Jocasta had the momentary impression that trying to kiss Beren had caused the earthquake. In fact, perhaps kissing Beren inevitably summoned disasters. The whole cavern was shaking itself apart before in a cacophony of screaming rock and shattering masonry. A great crevasse ripped across the middle of the Dwarf city tumbling houses and great monumental buildings like waves crashing on sandcastles. Great gouts of sulfurous gas gouted from below, filling the air with the reek of volcanism.  There was a titanic cracking noise as one of the massive stalactites came away from the cavern roof. It seemed to fall in slow motion, gracefully sliding down into what must have been a palace. Dust exploded outwards in a billowing cloud as thousands of pounds of stone crashed to earth.


“We have to get out of here,” Jocasta declared in what might have been the most self evident statement she had ever made.


“But the others…” Buri began before obviously realizing there was nothing they could do to shelter the rest of the party from a disaster on this scale.


“We can regroup later!” Jocasta snapped, “Assuming we aren’t pancakes!” Buri nodded and took off at a run. Jocasta didn’t bother to ask, merely sprinting after him at best speed. Behind them the roar of breaking rocks grew worse as the ceiling, perhaps weakened when the stalactite had fallen began to crumble inwards, raining down in a shower of rocks and boulders. Buri ran straight for the nearest cavern wall, hurdling over a low fungus garden wall before emerging onto a long boulevard that terminated in a gate of sorts that had been hewed into the rock of the cavern. A pair of blindfolded dwarf statues held hands up in bar. The rock fall was very close behind them know, the smaller pebbles of the leading edge raining down on them as they ran. Larger boulders fell among them as the dust and grit closed in front of them like an enveloping rain storm. Jocasta threw herself into the shelter of the tunnel only a few heartbeats before a boulder the size of a wagon crashed upon the place she had been standing a moment before. She hit Buri and tripped, throwing out her arms to cart wheel awkwardly before hitting a wall and slumping to the ground.


Rocks and gravel continued to pour through the opening for several seconds before the rumbling and the stones subsided. Jocasta sat against the wall, panting hard. Beren, his axe slung across his back was doubled over, breathing hard with his hands on his thighs. Buri lay senseless on the floor, his head bleeding from a gash where a rock had struck him. The tunnel around them was regular, clearly dug or improved by the dwarves of the city, and it’s walls were covered by an impressive mosaic which stretched off into the darkness. Time had not spared the mosaic, broken tiles had flecked away from the wall over the years and lay like dandruff by the tunnel walls but the overall images were still distinguishable. The small colored tiles depicted dwarves of all ages and trades, marching down into the earth, weapons and tools held aloft.


“What is this?” Jocasta asked, peering closer as the glow worms re-emerged from their hiding places.


“It’s a Funerary Road,” Beren said.


“Families would bear their dead down into the tunnels below the city. Each family would have a particular place, sometimes secret places to lay their dead to rest,” Beren replied, picking pebbles out of his hair.    


“Actually Jocasta, it’s the road to the tavern where they kept all the booze and food and fun magical items,” Jocasta said in her Beren impersonation. “Plus there is a bath and a magical portal to the surface.”


“What the hell are you talking about girl?” Buri demanded somewhat groggily.


“It seems if I want good news I need to get it from myself,” Jocasta replied.