Equestria Girls: Caverns and Critters

by Loyal

Chapter 3-1: Steelhammer Makes a Friend, Maurin Makes an Enemy

Equestria Girls: Caverns and Critters
Chapter 3-1: Steelhammer Makes a Friend, Maurin Makes an Enemy

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While the party went their separate ways, with the sorceress and gruff fighter making their way into the center of town and the druid and halfling leaving the city by way of carriage, Steelhammer found himself alone. The elven bastard had disappeared into the shadows almost as soon as the day began, undoubtedly to go find information or do whatever it was pointy-eared ruffians do. Nevertheless, Steelhammer found himself alone in a strange city.

It certainly hadn't been the first time (and might just not be the last) and as such he actually felt rather at-home. The people of Brackenbay seemed friendly enough, giving him directions towards the Walk of Faith, which was Brackenbay's own religious district. Steelhammer found that despite the city's large size, there was a well-thought-out plan to the whole thing, with the Walk of Faith in the North-Eastern quadrant alongside a fair few shipping and distribution companies and their warehouses. To the North-West was the Business District, which housed the township and mayor's offices, as well as the guard garrison, markets, and guildhalls for craftsmen. South-East was the Residential District, with homes high on the cliffs overlooking Brackenbay itself, following dwarven-build switchbacks down into the South-Western district, known only formally as the 'Docks.'

It was towards the Church of Nith that Steelhammer turned his boots, stopping to enjoy random sights and sounds along the way. The Walk of Faith was indeed an impressive street, with impressive churches and chapels dedicated to all manner of deities lining either side of the carved-stone street. From the sweeping spires of the Church of Moth-Nel to the sinister-looking architecture of Mundaga-Hel's chapel, everything appeared to be rather well-put-together.

The Church of Nith was a modest building, as were the paladins and clerics of its order. HIs brethren boasted solid ranks and a loosely-kept if solid ranking order, with plenty of room for maneuvering within any given seminary. It was towards the chapel he turned, to pay his respects and ask for forgiveness his slights against humanity. While the ten-year period paladins of Nith took to serve the kingdom didn't require them to take oaths, they still made penance in the form of prayer for whatever wrongs they had indulged in, be it drink, whoring, murder, theft, or all manner of wrong-doing. Steelhammer had even heard of paladins of Nith fathering entire families worth of children across an entire content before taking their vows and devoting themselves to the life of the seminary. Others, like his mentor in the Under-Mountain City of Hoarstone, had committed murders most heinous before taking their place in the Order of Nith.

Steelhammer was thankfully absent any of those egregious sins, but there were still slights he had to make up for. Chiefly putting Grenlow on the ground with a rather unfair drinking competition, and turning a blind eye to the theft of a dead man's possessions. After making his peace, he sought an Elder Brother, finding a slight middle-aged man sweeping the hallway outside of the chapel.

"Good morn, Brother." The man greeted Steelhammer warmly, draping his wrists over the end of the broomstick. "What brings you in?"

"I seek information." Steelhammer said cooly, nevertheless touching his fist to his breast and bowing his head. "I'm spending my time at the moment with a group of adventurers, and we seek a way to undo the evils of Imoheen. Anything the Order can tell me would be much appreciated."

"Ooh, you will want to speak with Chief Scribe Thunder Quill." The man nodded sagely, setting his broom against a nearby wall, swapping it for a sword belt instead. "Follow me, Brother." They stepped outside of the church, but only to walk around the side and into the back yard. Behind the chapel proper was a squat building that was bustling with a small amount of activity. Squires were practicing in the yard between the two, dueling with wooden swords and padded maces. They skirted the practice group under the watchful eye of a dark-skinned man, who barked at the young squires if he saw anything wrong.

Inside of the wooden building was a series of rooms, looking as if it were the headquarters for this branch of the Church of Nith. Everything, from requests for charity work to consignment for military units, was handled through offices like these near every church of Nith. A few well-wishers were speaking with an elderly Sister, her hair done in a tight bun and a shield draped across her back as she worked at writing down their request. Steelhammer was led deeper into the office, past a small barracks were those who had sworn their service to the seminary lived on meager possessions, and into a more quiet area of desks and storage. One table nearby had a map sprawled across it, with marks of red ink all over the surface.

"Right through here, Brother. Nith guide your path."

"Nith keep you safe, Elder Brother. Thank you." Steelhammer left the man at the entrance to a short hallway, at the end of which sat a slightly-open door. Upon entering the room, Steelhammer was greeted by an absolutely massive man, a savage from the lands far to the South, it seemed, but not as unkempt as those brutes were. Gone were the greasy locks of unshorn hair and garish tattoos and piercings. Instead, this man bore only the dark skin tone and stature of the barbarian-clans outside of civilized land. He was obviously a convert, and his eyes gleamed with intelligence.

"Brother. What brings you to my humble seminary?" The man's voice was deep and powerful, and as he stood from the desk, he carried himself with an easy grace born of years of experience. There were several scars up and down his muscular arms, evidence of his service to both Nith and the good kingdoms of the world.

"Information." Steelhammer greeted the man as was custom, with a fist to his breast and a bowed head. "I've allied myself with a small group of well-wishers who want to see Imoheen's evil brought to justice."

At his words, a visible wave of relief washed over the man's face. He grinned from ear-to-ear, shuffling quickly around the desk to grasp Steelhammer's hand and shake it vigorously.

"At last! Oh, at long, long last I've found you!" The man practically danced with excitement, and was already gathering his posessions. A pack, a massive two-handed maul that leaned nonchalantly against the wall nearby, and a gleaming set of armor.

"F-found me? I'm confused, Chief Scribe..."

"A Scribe I may be, and the Chief at that, but I am no slouch in my service to Nith and the good kingdoms of the world!" Thunder Quill began shoving things into his pack, parchments and scrolls and writing utensils. "Ever since I was saved by the paladins of the order, I've seen the evil of Imoheen's shadowy dealings, tough as they are to discern in the twisted light of day. Come, brother, I will talk as we walk." Thunder Quill bustled out of his office, practically dragging Steelhammer with him.

"You see, I cannot deal with Imoheen as I would have in my own ten years' freedom. That is to say, with a firm smack to his greasy face... No, my service to the Order has seen me simply gathering information, tracking his deeds, shoring up evidence in hopes that one day, I may make a convincing enough case to rally the township behind removing that menace." Thunder Quill shook a hand at the map that had spots marked in red. "Attacks by his Hands across the territory." He pointed to another on the wall, with artist's renditions of Brackenbay Manor, the alleged home of Imoheen. Beneath each picture was a compact series of writing, illegible as the two bustled through the offices. "Details of the comings and goings we've managed to get accounts of."

"And, lemme guess, wi'out an unsworn Brother t' act as mentor for, you're unable to leave the seminary to effectively gather information?"

"Precisely!" Thunder Quill clapped a massive ebony-colored hand onto Steelhammer's shoulder, rattling him terribly. "So, Brother, you'll have to forgive me, but I'm going to be using you for the next day or so. I have some information to attain." With a fire in his eyes, Thunder Quill dragged Steelhammer out of the Walk of Faith and straight into the heart of the city.

"So, what now?" Applejack piqued an eyebrow at Twilight. "Do I get to follow him, or...?"

"Nope." Twilight grinned at Applejack, leaning back in her chair. "You get to take a twenty on your Gather Information check."

"WHAT?!" Rainbow Dash sat up excitedly. "Seriously?! That's awesome! How?!"

"Look at it this way," Twilight popped her back and leaned forward. "... this Thunder Quill has a personal vendetta against Imoheen, for whatever reason. But he's been sworn to the church of Nith for a long, long time now, unable to act thanks to his vows. But as Chief Scribe, he's still investigated to the best of his ability. He's talked to everyone who came to him with information, poked, prodded, and liaised as best as anyone possibly can from his position in the church. He's in the perfect position to get what you guys need, since he knows exactly which ears to grab and which arms to twist. He's been at this for years. And he's going to share all this information openly with you, Applejack, meaning your check is basically a natural twenty, with all the preparation he's gone through. He just needed an unsworn member of the order of Nith to mentor for, freeing him from his position behind that desk." Twilight grinned at Applejack.

"Your idea to check with your order's church was perfect."

"Aww yeah, way to go, Applejack!" Rainbow Dash shared a high-five with the grinning farmgirl, but the smile on Twilight's face was anything but forgiving.

"What's with that look?" Sunset frowned at Twilight, whose grin only grew wider.

"Think about it this way. You've got the Chief Scribe of the order of Nith and a burly dwarf toting around the holy seal. It'd be like if the police knocked on your door and started asking about the mafia or something." Twilight chuckled. "You guys might get information, sure, out of upstanding citizens and the like, but ne'er-do-wells and other people like them might not be so forthcoming."

"So it comes with a catch."

"Circumstantial bonuses and penalties." Twilight nodded in affirmation. "Luckily enough, Thunder Quill knows it, and will focus his search accordingly. Sorry to say, Applejack, you're just along for the ride at this point."

"Hey, that suits me jus' fine." Applejack grinned, twining her fingers behind her head and leaning back. "Ah ain't exactly cut out fer all this 'role-playing' anyways."

"That's not true." Fluttershy piped up, smiling at Applejack. "You're doing really well. And I like your accent."

"She's right, you know." Twilight nodded. "You might not feel like it, but you've got a knack for this."

"Well, shoot. Ah still think the story ain't as interestin' followin' Steelhammer around, though. What're we gonna do, talk to a fisherman?"

"Actually, yeah." Twilight scrolled through her notes. "You'll find out plenty, but like I said..."

"Ne'er-do-well's and the like will hardly give you the time of day, darling." Rarity flipped her hair over her shoulder, tapping her character sheet with a devious grin. "That's where I come in."

"The sleuth is on the case." Pinkie Pie puffed on a bubble pipe, which she seemingly got from nowhere.

"I do love parties with a smooth-talking Rogue." Twilight grinned, clicking a few times on her laptop before looking over the rim of her glasses at Rarity. "It's time for Maurin's turn."

The damp streets of the Docks muffled the soft pair of boots as they stole from foggy corner to corner. Maurin slipped through the pearly light of the morning with a sort of practiced ease that Steelhammer and his associates would find rather frightening if they knew about it. Still, Maurin was on the hunt, and looking for something in particular. He followed streets and signs, pausing to run a hand over a hewn-stone column, or peer at the underside of storefront's awning. Eventually, he made his way into the very south-eastern part of the city, only a few blocks removed from the bustling docks.

Nestled between two buildings, in a stinking alleyway, was a small hatch set into the stone of the street. Maurin fiddled with the handle for a moment before prying it open and slipping inside. The stink of the sewers engulfed him, but the clever rogue pulled a scarf over his nose, helping block out the scent. The tide was on its way out after the long night, and the sound of rushing water helped mask his footsteps, but also that of anyone or anything else down in the stinking sewers beneath the city.

And yet, set into alcoves on the wall, were lit candles, guttering in the faint breeze as the water was washed out to sea. Maurin followed these, sticking to a rough stone walkway above the steady stream of wastewater. Worn wooden planks and scaffolding bridged some parts of the sewer, carrying him over the black tide beneath.

"So, you remember that knowledge category I told you to take?" Twilight asked Rarity, who peered at her character sheet.

"Knowledge - Tradecraft?"

"Exactly. Make another check for me."

"I'm glad I put two points into this." Rarity mused, rolling her dice and adding all the modifiers accordingly. "Erm, seventeen?"

"Perfect. See, Tradecraft is known by just about all Rogues. It's stuff like how to find the thieves' guild in a city, the proper way to go about fencing, leaving dead drops for other rogues, or speaking in code. What you're doing now is looking for the thieves' guild, which should be protocol for you in each new city you go to."

"Am I already a member?" Rarity asked.

"All Rogues are. At least, that's the way I play it. Your mentor in your home city would have taught you the things you know. Like your sneak attack, and later on how to disarm traps and stuff like that. The guilds in this part of the world are all interconnected, or at least operate similarly. Your tradecraft checks will allow you to follow signs and meet with other members. You passed your check, so..."

"Bingo." Maurin grinned as he found an arrow etched into the stone wall, leading down one fork instead of the other. He followed it quietly, keeping an eye and an ear out for any disturbances. For the most part, the passage seemed well-travelled, with service corridors branching out to the left and right. This part of the sewers appeared to be further inland and a little uphill, since whatever water existed was trickling down and back the way he had came. Soon, even the causeway was empty of water, but appeared damp from the tide that had gone out just that morning. Gone was the rushing water, replaced instead by the soft echoes of boots on stone, and something else...

Conversation. The words were largely indistinguishable, but someone up ahead was talking. The flickering candles were growing more dim in lieu of a brighter source, a torch or a lantern of some sort. Rounding the corner, Maurin was greeted with the sight of a group of hooded figures standing outside of a worn wooden door, guarded by a burly-looking man dressed in a dark cloak. It was open and the hood was down, revealing his musculature and features, and he was conversing with the group of shrouded figures in front of the door. There were six of them in the small hallway, each with their hoods up, and standing rather still.

"Make a spot check." Twilight nodded to Rarity, who rolled accordingly.

"Fourteen?"

Too still. Maurin hadn't yet been noticed by the group, and upon stepping closer, he noticed why.

None of the cloaked figures was breathing. The one at the front, with whom the guard was speaking, was the only one who showed any indication of being alive. Icy realization washed over Maurin, even as he pulled on his weapon - a trademark punching dagger that lashed to his wrist, the blade extending out from his curled knuckles.

"Shadow and Light, they're Hands!" Maurin called out, lashing straight into the nearest one. His dagger sunk deep between the Hand's shoulder blades, severing its spinal column and sending the helpless bag of bones tumbling to the floor. He whirled on the next and slashed at it across the face, getting lucky as he sliced the walking corpse's jugular. A black ichor oozed out as the body slid down the wall. The remaining four were slow to act, their arms and heads jerking spasmodically as panic erupted. The guard in the cloak cursed and kicked the door open, shouting inside as he pulled his own dagger free of his belt.

Someone within the door was ready for the eventuality, as a crossbow clicked to life, sending a bolt whizzing into the compact space of the hallway. The first Hand jerked once and fell over, sliding down the wall even as the guard drove his blade forward into a second. In moments, the six had been cut down to two, but those two were acting more and more sure of themselves as their numbers dwindled. One of them pulled a mace free of its belt and whirled on Maurin, swinging crazily and coming wide. The solid head of the mace crashed into the brick wall near Maurin's face, kicking up shards of masonry and mortar, but luckily not bone shards and blood. The other Hand rushed at the guard, a dagger already clenched in its fist.

Maurin stepped to the side and drove his punching dagger forward once more, sinking deep into the corpse's neck and dropping it instantly. The guard and whomever was inside the wooden door grappled with the last Hand, until at last a sickening crunch dropped the corspe to the ground, though the guard sported several cuts and scrapes along his face and neck, almost as if the Hand had been trying to bite him.

"Hold." A crossbow was leveled at Maurin, who raised his hands in defense immediately. "Dance in the Dark..."

Rarity rolled her dice, adding the Tradecraft modifier to it.

"To find the Light."

"Brother." The crossbow was replaced with a hand, which Maurin clenched in greeting. "Help us get them inside; we'll have to burn them." The hand belonged to a stunning woman, who stripped her hood off even as she leaned the crossbow against the wall just inside the door. She released Maurin and the three of them set to the task of shoving the six dead Hands into the doorway. Another party joined them, a halfling by the look of their stature, who wasn't much good except for holding legs or kicking dropped weapons through the doorway.

"Halfhan, are you okay?" The woman turned to the bloodied guard, who grimaced at her. "Come, we'll have Ingrid patch you up. And you," She turned to Maurin, even as she withdrew a vial from a pouch along her belt line. "Hold your tongue until Brother Alnor gets to speak to you. I am Mira. This is Halfhan, and Noreen." She gestured to the bloody guard and the halfling respectively. "Follow me, and watch yourself." She wiggled the vial with a devious grin. "Alchemist's Fire. We'll drop this tunnel, since they obviously know we're here."

Once inside the door, the four of them jogged down the hall, though Mira stopped to throw the vial against the closed wooden door with force. The glass shattered and the magical potion roared to life, flame filling the hallway and immediately incinerating both the bodies of the Hands and the wooden support beams. With a groan, the ceiling began to cave in, chasing the four rogues up the passageway on a wave of dust, masonry, and dirt.

They fell into silence then, coughing now and then from the dust coming from the collapse, but otherwise sharing nothing more than a quick look. This passageway was much better-lit than the sewer, and grew even more warm as they walked on. Eventually, it opened into a wide underground antechamber, populated by even more hooded figures.

Among them all, though, was one figure in particular, a man wearing a white cloak, a veritable beacon in the sea of shadow and darkness. It was towards him that Mira and the others took him, though the burly man by the name of Halfhan slipped off to be tended by another person in a black cloak. The two of them left the antechamber, leaving Maurin alone among a sea of strangers.

The man in the white cloak spoke, his voice light and thin, like a forbidden whisper on a cool night.

"And who is this? A new figure, a stranger to us, who comes on the tails of Hands."

"I come in peace. I hail from Mornoth, far, far to the North, near the Freezing Sea."

"I know of Mornoth, what I do not know, stranger," The white man pulled his hood off, revealing a middle-aged man with a shock of well-kept, silvery-white hair. His eyes were amber and intense, piercing into Maurin as if seeking his very soul in the folds of fabric or the features of his face. "... Is who you are, or why you find us at the same time as Imoheen's mindless drones."

"My name is Maurin Shadowleaf-"

"Say no more!" The man in the white cloak cut him off just then, whirling to the others. "We're on the run. Scramble our runners and go to ground. Clear the safe houses and go floating." He cast a look over his shoulder at Maurin, a grin on his thin lips. "As of right now, we are at war with the necromancer Imoheen. And our friend Maurin here is going to help us."