"Have you got your axe, lad?" asked Dalur Azul from his son Baruk. The young dwarf, his beard a mere two inches long, nodded and patted the fine weapon hanging on his belt. The old dwarf puffed contendedly and grabbed his son's shoulders, forcing the boy to look him in the eye. There was only a slight tremor of sadness in Dalur's face as he told his son sternly: "Watch out, Baruk! The roads are dangerous and with no cave roof above you, who knows what might happen? Stay close to the main road, for there is only trouble in the forests and meadows! Make your way as fast as you can to Bak, understand?" Baruk nodded again, a little nervous about the upcoming trip. His father let go of his shoulders and turned to leave. Then, as if he had remember something, he turned around and said quietly: "Good luck, son, and may Mahacto's blessing be with you!" The old dwarf's eyes were filled with sorrow, for he knew all too well that the outside world was hostile and a young, inexperienced dwarf might not survive. But Dalur firmly stamped all compassion out of his heart, for the young dwarf had to become an adult one day. And so the old blacksmith left his son to pack his possessions.

Baruk was actually more than a little nervous. A trip to Bak would take at least thirty days, every day filled with danger and new experiences. But Baruk also knew that that was the whole point of the journey. There was no need to go to Bak to study under the tutelage of his uncle Hamdrun Azul, for there were excellent blacksmiths in High Helm, Baruk's home, as well. But since Baruk was nearing his 25^th year in the world, it was time to prove himself to the elders of High Helm so that he might be considered an adult. Baruk was actually glad that his father had proposed the trip as the rite of passage, since there were more dangerous ways for a dwarven youth to prove himself. Baruk still remembered what had happened to his good friend Tharum who was sent to retrieve a dwarven trinket from stone giants. The poor lad was used as a ball in the wicked games of the giants and was smashed to death against the rocks.

And so Baruk breathed a little sigh of relief - the trip might just be uneventful. At least he wasn't walking into certain death. The dwarf was no coward, but his race had long ago learned to be wary - dying because of foolishness was a disgrace unless you were a berserker. And if you were a berserker, no rules applied anyway.

Packing his possessions was easy - Baruk didn't have many things. His handaxe, crafted by himself from the steel given to him for his 20^th birthday, hung from the sturdy belt. A loaf of gibal, the special dwarven travel bread; a sack of greenstools, delicious mushrooms; a beerskin of grizdal, a century-old ale from his father; flint and steel; a whetstone and axe-cloth; a small loop of fungus rope, an iron comb - all in his backpack. And, of course, the silver bracelet that he would hack to bits and use as money. If he wanted to have something else, he would have to get it on the road.

Sighing, Baruk took his backpack and exited the house. The stark beauty of High Helm, the dwarven city and source of pride, lay before him. Without a word or a glance back at his home, Baruk Azul set on his way through the immense city in and on the mountains. His old friends gave a respectful small bow when he passed by and he responded with a similar gesture. Old dwarves watched him approvingly and Baruk could swear he heard some of them mutter: 'There goes a good lad…"

He reached the massive city gates and two guards stepped out of the gatehouses to block his way. Baruk was undaunted, for he knew the proper ritual. He bowed deeply and stated: "I am Baruk Azul, son of Dalur Azul, son of Yhtrgim Azul, son of Bofur Bolg. I am of the Azul clan of blacksmiths, leaving High Helm to apprentice for Hamdrun Azul, a master smith in the city of Bak. I leave with no anger or ill intent and with a pure heart." The guards answered: "Then the gate will always be open to you, Baruk Azul, son of Dalur Azul", bowed and went back to the gatehouses to open the huge gate.

After a minute of walking in the tunnels, Baruk finally emerged on the ground and looked in wonder at the wide world around him. He had only been outside High Helm for short periods, never having time to enjoy the vista. The range of view made his head dizzy as he looked at the turquoise sky dotted with white fluffy clouds. A great sea, blue like the sky, lay in the distance, behind the mountains. The sea seemed to merge with the sky and Baruk hastily looked in another direction. Great plains stretched down there, as far as he could see and the silvery line of the Baldan River cut through the grassy terrain. It all seemed so beautiful and yet so frightening. Baruk felt so defenseless under this vast sky, there was no ceiling and no walls. He wondered what he should do if orcs attacked him - there was no wall to protect his back.

The young dwarf started walking down the rocky path that led from High Helm to the Baldan River and its bridge. It would take him a good six or seven days to reach the bridge, but he was whistling. The call of the road seemed so sweet to him. A shadowy figure watched Baruk disappear behind the cliffs and smiled a cruel smile.

O O O O O

The endless sky frightened Baruk. He had been on the road for three days now and he was still startled when a gust of wind suddenly shook him or when clouds gathered into a thick carpet and shedded water. Yesterday, Baruk had been too careless in reading the signs of the sky and he had to spend many hours by the campfire, drying his beard, long wavy hair and clothes. Today, he had had to hide in some small caves and natural alcoves to avoid getting wet. Actually, that's what he was currently doing.

The endless drops of water splashed on the ground and formed puddles. The rocky path that led from High Helm to the Baldan River was washed clear of any soil and sand, all the grimy water rushing downwards the sloping terrain, ultimately joining the Baldan River. Baruk was starting to suspect that he had left High Helm when it was the rain season in these mountains and he was almost sure that this was not a coincidence. His father, knowing the dwarven loathing for water all too well, might have taken the rain season into account, when he suggested the date of departure to the council of elders. They seemed to be determined to make Baruk's life as miserable as possible, to bring out the most of the man in him. Baruk didn't know whether to be proud or angry at this.

His functional, dark brown clothes of a smith's apprentice were still damp; the dwarven bread gibal was soggy in his backpack; his short beard was glistening with raindrops and his beautiful long brown was hanging in tufts like wet ropes. The only thing untouched by the rain was grizdal, the centenarian ale and so Baruk spent his time sipping on it and glaring at the rain washing the path. If he remembered correctly, the rain season in the mountains lasted for many weeks. It didn't improve his damp mood.

O O O O O

Nights were restless for the young dwarf. Too often did he wake up and keep himself perfectly still to avoid attracting the attention of stone giants who roamed the mountain paths and threw huge boulders at each other, laughing with their deep voices that echoed in the mountain range long after they had left. Sometimes Baruk even thought he heard orcs making a ruckus just above his head, but he was not too sure about that. In any case, he kept the campfire merely smoldering and his axe close by. In the mountains, few creature were not hostile and even fewer were friendly.

But everytime Baruk felt like turning back, he gritted his teeth and pressed on, covering precious few miles every day. He was tired, wet and hungry, but his determination and dwarven stubborness kept him firmly on the path. He retired to the shelter of the caves only when it was pitch black and far too many noises started to echo in the mountains.

And so days and nights passed, but after eight days he finally stood on the bank of the Baldan River. The wide river flowed quietly before him, impervious to the confusion that raged in Baruk's heart and mind. The young dwarf was afraid of water, but he was also strangely attracted to it. He wanted to wade into it, to see how deep the river was, but held himself back, for fear of drowning. The river must be deep, he thought, because I cannot see the bottom of the riverbed. Baruk had forgotten that only under ground are the rivers pure and crystal clear. The water of Baldan River was emerald green in color and moved slowly past the pondering dwarf.

The beautiful stone bridge, built by dwarves to facilitate the trade between Bak and High Helm, spanned the river like a sturdy city wall, complete with turrets and a massive drawbridge. Baruk wondered briefly how the drawbridge is raised, but remembered then that the merchant ships were used to landing here and employing their own men to perform the laborous task.

The dwarf stepped onto the stone bridge and sighed. The crossing would be symbolic - he would leave High Helm behind the river boundary and step into a new life. A nagging sensation inside Baruk's chest told him that he might never return to High Helm, at least not as the same person. He drew a deep breath and walked to the other side. There he turned around and watched the Rotun mountains in solemn silence for a few moments. The shadowy figure, who had been following him, was quick to hide behind a turret, avoiding detection.

Baruk turned back towards the path that would ultimately lead to the crossroads, where he would have to turn left to reach Bak. At least seven more days to the crossroads, seven days of tedious and dangerous travel on open ground, under the treacherous sky.

He set off, boots squelching on the wet ground and the shadowy figure sneaked after him, careful to keep a safe distance.

O O O O O

The road had followed the river for a day, but then suddenly the river jerked away from it and Baruk found himself marching through desolate terrain, with no visible landmarks. Only lush meadows surrounded him, sometimes replaced by patches of small bushes that Baruk did not recognize, but which provided him with juicy red berries that made a nice addition to his sparse menu.

At times he glanced over his shoulder and thought he saw someone following him, but the second time he looked there was noone. Still, it made him nervous and he gripped the handle of his axe, wishing to get to the crossroads already. At least there was a chance to meet people, most likely traders. Baruk felt he would be content with any kind of company, he was starting to feel awfully lonely after so many days on the road without anyone to talk to. He grew up in the largest dwarven settlement with a population of 80 000 and he was not used to being alone.

The night of the second day came and Baruk turned off the road. He set his small camp up a few hundred feet from the road so that it would not be visible to unwanted quests. After a routine dinner of gibal, red berries, greenstools and a healthy swig of grizdal, he curled into his cape and fell into a troubled sleep.

The smoldering campfire gave off far too much smoke, but Baruk had been too tired to notice it. The seasoned eyes of a large creature, however, did not miss it. The hulking figure growled with glee and waved his big spear to attract the attention of his companions who were a couple of yards away. The creature, who was called Drukhurr, waited for the others to arrive and explained to them the nature of his discovery with a few short barks. His companions bared their teeth and growled in response. They, too, smelled a dwarf and these monsters hated dwarves. And monsters they were indeed, with their hyena-like heads and human-like bodies covered in thick fur. They were very tall, towering above the tallest humans and wielded huge spears that could pin a bear to a tree. And they were notorious for their cruelty and foul nature - not a good omen for the young dwarf at all.

Fortunately, they fell into a debate over who should kill the dwarf and their barking woke Baruk. His brow was instantly covered with cold sweat when he heard the creatures talking. A dwarf was educated in the ways of monsters and it did not take long for Baruk to understand who these towering brutes were - the dwarves called them "gnolls". He prayed silently to Mahacto and slowly slid his axe from its holder. He might have sneaked away, but dwarves never ran away from battle and it was obvious that he would have to fight - the gnolls had a much better knowledge of the area and slightly better eyesight in dark. Baruk stepped silently to the nearest bush, a mere dozen yards away from the gnolls and pressed his back into the twigs. He was confident he could take on the four gnolls if his back was covered. The crackling of twigs alerted the monsters and they immediately turned towards the noise. Upon discovering that Baruk was already prepared for battle, the leading gnoll grunted with rage and smacked one of his fellows upside the head, obviously accusing him of waking the dwarf. He then barked out an order and the gnolls charged at Baruk, bellowing from the top of their lungs, spears lowered to skewer the dwarf. Baruk calmly waited until they had almost reached him and then ducked. Three gnolls charged past him, growling with disappointment, but one stumbled onto the dwarf and buried him underneath his stinking bulk. Baruk attempted to hit the gnoll with his axe, but his hand was too uncomfortably lodged underneath the giant monster. Fortunately, the gnoll was eager to get off of him and Baruk rolled away, avoiding a powerful kick. He got up just in time to split the shaft of the spear that one of the gnolls attempted to stick into him and kicked another gnoll in the knee with his iron-covered boot. The poor creature whimpered with pain,clutched his broken knee and collapsed into a trembling heap. The other three were now furious. The gnoll, who had lost his spear, tried to punch Baruk, but the dwarf used his diminutive size to avoid the glancing blow and swung his axe into the knee of the gnoll. This one, too, went down, but unable to even whimper from the pain. The two remaining gnolls tried to team up against Baruk, the leader getting behind him, but the dwarf ran through his legs and chopped away with his axe. The leading gnoll howled with pain as his right leg lay on the ground. The remaining gnoll decided that he had had enough and ran away with amazing speed.

Baruk caught his breath and looked at the battlefield. Two gnolls lay moaning with pain, the third was just trembling in shock and agony. The dwarf set his jaw firmly and drew his knife. No sense in tormenting the creatures, however vile they were. He slit the throats of the gnolls and searched them through. To his disappointment, Baruk found nothing of value, except a cheap-looking copper ring that was obviously too small for a gnoll and therefore stashed away into the monster's pouch. After looting the bodies, Baruk put out the campfire and went back to the road. He walked until the sun came up and only then did he dare to set up a new camp. He remembered that gnolls loathed sunlight and hoped to sleep some hours in peace. The gnoll who had fled made him nervous, but he was too tired to go anywhere and so he fell into a deep sleep.

The shadowy figure reached Baruk a few minutes later and examined him carefully. The creature then let out a satisfied hiss and continued past the dwarf.

Chapter II | Adventures