Date: 18–20 August 2025
Chronicle Day: Day 142–145
Abercrombie’s recollection, frae the rattlin’ mine‑car tae the shadows beneath the mountain.
Arrival at Wentworth Ferry
We reached the docks afore the ferry lift, only tae find Sergei takin’ his frustrations out on a nearby tree 🌳👊 — fists flyin’, bark flyin’, temper flarin’.
We had 3–4 hours o’ downtime while waitin’ for the lift.
When our turn came, we moored at the trade dock and made our way tae the Ibis Inn 🏨, where we purchased lodgin’ for the night.
The Carriage South
Come mornin’, we located the carriage bound for Lithgow.
Travel cost 8sp per person for the day, or 20sp for four days’ travel and a night’s accommodation.
The driver furnished us wi’ tokens — electrum‑plated, stylised wi’ a dwarven face 🪙.
These secured our lodgin’ and meals along the under‑mountain road.
The carriage itself resembled a mine car, steam‑powered and rattlin’ like a forge bellows 🚂.
Rudy rubbed his arse from the bumpy ride 🍑.
Kaz rubbed Rudy’s arse too — for reasons known only tae him.
Sergei then rubbed Kaz’s arse — a giantish greetin’, perhaps 🤷♂️.
That night, Rudy and I poured a fine dwarven stout 🍺.
Kaz entered a drinkin’ contest wi’ a local and lasted five rounds 🍻💪.
Road Under the Mountain
Next morn, we enjoyed a hearty dwarven breakfast — damper wi’ jam, bacon, eggs, cured meats 🥓🍳.
Ryn fashioned a cushion for Rudy’s bruised backside 🧵.
Throsh regaled us wi’ the tale o’ his tribe’s founder 📖.
Another day’s travel brought us tae the next Ibis Inn.
Ryn’s tinkerin’ continued — his ballocks now wrist‑mounted contraptions ⚙️.
The Miners’ Plea
At day’s end, a group o’ miners rushed toward Sergei, speakin’ in a panic.
Seein’ his blank stare (the lad only speaks Giant), they turned tae Kaz, Ryn, and me.
Their foreman and crew were missin’.
A tunnel had collapsed, and they barely escaped wi’ their lives ⛏️⚠️.
The Cave‑In
We took the left path, a natural cave.
I spotted scuff marks — dwarven boots, no doubt 👣.
A low growl echoed, then a heavy thud.
Rudy blessed three o’ us ✨.
Sergei knocked the beast prone, it retaliated and struck me 🤕.
Kaz and Ryn landed blows, Throsh held its gaze, Rudy lit it up, and Sergei smashed it again.
We felled the beast wi’ stout teamwork ⚔️.
Followin’ the scuffs, I caught the coppery smell o’ blood.
We found two dwarves, one guard, and the foreman — all dead 💀.
Two paths lay ahead.
The left smelled better but narrowed tae a squeeze.
Rudy scouted ahead and returned wi’ grim news:
the name Gracia Thratsnic — a corpse grinder — was mentioned.
A Ratfolk wi’ a mechanical arm had flayed one alive, then incinerated him after stealin’ an egg for Gracia 🐀🔥🥚.
The cry rose: “Collapse the tunnel!”
Return to the Inn
We returned tae the inn for the night 🏨.
Another dwarven breakfast greeted us in the morn 🍞🥓.
Ryn’s ballocks were now mounted tae both wrists — tinkerin’ complete ⚙️⚙️.
Travel resumed, uneventful but heavy wi’ the memory o’ blood and stone.
