From the darkness ahead came a glimmer of alchemical light. The creature had struck a hardened rod against his own thigh, and now it was emitting a soft but bright glow, like muted sunshine. The rod cast odd shadows from the claw-dug walls of the low tunnel. Cassimi put the Greataxe across his chest and ruminated to himself quietly about the Molbur in front of him as he quickly caught up with him. Was he being helped by the furry little humanoid, or was this another trap to be avoided. His wanderings had never taken him this far from swampy areas before, so he had no experience with their race, but is initial meeting with the Molbur seemed encouraging.
The Nombril quietly seethed with rage at being so close to the weapon only to have it snatched from him once again. If the enemies of the great Malun-Khul discovered what that weapon was before he could obtain it, the entire cycle of frustrated hunting would have to begin all over again. The Nombril easily followed the little reptilian’s tracks. The iguana-like reptilian was running flat out, and leaving very obvious tracks that even a novice hunter could have followed without difficulty.
When the tracks ended at the entrance to a small burrow, The Nombril permitted itself to experience a small grim feeling of success. It had seen these burrows before, and unless a great deal had changed, these little burrowing humanoids would be easy pickings for The Nombril. It crouched down onto all fours and began to crawl down the little tunnel effortlessly. It picked up the trail again easily, and was pleased that it saw also the Molbur’s tracks. It hoped that it would be able to slaughter some of the meddlers before it found the Greataxe of Malun-Khul. It hoped against dreaming that it would find a great number of them /after/ it had recovered the powerful weapon. Its purpose and that of The Nombril were so alike that a near-symbiotic relationship would probably assert if the two were ever joined, to the detriment of all living things.
“Stupid fool, you have doomed us all with this thing!” shouted the Duggan leader of the Molburs. It was normally his duty to lead the Molburs from site to site, and to act as the representative of their tribe when dealing with outsiders. He was not actually angry with TeGran, he was only upset that TeGran would probably not relinquish his right to be the Glumug leader while they had the axe. This tribe was huge, over a hundred strong, and its tunnels extensive and spread over several miles of land. Such responsibility was not lightly handed off to some young Molbur, regardless of his battle-prowess.
The others in the congregational chamber were not fooled by the Duggan’s inane outburst. They did share some of the sentiment of the statement though, and were visibly upset at the appearance of TeGran and the Scalemin ranger Cassimi.
They weren’t bothered by the Scalemin himself, they knew of the iguana-kin and knew they needn’t fear him. It was what he carried that bothered them so. The Greataxe of Malun-Khul had returned to the Molburs after three hundred years of peace and quiet. Over five generations of Molburs had passed down through their oral traditions the stories of what havoc had been wreaked on the world by the Greataxe of Malun-Khul and by those that sought it for their own use.
The meeting was quickly organized by TeGran, who did not relinquish his right to be Glumug leader, just as the Duggan had feared. Fortunately for all involved, TeGran appeared to be a very competent young Molbur. His insights into the problem seemed well thought out, and after the meet was over, many Molburs asked him about it and discovered that he had in fact thought about the situation a great deal for most of his adult life. Fate had driven the Scalemin into the one burrow being watched by the one Molbur who had the greatest chance of succeeding in solving their problem.
It was quickly agreed upon that the axe could not stay with the Molburs. Though it was currently safe, the Molburs hadn’t the true power needed to thwart The Nombril, of which they knew a great deal. Without powerful magic, there was little chance that the Molburs could keep The Nombril away from its prized possession. It had been created for the sole purpose of recovering the weapon by Malun-Khul’s followers. Once recovered, The Nombril would set out on a ferocious killing spree in honor of the elder god that created the axe, Malun-Khul. It would then only answer to the most devout and powerful of Malun-Khul’s priests.
No sapient creature would be foolish enough to allow that to happen, so the Molburs plotted quickly and quietly to determine their path. It was decided that they would travel to the land of elves, deep into the Menerwerdhil Woods, and give the Greataxe of Malun-Khul to them for safekeeping. They were not the only race the Molburs knew of that were powerful enough to protect the axe, but they were more trustworthy than humans, their second choice. It might have been a closer journey to travel to the human kingdom, but the foolish and superstitious humans would probably have rejected the Molburs’ request out-of-hand.
So the journey began, with TeGran and the Scalemin ranger, and a small band of burly Molburs, all proven warriors with a good sense of direction. They began to dig a path in the direction of the Menerwerdhil Woods, with their intuition and their powerful claws keeping them on the right road to salvation, or at least to purgatory.
The Nombril surveyed the damage. It had been a horrible bloody fight, but The Nombril had entered it almost gleefully. It had been surprised at how much stronger the little Molburs had grown in a few generations. Clearly they were breeding for strength now, rather than for speed as they had in times past. They had seemed almost awkward, but they were incredibly strong. Many of their mundane weapons had actually bitten into its stony hide, leaving long gashes and cracks in its body. Even their claws sometimes found purchase in its form, a fact that astonished and even concerned the ancient construct. What if it had become more vulnerable as time had passed?
It dismissed the thought even as it climbed up a small packed-earth tunnel. Clearly the little burrowers had simply bred themselves to be more powerful, and although they had actually caused concern to The Nombril over its own continued existence, they still fell in great numbers before finally fleeing. Enough remained for The Nombril to glean where the axe was being taken, though.
It crawled to the surface, covered nearly from head to toe in the filth of dead Molburs. It didn’t care for cleanliness, though. It still had mud from the swamps it had crawled through stuck to its back. It was completely consumed by its desire to get the axe.
