Summer 10/Dwarf Negotiations
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
Depictions of cognitive decline
[X] Plan Only Iron
-[X] Give the dwarves 300 Food, 702 Goods (2 of them from us), and 1,502 in Dwarf-Coins (+2,036 Balance)
-[X] Receive 22,116 oz Forged Iron (-1843 Balance)
-[X] Receive 1,152 oz of various magical metals (192 oz each of Molten, Ripple, Muddy, Icy, Drafty, and Storm Iron) (-192 Balance)
-[X] Give the dwarves 300 Food, 702 Goods (2 of them from us), and 1,502 in Dwarf-Coins (+2,036 Balance)
-[X] Receive 22,116 oz Forged Iron (-1843 Balance)
-[X] Receive 1,152 oz of various magical metals (192 oz each of Molten, Ripple, Muddy, Icy, Drafty, and Storm Iron) (-192 Balance)
Dwarf
Toki's face splits in half with a millstone-filled grin as he looks upon the offer. Greed shines in his beady, wrinkle-encased eye like a beacon in a night storm as his rock dust-filled eyebrows climb his brow. The already-musty air gains a certain sweet tinge, the sign of a dwarf's excitement rising. There's no way he'd ever even consider refusing it, not with how much he stands to gain.
Trembling from giddy eagerness, Toki practically leaps across the table in an effort to shake your hand. So eager is he that he actually misses your hand entirely and you have to spend a couple silent seconds awkwardly fumbling around for each other. Despite the judgement-filled, jealous gazes of the mediator and his, well, judge, you and Toki eventually manage to exchange palms and the deal is struck in stone.
As Toki leads you back to the entrance of his ever-expanding underhouse, he strikes up a conversation as you pass by the door-less entryway to a chamber filled with soot-marked dwarves crouching before roaring furnaces and knee-high anvils.
"So, Skyfire," Toki says while pausing for a young, vaguely familiar dwarf pushing a wheelbarrow loaded with trinkets to pass on by. It's only as the dwarf disappears down a side tunnel that you recognize him as one of the dwarf-infants you met a few years back, "what do you need all this iron for anyways? It's a lot even for us skinspawn, easily sixty percent of our quarterly takings!"
"Armor and weapons," Toki seems to have no trouble at all hearing you over the constant, ear-filling din of hammer against anvil—you don't even have to yell! "There's a raid heading for our shores," Toki scratches his hat-adorned head at that word, "and so material is needed to make those arms and armor."
Toki nods at that, "Shame about the Ancestral Treaty, else we'd offer to sell you those arms and armor, but," he shrugs, seemingly untroubled by the matter, "alas, such is life in the mines."
For a moment, you're reminded of the carnage and slaughter of dwarves-at-war. The smell of cooking flesh fills your nostrils as images of feasting dwarves fills your mind and twists your stomach into knots. The sound of screams and sobbing voices silenced by hungry maws sends a shiver down your spine as the corners of your vision darken with shadows beyond the darkness of the underground.
For a moment, the memory of devouring dwarves disappears with hungry-eyed humans taking their place. With a close-eyed shudder, you master yourself and calm your rioting stomach. Your mind once more yours, you silently place one more praise-poem on the unknown names of those who negotiated the Ancestral Treaty. It's not the first time you've done that. It certainly won't be the last.
No matter how strong the resemblance, dwarves are not human. It's something you sometimes have to remind yourself, but it's not something you'll ever truly forget.
The recent dreams don't let you.
0~0~0
Underhouse
You needed a break from dwarves, so you go to a place filled with dead ones—ironic, you know.
Regardless of the inherent irony in it, clearing out the underhouse is something that needs to be done. Especially since it would make a great hideout. Which—with the raid coming in the not-so-distant future—is a rather attractive idea indeed.
As you move the dwarven bodies to the surface, you notice that even their long-dead bones turn to stone when bathed in the light of the sun—except for one. The sole skeleton that stays that way is none other then the swaddle-wrapped infant's, adding yet another notch to the mystery.
Seeing the lack of petrification reminds you of the ledger you have yet to find. Thankfully, you marked the doorway to the empty bedroom so you don't have to fear your memory failing you.
Entering the bedroom, you're greeted by a bed nestled lengthwise in the corner, a bedside chest across from you to the left of the bed, and an entrance-facing, cabinet-doored wardrobe immediately to your right at the foot of the bed. Stepping further inside, you consider where to start but, before you have a chance to really get into it, you realize just how silly it would be and decide to just start with the chest.
A sort of table extends from the inside of the chest top as you lift the lid, forming a solid surface for one to work on. Inside the chest is a number of personal belongings, among them is a collection of long-dried painting supplies, broken ceramics, and a bejeweled, hand-length beard comb. What catches your eye beyond the sundry, however, is a wood-bordered, dark-surface slate resting in a place of honor on its very own shelf.
Picking the slate up, you find it surprisingly heavy for how thin it appears. It's only about the size of your head and the wood that encases it is well-polished and clearly very expensive. You squint as your fingers detect the faintest hum of power pulsating beneath.
Following your intuition, you run a finger across the surface. Shockingly, a trail of ripples follows your fingertip, just as if you'd swiped it through water. The ripples fade and, with that seemingly the signal, light suddenly shines to life in the shadow-draped room—the source the suddenly glowing rectangle in your hands.
Lone-standing runes greet you in a grid-like pattern, seemingly inviting you to punch in a series. Shrugging, you gently tap your name in as the runes appear in a previously empty box. You only get two runes into your kenning when the surface turns red and an angry beep rings out. Wincing, you look down just as the red disappears alongside your unfinished name.
Looks like you've only got, oh, six runes in before it devoured what you wrote. You get the feeling this will be a pain, but at least you finished clearing out and preparing the underhouse for human habitation!
Now then, to discuss it with the family...
After getting some work done, of course!
(The Underhouse is now available as a Hideout)
0~0~0
Crafting rolls are at the bottom.
Dorri examines the sword hanging from your belt with an appreciative eye as his men help yours to unload the cart you rode in on. "That's a magnificent sword," he mentions as you hand him the wax tablet listing the cart's contents. His brows rise alongside a low whistle, as he silently reads to himself. He doesn't continue speaking, too caught up in reading the list over and over again.
Picking up the slack with a sly grin, you nonchalantly shrug and twirl a finger through your hair, "Oh, you mean this little thing?" You tap a soot-blackened fingernail against the flame tongue-shaped pommel, "Well, I'm planning on naming it Burning Caress—after I test its edge in battle, of course."
"Of course," Dorri absentmindedly mutters as he's forced to pull his gaze away from the tablet. He can't help but shake his head in awe as a half-choked laugh leaps free, "You are a woman of many talents, Halla Skyfire, and I suppose this is only to be expected, but thirty shirts of mail?" He shakes his head again as an outburst of astonished breath escapes his lips, "I've heard of such things before, we all have, but only in the context of kingly smiths and saga-forging legends—nothing I imagined I'd ever see with my own eyes."
"Just doing my part," you couldn't keep the pride-filled smile off your face even if you tried, "I'm sure there's a lot of people who'd do the same if they could."
Dorri shakes his head once more, this time in denial. "There are many who would if they could, but they are not the one who did it." His virthing manifests around his shoulders as your breath catches in your throat. Gripping the windchime-laden edge of the ruby-scaled material with both hands, the Headsman tears away a large strip of his soul. Taking a knee, you bow your head as Dorri lays the orthstirr-packed fragment of manifested might upon your shoulders.
Your strength rises as his respect joins with your own, becoming one in honorable harmony. You rise to your feet a stronger woman, one surrounded by the thunderous applause of cheering friends and family. They all know how hard you worked on these pieces, they all know the respect you deserve. To see you receive your just desserts?
Glorious.
(+45 Orthstirr, a gift from Dorri Rattlespear for a job well done)
(Burning Caress added to inventory. This is a Wondrous quality sword made of Molten Metal. It was forged with Wolf Bone-Ash and is covered in runes of armor-piercing and edge-protection. It provides 9d6 Combat Dice.)
(Twin Snake Arm-Rings added to inventory. They are both of Wondrous quality and are made from intertwining braids of gold and silver. One band—a golden dragon wrapped around a silver tree—bears runes to strengthen the bearer's blows while the other—a golden dragon wrapped around a silver spear—adds haste to their movements. These, when worn together, provide the wearer with +1 to Melee Damage and +1 to their Speed)
0~0~0
Talking to the family
Stepping into your father's hall is like stepping into a cliff wall. There's no give to the tension in the air, only mounting stress.
Steinarr sits alone atop the high chair with his arms on his knees and an untouched bowl of stew at his side. He stares into the crackling hearth-fire as a graying Randi tends to it, a grim shadow of his jaw-clenched face.
As you enter the room, though, his eyes leave the fire to connect with yours. A long-held breath escapes the mouth of all inhabitants as Steinarr rises to his feet, crosses the short distance with a single stride, and pulls you into a deep embrace. You return it, of course, as you cast an arched-brow question about the room—a question that receives little more then thinned lips and shrugs as answers.
Releasing the embrace, Steinarr invites you in and seats you at his side—after handing his cold meal off to Randi first. With Sten on his right and you on his left, Steinarr seems genuinely happy for the first time since you broke the news of the coming raid to him.
Clapping both of his eldest children present on the shoulder, the corners of Steinarr's eyes wrinkle as a broad, honest smile cracks his face in two. "It's been too long since you've been home, Halla!"
Your brows furrow at that, but you let it go. Steinarr is allowed to be a little possessive in his old age, you reckon. "It's good to be back, Dad," you nod while mirroring his smile, "but I was here just the other day? I was helping Sten with his shields, remember?"
Steinarr blinks, honest confusion flickering across his brow, "I... You were?" He shakes his head, an embarrassed laugh leaving his lips, "I, uh, I must have missed you, then, been too caught up thinking about the raid, you see."
He's not convincing you, but Sten shakes his head and something in his eye chills your blood, so you say nothing of it. He clears his throat and leans forward, "Hey, Halla, didn't you say you would help me load the cart up with the shields?"
"Oh yeah, I did!" You didn't, but Sten clearly has something he needs to say in privacy.
Steinarr looks between you and Sten as the two of you rise to your feet. "You need help with the cart?" He makes to follow you to the door, but Sten stops him with a raised hand.
"No, Dad, it's fine," Sten says as he opens the door, but that's not enough to stop Steinarr.
"No, it's not," he says as he fully rises to his feet, the sight of his still-strong limbs soothing your fears like a warm blanket banishes the cold, "It's my memory that's failing, not my strength!"
Sten winces and sucks a hiss through clenched teeth as he deploys his final measure, "Halla and I are leaving to have a private conversation, Dad."
It works like a charm, stopping Steinarr in his tracks with a small, "Oh, well, carry on, then."
To see a man like Steinarr shuffling back to his chair like a chastised child fills you with a deep sense of wrongness. Something's very wrong, but you'll hold your tongue until you and Sten are alone.
Shutting the door behind him, you and Sten stand before the twilight glow of the setting sun.
You break the silence before it has a chance to form, "Dad said his memory is failing. How bad is it?"
Sten sighs, "Dad never had an amazing memory, you know this as well as I," you hesitantly nod at that, recalling more then a few times he's forgotten to teach you rather important things, "but with the raid coming... He's gotten worse, significantly worse, and quickly. Confused me for his brother a few days ago, even."
"Did you take him to the Seeress? Is it nidheart, do you think?"
Sten nods, "As soon as I realized something was wrong, yeah. She said that it probably wasn't nidheart, but that his soul was shrouded by powerful, divine magic so she couldn't tell anyways. Gave him some gunk-smeared leaves to chew on and it helped, but not for long."
"Do you think..." You can barely bring yourself to say it, but you have to ask, "I-is he dying?"
Sten doesn't answer, which is an answer in of itself.
The rest of the night is a blur, but you remember telling Sten of the Underhouse and suggesting sending all non-combatants to it—which, as much as he might deny it, now includes your father. Sten, the acting man of the house, agrees to your plan.
As Sten returns to the hall, you're left alone on the porch step—when, exactly, you ended up there you've no idea. The slowly-igniting stars up-high greet your gaze with twinkles, careless to the state of the world. For a moment, you consider flying up there and breaking them all for daring to shine while your father doesn't.
It's only as you crouch down and muster your orthstirr that the gruff voice of Blackhand enters your head, 'You're upset, but the stars aren't at fault for Steinarr's condition. Nobody is. All we can do is live on for him, shining brighter then the stars would ever dare.'
Of course, it's not actually him, just what you imagine he'd say in this scenario. Still, it's probably good advice, right?
...Gods, you miss Blackhand right now.
(Your family will store their food, supplies, and non-combatants in the Underhouse for the duration of the raid.)
0~0~0
Seeress
Standing before the Seeress' red-and-white tent, you pause at the entrance. You've got a list of questions in mind to ask her, but, with the recent turn of events, perhaps there's something else you'd like to ask?
Is there?
[ ] Yes, there is!
-[ ] Write in
[ ] No, there isn't. Proceed with your current lot of questions
-[X] (Seeress) Learn seidr with the Seeress (Only available during Summer)
--[X] Learn the seidr area for combat spells useful when dealing with other humans, whatever ones Solrun knows anyway
--[X] Reprise our question about where she stays in the winter and invitation to stay with us if she would prefer
--[X] Ask about the early warning she got last time, see how that worked and if duplicating it might be possible
--[X] Learn the seidr area for combat spells useful when dealing with other humans, whatever ones Solrun knows anyway
--[X] Reprise our question about where she stays in the winter and invitation to stay with us if she would prefer
--[X] Ask about the early warning she got last time, see how that worked and if duplicating it might be possible
AN: Well, there sure was a lot of funky times with this one, that's for sure. I had a lot of fun writing this one, I won't lie. Seems like a break every once in a while is a good idea, ha!
Regardless, I decided to cut it off here for two reasons. 1: You folks would probably appreciate the opportunity to ask Solrun some different questions. 2: My dog recently got spayed and I need to watch her, which means I can't write at the same time.
I decided to only forge a sword to match Ashen Kiss rather then also reforging Ashen Kiss alongside it as that would really be an action in of itself.
Arm Rings
Forging: (20+15+3+3) 41 Successes
Runes: (15+15+3+3) 36 Successes
Burning Caress
Forging: (28+15+3+2) 48 Successes
Runes: (8+15+3+2) 28 Successes
Forging: (20+15+3+3) 41 Successes
Runes: (15+15+3+3) 36 Successes
Burning Caress
Forging: (28+15+3+2) 48 Successes
Runes: (8+15+3+2) 28 Successes
No moratorium, but this'll be the only update for today.
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