matter the weather. Still, it was clear that the evil wizard had travelled from the north, and after we saw that his raven had flown that way to correspond with someone it was clear that was the way we had to go whether we were looking for his cache or not.

We were given a regional map of the land north of Birch Vale, with another one that included further details of the area surrounding New Mine, a recently opened dwarf-run operation. Cydor wanted us to visit the mine and drop off a homing pigeon and some bottles of Old Stripey. Finally, a chance for Grimnir and I to get back underground and experience some true dwarvish hospitality! Cydor seemed to know these dwarfs reasonably well, and he thought it was worth asking if they had spotted the necromancer on his travels. Seemed sensible enough to me.  

And, although Merla was going to be fine in her magical boots, neither Grimnir or myself would object to a warm cloak to keep out the bitter northern wind as proceeded into the wastes! Fortunately, Cydor told us that there was a Ranger Station situated not far beyond New Mine. Apparently, this Ranger Station would house a hidden cache of supplies and warm clothing – Cydor handed us a schematic that would show us how to access the stash, secreted behind a panel in the Captain’s room. He also gave us the key to this panel.

The final instructions we received were to keep the knowledge of the Ranger Station, as well as the intelligence we had gathered regarding the portal and Death Cult activities, to ourselves. To be honest, I wasn’t sure how I felt about that – yes, I have agreed to follow the directions of my superiors in the Explorer’s Guild, as it seems to be the best way to secure a life for myself and my cousin outside of the Clan Hold. I won’t be able to command top dollar for my work in the forge without Guild backing, no matter how good it is. And, of course, I’m no oath breaker… and Grimnir isn’t. Not any more, at least. But, lying to fellow dwarfs? It’s not right. I decided to wait and see what occurred at New Mine before deciding how much or little to divulge. Of course, I would not reveal my true feelings to Cydor lest I jeopardise my position in the Guild, and I felt no ill-will towards the man as I understood his reasoning. But, at the end of the day, the bonds of kinship among dwarfs runs as deep as the roots of the tallest mountains. To be asked to betray that trust, even with dwarf-folk who I had yet to meet, made me feel ill at ease. I decided to put my faith in Moradin and his unerring justice to help steer my actions when the time came.

Map of the region north of Birch Vale

Detailed map of the terrain near to New Mine

Sketch of the Ranger Station interior

Day three – 14.00

We departed Spring Grove and headed north. I was still reflecting on Cydor’s final words as Merla expertly followed the necromancer’s tracks in the soft ground. What was I going to say to the dwarfs when we reached New Mine? I was further troubled by his parting comments about him providing sufficient bird seed for the pigeon because “you know what dwarves are like for having to cover extra expenses.” The cheek of it! I could feel the anger rising in Grimnir as he said it… I mean, of course, I wouldn’t want the miners to be out of pocket to look after a bird that was there to take information to Cydor. Where would they get the birdseed from up in the mountains anyway, and certainly not at a reasonable price. Really, it should be down to Cydor to provide, and it wouldn’t have even been a question amongst dwarves as it would have been stipulated in the fine print of any agreement. So, no, they shouldn’t be covering the extra expense… but… he shouldn’t really be pointing it out like that. Quite rude.

Anyway, I went back over the list of miners that Cydor had provided. Their leader was Dourhec Battlethane, an old and successful warrior. Good, strong dwarf name that. His older brother, Omratin, was apparently the business mind behind the venture. They had remained at the mine along with two of their fellows whilst the other four had visited Birch Vale. Two of them had then gone on to Island Town whilst the remaining two had remained, nursing hangovers. And Grimnir hadn’t even managed to catch up with them to show them how proper dwarfs drank!

There were eight dwarfs in total.

• In New Mine:
• Dourhec Battlethane
• Omratin Battlethane
• Broukead Darkgranite
• Havromri Stormblade
• Travelled to Birch Vale then on to Island Town:
• Norarnaes Hornbender
• Sidgraen Aletoe
• Remained in Birch Vale, nursing hangovers:
• Gizmat Lavashield
• Durmar Bonebreaker 

Merla had no problem in following the necromancer’s trail for the most part throughout the rest of the day, except for a few occassions where the prints disappeared over rocky terrain; she quickly picked the trail up again by a riverbank or in some other soft ground. We camped beneath the stars with no disturbance. In fact, all was quiet during our journey and we made good time northwards. 

Day four – 11.00

Well-rested, we continued our march and arrived at the approach to New Mine during late morning. Ahead, we saw that a large pool had been created through the installation of a thick dam, some 100 yards across, which was crossed by the path up to a palisade wall. That must have been the entrance to the mine. Good, strong defensive position – very dwarfish.

The approach to New Mine

We were a little cautious about what might be hiding in the depths of the dammed pool, but it seemed safe enough, so we strode up to the palisade. It was some 30 feet high and had a large doorway built into it, 8 feet wide and 8 feet tall. Grimnir hammered on the door with the haft of his axe, the echoes rebounding from the surrounding hillsides. After a long pause, we heard the heavy tread of iron-shod boots and the creaking of timbers before a bearded face underneath a horned helm poked out over the top of the palisade. The grumpy dwarf told us that we had no business in New Mine and that we should bugger off, before turning and descending back down the unseen stairs.

Neither Grimnir nor I could believe the lack of hospitality being shown by one of our own kind – that’s not how we were raised in the halls of Khazad Dwemer! My cousin hammered on the door once more, so hard that I thought he might knock it from its hinges. We were fortunate that he wasn’t angry enough to turn the weapon and use the axe blade… not yet, anyway!

The weary steps began again and the grumpy face appeared over the parapet once more, this time accompanied by two hand crossbows pointing down at us. I was incensed at this outrage and shouted at him in Dwarvish about the hospitalities expected for dwarf travellers. He seemed to think we had done something to the “peaceful monk” that had been wandering the land outside the mine, as we had the man’s pack mule. Once I explained that this ‘monk’ was really an evil necromancer (who was suffering from a bout of axe-in-the-head, leading to a severe case of being-very-dead), his manner softened. We switched to speaking in the Common tongue so that our halfling companion could understand, and once he realised that we had been sent by Cydor he finally consented to allow us within the palisade.    

We followed the wobbling rump of this dwarf – his arse was the size of Grimnir’s axe head – past several wooden outbuildings, towards a low hall with smoke coming out of a chimney. Our host led us inside where he had been stewing something that smelled delicious. It was clear he hadn’t missed any meals up here in the mountains, but now that he had welcomed us inside, he wasn’t shy in sharing his food with us. We sat down and got a proper look at him. He matched Cydor’s description of Omratin Battlethane, elder brother of Dourhec. As we shared food and ale, his demeanour softened, and he became genial. Merla recounted our tale to Omratin, which he listened to with great interest. He revealed a sharp mind when he laughed at Grimnir and me for our deception to the Explorer’s Guild – of course he could tell that we were older than we should be for the Journeyman Programme! He said that Cydor wouldn’t have been fooled either, but if he had gone along with the ruse then there must be serious trouble around Birch Vale indeed. Cydor was no fool and he must have been keen for our help to allow us to circumvent the Guild’s rules.

Omratin was also well aware of the Ranger Station, easily guessing our purpose for travelling this way. It seemed that there was no point in trying to conceal anything from his, as Cydor had requested, which was a relief to my conscience. After the brusque welcome, I had quickly grown to like this dwarf and had even less desire to deceive him than before, no matter the reason. 

After another ale or two, the conversation turned towards the mine and our host. We noted that we had expected to see a further three dwarfs, but they were conspicuously absent. Omratin became more serious and told us that perhaps our visit was fortuitous and there was something we could do to help him.

It turned out that the miners had gone through a fault plane the previous day, breaking through into a series of previously unknown tunnels. Dourhec, Broukead and Havromri went to explore the tunnels but had not returned. When Omratin went to search for them, all he found was a large, fresh web blocking the way forwards before he was set upon by a grey ooze. He managed to escape the monster and return to the main mine, shutting a heavy door behind him to keep whatever else was in there trapped. His brother and two friends were stalwart warriors, so Omratin figured that whatever had taken them had to be a serious threat. He asked us if we would venture into these tunnels and attempt to rescue his fellows. Of course, we could not refuse such a plea for help! He provided us with a sketch map of what he remembered from his quick sojourn into the tunnels and handed us the key to the heavy door that would lead us into the labyrinth. He told us that he would lock the door behind us, so we would knock in a distinctive way when we returned. 

Omratin's sketch of the old tunnels the dwarfs had tunnelled into