Continue the Valkyrie: Ragnarok story as the crew of the Rat finally reach their home. What will happen to their stowaway in The Lion’s Den?

Subscribe to our newsletter for the full excerpt. You can find past excerpts by checking out the Valkyrie: Ragnarok tag (bookmark it).

“Never underestimate the depth of our work, Gawn.” The captain sat in his command chair, speaking with pride as the Rat rolled slowly down the great highway, past tall monuments, towards the vast doors of the dwarven city. “We dwargen have built more than a city. We have built a civilization beyond the taint of men and elves, yes. We have built libraries and mills, mines and inventions, sure. But our true genius is not in any one individual thing. Our brilliance is the interconnectivity of each individual part. A meshing of gears so harmonious that the system sustains itself. No such colossal creation could function without this harmony. Yes, maybe for a time, but entropy would win out, eventually. That is the fault of humanity. They are too short sighted and proud to build something that can both support the system it exists in and be sustained by that system. Yes, they can innovate, and their systems are continually improving, but their works lack the agreement across all parts. Like themselves, their inventions are individual in nature.” Gawn nodded to show he was still listening, though his thoughts were more on seeing home again. It wouldn’t be long now

“It is a lesson we take from nature.” The captain continued. “The birds eat the fruit of the tree, they spread the seeds and saplings grow in new lands. The blossoms of the trees provide nectar for the bees, and so on and on it goes. Such harmony cannot be created from chaos. There is architecture built into the system. As Argitekos built our world and gave the oceans their ebb and flow, created a harmonious, interconnected system, so we mirror his divine creation, a creation that ultimately fulfils his mighty purpose. We all have purpose, Gawn, and it’s time for you to fulfil yours.”

Gawn looked up, paying attention for the first time. “Captain?”

“You’ve done a good job as my second in command. This last outing was a close thing, but you kept the boys together. It could have gone horribly wrong, I can’t deny it, but we’ve made it through. I’m of a mind to recommend you for promotion.”

“Thank you, Captain. I’m honoured.”

“You’ve earned it.”

There was a moment of silence as the Rat crept between two giant stone monoliths. Cascading lava illuminated the large inscribed pictograms that covered it. The play of the shadow in the red light made the features all the more striking, as if they contained the very fires of the lava within. They recorded the great histories of the Dwargen of Grothoring Highhold, a record of the mightiest of the dwargen kingdoms beyond the Mistiga Barg in Avernos.

“One day your deeds will be marked on one of those stones. You’ve the aptitude for it.” The captain said, smiling. “I can see you’ll do great things, Gawn. Protect our great work.”

What hell is this, Faya thought as she awoke inside the belly of a terrifying creature. She guessed it was a dragon because of the smoke, the red hot fire that burned somewhere unseen and cast red shadows on the black walls, and the awful roar. Tiny black creatures of soot danced around her, then leapt across her skin and made it prickle. Worst of all was her thirst. She was sure a creature of ash was choking her with its gritty hands.

I’ll die here. Please, Mother, let it be soon.

She heard her mother’s voice answer in the incessant clanking, but what she said was just beyond understanding. She saw wondrous sakrust falling around her like manaleaf from above, but it turned to acrid slag in her mouth and made the thirst worse.

A sudden hiss made her jolt. There was a violent shudder, then everything went still. The red reflected off the innards of the beast seemed to dim, but the metal dragon or whatever it was was surely only asleep. Gaining enough of her wits, she knew she had to flee, now. She scrambled over the iron decking and through the vaguely remembered crawl space, back into the storage compartment where the dark haired dwarg had hidden her. Was it the longing for sakrut or some other tincture that had given her the visions? She wasn’t sure. She kicked hard at the door. And again. Again. Finally, the lock broke and the door swung open. She rolled out and dropped down, into the shadows below a ledge that ran parallel to the dwargen contraption. Someone heard the commotion and shouted something after her, but Faya was already running.

The rest of the story will go out to newsletter subscribers soon, so be sure to sign up.

Plunder for your Undersea Campaign

Hordes of plunder for your undersea campaign, Atlantean inventions, a fleet of new ships and vehicles, and more feats than you can swing a yardarm at.

Get it now with this special discount (good until the 7th of July).

Rodney

The Rising Phoenix Games dude.
Rodney is a writer and editor of tabletop RPGs and a painter of Orks. He is worryingly fond of mill decks in Magic: the Gathering and a self-confessed Japanophile.

www.risingphoenixgames.com/

A new excerpt from Valkyrie: Ragnarok is here! Join the crew of the Rat, a dwarven mine crawler, and their mysterious guest in Soup With the Enemy. Far from home and running out of supplies, the Rat’s crew resort to desperate measures…

For the full excerpt, be sure to subscribe to our newsletter. You can find past excerpts by checking out the Valkyrie: Ragnarok tag ( it’s worth bookmarking the link).

The churned sand sucked at her feet as she walked, her slave shift whispering against the sand as she moved. In the distance, the sun sank slowly past the darkening dunes again, marking another dusk. The twilight was dreamlike, peaceful.

Sand exploded up, a great cloud that showered dirt over the travellers. In the chaos that ensued, Faya caught only fragments of sound and sights. The awful clanking of metal. Balls of fire flying through the air. A guard, screaming as flames engulfed him. A loud crack and a flash, then death screams. A short, thick shouldered figure battered a guard with the butt of his weapon. Then vice-like hands grabbed her by the arm. She tried to run, to wrestle herself free. She didn’t want to die. A gruff voice, commanding her is a harsh language she couldn’t understand. She broke free. She ran. An arm wrapped around her waist and held her tight.

She was half pulled, half dragged through the sand and gloom. Several masked figures stood close, ramming rods into their long weapons, then firing gouts of explosive flame past her shoulder. More shouting, then more of the creatures arrived. She suddenly yanked up into the air. More thick hands grabbed her and she was bundled through a dark opening.

It was like another world. Dark, hard, cold, metallic. Acrid smoke burnt her nose and choked her lungs. It was cramped here, claustrophobic. She was shoved and pulled along. The metal grating below her feet clanked as the creatures jostled her.

There was a monstrous roar and the world began to buck and shudder beneath her feet. She fell over, cracking her head hard on the edge of something. More shouting. She got to her knees and felt warm blood running down her face, covering her fingers.

For a time, Faya must have blanked out. She caught glimpses of red light, heard rough, savage laughter, and the thump of a hammer. Darkness enveloped her, but always there was the horrible shuddering.

…

‘Gawn, you blundering bulldog. “Water,” I said, and here’s you, giving us another mouth to quench.’ Captain Stalslag flexed his bandaged hand, sitting forward in his captain’s chair to stare sternly at the younger dwarf.

‘Aye, Captain. But she was clearly a prisoner.’

‘So, is she our prisoner now, or who exactly have we done a favour for? She’s clearly no Savonin welp.’

‘I have no…’

‘Neither is she a local.’

‘Aye…’

‘Nor is she a mokith pup, though I might be glad if she were.’

‘Aye, but…’

‘Don’t speak while I’m scolding you, boy. This is an important lesson you need to learn. Use your head, boy. Your heart’s in the right place, but now we have a problem, and I don’t intend to be the one cleaning it up. Do you get my meaning?’

‘Aye, Captain. I…’

‘You’ll listen carefully, is what you’ll do. Beir recons we’ve got enough water to make the run back, which means three or four days. Five, if we’re unlucky. You need to decide what you’ll do with your little pet before we reach the grottoes.’ The captain held up three thick fingers. ‘Three days, Gawn, three days. After that she can’t come with us. You know the penalty. And it’ll be your head, not mine. Are we clear?’

‘Aye, Captain. You have my word.’

‘Good. You’re a good lad, and you did the right thing. Just sort it out, for all our sakes. Dismissed.’

‘Aye, Captain.’ Gawn turned on his heels and left the cockpit.

…

In the companionway he met The Geezer. ‘Gawn, Captain give you an earful, did he?’

‘Aye, but it’ll all be sorted soon.’

‘I have a mind to tell you the same thing that I’m sure the Captain did. She’s not something we want aboard when we reach the grottoes.’

Gawn moved to pass the older dwarf, who grabbed him by the arm before he could escape.

‘She’s not what you think, Gawn. She’s human enough, but not all of her is. She has a touch of the Dark Woods about her. That scares me, Gawn. She shouldn’t be alive if she’s one of their tryst bastards. That’s one taboo the elves don’t take a kindly view of.’

Gawn paused, considering the fact.

‘Poor thing cut her head. I bandaged her up. The proof’s right there, Gawn, hidden in her hair.’

‘Thank you, Geeze, you’re a good friend.’

‘I’ll be your only friend, if you don’t sort this out.’ The older dwarf chuckled. ‘What will you do?’

‘I’ll think of something.’

‘What? Drop her off with the mokith? Drop her off on the surface? I’m not sure what’s worse.’

‘There has to be a human settlement somewhere. Maybe the bedawi?’

‘The bedawi won’t touch her with a stick.’ Sal said, as he came in through a porthole, carrying a bowl of steaming soup for the captain. ‘Foods up. You better eat.’

‘Aye, before Beir scoffs it all.’ The Geezer said. ‘But take that bowl through, then explain what you mean.’

‘The bedawi?’ Sal asked, then continued. ‘They’re down to earth people, but they didn’t survive Angor by being curious.’

‘And other villages, Sal?’ Gawn asked.

‘You’re out of luck. The next village is a day’s detour north. Considering the Savonin were heading that way, I wouldn’t bet my luck on it.’

The stories continues, be sure to subscribe to our newsletter to get the full story.

Rodney

The Rising Phoenix Games dude.
Rodney is a writer and editor of tabletop RPGs and a painter of Orks. He is worryingly fond of mill decks in Magic: the Gathering and a self-confessed Japanophile.

www.risingphoenixgames.com/

This is the fourth excerpt from Valkyrie: Ragnarok, which introduces Gawn and the intrepid crew of the Rat, a dwarven mine crawler. Far from home and running out of supplies, the Rat’s crew look for hope in old legends.

For the full excerpt, be sure to subscribe to our newsletter. You can find past excerpts by checking out the Valkyrie: Ragnarok tag (worth bookmarking the link too).

Not recommended for readers under the age of 12.

Gawn Dwargstul stood atop a rocky ridge, surveying the desert with his telescope. Its gears whirred like angry bees as he refocused the lenses. Below his vantage point, Ratta spat into his goggles and wiped them with the corner of his greasy apron.

“Grease, grease is what she needs. No water. She has water, plenty of water. Grease will keep her smooth.’ Ratta muttered on.

‘I’ll run smoother with some water.” Gawn removed the telescope from his eye, revealing a harsh vertical scar over his eye.

Gawn was a handsome dwarf, with thick black hair and a full beard he kept in a simple braid. He had sharp green eyes under his thick eyebrows. Blue tattoos covered his arms, the entwined dragon lords of Fear and Death. ‘Come on Ratta, you old fool. Cap had good intentions, but no amount of fresh air will do you enough good. Back to the Rat.’

‘Aye. Grease. Greasy gears. Good, greasy gears.’

Gawn patted the older dwarf on the back and led him over to a hole in the ground, which they promptly disappeared into. There was the muffled clank of a metal hatch closing, followed by the growl of an engine. Suddenly dirt exploded up from the hole, sending down a shower of grit. When the dust finally cleared, the hole, and the dwarves, were gone.

The Rat was a sleek mine crawler with eight births and a cramped cargo bay. It was a machine to be proud of, with an intricate combination of valves and chain-driven cogs that worked together in synchronized harmony to propel the drilling rig through the earth. As much as Gawn loved the Rat, it was his brother crewman that filled him most with pride.

Big Beir was the crew’s cook and joker, a dwarf who never seemed to worry, no matter what life threw at him. He stood near the Rat’s small stove, rummaging through a box of dry rations. ‘Anything?’ He asked the returning dwarves.

‘Not a drop.’ Gawn said.

Sal was Bier’s opposite, a contemplative loner who seldom shared his thoughts. He was dependable to a fault and the most widely travelled of the crew. He sat cross-legged on the decking, cutting wood for the stove.

‘See anything?’ Gawn asked Sal.

‘Same as you, I reckon. But follow this ridge and we’ll hit something.’

‘Aye aye.’

‘Or dive and we’ll hit all the water we could ever want.’ Tav said, lazily buckling on his breeches as he stood by his bunk. The ship’s weapons master wore his dusty orange hair in a tight mohawk that showed off the scars that crisscrossed his scalp.

‘I told you Tav…’ Sal began.

‘The Abyss runs shallow here, Tav. We can’t dive, Tav. Your mother’s a whore, Tav. Give it a break already. We’ll find water before we ever hit the boundary. And don’t give me that ‘saltwater’ nonsense. We’ve got the Geezer.’ Tav thrust his thumb over his shoulder. In the shadow of another cot, an older dwarf harrumphed. ‘Not you too, Geezer.’ Tav said, throwing his hands in the air. ‘To the Abyss with all of you, I’ve got munitions to polish.’ The young dwarf threw open a hatch and disappeared inside, just missing the laughter that erupted in his wake.

‘So, Geezer, is it true? Can you turn brine into water?’ Gawn asked.

The old dwarf rose from the shadows. He was bald, but his long white beard was braided through with golden talismans.

‘I can turn brine to wine, and more. Lead to golden ore, or your mother into a lusty…’

‘Oi, that’s enough.’ Gawn interrupted, but the gleam in his eye was full of laughter.

‘No. In a different time, maybe,’ the Geezer continued, ‘but now, no, impossible.’

‘Why?’ Sal asked.

You’ll get more of the story about the Rat’s crew if you’re a subscriber to our newsletter.

Bunny Girls

April 1st wasn’t much fun for many of us this year, but we still had a good laugh with Book of Races: Bunnygirls. Kim Frandsen’s newest book for 5th edition is available on our Rising Phoenix Games store, on Drive Thru RPG, on Paizo.com, and on Itch.io.

Rodney

The Rising Phoenix Games dude.
Rodney is a writer and editor of tabletop RPGs and a painter of Orks. He is worryingly fond of mill decks in Magic: the Gathering and a self-confessed Japanophile.

www.risingphoenixgames.com/