>>5507810First the good, from the North Merchant, who reports that your covert trade with the dwarven Blackmantle Corporation and the neighboring human settlements has borne fruit—in some cases literal, but more often figurative. From nearest Blackpine, and Undershadow have come furs, blankets, and rations beyond mere game meat (including the fruit and vegetables which the dwarven slaves require to keep them productive). From Redwell and Sunset Lake have come fish—a thought which brings back bad memories of recent events, but is also a welcome addition to your diet—as well as currency and lumber for construction. The currency and remaining ore which is not needed for your own work has been shipped back and forth with Blackmantle, under the auspices of your captive Blackmantle Delegate and supervised by the careful eyes of your disguised agents, to facilitate the acquisition of finely-manufactured goods—including tools!—which have decreased maimings and deaths among your pressganged workforce and improved the mountain’s livability as a whole.
“And the bad?” you ask, already dreading it.
Here, the Translator interjects, his tone and expression dour.
“As you already know… The kobold runaway has returned with new powers.”
“The Necromancer, yes.”
“Yes,” the Translator agrees, “but it is perhaps worse than you realize. While the Merchant is correct that accidental injury is reduced among the slaves, and productivity up per-slave due to improved tools and conditions, we have lost many to bugbear attack.”
“The Necromancer collapses mines to cut off slaves from their workmates and supervisors,” the South Merchant adds. “When we reopen the tunnel, we find the bodies gone, as well as much of the day’s extracted wealth.”
“Trade is still bringing us much of what we lacked before,” the north Merchant adds hopefully.
“But less than it was,” the South Merchant counters, "and it has stalled. We cannot deploy anything but the most well-defended column of miners without risking losing them and their bounty. It is MOST inefficient.”
“My messengers made it through safely,” you note, since they knew you were coming and had encountered the necromancer en route. “Maybe smaller groups of forces would slip through unnoticed?”
The South Merchant shakes his head.
“The Necromancer knows these tunnels. He has lived in these mountains all his life. And he may have… Other means, with his arts.”
“Knowledge and means to locate his ultimate prize,” you conclude. “The Red Dragon King.”
You all sink into an unpleasant pause as you consider this dreadful possibility.
