Spirits of the Earth

Darjak stepped through the darkened streets of Uthlyn with a sureness in his gait born form the knowledge that he had several pounds of black powder secreted about his person in the form of explosive weapons. It was a cool evening and the dwarf reveled in the nice breeze that blew through the city. There always seemed to be a breeze in Connlaoth, so different from his own dwarven homeland.

Darjak had traveled to the city of knowledge in hopes of improving his bangpowder formula and finding new and purer materials. He had quickly hit a promising lead. One of the old maps at the university spoke of a mine not too far from the city that contained "some strange yellow rock with an odd smell." Darjak could almost smell the sulfur from inside the library. It had to be good stuff for an ordinary human to perceive the yellow color so strongly. The dwarf was actually heading to the mine now, unable to contain his excitement.

He was almost to the city limits when he heard a sound he knew and loved. Gunfire. The dwarf was instantaneously sprinting towards the direction the report had come from without so much as a first thought. Every manufacturer of bangpowder used a different formula, and Darjak made it one of his passions to collect this information wherever he could. The sound of gunfire meant that someone had a gun, which meant new bangpowder to test. The dwarf grinned gleefully and not a little psychotically as he ran. He always looked forward to dissecting a new bangpowder recipe.

A hundred hours or more per gun.

Eight guns.

Fletcher couldn't remember the last time he felt like he wasn't completely drained of all energy. The order had come in less than two months ago, the letter sealed by the wax insignia of some wealthy noble in Uthlyn, the handwriting contained within impeccable. He recognized the seal immediately: the nobleman was one of the richest men in the entire country and one of his most generous benefactors. The last pistol that Fletch had handcrafted for the man had been hailed as a masterpiece by all the masters of the college, had been the gun of choice in an award-winning shooting performance in Reajh, and had finally bestowed upon this young man the title of "Master".

Of course, the small chest of gold sent his way was a nice afterthought as well. With his name known throughout Connlaoth now, Fletcher's tiny little bank vault threatened to burst at the hinges.

These latest eight guns, he dared say, were even greater achievements in artistry and engineering than the pistol. The metallurgy of the gun barrels were some of the finest metals he'd ever crafted. The wooden stocks were meticulously carved and inlaid with ivory and horn to depict the soaring hawk that adorned the nobleman's crest. The wheellock mechanism functioned perfectly, and he bore the barrels to the perfect diameter, for the greatest accuracy.

These would cement his status as the greatest gunsmith in the land. No doubt the nobleman's sons would treasure these gifts for life.

But as he rode through the dark streets of Uthlyn now, the weapons secure in their lockboxes in back of his wagon, he couldn't but get a sense that his fame might've caught up with him. He only had his single lantern illuminating his way forward, so he didn't catch sight of the black-cloaked bandits until they were right upon his wagon.

With a shout, Fletch dropped the reins and instinctively went to his belt where his own guns quietly sat in their holsters. Always loaded and primed for emergencies, he was able to pull the trigger just as the first knife-wielding bandit came upon him with a snarl. With an incredible bang and a cloud of smoke, the shot knocked the man clear off his feet and to the pavement here he lay unmoving. Startled, his horse gave a panicked whinny and took off with the cart in tow.

Desperately Fletcher dropped his spent gun and grabbed for the reins, trying to control the runaway horse while simultaneously clutching the grip of his second pistol. With all this commotion he wouldn't have the time to reload his first gun. Not with the three other bandits shouting and running in pursuit. Two of them cut left through an alleyway, presumably to cut him off.

"H-help!" Fletcher shouted into the night.

Darjak was still running toward the source of the gunshot when he heard the wheels of a wagon and the sound of someone yelling "help!" from down the street. A wagon came barreling around the corner at the end of the road and started heading toward Darjak.

Two black-cled men slipped out from an alleyway between he dwarf and the charging cart. One of them pulled out an ancient-looking crossbow and fired a bolt. The horse went down with a scream, the projectile protruding from it's shoulder. The wagon's inertia kept it going and when it hit the stricken horse it pitched forward.

The two men stood still a bit, watching their handiwork. A lethal mistake. Darjak pulled out one of his blast eggs and used the flints attached to his glove and bandolier to light it's fuse. The sound of the cart's overturning covered up the noise the dwarf was making and the men had no idea what danger they were in as the blast egg came flying in-between the pair.

Darjak had timed his throw perfectly and the egg exploded in mid-air at right about ankle level. The two men went down, their screams of pain covered up by the noise of the explosion. Darjak ran up to the two stricken men and stooped to check their condition. Not however, with the intent of helping them but rather to view the effect of his explosive. one of them had their leg blown clean off and the other was so full of shrapnel that he was already dead. Darjak filed away a note in his brain. Clay from the Risling mine created effective shrapnel.

Research concluded, the dwarf looked up at the over-turned cart. He saw a man stirring in the wreckage but he seemed to be trapped under a larger piece of wood. He ran over to assist, never noticing the third black-clad figure sneaking up behind him, dagger at the ready.

((OOC: Presumed a bunch of stuff. I can edit this if you want.))

Fletcher almost flinched as he heard the twang of the crossbow. His heart sank even further when he heard the death whinny of his horse, the bold embedding itself in his neck. He almost wished it had hit him instead.

But he didn't have time to think, for at that very moment his cart overturned and threw him to the hard pavement. He landed with a thud that knocked the wind completely out of his lungs, and then felt the rest of the cart topple over him. Shutting his eyes and preparing for the worst, instead he found himself pinned underneath it, unable to move, the cart on its side with its wheels still spinning. He let out a groan.

Through the haze of his blurred vision, he somehow saw his other gun sprawled out on the ground, just out of reach. All around him, in haphazard piles, were the eight lockboxes containing his prized creations. Feebly he reached out to desperately grab at them, only to realize he still had his second gun in his hand.

When the explosion went off, it nearly deafened him. Coughing in the smoke and hearing nothing but a ring in his ear, he caught the silhouette of the dwarf just in the distance, standing over the two fallen bandits. He didn't have time to think about whether or not this new character was a friend or a foe. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he did register for a brief moment that this one was dressed differently than these other scoundrels...

When the dwarf approached him Fletch tried to pull himself from under the cart only to find that he really was stuck. His eyes watered in all the smoke, but he had enough sight to lift his gun up and point it at the approaching figure.

And then that second man, cloaked in back, rushed at the dwarf with a dagger in hand. Instinctively Fletcher shouted, "BEHIND YOU!" Just as quick his gun moved several inches to the left. With another deafening blast and an explosion of smoke, the gun discharged its iron bullet directly over Darjak's shoulder and into the head of the bandit, dagger upraised. In a shower of blood and brains, the bandit toppled over in a heap.

All the while, on the other side of the cart, the two trailing bandits arrived at the scene of the crash. Their eyes widened when they saw the carnage, but quickly and quietly they snatched up four of the lockboxes.

Darjak flinched back as the trapped man help up a gun. "Whoa!" he shouted holding up his hands. "Wait I'm..." He never had the chance to finish as the sound of the gun discharging drowned him out. The dwarf closed his eyes, expecting the worst, but didn't feel the extreme biting pain of a bullet hitting flesh.

He thought he heard something behind him, but it was hard to tell since his ears were still ringing from all the discharges and explosions. He turned to look. There was a man laid out, a neat hole placed in his head and a dagger in his hands, a few feet behind the dwarf. Darjakf, wide-eyed, turned back to the shooter. This man was good! to hit a small target like the man's head was no mean feat, especially while pinned under a cart. Unless he was trying to shoot at Darjak. Then he was probably the worst shot ever.

The dwarf decided to give the man the benefit of the doubt, and stooped to help him. It took all of his dwarven strength to lift the huge piece of wreckage a few inches off the man. His eyes bulged and his muscles were suddenly threaded with pulsing veins fro the effort. "Hurry!" he gasped out.

With all the activity, Darjak failed to notice the thieves picking up the lockboxes behind the cart.

When the dust had mostly cleared and the dwarf strained his muscles to lift the fallen cart off of him, Fletcher wasted no time in scrambling clear of the vehicle. As the cart came slamming back down on the pavement, he lay on his back staring up in the sky, gritting his teeth and breathing heavily from the exertion and the excitement. The gun was still tightly clutched in his hand, discharged and empty. By some miracle, he'd survived this mugging.

His exhale of relief caught in his throat though when he finally spied the two men picking up the lockboxes containing his newly crafted guns.

"Wait, NO! NOO!" he screamed as they looked at him and then took off down the street and into the night. Fletcher scrambled to his feet and took off after them, though they had a large headstart.

About ten paces past the fallen cart, Fletcher took a knee and fumbled to pull out the bottle of refined blackpowder he kept in a pocket under his coat. There was a grim deftness with which he loaded the muzzle with a perfectly eye-measured amount of powder and a perfectly round iron bullet. The silver ramrod came out just as quick, as did the spanner to cock the wheel lock mechanism into place.

It all took about thirty seconds or so before the gun was ready to fire again. But by this point the two men were so far down the street with his prized guns that he really didn't have a hope of hitting either of them with the pistol.

In despair he sank to his knees and watched them flee into the night.

Darjak was finally able to set that cart piece down with a crash as the man finally crawled clear. He had to bend over with his hands on his knees, catching his breath, before he could even consider doing anything else.

A moment later, he heard the other man's shout and looked up to see the fellow loading his gun and two figures in black sprinting down the street carrying four rather large packages. Watching him, Darjak thought the same thing he had earlier. The man was good! The dwarf didn't think he knew any other man who could load a weapon that fast. Still too late though. The pair were running faster than a lead ball out of a barrel.

The dwarf noticed that there were four boxes scattered on the street similar to the four the pair had been carrying. He surmised that the pair were thieves and the gunman in front of him had just been robbed. The man sunk to his knees, clearly distraught, and the dwarf decided that this was not the time to ask the man if he could get a sample of his bangpowder. He'd have to put the man in a better mood for that. So Darjak decided that it was time to employ his excellent comforting skills.

He walked over to the man and patted him on the shoulder.  "Sorry for lettin' those rats git away with yer boxes. I shoulda checked to see if there were more 'fore I tried to help you. But you gotta remember, whatever was in those cases can't be as important as yer life. See, as long as yer alive you can get them back." The dwarf flashed the gunman a menacing grin. "And you can take revenge too." In Darjak's experience, the thought of revenge was always comforting.

Fletcher almost didn't notice the dwarf standing next to him, and barely felt the pat on his shoulder. All he could think about was all those hours of painstaking labor and love, every etch and carve he made to make those guns. He almost wished the ground would open up and he would sink down into it.

Somehow though, this stranger's words struck a chord in him. Slowly he turned to glance up at Darjak, a slight frown on his face. But then the frown deepened into a scowl and he said emphatically, "Damn straight, I'm getting them back!"

And climbing to his feet, he stalked over to the two men laid low by the dwarf's explosive device. One of them was still alive, albeit with only half of his lower extremities intact. The man was still half-screaming half-whimpering in his pain, and it only worsened when Fletcher gave the man a solid kick in the side.

"Where are they taking my guns, huh? You tell me now or I'll fill you with more metal than you already have in you," he shouted down at the man, pointing his gun at the bandit's chest. The sight of all the blood almost made him queasy, but it was easily overpowered by his frustration.

((OOC: Lol the bombs are ceramic  ;D))

The fellow looked up at the gunsmith with so much pain in his eyes that it was obvious he wouldn't be able to answer. Suddenly, the man seized up and his breaths became short and ragged. and his eyes totally defocused.

Darjak sighed. Looked like his attempts to calm the man down had only riled him up. Carefully, he peeled the gunman away from the shivering wreck of a man. "Look, he won't be able to answer you, he's going into this thing called shayawck, and people can't talk when they're like that. Trust me, a doctor once told me that men always go into shayawck when they lose a limb. But lucky for you he also told me how to fix it."

The dwarf pulled a metal rod and some pitch from his bag. He grinned maniacally. "Watch and learn." He poured a little bit of the pitch on the road and without so much as a second thought lit it on fire. He put the rod over the fire for a second or too before unceremoniously jabbing the red-hot implement into the man's bleeding stump of a leg. The fellow screamed as the smell of burning flesh filled the air. He definitely wasn't in shock anymore.

Although acting on impulse and anger before, Fletcher was entirely unprepared for what the dwarf did. The sizzle of skin brought about a horridly acrid smell of burning flesh to his nose, and he nearly gagged at it. Catching a glimpse of the maniacal look in the dwarf's eyes, Fletcher was forced to back off and turn away, almost retching from it. He clutched his gun in both hands now, finger hovering over the trigger.

All of a sudden, he wasn't so sure about his new companion.

The man on the ground let out another bloodcurdling scream of pain before waving two trembling hands at the dwarf.

"P-please, m-m-mercy! No more!"

From his spot well away from the two of them, Fletcher called out, "Where are they taking my boxes?"

The man chattered out a reply. "We were paid to t-take your guns... to the old Silverlight m-mine outside of town... Oh God, take me to a surgeon, p-please!"

Darjak kept grinning. He turned to the gunman. "Told ya I could fix him." He then wheeled back around to face his unfortunate patient. "You sure 'bout that? A surgeon charges. I do it for free. You sure that's what you want?"

The man's head bobbed. "Yes, yes, by Ansgar yes!" Darjak nodded. "Alright then, but you should be thankful to me, I saved yer life with this poker." He hefted the bar. "You'd have bleed out by now if I hadn't."

He hoisted the man over his shoulder before wheeling to face he gunsmith. "Where's the nearest surgeon? I don't know this town very well. We can drop him off on the way to the Silverlight mine. I'm heading there anyway and if this fellow is right then I might need some help, and you might too."

Fletcher stammered out a response. "Two blocks back from the way I came..." He gestured in that general direction as well, before quickly stepping over to his overturned cart.

Grabbed the side of it with both hands, his face nearly turned red from trying to flip it back upright, but he didn't have the strength alone. It wasn't until he'd spent a good thirty seconds at the task before he coldly remembered that his horse was dead. With a scowl and a curse, he let the cart drop back down to the pavement.

"Drop the injured man off first, then we head to the college," he insisted as he went about collecting his remaining four lockboxes. He knew they were sturdy enough to protect the guns inside, but shuddered at the thought of the other four firearms being removed from their custom casings. Or worse, removed and then used...

"I need to keep these safe, collect some gear. And maybe hire some more muscle."

Darjak started walking in the direction that the man had indicated, before he realized that the other man wasn't coming along. He went back, and watched the gunman futilely try to lift his cart. He knew it was a pointless actions because he'd picked up the thing himself and he could barely get it off the ground. Even the two of them wouldn't be able to right it.

The fellow gave up, and began collecting his lock boxes. When the man recommended they go to the college first instead of the mines, the dwarf asked why. His answer satisfied Darjak, it made sense, except for the last part. The dwarf scratched his head in confusion, "What kinda muscle can we hire at a college?"

Fletcher had his arms wrapped around the four boxes, trying to keep them secure in his grip as he hurried down the street and back toward the huge tower in the center of Uthlyn. His eyes darted left and right into every alleyway he passed.

"The kind that accept coin," he answered quickly. "The college is filled with academics, but this city has its fair share of people looking to get paid..."

At the end of the road, they passed a two-storied building with a signpost hanging above the door that boasted the apothecary's symbol. The young man gestured briefly with his fingers to the building and said, "There's a healer in there."

And without stopping, he hurried right past.

Darjak threw the man down in front of the apothecary's shop and banged very loudly on the door before running off to follow the gunman. He caught up to the fellow, though it took a bit of effort considering his smaller legs.

"What's *huff* your name? *wheeze* Can't remember *puff* if I introduced my self but, *wheeze* I'm Darjak."

((OOC: Sorry for the short phone post))

Each of Fletcher's strides might have been two of the dwarf's, but the young man didn't slow down his pace one bit. His eyes were still locked straight ahead to the tower, hands clutching tightly to his precious mastercrafted guns. His eyes had a look of shock, but also a tinge of determination... and anger.

Finally, though, after keeping his torrid pace for a few blocks longer, he slowed up enough for the dwarf to catch up and catch his breath.

"Darjak," he slowly repeated before glancing down at the dwarf. "My name is de Villiers. Fletcher de Villiers."

"But... ah... you can call me Fletch."

Fletch. Darjak went over the name in his head. He was finally able to walk alongside the man without running. They were still moving faster than he would have liked, but at least he didn't have to sprint. "Well Fletch it's a pleasure to meet'cha."

The dwarf was silent for a few moments before he started up again. "So what was in those cases that was so valuable?" He asked, genuinely curious.

Fletcher tensed up at the question, and glanced cautiously at his companion. Unconsciously, his pace quickened slightly as he quickly turned his eyes back to the tower up ahead. His grip on those boxes became a little tighter.

How could he answer the dwarf? He'd already been confronted once this evening.

He didn't know who 'Darjak' was.

But then again, the dwarf had saved his life. And if he was really after Fletcher's life, or his wares, then he would have taken either or both a long time ago. Fletch let out a slow exhale.

"They're, ah... they're guns," he finally said. "I make guns."

The finest guns in the land.

Darjak'a eyes lit up. A gunsmith! Maybe he made his own powder! The dwarf could barely contain his excitement. He had to ask. But maybe it was too soon. He probably shouldn't ask yet...

Darjak couldn't resist. "So you're a gunsmith. Do you make yer own powder. What'ya Connlaothians call it? Brack powder?"

He awaited the man's answer eagerly. If this fellow was any good, Darjak might be able to improve his recipe. This was turning out to be a good trip after all!

Fletcher frowned again. He turned down one street, and then turned right on another. They passed several closed bakeries and a familiar smith's workshop. He knew they'd be arriving momentarily.

"...Blackpowder, yes. And I do make my own," he replied without looking over. The boxes were beginning to slip so he stopped momentarily to readjust their weight.

"I make all of it on my own."

Now the dwarf was practically bursting with excitement. The only words he'd heard were the ones confirming that the man made his own powder. Few people did. This was an excellent opportunity.

"So what composition do you use in your powder?" The dwarf asked. "What ratios? Oh and where do you get your materials for it? You know, your sulfur, charcoal and saltpeter?" The dwarves had different names for the materials but in his travels Darjak had learned that most humans recognized these designations. "I mean I'll share my composition with you of course. All in the spirit of making a bigger boom." The dwarf laughed "Do you know off the top of your head or do you have it written down somewhere..?"

Fletcher's voice caught in his throat. This dwarf, whom he had JUST met, wanted to know how he made blackpowder? A secret like that would have been kept hidden if they were the best of friends. Anxiously he shrugged off the question with a quick "I've got my recipe." After that, his pace quickened again.

By that time they just reached the ten-foot walls surrounding the college of Uthlyn. As renowned and prestigious as it was in Connlaoth, the proprietors of the college also knew that the secrets locked away within the most brilliant minds of the nation were kept safe. The campus only had several gates leading into the actual college itself, and another inner wall surrounding the tower. At the eastern gate, the guards atop the wall halted the two travelers.

Fletcher, of course, was immediately recognized. But it took a hesitant glance at the dwarf and a lot of thought before he told the guard, "He's with me. My, ah... bodyguard. The city's been rife with thieves and killers lately."

The fellow clammed up at Darjak's question. That was fair enough, some people liked to have some privacy, it just meant the dwarf would have to figure out another way to get him to reveal it. Not that it really mattered if Fetch's recipe was substantially weaker than Darjak's. Ah well, time would tell for that. Still, the man didn't have to look at the dwarf like he was a mad-man for asking an innocuous question. And after he'd saved his life!

They arrived at the college in short order, and Darjak was once again impressed by the size of the building and it's fortifications. The Connlaothians didn't protect anything only half way. The gunsmith introduced the dwarf as his bodyguard at the gates. Darjak was going to complain, he'd just been here earlier and he still had permission to access for another few hours, but he realized it was probably faster to go along with Fletcher on this one. The man was in a hurry and something told the dwarf that the gunsmith wouldn't appreciate the delay it would take for them to verify Darjak's identity and allow him in.

The gate opened and allowed the pair through inside. The dwarf had no idea where to go but Fletch clearly had an objective, so Darjak just followed him.

The buildings left and right were mostly dark, though several of the workshops still glowed at the windows as their occupants worked by candlelight. The streets past the walls of the college, unlike the jumbled labyrinth of Uthlyn, formed a neat hexagonal grid that coalesced on the grand tower, and toward the tower was where Fletcher headed now. The sheer height of the building loomed larger and larger over them the closer they got.

All the buildings nearest the tower were single-storied, and each one had substantial open spaces either before or behind them. Fletcher turned left past the low stone wall of the third building into a paved courtyard that seemed less an open space as it did an engineer's playground. Cannons, some complete and some half built, sat in a neat row across one end, while at the other sat mounds of hay set up with wooden targets, demarcated every ten paces by red paint. The high-roofed workshop resembled a stable and barn, if not for the complicated pulleys crisscrossing several of the doorways. A large unlit furnace and forge sat underneath a low roof on the eastern end.

"Please, don't touch anything," he asked Darjak softly before fumbling in his pocket for a key. The large door swung open after its iron padlock clicked open, revealing the dark interior of Fletcher's workshop, hay strewn about on the ground. There were several large wooden benches, each one littered with tools of all sorts. And on those tables sat wooden stocks, triggers, hollowed barrels, cogs, screws, and everything else imaginable.

He gently lit a candle and carried it over to a small door to the side, reinforced in heavy brass and also chained with a padlock. Opening his vault, he carefully placed the four lockboxes in a corner before picking himself out several more nondescript guns and a coat.

"As you can see," he called over his shoulder while preparing himself, "this is where I work."

Darjak followed Fletcher through the facilities. The beautiful campus tempted the dwarf, just as it had the last time, to open up shop here and continue his research in comfort. He quickly banished the thought. There was no way he'd be satisfied cooped up in a laboratory or workshop all-day. Better to be traveling out in the world searching for new and better materials himself. The peaceful life would be just too boring.

Fletcher turned off into one of the buildings and Darjak followed him. He walked in as if he owned the place, which he probably the dwarf realized in reflection. The man's order not to touch anything made Darjak stew a little. Seriously, Fletcher treated him as if he was a barbarian. He knew better than to touch another craftsmen's supplies and products!

The dwarf watched as the gunsmith armed himself and spoke again, confirming Darjak's suspicions about who owned, or at least inhabited, the workshop. The dwarf laughed. "Certainly beats my workshop." He said. "But then again, you can't take all this on the road with you." The dwarf looked around. Still, it was nice...

He shook the temptation away. "Anyhow, now that you're geared up, what's that about muscle you mentioned?"

((OOC: Seriously though, are we talking about an NPC or is someone else gonna join in? I'm totally fine if you want to recruit another PC,  but I'd like to know beforehand.))

(( I was just going to make up some NPC, but if you want to add someone go right ahead ))


"Down the street," Fletcher grunted as he eyeballed the little vial of blackpowder he kept on a leather string underneath his coat. The measurements of powder he used for his gun were always precise, and a time of crisis like now was no exception. "An old colleague, Klaus. He owes me a favor, and we're bringing him with us. The man knows how to fight."

The gunsmith was equally meticulous in selecting the lead bullets that he kept high on a shelf just inside his locked vault, each one precisely crafted to give him the most accuracy possible with these oft-unreliable guns. Small wonder normal folk could not afford guns, especially his: for an artisan like him, everything had to be perfect.

Finally, he locked the vault back up and turned, ready to go. In place of his other coat was a larger one, thick enough to withstand the elements and to comfortably cover the two long-barreled handguns strapped in leather holsters at his side. He held a third gun in his hand, a longer rifle that seemed so intricately carved that it could have been a sculpture instead of a weapon. Finally, as if an afterthought, a plain shortsword hung from his belt.

((OOC: Nah that's fine))

While Fletcher was preparing his weapons, Darjak took the opportunity to kit himself out as well. After all, not everything was easily accessible in his massive pack.

He dropped the large bag and opened the back pocket. He plucked five blast eggs and three bangsticks out of it and slipped them into pouches on his belt and bandolier. He took the rod he had utilized earlier and slipped it through a loop at his hip and then slipped a couple fuses and some packages of his own black powder into the pockets of his jacket. He secreted a few other useful things into places about his person and pulled out his small bag for sample collection before finally turning to address Fletcher. "Do you mind if I leave this hear for now?" he said hefting his huge pack. He too was ready to set off.

Fletcher was about to protest. He barely knew this man, and didn't want him or his belongings in his workshop. Indeed, Fletcher rarely let anyone into the sanctity of this building, especially when he was trying to focus his attention completely on his craft. And yet he couldn't protest this dwarf leaving his belongings there temporarily. After all (and he couldn't forget it) Darjak had saved his life.

With a nod, he said, "You can come collect it once we're done. My workshop is secure, and the guards patrolling the college are competent enough."

He made sure to lock up his vault, blow out the candles, and then chain shut the large doors of the workshop. One could never be too safe, especially now that war was brewing to the north.

"Turn right when we go out the gate," he said over his shoulder as he put his key into the padlock. "Klaus has a smithy on the other side of the college, near the novice dormitories."

Darjak dropped his pack in a corner and then stepped outside so Fletcher could lock his workshop. This fellow seemed so closed off, like he had so much to hide and protect. No, the dwarf definitely preferred the openness of the road, free from responsibility and able to share his knowledge with the world (Darjak never once considered the danger of giving recipes for explosives to others).

He heard the man's directions and followed them to the letter. It was quiet as the pair walked through the campus. Not just between them, but the entire school itself. Darjak lost himself in his consideration of how much of this new sulfur he should take for experimenting, and before he knew it Fletcher was stopping in front of a smithy. The dwarf took it that this was the Klaus fellows place.

The forge was dark, although the faint remains of cooling embers still littered about the open-air workstation. In contrast, the small building right next to the smithy had light streaming from its single window. Fletcher made his way over to the door and gave it a loud rap.

From inside came a loud "harumph!" and, moments later, the door swung open to reveal a large, bearded man just layered with muscle. His scowl of suspicion lasted all of a second before his brown eyes fell on Fletch. With a cragged grin, he patted the young man on the shoulder.

"Fletch! You should've told me you were comin' over. Everytime I invite to you supper with me and the wife, you refuse... and now you show up so unexpectedly?"

Fletcher gave the man a pat back and said, "I need to call in my favor from you."

Klaus looked between him and the dwarf with a raised brow. "Trouble, eh? Well, you did help me pay for this house..." He glanced back at Darjak. "Who's this? What's the problem?"

The dwarf was impressed with the forge and the house. It shed a positive light on the owner, and Darjak was pretty sure he already liked this man. Fletcher knocked on the door and the fellow came out. He was a big man and a healthy looking one. Darjak was sure he could like this man.

Klaus asked his questions and the dwarf decided to do his best to answer him. He gave a nod of the head and extended his hand towards Klaus. "I'm Darjak, it's a pleasure. Me and Fletcher here have a little problem and Fletch said that you're a reliable fellow who can help us out. Actually, he referred to you as 'muscle.'"

Klaus arched a thick brow and glanced at Fletcher, who conveniently looked away. The big man gave a loud barking laugh. "Muscle... he's never called me that before. But it's true, ain't it?"

He looked between Fletcher and Darjak again. "So trouble, eh?"

Fletcher finally looked back up. "Trouble, down at Silverlight. Some of my guns were stolen."

The smith scoffed. "What, the old sulfur mine? Who'd want to take anything there?"

Darjak shrugged. "I dunno, but Fletch here was attacked by at least five guys. Not very bright, or all that skilled either, but someone paid them off to waylay him."

He smiled knowingly. "Plus, a sulfur mine can be a valuable resource in wartime. The stuff's one of the things you need to make black powder. Anyone assembling a modern army is going to want a supply of it."

Klaus let out another barking laugh and thumbed towards Fletcher. "IF you want to assemble a modern army, you need this man. He's the finest gunsmith in all of the land."

Fletcher frowned and turned a slight shade of red, but said nothing. Besides, the smith's boast on behalf of his smaller friend wasn't true at all. He made guns for the sake of art and science, not so they could be used to kill his fellow countrymen. There were plenty of workshops around dedicated to churning out masses of albeit lower-quality wheel lock rifles. And even then, they were rare enough that a full army of riflemen could never be assembled. The cost was just too high.

"It's precisely that," Fletcher explained to the dwarf. "The mine was abandoned months ago when the war started to grow out of hand. The people here need pairs of hands to plow the fields and gather the crops, not to mine sulfur. I didn't think a single Connlaothian had stepped foot there in weeks."

A slight frown crossed his face as he realized something. "Maybe they wanted me, and not just my guns. But who would want me -- aside from someone with money and power? ANd if that's the case... then the mine might be crawling with his men."

Suddenly, three of them didn't seem like enough muscle at all.

An awkward silence rang out between the three of them at Fletcher's words. After it hung for a few seconds the dwarf cleared it with an *Ahem.* "Well id doesn't really matter how many there so long as they don't see us. No harm in doing a little scouting, right? We don't have to fight them, just figure out who's behind it."

He pulled a map out of his pocket. "The librarian let me copy this map. It shows all the tunnels and routes in the mine. With this I think we can figure out how to stay out of sight."

Fletcher's face grew firm and adamant as he shook his head. "No, we need to get my guns back."

Klaus glanced over at him and gave him a pat on the back, before turning back to Darjak. "Our short friend here is right. If it's teeming with people, then we haven't a hope of retrieving your goods. So let's not get ahead of ourselves, eh Master Fletcher? Let's go with Darjak's plan."

Upon seeing Fletcher's disconcerted frown, the big smith laughed again. "YOU came to get me, remember? So now take my advice when I give it to you."


(( Feel free to control Klaus or any other NPC, by the way ))

Darjak smiled. He'd been right, he did like this smith! He addressed Fletcher. "See, Klaus agrees. Now Fletch, I'm not saying that we don't take the opportunity to take the guns back if we get it, but we should probably see what we're up against. What'ya say, a little ol' fashioned scouting before we launch our all-out assault?"

Fletcher hesitantly nodded his head, but didn't say anything. This sort of thing wasn't his strong suit; give him a workshop and a target any day. Klaus, on the other hand broke into a large grin and said, "Righto, let me go tell the missus that I have an obligation to help Master Fletcher here."

The big smith disappeared into the house. The sound of muffled conversation slowly turned into a serious of shouts, and then Klaus ran back out as the inside of the home echoed with the sound of a metal pot hitting the wall. He grinned sheepishly at the two and said, "She's not happy the dinner'll get cold. Anyway, I have a horse and wagon out back."

Darjak smiled excitably. This could be fun. "We'll let's get this show on the road." He started walking around the house but then stopped as a though struck him. "Are you going to bring anything Klaus?"

The man appeared unarmed, and Darjak wondered if there was anything he needed.

Klaus gestured for them to follow him around the building to a small one-horse stable, outside of which sat a rickety old wagon. He pulled back the tarp covering it and began unloading the few crates still sitting in the back.

"I've got my gear in the shed," he grunted as he worked. Fletcher gave Darjak a glance before stepping forward to help clear the wagon. Between the two of them, they made short work of it.

Klaus disappeared into the stable and reemerged a short time later leading his pack horse by the reins. He was also more fully dressed: a dark cloak over a leather jerkin. At his waist hung a longsword in its scabbard. No doubt he'd forged it himself.

Darjak followed the two men around to the stable. Klaus began clearing out his wagon, and the dwarf definitely would have stepped in to help, but Fletcher beat him to it and he decided that three people would overcrowd the work and just make it go slower. They were done pretty quick anyway.

Klaus left for just a bit and came back outfitted for their expedition. Darjak whistled in appreciation. As a minor metal-worker himself, he recognized quality work when he saw it. This blacksmith knew what he was doing. "Now that there's a fine piece of equipment." He told Klaus.

The blacksmith smiled at the dwarf. "Why thank you. I forged this thing over two months, making sure I got everything just right."

Darjak, his interest piqued, kept the conversation up. "Two months is a while. Did you use a water-powered hammer or hand the whole time?"

It was clear that the two men would have kept going all night talking about craft, but both felt what seemed to be a radiating impatience from Fletcher.

As the big smith ushered his new companions into the back of the wagon, he answered Darjak with a grin. "Hand. It HAS to be by hand."

And so the conversation continued even as Klaus bridled the horse to the wagon and set them off through the streets of Uthlyn. Fletcher sat quietly in the back of the wagon while the others spoke to each other. He spent the bumpy ride inspecting and reinspecting the guns he'd brought, using a small set of tools to make minute adjustments to the tightness of springs and cranks. Slowly the cart rattled along the cobblestone streets and toward the southern edge of town.

Darjak was quite enjoying his conversation with Klaus. He was obviously a man who cared deeply for his craft, something that the dwarf respected. Fletcher was of the same cloth if his workshop was any indication, but the man was far quieter and frankly less fun than Klaus.

After talk of craft was exhausted, Darjak turned to other topics he was curious about. "So, Klaus," he started, "is Fletcher always like this?" He gestured back to the brooding gunsmith.

Klaus shook his head. "No, normally he's pretty friendly and very polite. I think having his guns stolen has left him rattled."

Darjak nodded. That answered his question. Onto the next topic. "So Klaus," the dwarf opened the exact same way as he had done before, "how good are you with that sword?"

They rattled along the cobblestone road, the two in front conversing and the one in pack preparing, and it wasn't long before they were at the city gate. The guards there recognized both Klaus and Fletcher and let the pair through without too much trouble. Apparently both of them were a pretty big deal in Uthlyn.

They rolled through onto the road outside the city. Darjak pulled out one of his maps, ready to provide directions to get to the mine.

His guns weren't going to get any more perfect than now. Though Fletcher had spent the entire ride making sure that nothing would go wrong (after all, regardless of his craftsmanship, the art of gunsmithing was still an experimental process), he knew in his heart that they were as close to perfect as can be. After all, he was Fletcher de Villiers.

As the cart left the city walls behind, he crawled his way up to the wagon's buckboard and leaned his head between the two, to better look at Darjak's maps.

"When the mine was still operating, only the main entrance was really used," he said, pointing down to a corner of the map. A frown creased his face. "But there are other, smaller side tunnels for emergency purposes. For all we know, these vagrants could be using all of them. And who knows what they've done to the existing structures there? The place had been abandoned for so long."

Darjak moved over so Fletcher could get between him and Klaus. He was happy for his input, they were gonna need all the help they could get.

At Fletcher's words, the dwarf nodded thoughtfully. "Well those side tunnels are prob'ly our best bet. I think we should 'bandon the cart and walk the last mile or So. We can stay away from the entrances and scout out each of 'em. Hopefully one is abandoned, and we can see any big changes they've made 'fore we go in. Sound like a plan?"

Klaus nodded, though he kept his eyes on the dirt road. "Works for me. How about you Fletch?"

Fletcher had a grim look on his face, as though he wasn't really prepared for a venture like this. And who could blame him? He spent his days in a workshop, building guns. He never expected to ever have to use one. And as everyone back in Wulfbauer could attest to, he wasn't exactly the best with a sword.

Still, after inwardly convincing himself of the need for this venture, he steeled himself with a firm resolve and nodded his head.

"About three miles from where we are, there will be a fork in the road. The left path leads to several bush trails. We can hide the cart there and walk the rest of the way."

Klaus nodded. "Alright sounds good. You two gotta keep your eyes peeled though, I can't see anything too well in this darkness."

The three men sat in silence for the next half hour or so, looking out into the gloom. In the end, Fletcher was the one who pointed out the turn-off.

Klaus guided the wagon into the path and they went a little ways more before they found a suitable trail to take the cart down. A few minutes more of work had the vehicle stowed and the horse set to rest for now.

The men outfitted themselves quickly, and Darjak once again brandished the map. It was hard to see in the darkness, but it looked like the nearest enterance was just a little ways west of them. The dwarf led the way, gesturing for the two men to follow, silent now, just in case they were closer to the mine than they thought.

The three of them traversed the brush slower than they would've liked, but the darkened skies made it almost impossible to avoid tripping. Indeed, it took all of Fletcher's abilities to even stay on his feet, and to avoid the tree roots and knots that carpeted the ground of this wilderness.

Eventually though, they came to where the tree line ended. In front of them stretched an expanse of clear-cut land across from which a man-made door clearly stood, built into the side of a rock face. That was the entrance to the mines for them.

Unfortunately, between them and the door stood three tents surrounding a small campfire. Fletcher gave a curse under his breath. Klaus did the same at nearly the exact same time.

The mine wasn't as abandoned as they'd hoped.

The sight of the men camped out in front of the entrance was frustrating and Darjak cursed along with the other two men. He checked his map, and the next entrance was a ways south. Silently Darjak gestured, and the three moved quietly through the underbrush.

Until the dwarf stepped on a twig. It broke with a crack, and they stopped. Darjak hissed out a curse, but maybe no one had heard...

Fletcher's eyes widened at the sound of the crack. It was soft enough that perhaps nobody heard them.

No such luck.

"What was that?" came a voice from the campfire, a rough sounding man. Perhaps two or three of them stood up to peer at Fletcher and company in the woods.

"Eh, prob'ly just a wild fox," remarked a second, to which the first countered, "Ain't no foxes make such a ruckus! Go check it out!"

The man grumbled under his breath as he walked towards the tree-line. The three men had taken cover behind some trees, but if they moved, he'd see them. If they killed him, his friends would investigate. Still, better to have a few moments of reprieve than allow him to shout. But how to do it silently...

Klaus took that problem out of Darjak's hands. The other man passed the tree the blacksmith was hiding behind and the big man grabbed him from behind. The blacksmith choked the man out, squeezing his throat so he couldn't get out a sound. In a moment, it was over and Klaus had the unconscious man over his shoulder.

Darjak motioned for the other two to follow him and started going towards the next entrance. Hopefully it would be a while before the other men went to look for their wayward companion. By that time maybe they'd have found a place to stash him and would be inside the mine Darjak hoped it panned out that way.

Fletcher's eyes widened at the display of brutality, and had to press a hand to his mouth to avoid making any noise. His other hand gripped tightly on the stock of his gun, the lacquered wood damp against his sweaty palm. But he kept his mouth shut.

Klaus gave the two of them a knowing look and followed Darjak, the unconscious man slung over his shoulder. Clearly the big smith knew how to handle himself in these situations. It probably wasn't his first time.

Behind them, the voices of the other men around the campfire grew quieter and quieter as they put some distance between them. "Hey Dario, hurry up in there! We said take a look, not take a piss!" came the rapidly fading voice.

The trio kept going through the underbrush, trying to seperate themselves from the camp. They hadn't gotten nearly as far as Darjak would have liked before he heard calls from the camp. It wouldn't be too much longer before the men went to search for their errant comrade.

After what seemed like forever, they arrived at the next entrance to the mine. This one was a much smaller hole in the cliff face, and It should have been inconsequential, but there was a guard standing in front of it. The dwarf cursed.

He heard voices calling from behind him, off in the distance but closer than he would have liked. He looked at Klaus and Fletcher with a question in his eyes. What now?

As if to voice their consternation, Fletcher hissed, "Now what?"

The guard standing by the door looked bored and almost falling asleep. But he was still standing on his feet, hand close enough to his waist to draw a sword quickly. And given that there was at least forty, perhaps fifty feet of open space between the thick underbrush in which the three of them hid and the door, no doubt the man would spot them the moment they left the safety of the trees.

Klaus peered down at Fletcher's gun. "You could shoot him from here. They'll hear us down the way. But if he raises the alarm, our cover is blown anyway."

"We could look for the next door," Fletcher whispered back.

"There's no time for that!"

Darjak came to a decision. Decisive action was necessary. "Klaus, Fletcher," he hissed, "I'm gonna draw off the guard. You two run inside while he's distracted. I'll find another way in. Good luck!"

He didn't leave the men time to complain. He chucked the rolled up map at Fletcher and the sprinted through the underbrush going away from the door and his friends. He did his best to make a loud racket as he did so. When he was pretty far from his two friends he started shaking the bushes loudly, amplifying the noise even further.

The guard heard all the ruckus, and squinted his eyes with suspicion. Something weird was going on. He started walking towards the bushes and the source of the sound. Then the nose started getting further away. "Hey!" he shouted. The guard ran into the underbrush. Something was making that noise and he needed to find out what.

Meanwhile, the group of three who had left camp to find Dario heard the sound as well, and they began converging on it's point of origin.

Darjak kept running as quick as he could. Maybe if he got far enough away, those in the mine wouldn't hear the explosions that would be soon to follow after the guards found him.

"Wait, Darjak!" Fletcher hissed, but before he knew it the dwarf was gone.

Moments later the guard, alerted to the sound of rustling in the bushes, stepped away from his post to investigate. He could hear the shouting fade off into the distance as the man chased after the elusive dwarf. Moments later, the three men from the first door ran past them, their quickened breaths and loud footsteps breaking the silence of the forest.

Once they too were gone, Fletcher gave Klaus a slight unsure frown, before hefting up his gun. "C'mon, let's go! He'll be fine, the dwarf knows how to take care of himself!"

And with that, they sprang from the brush and sprinted for the now unguarded door leading into the mine.

Darjak ran through the underbrush, trading stealth now for full speed, but his pursuers were cacthing up to him. Frankly they just had longer legs so he was at a disadvantage. The darkness was working for him, but he knew that they would soon overtake him. Oh well, maybe he was far enough away so those in the mine wouldn't hear the booms.

Darjak slid to a stop and pulled out one of his blast eggs. He hid behind a tree, exposing only his head, and waited for some of the pursuers to run into sight. Soon, two of them burst from the underbrush into sight. Both men were wearing black cloaks, and they were armed with rusty swords. They stopped momentarily, and began looking around them, probably because the noise they were chasing had ceased.

"Where'd it go?" one of them asked, looking around or the source of the rustling. Something suspicious was in the underbrush and Dario had vanished. Weird things were going on and they needed to get to the bottom of...

The man's thought process was interrupted by the sight of something sailing out of the trees. It was attached to a bright light, and it was flying right towards them...

From behind his tree, Darjak watched with a manic glee. He loved this part. The bomb exploded with a massive *bang,* and all hell broke loose in the forest. Just the way he dwarf liked it.

The distant explosion made Fletcher jump right as they reached the unguarded door leading into the mine. There was an old rusty padlock on it, but with a heavy blow from the pommel of Klaus's blade, the piece of metal shattered to the ground. They swung the door open to the darkness.

A tunnel leading deep into the mines loomed before them, pitch black.

Before Klaus stepped through, Fletcher stopped him. "Wait! What about the dwarf?"

Darjak watched gleefully as his blast egg tore through the pair of men. Two down. Judging from the lack of screaming, down for good. The noise immediately attracted the attention of the other pursuers, and it also drew notice from the men at the camp, who sent five more people to check out the odd noise.

Darjak maintained his hiding place and waited. He was sure that more would soon come by to investigate...

There. Another man came out of the trees. The dwarf lit up another egg, and eagerly tossed it at the man. A little too eagerly. The weapon flew to fast and shattered on the ground before the explosive could go off.

The man shouted in surprise, but he was able to track the source of the projectile. He ran towards the tree with is sword brandished.

Darjak pulled one of his bangsticks from his bandolier and stepped out of cover. The man was close enough for him to use the weapon, and use it he did. He pointed the business end of his contraption at the onrushing man and pressed down on the enchanted nail on the weapon's side. The permanently  heated nail dug into the bang powder charge in the metal tube and sent a fiery blast out the open end of the contraption.

The flames and shrapnel came pouring out of the weapon and tore through the charging man. He went down with barely a scream.

Darjak stuffed the spent device in his bandolier and began running away again. Time to set up once more. He just hoped he ran out of enemies before he ran out of powder...

The continued explosions indicated that the dwarf still lived. But for how long he could last, neither Fletcher nor Klaus could tell. And they could only hold this door open for so long before the bandits noticed their presence. With a frantic scowl, Fletcher called out into the wilderness, "DARJAK! COME ON!"

Of course, his shout alerted one of the men who had just ran past their position in his pursuit of the dwarf. He spun around just in time to catch a glimpse of Fletcher standing outside the now unlocked mine door, and the big smith behind him propping it open. Their eyes met for a brief moment.

And then, automatically reacting to his own rapidly beating heart, Fletcher hastily lifted the sights of his gun and aimed it at the man. Even in the heat of the moment, his hands remained steady and true. A shoddier gun might have missed from this distance, but his impeccable craftsmanship showed itself when he squeezed the trigger. With a loud bang and an immense burst of white smoke, the gun discharged its lead projectile at the gaping bandit. He dropped without a word.

"SHIT, SHIT, SHIT," Fletcher repeated as he dropped to a knee and hastened to reload his gun. Surely the dwarf had heard the shot. And surely others had as well.

Darjak tore through the underbrush, in what direction he didn't know. The mad escape had left him lost and turned about in the forest, and he wandered aimlessly, attempting to throw of his pursuers. He needed to figure out what to do soon, or he was going to be in trouble...

Something broke him out of his musings. A noise, and a loud one. It was a gunshot. Fletcher. The sound was pretty close, judging by it's volume, and Darjak realized that he must have run full circle and was near that same entrance again. Still, gunfire didn't mean it had to be Fletcher. One of his pursuers might have a gun.

But no, Darjak knew that it was his allies. The sound of the shot was familiar, the same powder he'd heard used earlier on the street in Uthlyn. He could tell, even at this distance that the noise was an exact match, meaning it was the same powder.

The dwarf cursed. What were those two doing? They were supposed to be going inside while he made a distraction!

That plan was ruined now, and the gunshot would draw the men from the camp to Fletcher and Klaus. Darjak made a decision. He turned and started running towards the direction that the shot had came from.

It wasn't long before he burst out of the underbrush in front of that same entrance. Sure enough, there were Fletcher and Klaus holding the passageway open. He made a beeline for the door, hoping that there weren't too many pursuers behind him.

Klaus stood at the door, propping it open. There was a frown on his face. "We gettin' your guns back or not? I'm giving the dwarf half a minute."

No sooner was that said though, did Darjak burst out of the brush toward them. Fletcher's eyes widened and he pointed in that direction. "THERE HE IS!"

Unfortunately, following closely on his heels were two angry-looking bandits, both with their rusty blades drawn and sprinting after the dwarf. Their long legs were quickly gaining ground. Hastily, Fletcher hoisted up his newly-reloaded gun and quickly took aim. The explosive shot flew over Darjak's shoulder and took the one man right off his feet. The other was still gaining ground though as Fletcher desperately tried to reload it. Even with his blazing speed, there was no way he could prime another shot before the man had cut the dwarf down.

Fletcher's shot whizzed over Darjak's shoulder and the dwarf heard a scream behind him. One down. He kept going hoping that he'd reach the door before the man behind him could catch up.

He had no such luck. He was almost there when the fellows poorly kept blade bit into his shoulder. The blow was a stab that pierced him through the shoulder. The bandit had been aiming for a more central spot on Darjak's back, but his aim was thrown off by the sight of a massive brute of a man charging at him with a massive longsword.

Klaus, seeing that the dwarf was in danger and that Fletcher was reloading, left the door to the gunman and charged forward to assist Darjak. He brandished his sword with and experienced hand, and swung at the bandit as soon as he was in range.

For his part, Darjak kept running despite the wound in his shoulder, and with his forward motion he pulled the blade out of his upper body. The weapon's wielder was preoccupied trying to block Klaus' massive overhand blow, meaning that he didn't really want his sword still stuck in the dwarf anyway.

The bandit tried to stop the crushing assault, but his poorly maintained weapon shattered under the blacksmiths well-kept blade. The force of it sent the man sprawling, and Klaus turned and ran rather than take the time to finish the job. More men were coming out of the trees.

Despite Darjak's lead, Klaus still beat him to the door, though both were through before any more bandits could reach them. They sealed the door as quickly as they could, but they couldn't stop here. The dwarf took the lead and had them go deeper into the mine. "Come on," he hissed, "we got to find a place to hide or somethin'." He winced as he spoke, his shoulder really hurt, but he wanted to be somewhere safer before trying to treat it.

As the door closed behind him, Fletcher found himself enveloped in darkness. A quiet panic quickly set in as he grasped onto his guns under one arm and tried to feel his way around with the other. Without the benefit of light, he couldn't see a damn thing.

"DARJAK!" he hissed in the darkness, blindly groping in front of him. "I can't see! We need a light!"

Behind him, he could hear Klaus having the same human problem as him. Obviously, the smith was a bit louder in his blindness, cursing every time he bumped into something.

Darjak couldn't see any better than his allies, and he agreed with Fletcher quite loudly. "I know, but I can't move my left arm right." He'd been trying for sometime to pull some pitch out of his pack, but he couldn't contort his arms properly to reach it, injured as he was. "I can't get my stuff outta my pack, and I don't have a piece of wood to light up for a torch anyway. All I've got for burnin' is a bottle o' pitch."

Mentally the dwarf berated himself. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten to bring a lantern, he'd known he was going to a mine. How could he be so stupid?!

"I don't suppose one of you's got a big piece of wood or something we can light up?" he asked his two allies.

"Well, Fletcher has those guns of his," Klaus suggested, which elicited an angry gasp of "WHAT?!" from the gunsmith. His voice echoed against the stone walls lining either side of their pitch black path. Quickly, he pressed a hand to his mouth to silence himself.

Once the echo died down, he whispered fervently, "Like hell I'm lighting my guns on fire! Do you know how much time and effort goes into making these things? This isn't a rocking horse, it's a finely tuned machine. Just... look around for some wood lying on the ground. It's a mine, they'll have to have reinforced these tunnels."

Fletcher's words made Darjak snap his fingers. "Hey, that makes sense. Alright guys, I'm stopping and kneeling so I can feel around with my hands, please don't step on me." So saying, Darjak crouched down so he could place his hands on the rocky floor of their environment.

He was still searching, when he heard a sharp cracking noise, and Klaus' voice calling out, whispering through the darkness. "Hey I got something guys." he called. "I brushed by something on the wall and it fell off. I picked it up, and I think it's a wooden plank or something.

Klaus' words made Darjak's blood run cold. How old were these mineshafts again? "Klaus?" he called back. "How much force did you hit that thing with?"

Klaus reply echoed through the cave, "Not much, why?"

"Blast it all!" was the response he got from Darjak. "Neither of you move. Klaus, you prob'ly just broke one of the supports holding this place up. I'll bet the planks supporting this part of the mine are prob'ly ancient and rottin' through. I don't know how sound this place is structurally, so you fella's gotta make as little disturbance as you can."

What were they going to do? He didn't know how much danger they were in. Was it just the one supporting strut that Klaus had hit, or were they all weak. Was that even what Klaus had broken off? There were too many unknowns.

He was starting to feel something close to panic setting in when his strong dwarven eyes perceived the light at the end of the tunnel. Literally. It was probably too faint for his human friends to see it, but he could make out the faintest echo of light on the rocks around them, and he could trace it's source. "You know what? I think I see light," he called back to his two companions, "I'ma gonna go towards it. Follow the sound of ma voice, and try your best to avoid the walls and supporting struts and such."

Darjak began slowly, painstakingly making his way along the tunnel, guided by a light he was only half sure he saw, humming all the way so his friends could follow him.

"See? What do you see? I can't see a damn thing!" Fletcher whispered loudly, his voice bouncing off the stone walls. Nonetheless, he held his hands out in front of him, blindly groping for a wall and trying to follow the sound of the dwarf's voice.

Darjak could definitely see light now, he was sure of it. "Hey guys, I'm sure there's some light up ahead. Follow my humming." He started emitting a short but repeating tune as he walked, trying to keep it as quiet as possible to avoid their enemies hearing it, but also trying to make it loud enough for his allies to hear.

Eventually Fletcher bumped into the back of Klaus, and both men gave surprised grunts.

"Watch where you're going," the smith hissed, to which the gunsmith responded, "Watch WHAT? I can't see a damn thing! I don't know what the hell light Darjak is talking about."

Nevertheless they cautiously followed the dwarf's soft humming and, soon, it became apparent that there WAS a light up the tunnel.

And voices.

Darjak perceived the light earlier than his two friends, but he didn't hear the voices until a little bit later than them. Better eyesight but worse hearing.

He quit his low tone immediately after he heard the voices, and he stopped his movement. Hopefully Klaus and Fletcher would quit going forward as well now that they lost his humming. Maybe they'd heard the voices already.

There was just enough light coming into the tunnel to see a little bit, so Darjak turned to look behind him. He thought that he could just barely make out what might be the forms of his allies. He couldn't tell if they were moving or not, or even if it was them, and there was no way he could be sure if they could see him, but he held up his hand in a "stop" gesture just in case they could.

Apparently they didn't notice the cessation of humming, for Klaus walked right into Darjak. A moment later, Fletcher walked right into Klaus.

"Ouch!" he hissed, "why did we stop?"

And then Fletcher realized what was up ahead and instantly tensed up. Unconsciously, one of his rifles flew into his hand, ready at a moment's notice to fire. He still couldn't see anything, but the noises were clearly, if faintly, audible by now.

Darjak almost fell over when Klaus ran into him, but he managed to stay upright and silent, other then a small hiss of pain when the blacksmith came in contact with his wounded shoulder. The wound had fallen to a dull ache, but it came back thoroughly now. He was going to have to treat it as soon as possible.

He listened to hear ahead, trying to figure out if anyone had heard their minor commotion.

Faintly, he heard the voices, "Hey, did you hear something?"

And another: "I dunno. Do you wanna check it out?"

Darjak caught his breath. Not this again! He started looking around, looking for some sort of side passage or recess for them to duck into, but it was hard even for him to see with the low levels of light that were currently filtering into the passageway they were in.

((OOC: Well what say you Cambie? Does he want to check it out?))

"Check what out?" the first voice replied with an irritated snort. A small chorus of laughs joined in with the voice. "It's a mine, the only things down here are moles and rats. And seein' as all the rats are around this here lantern, it must be a mole."

Who you callin' a rat?" the second offended voice said, to another chorus of laughter.

So that's what the light was. A small lantern around which a small crew of these bandits were gathered. Were they the ones holding his guns? Or was this just one crew among many within this mine system? Fletcher tried to recall what he knew about these tunnels, but he couldn't remember ever reading up on them. For all he knew, they honeycombed the entirety of this general area.

But if he was to retrieve his prized possessions... well, he had to get past this crew.

"We've got the element of surprise, let's get these boys," he whispered under his breath, hefting his gun up. Without waiting for a response, he felt his way around both Klaus and Darjak, and began sneaking forward.

Darjak let out the breath he'd been holding at the men's words. They were safe for now. It looked like they were well outside the lamp's light, but they could see the men clearly. It looked like there were four of them, though there could be more.

He heard Fletcher's whisper, and then felt Fletcher slip past him. Only afterwards did he register what Fletcher had said. He made a grab for his friend's clothing, but it was to no avail. The gunsmith was already past him. "Fletcher! He whispered urgently. What are you doing?"

He followed his ally reluctantly down the tunnel. How were they gonna do this quietly?

Behind the two, Klaus followed him, his longsword coming at ready.

Fletcher either paid no attention to the dwarf, or did not hear his frantic whispers. Indeed, he already had his gun hefted up, and his finger hovered over the trigger. Without warning he burst out of the shadows and gave a fevered shout of, "DON'T ONE OF YOU MOVE!"

The four men sitting around the lantern all turned to him in surprise; evidently none of them had heard the footsteps until Fletcher finally revealed himself.

With a curse under his breath, Klaus also emerged from the shadows, longsword in hand.

When Fletcher stepped into the light and made his demand, Darjak almost slapped his head into with palm. He generally approved of recklessness, but this seemed to be utter stupidity.

Now, to be fair, Darjak had little experience with just how afraid guns made people, so he was actively surprised when, indeed, none of the bandits moved.

"Well I'll be darned," he whispered as he stepped into the light hefting one of his bangsticks. He tried to look as menacing as possible, but he decided to leave the talking to Fletcher. He seemed to know what he was doing. Darjak could hope.

As it were, this was as far as Fletcher's boldness took him. Having surprisingly found that the bandits acquiesced to his demand for stillness, he froze in place. The gun was still pointed directly at the head of one of the bandits, whose look of fear was evident on his face.

Not knowing what to do next, he shot Darjak and Klaus a questioning look. "Now what do we do?"

Fletcher's words elicited looks of confusion and concern from Darjak. He didn't know? How could Fletcher not know? He was the one who had gotten them into this situation!

What could they do? Some of the men were looking about now, eyeing discarded weapons and judging distances. Darjak made a snap decision. When you don't know what to do, pretend that you do. That usually worked. "Alright men, unless you wanna get shot by my trigger-happy friend here," he pointed at Fletcher, "you're going to, uh, well..." he trailed off.

"Gag each other!" he shouted suddenly, picking up his dropped sentence moments later. "And this fellow here," he gestured toward Klaus, "is gonna to tie ya up. Any complaints are going to be rewarded with a sword through the belly, right?" he directed his question at Klaus.

The big man said nothing and instead nodded while grinning. He held is sword menacingly and swung it a few times for emphasis. The bandits looked nervously at the sharp blade and gulped a little bit.

It was only the work of a few minutes for the men to gag each other and for Klaus to tie them up. They hadn't thought to bring any rope, but fortunately for them the bandits had.

While they were at work doing that, Darjak had taken to bandaging his shoulder. He had some clean linens in his pack, and now that he had light, he could tie them tightly around the wound to stem the bleeding, just like his friend had shown him.

He finished up right about when Klaus tightened the last not. Darjak looked at the row of bound and gagged men, and then turned to his compatriots. "Well that went rather well, wouldn't ya say?"

Fletcher didn't say a word as Darjak commanded the men to go about tying themselves up. Truth be told, he was internally grateful that the dwarf knew how to take command of the situation because he hadn't thought it through. What was he going to do, shoot one man and then get stabbed while trying to reload his gun?

You're an idiot, he thought to himself.

Once the deed was done, though, the four bandits sat huddled together in the flickering light of the lantern. Fletcher allowed his gun to lower now, though he still held it close by and cautiously. Stepping forward, he roughly grabbed the rag around the nearest man's mouth and yanked it down.

"Right, so now you're going to tell me where my guns are, and how I can go about getting them back. You tell me, and I won't have my crazy dwarf friend here stick one of his explosives down your throat."

((OOC: You leaving this to me Cambie? You can control the NPCs too you know O.o))

Fletcher's words made Darjak heft his bangstick suggestively. He grinned wide and put more mania into the expression than usual. "I can think o' better places to put them than THAT Fletcher..."

The bandits visibly gulped. "I dunno nothin' about nothin' specific-like," one of their number opened up, "but chances are it's with the rest of the gear we all been picking up. We've got an armory near the front o' the mine. That's probably what you're lookin' for."

His last few words were frantic, as during the speech, the dwarf and his explosive had inched closer to the men in the most menacing way possible.

"The front of the mine? Lovely, that's probably where the rest of them are camped," Fletcher moaned, burying his head in an open hand. He should have alerted the proper authorities, rather than go gallivanting along with this dwarf he barely knew.

He looked to the other bandits and eyed them warily. "Is what he says true?"

The second bandit whose gag was removed only scowled at the three of them and spat at their feet. "I ain't sayin' nothing," he snarled and lurched forward. Klaus caught him before he could go very far.

"That'll be enough of that," Klaus said as he replaced the man's gag. Turning back to the first, clearly nervous bandit, the smith crouched down beside him and said, "Is that the truth of it? Because this crazy dwarf seems like he means business."

Yeah the bandit's eyes darted wildly from Fletcher to Darjak to the serious-looking metal stick in the dwarf's hand. "That's where we been puttin' most of the stuff. I mean, I guess our really valuable hauls go to the boss. He's further in the back of the mine. It could be there, maybe?"

Klaus re-gagged the man and looked at Darjak and Fletcher. "So where do you wanna check first?"

"Let's go to..." Fletcher began, before realizing he was speaking in the presence of these bandits, notwithstanding the fact they were all bound and gagged. He ushered his companions off to the side and mumbled under his breath.

"My guns are certainly valuable goods, so the boss'll have them. I think. Besides, there's probably fewer of them in the back than there is at the front. And who knows, maybe they'll have..."

With am embarrassed look, Fletcher turned to Darjak and slowly asked, "I forgot, what are you looking for again?"

Fletcher's words caused Darjak to look up in surprise. He laughed a little. "Don't worry 'bout it Fletcher. I kinda forgot 'bout it too." The dwarf thought back. "Sulfur," he said, "there are supposed to be sullfur deposits in this mine and I wanted to check them out."

He shrugged. "They'll be in the back of the mine though, so we might as well head there anyway." He started off, taking the lead, but he once they were out of earshot from the bandits he stopped again. "Hey, you two still have my map, right? I think we're gonna want that soon."

"I have it," Fletcher replied as he fumbled in his pack for the parchment. They had left the lantern with the three bound bandits, and the only light left where they were emanated faintly from that little room far behind them. In the dark, Fletcher was once again forced to use his sense of touch to find it.

"I hope you have good eyes," he muttered as his hand finally found it and drew it out of his pack. In the course of things, a slight corner of the map ripped, eliciting a low curse from the gunsmith.

"This is ridiculous, we can't even see where we're going!"

Fletcher bumbling caused Darjak to groan. "Let's go back to the light, we'll be able to see better that way. And now that I think about it, I don't think we outta leave that lantern with our new 'friends' anyway, might make it easier for 'em to escape."

He started walking but turned to Klaus as he went. "You're sure that they're not gonna get outta those knots you put 'em in, right?"

Klaus nodded. "Oh I'm positive. Those things will keep them pinned forever."

The dwarf nodded. "And did anyone remember to check the lot of 'em for blades?"

Klaus, and Darjak looked at each other, the look on both their faces saying no, and the pair turned to Fletcher.

Fletcher also stared back at them, his eyes wide as he slowly shook his head. Behind them, the soft sound of a knife sawing through rope echoed through the silence.

The first of the bandits managed to cut through his bonds and tossed the knife to the next man before yanking the cloth gag from his mouth.

"Yer gonna pay for that!" he snarled.

((OOC: Apologies for any typos, phone post))

Darjak didn't wait for even a half a second. He sprinted back along the tunnel pulling out a bangstick as he went. He arrived just as the first man who had freed himself was stooping to retrieve a sword, and the dwarf clocked the bandit in the back of the knee with the metal rod in his hand.

The fellow collapsed, howling and clutching his wounded knee, and the dwarf took the opportunity to club the man senseless while he was down. It didn't take him long to finish the action, but by the time he was done two more bandits had freed and armed themselves.

They approached Darjak with weapons drawn and the dwarf backed down the tunnel away from them. "Fletcher, Klaus, I could use a little help over here!" Maybe the gunsmith's weapons would dissuade the bandits again.

And as the gunsmith and his blacksmith friend ran to assist Darjak, Fletcher raised his rifle up to his shoulder and pointed to the nearest man, the one holding the dagger.

"You drop that knife or I'll shoot!" he warned. This time though, the bandit didn't seem to be buying that threat at all. In fact, he gave a yellow-toothed snarl and took a single step toward Fletcher, knife brandished in the faint lamplight.

The entire cavern way echoed with a deafening explosion as Fletcher discharged the gun in a massive puff of acrid smoke. Instantly he winced and dropped down to one knee as the noise ricocheted off the stone walls and disoriented him. The others likewise did the same.

Except for the one bandit, who remained standing for another moment before toppling to the ground, blood leaking from the exit wound in the middle of his chest.

The entire cavern rung like a bell as the noise of the discharge ricocheted around the enclosed space. Darjak was among one of the first to recover, he was used to loud noises and a little bit deaf anyway, and he took the small amount of time to beat another bandit into unconsciousness with his bangstick.

The final bandit tried to intervene on his fellow's behalf, but Klaus was there sword in hand to stop him. The bandit raised his sword for a downward strike at Darjak, but the blacksmith drove his blade through the man's neck to stop him. The man made a few awkward gargling noises before falling backwards off of Klaus' bloodstained weapon.

Darjak nodded in thanks to the blacksmith and then looked to Fletcher. "Well what now? That shot is gonna bring ev'ry bandit in dis mine right here."

Fletcher's ears were still ringing from the noise, and still very much disoriented from it. Unlike his companions, he clearly had never been in a combat this up close. In his half-deaf state, he could almost clearly hear his heart thumping in his chest.

It took a moment for him to digest Darjak's words and actually find some meaning to them. His brows furrowed slightly as he slowly climbed back to his feet, head pounding. "I... I don't know. What do we do?"

They could continue to the cave's front. Or to the back, where the leaders were likely to be. Or to... wherever. He couldn't even begin to think of a plan of action.

Darjak saw that Fletcher was confused, but frankly he had no clue either. His brow furrowed in concentration, what could they do?

Out of the three, the first one to speak was Klaus. The blacksmith spoke up, taking charge of the situation. "We go deeper. The leaders are likely to be there. Maybe if we capture one of them, they can get us out of here. I think that's out best chance right now."

Darjak thought about the idea, but he only needed a moment to see the validity of the plot. "Aight then, let's do it. Deeper it is."

And so saying, Darjak grabbed the map, identified the nearest tunnel that brought them further into the mine, and began leading them towards it.

Fletcher was still looking pale and disoriented, his eyes drifting down to the dead bodies at his feet. A small stream of blood trickled toward him, and he inched backwards away from it.

Klaus gave him a pat on the shoulder and a slight grin. "A couple more, and you'll be a seasoned vet," the big blacksmith said with a comforting smile. "C'mon, let's go get your guns."

With a silent nod, Fletcher followed him and the dwarf deeper into the cave tunnels, this time aided by the faint light of the bandits' oil lamp. He spent the time reloading his guns, which gave him some sort of comfort throughout it all. Thirty seconds of it, at least. It wasn't long before his weapons were primed and ready again.

The tunnles seemed to continue on forever, and even with the map, Darjak wasn't one-hundred percent sure he knew where they were at any given time. He kept quiet, trying to limit their noise output to decrease the chances of them being found. More than once he heard activity down a side-tunnel or from a ways behind them, but they didn't run full-on into anybody, which was good.

Eventually, they started reaching an area of the mine that was unlit. Darjak grabbed one of the torches off the wall from further back and gestured for Klaus to do the same. He didn't think Fletcher should grab one, the man probably needed both hands in case of a fight. "I think we be gettin' close guys," the dwarf whispered as they moved along the darkened tunnel. "A few more turns and we should be in this big cavern here," Darjak indicated a spot on the map. "Keep yer guards up, till we know what we're up against."

Fletcher didn't have to think twice about obeying that command. He shouldered one gun and clutched the other one tightly in his hand, staying within the flickering torch light and as close to his two companions as possible. A turn here, a turn there. He never strayed far.

And just like Darjak had said, the next corner they turned led down a narrow tunnel that slowly opened wider and wider until it emptied into a massive cavern. Evidently miners had long since tunneled this far, because the cavern was filled with stacked crates, both open and unopen, wooden winches and cranes, and a crisscross of crude tracks leading down other tunnels, with several unused mine carts sitting quietly in the shadows.

The entire place reeked of sulfur, and in the soft torchlight small traces of the stuff was visible in the cavern walls.

Klaus let out a low whistle and mumbled under his breath, "Look'it that. It's like walking into an alchemist's dream."

Klaus' whistle was complimented by one of Darjak's own. The blacksmith wasn't kidding, this place was incredible. All other thoughts suddenly shelved, the dwarf ran over to one of the caver walls where the yellow rock was prevalent.

He pulled his pack off his back and started fishing for some equipment. He'd already pulled out a strong-looking spade and a chisel when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at Klaus, who was shaking his head. "This is definitely the place," the blacksmith started speaking, "but probably not the time for that. Let's deal with our other problems before w-"

The blacksmith suddenly stopped speaking, and he had a look of concentration on his face. "Quick, hide!" he hissed urgently. "Sounds like someone's coming." So saying, the big man leapt behind one of the mining carts and crouched down to minimize his profile.

Darjak looked about him for a few moments before picking a likely looking crate. The wooden box was open, empty, and the lid was nearby. Perfect. The dwarf jumped into the crate and pulled the top after him so that he was covered.

Always just a step or two behind his more seasoned companions, Fletcher was the last to scramble backward and hide behind a stack of crates, clutching the wheel-lock rifle tightly in his grip as if ready to fire it again in these tight confines. Not that the massive cavern was small in any sense. The light from their little lantern barely reached the outer walls.

The lantern.

"Oh, sh-" Fletcher began, before clamping a hand over his own mouth. It was too late to rush back out and retrieve the flickering light as the voices from down another tunnel grew louder and louder.

Darjak heard a muffled noise outside of his hiding spot, the beginnings of a curse, and he lifted the lid of the crate so he could look at what had elicited the words.

Then he had to muffle a curse as well. The torches. He and Klaus had both left their torches on the floor of the cavern. He was about to jump out to try and put them out when he saw the shadows of the approaching bandits on the tunnel wall.

He ducked back into his hiding place, and hoped that their enemies didn't find anything amiss. He heard footsteps, at least four sets of but probably more, and then voices. 'What the heck are these torches doing lying here?" said one.

"I dunno, but something ain't right," he heard another. "Look around guys, let's find out what's going on here."

Fletcher held his breath even as his heart thumped wildly in his chest. When the mercenaries spied the torches and voiced their suspicion, he could've just died then. He certainly wasn't cut out for this sort of work.

Luckily (or not), the next little noise did not come from him. Klaus, in an effort to back farther up toward the jagged stone wall, swung his elbow a little too quickly and bumped a small wooden crate.

With a loud echoing clatter, it fell to the ground.

The clatter caused everything in the room to fall still for a moment. Then, with the rasping sound of metal on leather, the mercenaries drew their assorted knives, swords, and other weapons. Darjak bit back a curse. He couldn't see what was going, on, but the sounds were enough to make an educated guess. Looked as if there was no easy way out of this.

Slowly, praying that the mercenaries' attention was focused on the sound from the other side of the cavern, Darjak pushed the wooden lid of his crate up and off. He kept hold of it and set it silently on the stone floor. None of the six men, it looked like six as far as he could see, noticed his action. Instead, they were intent on slowly surrounding the area where the clatter had come from.

As quietly as possible, the Dwarf extricated himself from the box. His efforts were assisted a lot by the scuffling sound of the mercenaries moving feet as they positioned themselves. Still being as silent as possible, Darjak pulled his metal poker from his belt and readied it. He approached the nearest mercenary, ready to smash his weapon into the man's spine as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

The opportunity came in the form of Klaus himself, who stood up from behind the crate and offered the mercenaries a lopsided grin. "Evenin' my friends, didn't see you there. Don't let me take up your time, I'll just be on my way!" His hand slid to his side, ready to pull out his own blade.

Fletcher heard the sound and poked his head from behind his hiding spot, just in time to see a growling mercenary step past him and toward the blacksmith. His eyes then spotted Darjak slowly sliding up behind one of them.

Their eyes met.

Despite the pounding in his chest, he gave the dwarf a resolute nod before inserting his spanner into a slot on his gun, and turning it. The small 'click' told him that it was ready to be fired.

Klaus' appearance elicited shouts of shock and anger from the bandits. Almost at the exact same time Darjak brought his poker down on the top of the back man's spine. The bandit crumpled to the ground, howling in pain and obviously incapacitated.

The screams behind them made the other five men turn their heads, and Klaus chose that moment to strike, unsheathing his blade and thrusting it through the nearest bandit in one smooth movement. That bandits scream of pain made the four remaining men turn again, but this time the two nearest to Darjak looked immediately back to the Dwarf.

Four bandits left, not bad odds, thought Darjak. Especially because they still had Fletcher in hiding, waiting to strike...

Fletcher didn't fire impulsively this time, clearly remembering what had happened the last time. Instead, he waited for the nearest man to come by his crate before leaping out with an awkward war cry and swiping at the man with the butt of his gun.

It barely grazed the man's head and left him stumbling away clutching his temple and shouting obscenities. It also left Fletcher standing in the open holding the butt of a firearm, having exposed himself to the others.

Fletcher's clumsy attack was aimed at one of the men facing off with Darjak, and the bandit, seeing the firearm and recognizing the danger it presented shouted "Careful fella's, he's gotta gun!"

One of the bandits standing near Klaus turned to see Fletcher relatively nearby and he switched targets, raising his sword and charging at the gunsmith. The blacksmith tried to stop the man, but the other bandit stood between them, providing interference for his ally.

On the other side of the cavern, Darjak was similarly zoned, doing his best to fight the unwounded bandit while the other one recovered his senses from the grazing hit to his head.

Having realized the stupidity of using his gun for anything other than its purpose as a gun, Fletcher instinctively took a step back even as the bandit began approaching him with a gleaming weapon. The first swing nearly took his head off, but he had enough wit in him to turn and dash behind a bunch of crates, fumbling to right his gun so that he could fire it.

When he looked up again, he saw the bandit chasing after him. He also noticed the short bearded man with a dagger flanking Darjak, just out of his line of vision. "BEHIND YOU!" he shouted as he dashed away from his pursuer and toward the dwarf. Better two of them fight together than be separated.

Darjak heard the gunsmith's warning just in time. He turned around and brought up his poker to deflect the bandit's sword swing. Sensing that his former opponent was about to take advantage of Darjak's turned back, the dwarf forced himself on his opponent, using his huge strength to drive the bandit backwards.

The man fell backwards and the dwarf pushed past him to join up with Fletcher. "That were a risky move," he told his ally as he positioned himself to cover the gunsmith's back.

"Yeah, I figured it was," Fletcher replied with a grimace, holding his gun close to his chest. "I'm not an expert in this sort of stuff, you know. I just make guns!"

The freshly fallen bandit climbed back to his feet with a growl, but hesitated when he faced the barrel of a wheel-lock rifle pointed right at his face.

"Now what?" Fletcher muttered out of the corner of his mouth as he kept his aim at the man. The gunsmith didn't even dare look around to see what dangers still existed around them. He could hear Klaus's barrel-chested voice somewhere, but it seemed far away.

"Well the way I see it we've got two options." the dwarf growled back. "We fight it out here an' hope that we wipe these fools out 'fore they can go callin' anyone else, or we surrender and hope they keep us alive and kickin' long 'nough for us to do somethin.'"

As he was talking the dwarf deflected two more sword swings. The bandit who had been attacking Fletcher had redirected his efforts at Darjak, and he wasn't giving the dwarf an easy time of it.

From what he could see of the rest of the cavern, the other two bandits we're attacking Klaus. They blacksmith was holding his own for now, but Darjak was unsure how the fight would end. He didn't really have time to worry either, as another sword-swing from his opponent came swinging down.

"If we surrender, they'll just kill us!" Fletcher replied fearfully, staying with his back against the dwarf's. His gun was still pointed at one man, who kept his distance, watching with wary eyes. The other three were busy, but that still meant four men to their three -- and he hardly knew how to fight.

"By Ansgar, I really went over my head here," he mumbled before shouting "KLAUS, GET OVER HERE!"

"I'm a bit busy!" the blacksmith growled back at him as he menacingly swung his sword to keep the two men on him at bay. Slowly, he began to maneuver around them, at least so that he might have a chance to dash to the pair, if he could get past the one man facing Fletcher.

The situation seemed to be growing ever more desperate, and the dwarf eyes one of his remaining bangsticks critically. They said that desperate times called for desperate measures, but this was gonna be really really loud...

And dangerous too.

Ah well, loud and dangerous were the ways Darjak lived his life. The dwarf elbowed Fletcher in the thigh, and told him: "Plug yer ears, this is gonn be loud."

The dwarf parried a particularly big sword swing from his opponent and drew one of his bangsticks. He pointed the business end of the weapon at his opponent and depressed the trigger mechanism.

The result was a hugely loud and hugely damaging projectile going through the bandit. Even expecting the noise, and having bad hearing, the dwarf was affected by the volume of the explosion. Hopefully Fletcher had plugged his ears in time...

He'd had plenty of experience around explosives and loud noises. He knew the effects they'd have on his ears. He knew how disoriented he'd be afterwards.

But Fletcher was not prepared for this.

He'd immediately dropped to the ground, shut his eyes tight, and clamped his palms over his ears. However, the concussive explosion bounced around in the tiny cavern and vibrated even through his hands and into his ears. He completely lost track of his orientation and opened his eyes to a blurry darkness, ears ringing from the shellshock. He rolled onto his back and stared upwards, stunned and trying to catch his bearings.

Evidently, the blast affected all the other men, for they'd all fallen to the ground as well.

Darjak was ready for the noise and shockwave, and his already damage eardrums sustained the blow better than most of the people in the cavern. Unfortunately, all that really meant was that the dwarf was forced down to one knee clasping his head as opposed to laid out on the ground fro the concussion.

The dwarf shook his head vigorously, trying to clear the ringing from his ears, but his efforts were to no avail. Slowly, he tried to stand, and eventually he managed to rise to his feel without falling over, if barely.

The dwarf was the first combatant up in the room and he wasted no time. He, very carefully, walked over to Fletcher, clubbing one of the recovering bandits on the way. He shook the gunsmith's shoulder and shouted in an attempt to be heard, "Fletcher, we gotta go 'fore these fellas get up an' going. We need to grab Klaus! Fletcher, can ya hear me?"

All Fletcher saw were a pair of lips moving behind a big bushy beard. All he heard was a high pitched ringing in his ears. He tried to sit up but fell back again, dizzied.

"What do you mean get close?!" he shouted, barely hearing his own voice. "We're in a CAVE!"

Then he actually figured out what the dwarf had said. "OH, get Klaus! Right, let's get outta here." He tried to stand again, but stumbled once more. The whole room spun around him.

Fletcher seemed like he was about to fall, so Darjak made as if to support the gunsmith, but then another wave of nausea hit the dwarf as well. He dropped to a knee again, shakng his head vigorously while the fit passed.

When he looked up again, he saw that some of the bandits were beginning to show signs of recovery. He stood up again and grabbed Fletcher's arm. He tried to pull the gunsmith up, and he planned to have the man lean on his shoulder if he could get him up again. "C'mon" he shouted urgently. "This is no time to be sittin' around." he told the gunsmith, conveniently ignoring that fact that he'd just fallen over again as well.

Fletcher's felt an incredible pounding inside his cranium as he attempted once more to stand. Still wobbly, this time he at least had a dwarf to lean upon, and together they made their way to where Klaus was sitting and rubbing his own head.

"The hell was that?" Klaus said loudly as they approached, clearly also feeling the effects of the blast. He seemed in better condition than Fletcher though, slowly but surely climbing to his feet, maintaining balance throughout.

"Which way?" Fletcher asked groggily, at the same time Klaus pointed to a tunnel behind them and said, "This way!"

From the opposite end of the cavern, a few of the bandits were struggling to stand again. And further down the cavern, the faint sounds of shouting echoed.

Others had heard the blast and were coming.