Tylos-Kavzar is the greatest civilization to ever exist. This is a truth buried in the heart of every one of the cities' sons, and you are no exception. With the horror, you doubt somewhat, but still feel a frisson of pride at coming to the residence of Prince Stonehammer, what you can only describe as a dull stumpy fort. What is impressive is that it was not here a week ago, but no amount of military speed can justify the architectural atrocity that it is, all sharp angles and firing positions and lines of sight. What happened to that legendary Dwarfish craft? The golden floors and gem-studded walls, the gromril forged like fishes' scales? No – the grumpy longbeards that pat you down show no great wealth. No rune on their armour, just dull steel plate, all to your Sight perfectly mundane.
The Prince is a little better, though the stench of desperation sticks to him like soot. His beard is well kept, embroidered with thin chains of platinum. He has no gem-tattoos like the Sons – his face is unadorned, in fact, and he has no rings on his fingers nor necklace or even crown. He is, despite you having been mandatorily disarmed, still in gromril armour, with helm and greaves. It's been clearly dented and buffed out, actively war-torn, with but the only runes you've seen dully glowing. As you approach, he nervously drums on a war-axe at his side. You expected a proud fellow, dripping with gold and electrum, contemptuously glaring over a runed table of solid jade. What you get is a plain stone table, with an exhausted Dwarf in old military garb, clearly paranoid.
The War of Vengeance was worse than you thought. Was just this what could be spared for the first diplomatic mission in fifty years to the greatest cities of mankind? Was every coin and sword going to the death of all Elves? Or did they just not think, in the infinite arrogance of the Elder Races, that you were worth anything?
Regardless of any such faded glories, you are determined to be polite. You bow as you approach, and do not sit till Stonehammer gestures.
"
Umgi. Why you come?" he says, in broken, deeply accented Tylosi.
"A warning from the deep."
A deep, deep grumble. "
Grobkaz.
Skavoral?"
"As you say."
"You knowing shame?"
"Sorry?"
An audible grinding of teeth. "
Skavoral nunbungkar. Why they not us."
"No?"
"Reason you not-trust.
Ek baraz – promise secret keep from brother
Umgi?" He offers a hand to clasp.
This is rather your only chance to know the Sons of Skavor's secret shame. "Yes" you say, and grasp, and his runes flare and your soul shivers as your mouth is bound.
He leaves the room, which you do not expect, and brings a book made of wutroth, bound with truesilver clasps. In steel letters it says in Khazalid –
Dammaz Kron.
"Bugrit, bugrit, bugrit" Stonehammer says before he opens it, cutting his finger along the razor-edge of the first page. With the spatter of his blood, a rune appears on the front – that of Grimnir, you believe – and the book flutters open to an illustration of dwarves falling from a crumbling wall, each line of the drawing in tiny perfect runic calligraphy describing the pictured SHAME. Prince Stonehammer begins to intone in Khazalid, and you feel a presence not-quite-like Morr but close enough grant all listeners understanding.
KRON A SKAVOR UNBARAK UN UT DAMMAZ
DUM WANRAK NAGGRUNDED UT ANKOR
DREK GRIMKAZADAZ KARAKED KAZAKAZ
UN HUNKED UZKULAK KRUNKAZ RUNKED GOR
BAR GAZUL NUBUNGKI OKED RINK – THAGI
ELGRAM, KRUK, SKAVOR DARED FRUNDAR THAGZHARR
BAR DUM KAZAKED EK DRUNGED WAZZOCKI
IZED GRIM MALOK GNOLED A BAR GROMTHARR
DUM GUZZENED UM BAR SKAVOR GIRD DRENGIAR
EK UN SKAVORAL UNBARAKAR GROBED
DRONGEN KARAZ ANKOR, UT DAWI UTAR
BIN DRUNG, DUM ADSKED FRURNDAR – SAR UT DRENGED!
SKAVOR, KURAZ, KRONED DRENG, BAR SKAVORI KRUKED
UM GARAZDRED, NU GORAK GAZUL BARAZED
UT VENGRYN – UM UZKULAZ NUF RINK ANKOR BYRN
NAI DAL DRUNG; DUM BIN UT DURAZ MHONARYN
You've heard in rumour of the Fire Dwarves. You realize now from whence they came. It does not seem quite righteous to you – endless damnation for a refusal to commit suicide – but there is a reason you have never been a military man, and turned to Morr, who promises all, without fear or favour, a peaceful ending.
It also clarifies the nature of the Skavorite quest. To break into the Underearth was to undo their condemnation. To reverse Gazul's writ, and thus, prove their righteousness. Further, worse – the curse of stone and shadow. You think of frozen Skavor on his quiet throne, and the slow petrification of all; melted elder dwarves on the edge of a pit. If they were denied and afterlife, where did their souls go? Destroyed, perhaps – but you can think worse – trapped, knowing, seeing, as ghosts, but unmoving; locked-in as their stone bodies rot and ruin. Feeling every crumble and every crack; knowing their fate was sealed, dying in death, forever and ever, alone, and silent for all time. Shade-in-stone – another fathomless horror. The War against Gazul would be a kindness then, liberation of their trapped comrades, their frozen forefather.
Stonehammer must see into your mind, because his face is as solemn as a corpse.
"Traitors, all." He says.
"Then why were you trying to recruit them?" you ask, per the ad in the Pall Gazette.
Another grinding, a crack, the Prince spits out a bloody broken tooth. "
Karaz Ankor must live. You pan gold in dank water."
The reason for this awful meeting, this dun fort, this bitter Dwarf – they were losing the War. You were now in a curious position. The Skavorites were up to something terrible, blasphemous, evil. That is what you'd say, if you were a loyalist of Gazul. From a Morrite perspective, the Father is rather an equal subject for condemnation, to deny his children and his children's children who didn't do anything at all – to no eternal rest. You have no proof the Sons of Skavor are involved with the Tower, though you can guess several reasons how and why. God-killing is really rather in fashion, it seems. But this other side – you cannot think there is any other option for the Karaz Ankor but war for this, and against the cities whole. The Princeps will not tolerate a foreign nation's demands on his people. He'd be happy for a conflict, if he knows – which you're sure he does – how desperate the Everlasting Realm is. And between your young people and this old dwarf's - you're biased, naturally, but you're betting on the home team.
This is an important choice, you know. Fate balances on a razor-edge Each way you speak, death will follow, and it is up to you – O Chosen of Morr – to decide where the guillotine falls.
What do you say to the Prince Stonehammer?
[-] All you know of the Sons, and your support against them.
This means war between Tylos-Kavzar and Karaz Ankor. You throw yourself in with the mountain Dwarves, with all the support and hatred that comes with.
[-] Some of what you know, and a plea for subtlety. [R]
A difficult convincement, but you could try it. Hide the worst of it, ask for support to act as their secret agent. Lies, naturally, but for the peace. You'll get some resources, to be sure, and still be in a relatively
independent position. (If you fail the check, you default to the result of the first option)
[-] Comforting lies, and some blackmail.
Tell him what he thinks he knows, about their ordinary blasphemies about the ancestors and their odd funerary practices; he's already primed to think of humans as idiots.
Then drop a note to the Skavorites and use what you did to leverage a proper meeting.
[-] Write-in (what to say)
Another forking path.
If you agree to tell him, you are also probably entitled to a famous Dwarfish boon. What might you ask for, for the favour of starting a war?
[-] A tremendous bribe.
[-] Bodyguards.
[-] Runic weaponry.
[-] Write-in (boon)
AN: Thank you for tolerating con-lang poetry. Please vote by plan. 
