Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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The events of Barbarian Legends occur many years before the events of Barbarian Tales.
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CITY OF YELEDOR
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"Stuck underground in this fucking stench," Girn muttered with feeling. He cursed the gods for his luck. While trudging through the sewers, knee-deep in putrid waste, about twenty-five feet overhead the citizens of Yeledor went about their daily business.
Girn was too large for these narrow passages, his back aching from stooping for hours. He was convinced that this, at least, had to be rock-bottom and the only way was up.
"Don't moan, barbarian. Work is work and it pays decently," Warren said, not in the slightest bothered by the smell of the bubbling sewage. The sewerjack looked right at home in the labyrinth of reeking tunnels that ran underneath Yeledor. Warren was much more experienced in travelling through the sewers. The ten-year veteran was sure-footed where Girn would most certainly slip and slide to land face first in a pool of excrement.
If only I could see in the dark, Girn thought, and this whole ordeal would be much more easy-going. But that still wouldn't help him to endure the stench. The fumes made his head swim from time to time.
On top of that, Girn felt ill at ease not able to carry his greataxe. The double-bladed weapon was simply too hefty to swing in the narrow underground passages. He'd fought hard to keep the greataxe on his person, but the blades would continuously scrape against the arched brickwork. Girn hoped his weapon was safe in the sewerjack's armoury.
Girn now carried a small hatchet and a long dagger. He wasn't used to wield either of these particular weapons, but didn't doubt his awesome strength could wreak serious damage with whatever tool. And the possibility of encountering goblins made him thankful for even the smallest weapon.
In the shuttered lantern light, his comrades were gloomy figures, their sewerjack uniforms indiscernible. Girn only wore his usual loincloth, not a single piece of clothing fitting his size. All had cloth wrapped around their heads, covering nose and mouth. Since joining them, though, Girn had learned to recognize their silhouettes.
The stocky man was Warren, sewerjack veteran easily distinguishable by his pockmarked face with erupting boils, but one example for not staying a sewerjack for too long. The rancid vapours clearly left serious marks. The tall but sticky figure was Gaunt whose name said everything about the man: slender body and bony face with deep set eyes. The thin shadow was cast by the lithe form of Kiara, the only woman in the entire organisation of sewerjacks. She had big eyes set in a face that was always covered in a thick layer of soot and grease. Kiara wore a black woollen cap from which poked blonde locks. Last but not least, there were the twins, Sek and Tek, both simpletons but from what Girn heard they were welcome allies in a scrap, both deadly with the cleavers they carried.
These were the men Girn worked with. Above ground they were considered outcasts and criminals, but underground, they were the kings of the sewers. Here, they were at home and enjoyed each other's company when those above ground wouldn't. They were often considered amongst the lowest hired thugs in Yeledor but Girn found they actually did honest work for the benefit of those that ostracized them in the first place.
When he had arrived at Yeledor, visiting for the first time, Girn had asked around for work throughout the city, but was forced to settle as a sewerjack when no one would hire such an imposing barbarian as himself. He found the whole ordeal regrettable but he needed money and the sewerjacks provided in return for his service keeping the underground tunnels functional and safe.
"Tracks!" Warren hissed. "Stay vigilant, lads. There could be trouble about!"
"Good," Girn grumbled, eager for some action. Two boring weeks without any encounter had passed and he wanted to meet some of the creatures they hunted in these tunnels. He had heard Warren tell many stories but that was not the same as coming face to face with a slime monster, sewer ogre, or a pack of rabid mutated dogs.
Upon closer investigation, the tracks were small footprints and Warren whispered something about green buggers, suggesting the possibility they were close to a pack of goblins. Girn wondered if there really was a whole subworld beneath the sewers of Yeledor as Gaunt had suggested multiple times. Could there really be a civilization of greenskins scuttling through the depths and creeping out at night to raid storehouses for food and arsenals for weapons? It sounded like a demented idea of someone who had too much time on hand to fabricate such concepts.
Then Girn froze in place, suddenly remembering the legend of the ancient dwarven capital Kog Boldur, its downfall orchestrated by an army of orcs and goblins swarming from the webwork of mines and tunnels beneath the city. Kiara poked his ribs.
"C'mon, Girn," she said in her soft voice. "Won't want you left behind in the dark."
The others had indeed continued and the dim lantern light was fast diminishing. They both hastened to catch up, Girn almost slipping on a patch of algae.
"Tunnels look unfamiliar," Sek said.
"Don't want to get familiar," Tek whispered.
Girn was forced to agree with Tek. The tracks had lead them into unknown territory, at least for their squad. Compared to the usual sewers they patrolled, this was a miserable place. The long stretch of corridor was flanked by crumbling walls, threatening to collapse at any second. At regular intervals, the brickwork had been sculpted into something that was no longer recognizable, though some carvings made Girn think of the sneering visages of daemons.
The sewage stirred and bubbled, attacking Girn's senses with even more fetid vapours. The atmosphere was hot and oppressive.
"We're deeper than normal," Warren said. "This tunnel is older and not man made. Look at the carvings. Dwarven maybe?"
"Don't care who built it. Doesn't feel safe," Gaunt said, looking suspiciously at the support arches along the corridor.
"Don't think it's dwarven," Kiara put in. "Dwarven workmanship should last an eternity. This masonry is crumbling." To prove her point -- not that anyone doubted her -- she struck an arch with the pommel of her dagger. The keystone chose that moment to fall down, nearly crushing Warren's skull. "Not dwarven," Kiara concluded innocently, flashing a dazzling smile, even in the dim light.
"Point taken," Warren grumbled.
Gaunt stared at the ceiling, said: "If I tracked out turns correctly, I reckon we're underneath the Noble Quarter."
"Well, no matter where we are, tracks disappear here," Warren observed. "No sense in wasting time, let's go back."
"Wait, what's that?" Girn asked suddenly. His companions stood frozen, all straining their hearing for anything.
"What's what?" Sek asked after a moment of complete silence.
"Thought I heard something too," Kiara said. "Down that way." They looked in the direction she indicated. It was down the crumbling sewer tunnel.
"Must be imagining it," Tek said. "Either way, don't want to go down there."
"She didn't imagine it," Girn defended Kiara. "I heard it the first time."
"What're we doing, Warren?" Gaunt asked. As the veteran of the group, he was automatically the leader when decisions like this one had to be made.
Warren pressed his knuckles into his eyes, something he did every time he was concentrating. Girn could see his indecisiveness. Like all of them, the sewerjack wanted to end his shift and be off to a tavern or brothel. But if something was down here and they hadn't taken care of it, then he was responsible.
"We'd better check it out," Warren eventually said. Gaunt, Sek, and Tek groaned while Kiara caught Girn's gaze and made her determination clear with a curt nod.
"Won't take long," she tried to console her companions and set off with a spring in her step. The rest followed her swaying strut from behind and Girn had to clear his throat to pull them from whatever thoughts they were having. But he admitted silently that he had glanced too.
"Right, let's go," Warren said, a slight note of embarrassment in his voice.
The lantern light was shuttered even further, making the dangerous corridor more ominous. At several places, water leaked down from the ceiling. After a while, the sound of voices came from ahead. One was clearly a well-spoken man. The other, however, was squeaky and shrill, clearly not belonging to a man or woman.
Warren looked at his men, uncertain on how to approach this situation. They were all tired and none provided him with any input other than gripping their weapons tighter. Warren sighed and gestured for them to move quietly forward. He completely shut of the light from the lantern and they sneaked around a corner in the tunnel.
