“It was a day like any other. Private Wedge and I, sleepily put on our gear and proceeded to prep the schedule for the day. I remember it was still dark when we stumbled out into the brisk morning air. I had forgotten about ocean breezes and fog banks living in Hyperion. The great walls prevented even the wind to flow through freely. A dim glow from the enchanted chalk still lined the street up to the mines. There was a group of travelers that had arrived in Vish’Ar shortly after us. Upon initial inspection they seemed primarily as outsiders, although after the tragedy in Juno we were all refugees. There seemed to be what appeared to be two elves travelling with a garish man wearing black. I noted that there was also a large domesticated hound that obediently followed beside them. To say the least, Wedge and I did not trust them, however Captain Carryon seemed to be acquainted with the man in black and it seemed they were accompanying us with our meeting with the mayor. He was a kind man, humble despite his power, someone we could really admire in stark comparison to our fragmented sorcerer’s corps.
Due to our indifference, we managed to miss the scheduled meeting with Sir Marcus Grimm the evening before but were on our way into the mine to try and reconcile the missed opportunity. Without a guide…the mines of Vish’Amdor were disorienting. Seemingly build with no real sense of direction, unfinished tunnels led astray in each direction. Conveniently the hound with us somehow managed to catch the scent of I assume some people and we traversed down a flight of stairs into a large sleeping quarters for the miners. A stout and gruff looking Dwarf sat at a large table in the center with a pitcher or beer in each hand oblivious to our entry. The hound let out a howl which seemed to stir the sleeping miners. It seemed as if that man in black..I think his name is Garrett had quite the reputation, familiar with the royal sorcerer’s corps of Hyperion and the Dwarven miners of Vish’Amdor alike. It seemed like they were making some sort of a deal when all of a sudden the Dwarf staggered back and collapsed against the wall clutching his side as blood poured out. One by one the Dwarves awoke to the screaming and surrounded us. An Iron Hound crawled out from under the big center table, probably guarding the big drunk fellow and began to circle us as well. The hound, seemed to be taking commands from the Dwarf whom we later discovered was the wrong Grimm brother, the more irritable reckless one, Baron. The lighting was bad enough despite the dust and dirt being kicked up from the scuffle. The miners didn’t seem to want to fight and Baron didn’t seem to have any sort of grip on sobriety. He grabbed his sledgehammer and ambled towards us, swinging it around aimlessly, injuring his own fellow Dwarves. He had knocked out one of the support structures as the earth around us began to tremble. Wedge and I ran as fast as we could to escape. Three flights of stairs or perhaps two? Somewhere along the line we made a wrong turn and ended up in a conveyor chamber where piles of dirt were deposited from below by a complicated rotating elevator. Managed only barely to catch our breath the elevator hummed into action as we heard Baron Grimm yelling wildly. Turned and ran again, that’s what we did. Luckily one wrong turn didn’t cost us but we managed to exit the mines and make our way to the inn where we prepped some Abbot’s Gold we had brought from home and rested up. Cheese made at the Apallion Temple in Hyperion was known for it’s regenerative properties, sweet to the palette to ease stress but still with a kick of spice to enable the impulses in the brain to heal faster. It was still midday, sun high in the sky, when a familiar voice met our ears. Garrett and the elves returned from the mines along with our “fearless” officer, Carryon, who loves cheeses more than anything on Titan.
Now knowing full well that we met with the wrong brother we contacted Mayor Ironside to see if we could get a guide to meet Marcus and set up another meeting. We walked through the tunnels now lit up and glowing by some cable that ran along the ceiling. It looked like magic but was inter-dispersed into glass chambers. We waited outside Sir Marcus’ quarters with Vincent the dark-skinned elf while Carryon attempted to make a deal with the Dwarf. Big stupid grin on his face as he walked out, Carryon clutched something in his fist but I couldn’t tell what it was. It seemed as if Marcus was to be accompanying us back to Hyperion…along with his brother….we prayed he was too drunk to remember us at all seeing as how we had just attacked him in his own home and were rewarded our prayers. Praise to the Watchers."
– Second-Lieutenant Biggs Darklighter
in “The Chimera War”