The lifeless body fell to the ground next to Cassimi just as he was coming out of his torpor. The spell’s duration had expired just as the life was being squeezed from poor Jasixa, and Cassimi reached for the greataxe as he rolled to his feet to face the threat. He was wholly unprepared to face a mud-covered seven foot obsidian statue that appeared, initially, to be of a human male. He was further unprepared for it to thrust out its right hand, palm outward and blast him with several bolts of pure energy. The magic missiles followed Cassimi unerringly through his defensive roll, and struck him squarely in the chest as he rose to his feet within reach of the obsidian monstrosity. He staggered back a half-step, and then stepped forward, bearing down with all of his might on the greataxe, now uncovered. It bit deep into the stony form, and The Nombril roared. It was a horrible sound, the sound of great stones splitting and cracking in two mixed with the screams of dying animals.
Cassimi decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and spun on his bare reptilian heels, taking off at a dead run across the tufts of grass and low mounds of the fens. He heard the splashing of the abominable construct as it followed him, but he was not interested in trying to fight, he only wanted to escape the thing. He ran so hard and so long, that he did not even notice that he had moved from swamps back into the foothills. Nor did he notice the plethora of small, recently dug holes that dotted the area until he fell face first into one as he ran looking backwards on his pursuer.
The Molburs had recently moved into this territory to dig, having heard both that it was mostly uninhabited, and that it was rich in mineral deposits and food sources. All three rumors had turned out to be true, a stroke of luck that the Molburs seldom had in life. Their squat forms and furry hides made them look like large balls of hair to most other races, but for the Molbur, these compact and well-insulated forms made the digging of shallow earth quite a simple task. TeGran ab Red Hills was the digger of the hole that Cassimi had stumbled into. Word of the chase had reached TeGran through the Drum-Speak that all Molbur practiced by stomping on the packed earth of their tunnels. They had also passed on word of The Nombril. The Molburs had a strong tradition of oral history, and most of them knew the stories of The Nombril and its inscrutable questing and trails of destruction and mayhem. TeGran flexed his long, heavy claws involuntarily as the Scalemin ranger tumbled headlong into the tunnel.
Cassimi had been running for over 12 hours, putting greater and greater distance between himself and the obsidian entity. He knew instinctively that the thing was still following him though. Unfortunately he never made the connection to the creature’s true passion, so The Nombril /was/ following, much more slowly than the running ranger could travel, but Cassimi had no chance of completely evading him while he held the greataxe. When he stopped tumbling at last, he lay there gasping for air. His scales were hot and dry, and his heart was pounding in his chest. He had long ago reached the point of exhaustion, and wasn’t thinking anymore, instead acting purely on instinct.
“You are in my burrow, runner.” said the Molbur in impeccable common. Fortunately the Scalemin was a traveler, and knew the tongue of Man.
“There is a thing following me-”
“It is The Nombril.” TeGran interrupted the winded reptilian. As he said the words aloud his claws flexed again. The dim moonlight from outside cast only deep shadows into the little den. Cassimi clambered to his feet, the greataxe still clutched in one hand loosely. TeGran pointed to the axe with one of his heavy claws.
“That is what The Nombril seeks. You have brought it to us, and made our lives forfeit, because we must give them to ensure that the creature does not obtain this weapon.” Cassimi looked at the little furry Molbur with incredulity as he hefted the axe.
“This thing?” he croaked. It slipped from his fingertips and bit into the packed earth of the Molbur’s burrow entrance.
“That…thing…is the Greataxe of Malun-Khul. Please pick it up and follow me.” Without any further delay, the little Molbur turned on his furred heels and walked deeper into the burrow.
“Who are you, and how do you know about this axe?” asked Cassimi, plucking it gingerly from the dirt.
“I am called TeGran.” He replied, not bothering to answer the second question.
“I cannot see in the dark,” was the belated reply from Cassimi, as he stumbled after the waddling pile of fur.
