Ren stood stunned along the side of the central mountain. Looking out below him with the stranger’s hand cannon planted firmly against his spine, he saw the boulder field below. It was obvious that this would have been the perfect vantage point for a shooter. He should have scouted out further.

  “Now laddy, it is about time to go see that strange stone now.” Pressing the hand cannon into Ren’s back harder, he forced Ren to walk higher up the mountainside.

  With the cannon right on his spine, Ren could do nothing but follow the man’s commands. A deep panic fell through him landing right in his gut. The pit in his stomach only grew heavier with each footstep and the stranger pressed the cannon into his back again and again.

  With his hands up at either side, Ren had no way to turn on the stranger. Neither his knife nor gun could be grabbed in time before the man would have a hole straight through Ren’s torso, severing his spine and leaving him unable to move his lower half. Even with his ascended body, such a wound would still take days to heal and would nearly kill him.

  He had walked into a trap, though the consequences were yet to be fully realized. Whether this man worked with the agents of The Silver Goddess or was some rogue hunter who didn’t take kindly to his hunting grounds being found.

  The slow walk meant they made little progress up the mountainside. In this time Ren tried to gain as much knowledge of his captor as possible. The man’s voice seemed to come at a low height when he had spoken to Ren, either he was crouched down, or very short. The man took nearly two steps for everyone Ren took. This led Ren to believe the stranger was extremely short for a man, men in this world being only a little shorter than his world.

  As they climbed further up the gravel and loose stones that made up the slope, the stranger again spoke. “How did you make it across the river now?” His voice again reminded Ren of a memory of his world, the image of a man in kilt and facepaint. The memory again was washed away by the curse of his patron.

  “I used ritual magic.”

  “A ritual to throw yourself across a river? Now you folk are strange aren’t ya.”

  Ren remained silent waiting for the stranger to speak first if any questions were to be asked.

  As the terrain became more steep, the stranger guided them toward one side where the earth was suspiciously made like stairs behind a large outcropping of boulders.

  “Now see, you have no sense of how to climb a mountain.” The stranger spoke as they turned for the stone stairs. Hidden from view, the stairs would have been impossible to notice unless you already knew of them.

  Ren remained silent as he passed up the steps, he had to slow himself for his captor as the man’s short legs left him far slower. Ren suspected his dexterity was far from equal to the short man’s.

  After they passed the stone stairs, the slope evened out and a path could be noticed by a careful eye. It switch-backed around the mountainside to lessen the heavy slope of stone and loose gravel. Their path was now much easier, and the short stranger had little trouble now keeping up.

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  Still feeling the harsh metal of the hand cannon pressed into his back, Ren’s mind raced through the possibilities. He was in an alien world and had no way of knowing what the truth of the matter would be. For all he knew, he was taken captive by an insane cannibal who was exiled here.

  The worry and dread grew as they slowly neared the rock formation at the top of the mountainside. It was obviously carved and worked. Erosion and time had likely changed the details of it, or perhaps it was intended that way so only the more discerning eye could notice it.

  The earth affinity only grew in strength as they neared the end of the path. Might it be some great golem that the stranger was about to sacrifice him to, or maybe an opening of a volcano that he’d be tossed into? In his travels thus far, it was not hard to believe whenever you encounter strange people they might make you into their false God, or a sacrifice for it. Remembering the goblins of the Underdark, those Marked Men, Ren only feared the possibilities.

  They soon approached the face of the stone carving, and yes, it was a face. At this distance, Ren recognized that it was a face. It was no man’s face, but something far different. Heavy-browed, and large-nosed, the face was far different than a man’s. What appeared to be weathered stone, cracked and split at places, was a beard.

  Beneath the great beard was blackness, a darkness that ate away at the light itself. From that darkness, a light appeared. It was a solitary light that began to move, slowly it became more. A large circular formation of runes and glyphs appeared devouring the great shadow underneath the bearded face.

  What was left behind in its wake was three men, or something not quite three men. On the face of each of the three, was a resemblance to the odd face made of stone. Made in their image, it was the sign for all who saw it. The men wore thick metal armor and tools on their belts. In their hands were great shields of the finest metallurgy, and weapons that could make angels weep. The craftsmanship of every detail of the three weapons, spear, sword, and axe was divine in the making. Beauty radiated from them, and power emanated forth.

  Behind the three stood a door. It was twice Ren’s height and nearly three times the height of the short folk before him. It was carved of stone and thick enough to stop even the largest protomimus.

  In awe, Ren stood and gaped at the sight before him.

  The dwarf standing in the middle of the three spoke. “What have you caught here, a human?” He spoke with the same accent as the stranger behind Ren.

  The stranger stepped forward, taking the hand cannon from Ren’s back. “I was down there hunting, and next thing I know a human is poking around one of my kills. To my surprise, he starts stalking over to me hiding spot. I took him up here, not knowing what to do with a human who somehow made it across the waters.”

  The first dwarf spoke again, “Well, we are dwarfs not sneaky forest elves. We don’t take prisoners, and we sure don’t threaten a man for wanting to get closer to a mountain.”

  The dwarf turned to Ren, putting his axe into place on his belt, and his shield onto his back. Stepping forward he raised a hand and greeted Ren.

  “I am Borrin, Son of Borac, Greatson of Bor. I hope our hunter didn’t scare you too much there lad, we don’t get humans out here you see.”

  “I- I… Thank you. I am Ren.”

  “Well then, Ren.” Came one of the other three dwarves who were guarding the entrance. “What brought you to these here mountains?”

  Ren briefly collected his thoughts before replying.

  Borrin interjected before Ren could speak. “Now, that ain't how we do things with a human, we introduce ourselves first Tinar!”

  Tinar spoke with shame, “I know, I know. It has been so long since we have seen humans, I forget how we speak to them.”

  “They aren’t some flippant elf, humans work stone and earth just as we do.” Borrin said.

  Tinar looked to Ren, “I am Tinar, Son of Tin. Might I ask now, why did you come to such a place as this?”

  “I wanted somewhere I could be alone, somewhere I could train to become stronger. I saw from across the water what manner of beasts called this home, and so I decided it would be a good place to gather strength and train myself.”

  “You saw the big beasts and then decided to cross the water?” Tinar’s eyes widened.

  Ren nodded and looked down the side of the mountain where a devourer protomimus was eating the kill of the hunter dwarf.

  Borrin spoke up, “Now then, come inside.”