The dwarf cursed and raised his axe again. He was already bleeding from many wounds. With typical dwarven stubbornness he refused to give in and continued fighting. All of his companions had fallen, but he still fought the accursed dark elves, his magical axe slicing through his opponents easily. Firongar Battleflame already was a legend in his lifetime. He had battled the enemies of the dwarves more often than he cared to count and usually he was successful, but this time they had been overwhelmed and he was the last dwarf still standing.
It did not matter any longer, if he won. He only had to survive, to reach the surface, the sun that stole the drow their power. There was the light at the end of this cave. Friongar ran for the light with pumping legs, feeling the upwards slope, that would lead him out of the underdark, into the light. His aching arms rose. The axe to cut a path through the dark elves still in his way. Rosy light filled his vision and he ran the rest of the distance with a last titanic effort. He stumbled and rolled down a slope, still clinging to his axe.
He collapsed from exhaustion. At least he had reached safety. Not even his considerable willpower could keep him going any longer. He was past any reasonable reserves of energy for hours. The dwarf never saw the rosy light of the setting sun, that would soon disappear to make place for the night, where the dark elves could follow him.
The dwarf blinked and looked into an unmoving ebony face. He did not even bother to curse. He was shackled and unable to move. "You cannot escape us", the voice said without any hint of passion. "Now you will pay the price for your folly." The dark elf's eyes filled with sadistic glee, while she reached for a tool of torture. The dwarf grunted and gritted his teeth in pain. "Just a scream, a little scream", the torturer said with a wicked smile. "And another and another", the dwarf mentally added. Drow had never enough of torture.
Dirkinigar awakened soaked in sweat and looked at the shadows dancing on the walls of this room. The ghostly light thrown by the ever-burning torches on the walls. He could have asked Tandra to replace them by globes enchanted with continual light, but he feared magic even more than the shadows. Accursed moving shadows that could hide fiends, assassins or dark elves. He shivered and curled himself up, drawing his knees to his breast, wondering if the nightmares would ever fade. Since he had escaped they where his constant company.
One night they had left him unguarded and he had recovered enough to think and act. Maybe they had done it on purpose to make a sport of hunting him, but he did not know why. He took the opportunity and slid along the walls, hiding in the shadows, careful to move soundless, as most people thought dwarves could not. His prison was at the border of this city, so he could easily leave into the wild underdark. There where other dangers in the wilds, but he knew how to deal with them. He ran and ran and continued running upwards until he collapsed from exhaustion.
He opened his eyes, wondering where he was, surrounded only by rock. The dwarf was lying in a small cave. He had to crawl through a tiny tunnel to return into the endless labyrinth of the underdark. He slowly started to walk, orienting himself upwards. On the way he picked up a club from a goblin, who had been killed there. It was not the best weapon, but it had to do, if he met anything hostile. He wondered, why he had not met anything dangerous to this point in the tunnels. The dwarf did not know that he had successfully navigated on the thin line separating a realm of beholders and one of illithids, who often fought. Nothing would live here voluntarily and the last conflict between both races had left them recovering and defending their homes, fearfully waiting for the dark elves from below.
Finally the dwarf felt the rock above his head having less pressure, reassuring him that he was walking in the right direction. Finally the dark elves struck, possibly returning from a surface raid. He had walked this day, so he was still relaxed. Gritting his teeth he hefted his club and caved the first elf's skull in with it. He dropped the makeshift weapon and picked up the drow's blade and rushed into the battle, swinging it like wild, drawing a sneer from the attackers. They realised too late that he was only playing the fool and killed them quickly.
Red mist cloaded the dwarf's vision and he did not know what happened until he blinked and looked into the bright morning sun. He was splattered with blood and did not hold a weapon. Had anyone watched him, they could have told him, that he had growled like a wild beast and attacked the dark elves with incredible fury and slaughtered them. They did not stand a chance against the enraged dwarf, against the battle-rager. He looked around and saw that there was an axe within a stone. Had he ended up in the same place, where he had been, when he was first caught?
Shrugging he walked to the rock and tore the axe from the stone. It was not stuck, so he badly overbalanced and stumbled backwards. He had the wits to roll and wanted to stand up, when he looked at the boots of someone and looked up. It was a tall female, possibly beautiful by elven and human standards, but the dwarf was not sure. He slowly picked himself up and looked around. The female was accompanied by a tall minotaur and another female with massive dark wings spreading from her back.
The plain he was standing on was blasted and jagged. Sharp edges of rock where everywhere, as there were craters. Formations that looked like recently molten and hardened rock. There was only odd grey rock and a bloody sun giving unnatural yellow light. "What in the Abyss is this place?", he muttered. "Precisely there", the tall female said. The dwarf looked at her and her companions again and sighed. "You do not know a way to get out of this place?" The female smiled and said: "If you go with us, you will eventually leave the Abyss."
There was a knock at the door. The dwarf nodded. He realised that whoever was on the other side could not see him. He said: "Come in." Tandra Fiendslayer entered the room and asked: "Something wrong? I heard you scream." Dirkinigar said: "It was another of those sodding nightmares. I never get rid of them. I have seen incredibly horrible things, since I met you, but none of them haunt me like the time when I was tortured beneath the mountain." He smiled bitterly.
"Do you know what years of torture feel like?", he asked. Tandra shook her head and said: "No and I would rather do without." She looked at him, waiting for him to say more. "I think personal trauma are far more tricky to get rid of than something you only see." The dwarf said: "I think this flight is the first time I remember going berserk." He sighed and said: "I do not even remember my real name, but someone keeps on whispering that once I was one of the greatest heroes of my people."
Dirkinigar sighed and said: "I have lost everything. My people, my home, my name and my identity. All I have is an abyss-forged battle axe and you. I guess that is more than some people have, but it seems hollow to me." Tandra looked at him and surpressed a sigh. "We cannot do anything for you until we find out at least which world you are from. Even then we can only do something if we can travel there and return to the planes. Elandra might dig it up in your mind, but she will most likely find out more than you bargained for. It is your choice. You know that she will not do something like that, if you do not want."
"I cannot decide yet", the dwarf said. "I just want to be able to sleep through for once. Maybe I do not always scream, but the nightmares are always there. I thought the alcohol would cloud my mind, so that they would leave me alone, but they did not." Tandra listened patiently. Actually no type of drug had any effect on the dwarf and he also seemed to be immortal. She had seen him taking damage that should have killed a whole squad of the mountain folk.
There had to be a way to resolve the dwarf's problems. He was a friendly, outgoing and perceptive person, who had added a lot to the fiendslayer companions.
Dirkinigar (pr/m dwarf/F?/cg(n))
Combat: AC -2 (dex + battlerager armour); MV 9; HP 75; THAC0 0; #Att 4; Dmg Two-handed Battle Axe SA berserk rage SD Immunity: Mind affecting magic; MR 50%;
Attributes: Str 18/00 Dex 17 Con 19 Int 16 Wis 12 Cha 14 (when sober)
Traits:
addiction: alcohol; magic resistance; Sense Of Duty (Friends); Amnesia (Own origin and past); berserk rage; Immunity: mind affecting magic; Focus;
Skills:
Weapons: Battle Axe (grand master); blades; bows, staves, daggers, knives
General: Reading, Writing; Swimming, Riding (Ground), Mining (practical); Rope Handling; Hidden Lore: Underdark; Etiquette;
Special Equipment: Dirkinigar carries a magical battle-axe of unknown origin. So far he had been able to hurt anything with it, wherever he went, so that is most likely not of abyssal origin as he believes. It does not seem to have any special abilities beyond the fact that the enchantment seems to be independent of the plane it is on. On the other hand the dwarf believes that his weapon holds many dark secrets. Only time can show, who is right.