Primordial Resurgence
Volcanic heat scalded oppressively, a whip sharing the sentiment, cracked through the air on its way to lick the back of lethargic slaves. A trembling sound, as if it too, was afraid of receiving an unjust lap. Vjeko Krall couldn't see a few feet past his pickaxe, let alone where the terrible tongue came from. The red marks across his back looked like notches on a wall, counting the days gone by. It wasn't always like this, for the race of gnomes. But Vjeko, a slave born, knew no other life except that which he dreamt.
Freedom, forever a carrot on a string, dangled just out of reach. Being thrown in the hollow mines was a death sentence for most; you either die mining or get lost in the heat, looking for a way out. Escape fairytale-like and utopian plagued the thoughts of the downtrodden. Bedlam Cauldron wasn't always hollow nor used a mine, long ago before the destructive collapse of the gnomish kingdom, it was one of the few ice volcanoes in the world. The gnomes harvested the ice and used it for many things, such as keeping food and drinks cold, and as a staple ingredient in potent magic.
As one can imagine, it takes a lot of magical imbalance to change the characteristics of nature. After the gnomish collapse and the outbursts of chaotic magic still seen to this day, the ice evaporated leaving only heat and gems. These gems are of different colours and magical properties, and where there are gems there are dwarves. Ever-present tyrants barely looming over their once allies. Allies now breed in captivity for manual labour a penance for ancestral mistakes.
“I've been myself for twenty-four years and I still don't know who I am” Vjeko mused as he struggled to pull his pick from the shimmering wall in front of him. A jolt of unfamiliar pain forced the young gnome to his knees. “Mother of Mystery” Vjeko choked out as he looked at his hands, calloused from years of mining and raw from the heat now burned with intense cold. His pickaxe froze solid in its place began to shatter. Nearby calls for help fell on bewildered ears as the heat gave way to a deep and unfamiliar cold.
Slaves not quick enough to let go of their tools became mocking ice sculptures. For the first time in eons, the mines were cold as if nature herself had finally started healing. Dwarven slave drivers froze in the middle of whipping, running, and shouting. Like a painting etched out of a mountain, nothing save for the young gnome showed a semblance of life. Vjeko shivered as he stood, gaping at the freshly carved statuettes.
“What’s going on,” he thought as the wall he had previously been mining yawned half-heartedly. The cold now filled with unnecessary lust began to dig its claws into Vjeko. The wall’s breach more inviting than his current lover’s embrace, the gnome darted into the eerie unknown. He pulled himself through the teethed maw for a small eternity before ending at a cliff face. Stepping onto the frighteningly small ledge Vjeko peered into the darkness below. The ground gave way under his sudden weight before a sigh of fear could muster enough courage to escape his cracked lips.
Silence heavier than the mountain itself grudgingly filled with the sound of ricocheting stones, his dry throated scream trailing behind. Pockets of icy wind caressed the young gnome’s face as he fell. The dark vertical tunnel slowly filled with ghostly undertones of light; a light, long-dormant, forgotten and twisted. It was light, trying to escape a frozen lake, before drowning in the blue. He had barely enough time to marvel and wonder at the source before he landed breathtakingly on a chunk of floating ice.
“Little Gnome,” a shifting glacier of a voice reverberated off the walls “Your kind tipped nature's scales long ago, long before the ink, before they changed your world.” With each word, the ice chunk glided slowly towards the light and its source. “It is time for the old ways.” The ice chunk halted abruptly in front of a glacial being. It’s frigid breath circling around and through Vjeko. “Seek out the others, places twisted. Heal as you healed here, grow as you have grown here. Primordial powers, make them remember.”
As the Gnome opened his mouth to utter his confusion the being waved their hand dismissively. Conjuring an arctic breath that sent Vjeko into a shaft of torpid air below. Darkness and silence shared a meal of time and distance as he fell. After what seemed a millennium he was finally spat out of the mountain like a vulgar insult. Vjeko’s first meeting with the ground as a free Gnome was unforgiving.
First Chapter
Discover
Vjeko drifted through a stew of unconsciousness, life an enigma only understood in fits of clarity. He finally had what he always wanted, freedom, and like an infant with a new toy, he had no idea what to do with it. The uncertainty of time left Vjeko consumed with bewilderment when consciousness returned. The only indication of its passing was the blessing of snow upon the long withered forest at the volcano's base. If this area had a name he’d never heard it, he knew no more of the world than he did of the future.
Exactly how he got in this winter wonderland wasn't all that clear. Like walking down a foggy path only being able to see a tight circle around one's feet. Standing up he brushed the snow off his bare chest and arms. The cold just a dull foreign annoyance in the back of his mind slowly beginning to suffocate under the ever-growing need for sustenance. Wrapping his arms around his bare chest Vjeko began to walk through the forest. Hoping to find someone helpful, dreading the all too real possibility of that someone being a Dwarf.
