THE MAGMAING

The Magmaing

“So you see steam coming off the rocks, right?  And you think ‘Hey, steam rocks!’  Really?!  Those are the thoughts you were having?” Urist growled over his tankard at the dwarf across the table.
“Like I said, details, who needs ‘em,” the other one mumbled, downing a third of their pint in a shot.  “So what do we do now?”
“What do you mean we do now, Leadbeard?” the third one demanded.  “We get the hell out of here!”
“And go where, Larry?” Urist asked angrily.  “Back to the capital?  Across the roads?  Where the Ultra-Jaguar lives?  We barely made it out here in the first place!”  Distant screams echoed through the open door of the pub as the argument continued.
“Hey, I’m just suggesting,” Larry shot back, standing up.  “Anyone else want a refill?”
“Sure,” Leadbeard said, handing the tankard over.  Urist shook his head angrily.
“No, we need to focus.”
“Focus?  Why do you think we came here?” Leadbeard asked.  “We do our best thinking here.  You know that.  Remember the time the Frost Elephant broke into the trade depot and ate all those dogs?  You totally stopped him.  Just…cold-stopped him.  With that idea.  That you had.”
Urist thought for a moment.  “Yeah.  That’s true,” he chuckled, his anger fading a bit.  “But seriously, how do we fix this?  Flood the tunnel?”
“And what, fill it with char and slag?  No way, I gave birth defending that tunnel from the goblins, we’re not letting it go to some fucking melty rocks.”  The screaming outside the tavern grew steadily as she gestured expressively at the increasingly nervous barkeep.  “You think Horul wants to leave?  Horul doesn’t want to leave.”  Larry returned with the tankards and Leadbeard picked hers back up.  “Thanks.  What do you think we should do, Larry?”

“I think we should breach the tunnel into a lower shaft and let it drain, then go cap it at the source.  Go install a metal wall or something,” Larry opined.  All three looked to the door as a panicked cat ran by, its fur clearly aflame.  “Hey, there’s something you don’t see relatively often.”  Distracted by the sight, the three failed to note Horul nervously hovering behind their table.
“Er, folks, the evacuation’s been sounded.  We really ought to go…” he stammered as the red glow outside grew brighter.
“We’ll go when we’re ready to solve the problem, Horul,” Leadbeard harrumphed.  “Unless you have a suggestion?”
“Well, you know, we could always just ask the elves how they solved their little volcano problem a few years back-” Horul started to suggest.
“Putting my foot down, nope,” Urist said flatly.  “We’re not that desperate.”  Suddenly, a group of miners cannoned through the door, slamming into the table and rolling, trying to extinguish their burning hair.
“OH FFFFFFFFFF THE FIRE FUCK FUCK” one of them screamed, pouring Leadbeard’s beer on himself, filling the room with noxious smoke.
“Hey, hey, hey, don’t be stealing a girl’s brew!” Leadbeard roared, laying into the miner with the empty tankard.
“Whoa, whoa, hey, slow down, Urist yelled, snatching the tankard away.

Leadbeard glared at him for a moment before righting the table again.  “Right.  We need to think.”
The miner scrambled back up, ignoring his burning colleagues.  “Are you FUCKED IN THE BRAINPAN?  We need to LEAVE!”
“Not YET,” Larry said, refilling his tankard once more.  “We’re not done thinking.  At least I’m not.”
“Well, I am,” Horul said, grabbing the still-breathing miner and hauling ass for the door.  “Later, folks.”  Urist watched him go, frowning mightily.
“You know, he may be right.  Maybe,” he sighed to himself as the stream of burning people outside thickened.  “Maybe we should pull up roots.”
A horrendous CRACK split the air outside, and the ceiling overhead.  A stream of molten rock poured in from the back room, as oily smoke oozed through the windows into the street outside.  All three dwarves stared, agape, as the magma incinerated the entire stock of alcohol in the back.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Larry screamed, running forward, desperately pushing some of the magma aside, trying to reach the precious casks.
“Hey, Larry, how hot is it?” Leadbeard called back.
Larry turned around, knee-deep in the lava.  “What?”
“Never mind.  Let’s ride, sluts,” Leadbeard said mournfully, making for the exit.
“Yeah…let’s,” Urist said.
Larry cupped a hand over his ear, now waist-deep in the liquid rock.  “What?”

Outside the mountain, the surviving dwarfs looked at the crumbling, semi-molten façade of the fortress, watching as it sagged inwards under the immense heat.  Leadbeard sighed heavily.  “Welp.”
“Hey, the scout’s back,” Urist noted, watching a lightly-armored recon dwarf run up to the assemblage of newly-displaced refugees.
“Hey, hey, people, guess what!  The humans found out what happened somehow, and they already agreed to loan us one of their empty storage caves,” the scout yelled.
“Cool.  What did they store in it before?” Urist asked.  The scout beamed.
“Fish!  It’s right by the river!”
END