Winning Vote(s): said:
[X] Plan Basket, plus prepare the defenses
-[X] Render Aid: [Cost: 1 retainer action] Can be taken multiple times. Roll for usefulness, additional actions apply bonus to roll. Gain reputation and +2 bonus per action to Recruitment Dice. You formed these Hearthguard to combat all the ills that befall the dwarfen people. Send them out, render aid, earn goodwill and spread the word of your retainers and their stated mission beyond the borders of Kraka Drakk.
--[X] Elderly Expertise: Gain 40 Favour +? With Stormpeak. 1 retainer action
-[X] [Simple] Defence. In. The. Depths: [Cost: 6 actions] Productivity like No Other will proc. Gain security.
--[X] Expedite: [Cost 15 Favours with Kraka Drakk] Gain 1 progress. Cannot finish request. Can be taken x4 times and without actions. 60 Favors
--[X] Retainer Expertise: [Cost 1 retainer action] Gain 1 progress. Cannot finish request. 1 retainer action
-[X] Understand Valaya's Runes: [Cost: (12 -6) =6 actions] Journeyman of the Odd will proc. On the basket that bears her Master Rune, Valaya or perhaps some other Runesmith put down two other Runes. You can make a guess as to their purpose, but aren't too sure. One bears a similarity to the Rune of Load-bearing, the other the Rune of Healing. 4 actions
-[X] ORDER: A T4 Pegasus Heart, or Equivalent
━<><><>< 293 A.P. ><><><>━
You leave your workshop for a short trip to Grom, taking a small break from teaching the masses of Master Runesmiths who crowd around your home. Afterwards, you plan to spend as much time as possible working on figuring out if Valaya's basket has some secret insight that you can apply to the commission.
In the meantime, you leave Rudil in charge of overseeing the work that needs to be done to secure your home. Giving him a helpful handful of notes to see your vision through properly while giving him enough leeway to work around any potential oddities that may be found beneath your home.
As for your Firekeeper, you've decided to keep Ylva assigned to working with the Brana and Dawi building up Karazbinvarr for a while longer. Both because it seemed like one of the best ways to aid your allies and because it was not lost on you that there were Brana serving you who likely had a vested interest in seeing the future of their people further secured, even if they may put other things above such a concern.
━<><><><==><><><>━
"Stop smiling," Fjolla mutters, eyeing Dolgi in annoyance.
"I'm just so happy for you!" he chatters excitedly, the dwarfs around them thankfully not hearing through the din of the bar, "Have you told Klorah yet?"
"Nai not yet," she replies, "And keep it down, would you? Any louder and the whole Karak will know by sundown."
Dolgi, the rockhead, simply takes another long sip from his mug, that smile still plastered on his fool of a face, before attempting to reassure her.
"I'm trying, but forgive me for being excited for my oldest friend's new and exciting development!" he whispers.
"That's all well and good, but you don't need to be smiling like a loon to show how happy you are rockhead," she mutters.
"So… when are you meeting him again?"
"You realize I told you first because I didn't want to deal with these types of questions so soon, and instead I've found you're worse than my ma" she gripes.
It does little to smother the insufferable grin he bears.
"Speaking of, what do she and yer da think?"
Here Fjolla cringes slightly.
"Haven't told them yet, didn't expect it to happen really," she eventually replies.
Dolgi whistles out a quiet hiss of understanding.
"Ach. That'll be like pulling burrs out of yer beard, or braids in this instance. I wish you good fortune, but I don't think they'll say
no. A Master Runesmith is a Master Runesmith, taught by Master Snorri's own teacher in fact, and from what Klorah and I have seen and been told, an alright fellow besides. I'll even testify if you want me to. And, as we're both aware, I don't reckon they'll be particularly choosy considering how uh...uninterested you've appeared to be. Nothing to fear, really!" he reassures, patting her on the shoulder.
She can only grunt and take a long swig of her ale.
"You could also get Master Snorri to testify to his character if you're so concerned? Don't think he'd mind," he offers innocently.
Fjolla chokes on her ale, taking a good long while to quietly cough out the liquid in her lungs, glaring at the grinning moron all the while.
"I don't think," she begins before wiping some foam off of her mouth, "That either I
or Master Snorri want him involved in this sort of business."
━<><><><==><><><>━
You sniff down at the Rune now emblazoned on Valaya's shield. This particular statue stood next to an equally large stone depiction of her husband outside Kraka Grom's future Underway terminal. Though that particular bit of construction was still a long ways away from even starting, let alone completion, you'd at least gotten Valka to agree to have the terminal built and properly defended from the natural cavern discovered beneath Grom's lowest levels.
While a good deal of your time has been spent inscribing preservative Runes on statuary, it has hardly been
wasted. Never underestimate the effect a depiction of one's ancestors staring down on you can have on the average dwarf, especially when that statue bears Runes that bolster morale and improves one's endurance as these do. Not every statue in Grom is like that of course, the limitations behind applying its effect to a defined area were in play after all. Which meant covering the entire Karak in enough statues to give the desired effects throughout would take so much material that it made the task unfeasible even for you. Instead, Igna, Grom's ruling council and you had agreed to concentrate the number of such Runes to a few choice locations; putting them in key chokepoints, evacuation tunnels, battlements and the like.
In an
ideal scenario, such Runes would never need to be used. Either because no one was attacking the Karak or because any attackers had already fallen to the vast array of traps in between these hardpoints and any potential point of entry. Something you felt rather comfortable saying was more than likely, because you and Valka agreed on having the proper level of defences set up within the Karak proper; murder hallways, false vaults, flame traps, buzzsaws, falling ceilings, false floors, pit traps, the works.
If the cause for this fine appreciation of solid defensive tactics among the Dawi of Grom wasn't so rage-inducing, you'd be far happier to have found a group of Dawi who understood how grand the idea of killing your enemy before they ever got to you.
━<><><><==><><><>━
"Well isn't this a right kick in the arse," Rudil mutters, staring down at the roiling river, warm mist rising up from the current at his feet. Around him and the work crew, the hiss of erupting geysers somewhere in the dark echoed throughout the chamber over the constant low roar of the water below. By his best guess, the newly discovered cavern was at least three times as large as they had originally planned for. A good deal of effort to make up for, but doable with the help of Kraka Drakk's remaining stonemasons and engineers.
"Could certainly be worse," Tullek says with a shrug, the light of his lantern mixing with the pure glow of the Runes adorning him to cast stark shadows on his face.
"Aye, could be toxic gas," Mikken says, drawing a round of agreeing grunts.
"Or a giant spider nest," another miner adds to the sound of yet more agreement.
"Gnubbler warren," Enlag points out.
"Seemingly bottomless pit?" Morgrim Goldbeard offers.
"Warpstone."
"Bah that's the easy cop-out, think of something better Mundri."
"What about toxic,
Warpstone infused, gas?" Mundri offers again.
"That's better, aye, that'd be downright terrible to deal with," the same miner confirms.
"A river of lava?" another miner mutters, drawing a good number of unimpressed looks, "One that spews out poisonous gas and is lined with Warpstone?"
A round of hissing and nodding.
"What a waste of a Lava river that would be..."
"Well look at the bright side," Tullek cuts in with a pat on Rudil's shoulder, "We have ourselves a nice little spring to use for whatever we want! Why we can get some running hot wate- wait no Runes already do that. Hmph, I'd say something about a good source of potable liquid but looking at it more closely....not too safe to drink either considering the kind of activity involved. You'd need Runes to filter it as well. Oh, I have it! A bathhouse! That would be a nice touch, something close by instead of having to trek all the way to the Springs. Course we'll have to filter it for anything harmful as well, also mineral build up depending if the stone's shoddy, but I've seen Runes and a bit of clever masonry fix that too. All we need to do is get the whole thing sorted and squared away. Mikken come here and give me your best guess as to how long that pillar there'll last. I want a second opinion..."
Rudil lets the old miner descend into his muttering, drawing the rest of the group into his conversation with Mikken. Meanwhile, he continued staring down at the new set of caverns they'd uncovered with a grim eye.
This was a wrench in Uncle Snorri's plans, not an insurmountable one, but it would mean they'd have to work a bit harder to keep things on schedule.
Could be worse.
━<><><>< 294 A.P. ><><><>━
Carefully, reverently, you put down Valaya's basket onto the specially prepared pedestal. Several apparatuses arrayed around it to both ease your examination and beseech the Ancestors for aid so that you may not damage the treasured relic before you.
It feels...wrong to do this, yet the Runes call to you. Not literally of course, but intellectually. New Runes, or at least ones you've never yet seen. Your Runesmith's curiosity draws you to decipher their secrets, yet your common Dwarf sense demands you not harm a relic made by
Valaya's own hand.
So of course you'll do both. Over a longer period of time than you'd like, and with a great deal of other work and duties cutting in between stretches of your work, but it admittedly would do much to help calm you down before attempting to finagle the secrets of the Runes on the basket, Ancestors willing, without
damaging the basket.
"Observation log one," you begin, the Rune of Direction burning brightly on the headband, "Basket is of masterful make, composed of multiple layers of steel, copper, silver, gold and Gromril. Attempts at discovering the source mine of the materials have been stymied by the inability to conduct more destructive testing. As for the basket itself, it's a standard five-layer weave reminiscent of older southern convention with a woven handle bound by three rings and connected to the main body with Gromril clamps. Master Rune of Valaya is inscribed on the central ring of the basket's handle, while two unknown Runes are marked on each clamp respectively. Note, volume of bread removed from basket circa one hundred and eighty-two years ago far exceeded the theoretical volume of the basket, by my calculations an increase of -ach by Grungni's Baldric what on earth are they doing down there?"
Beneath you, a rumble of stone interrupts your train of thought and sends the basket jostling in its place just a little bit. You grumble out a curse and carefully re-center the gift. Intellectually you knew full well that Valaya would not make something so fragile that it wouldn't survive a simple fall, expected it even, but then again...
...who would want to be the Dwarf who dropped a gift from
Valaya? The shame alone...
Bah.
━<><><><==><><><>━
(Roll, Retainers: 66 +35[Bonuses] =101)
(Roll, Crit: 96)
"We ought to be done this section soon enough, my Lady. Well ahead of schedule," Skalgrim informs her, multi-lensed eyepiece still covering his face as he stares down at the plans on the table.
"Good, good, that should open enough time for us to deal with that fissure we broke into. We can send Tullek and Mikken down with the other miners to satisfy their curiosity and make sure there aren't any more surprises waiting for us."
Before the engineer can reply, shouts of alarm pierce the fabric of the tent followed by the sound of crashing stone, drawing looks of concern from the both of them before Ylva runs out of the tent with Skalgrim not far behind.
"What's going on?" she orders the closest dwarf, voice steady, "the work not going to plan?"
"Cave-in, we had cleared out the area just in case it happened, but a bunch of clutchlings broke the cordon. Damn near got themselves killed if some of the rangers hadn't rushed in and saved them."
"Any serious injuries?" she asks.
"Just some scrapes and bruises among those of us who went in, the children are fine thankfully."
"Thank the ancestors for small mercies. Now, who to inform about their children's suicidal tendencies…" Ylva mutters, already making her way to the dwarfs crowding around the foolish interlopers. To her surprise she can barely hear any regular grumbling from her compatriots, in fact, most of the noise they were making was the kind of grumbling saved only for the times when a dwarf barely misses getting into particularly troublesome types of situations.
When she reaches the crowd, who thankfully part for her, she realizes why so many of her comrades are looking particularly relieved.
Staring down at the children of He Who Thinks, Ylva mutters a quiet prayer to the Ancestors in thanks. She did
not want to be reporting the death of any child to a parent, let alone the child of a parent so important.
━<><><><==><><><>━
"Hearthlord are you alright?" one of his compatriots calls over the roar of water.
Getting up from the floor Rudil can only curse as hot mineral water drips down his armour and ruins his beard. Around him, several miners quietly groan and help each other up. He can barely hear anything over the roar of the water
"Any injuries?!" he yells, straining to be heard over the torrent of liquid that is only beginning to quiet down.
He receives several shouts ranging from perfectly fine to a minor concussion at worst, wiping away the worst of his fears and letting him breathe easier. Quietly thanking the armour he decided to wear that day he grumbles at the now quiet geyser, bubbling trickles where a torrent once spewed out of.
"What on earth caused that?" he asked,
"Looks like we hit a secondary chamber at the wrong time Hearthlord, second we opened her up all that pressure finally had somewhere to go. Like filling up a sealed goat intestine with air then poking a hole into the side of it, 'cept it doesn't smell as bad. Lucky we didn't get water hot enough to cut through our armour or cook us alive, it's quite refreshing really," Mikken says, equally soaked yet unphased.
He can only glare at the old miner.
━<><><><==><><><>━
Gimli can only groan, body wracked with pain. Though the Shamans had died, the ensuing explosion of magic from their sudden demise had thrown him far into the enemy force, cut off from reinforcements. He'd have surely died had the elf prince and his retinue not come charging in from the trees, collecting him and joining the Huskarls that had been madly cutting their way through to reach him.
"A debt!" he manages to cough out, "it seems I owe you a debt elf prince. Never shall they say that Gimli Gloinsson does not repay that which he ow-ach!"
"I'd advise you to rest good prince Gimli," Laequalys shouts above the din of the battle around them. The angry yells of the Huskarls intermixed with the twang of elven bows and the screams of Beastmen assaulting the hilltop they've made their stand at.
"And let you get the lead?" he says with another cough, "Over my dead body!"
"If you go back out there it may very well happen," the elf says dryly.
"Bah! Head over to my bag there, my wife gave me a crossbow
just in case. No better time to use it I reckon, just prop me up and I can do the rest," he mutters, spitting out a globule of blood onto the snow.
"If I must," Laequalys replies, moving over to Gimli's bag.
"Three hundred and fifty-seven," Gimli mutters offhandedly as the elf pulls out the master-crafted weapon and hands it to him.
"That can't be right. When did you kill another 2?" he asks, looking at Gimli curiously.
"Threw one of my axes, brained a minotaur and then I landed on another Gor to cushion my fall," Gimli explained.
"Blast," the elf mutters, "Well I'll catch up after this I believe."
"You can try, I'm no Ranger but I
did marry a princess trained as on-haaaargh by Grimnir's beard that one stings!" Gimli says before clutching his chest and descending into another coughing fit.
That was definitely a broken rib or three he thinks.
Ladra would have his head if the beastmen didn't, of that he was certain.
━<><><>< 296 A.P. ><><><>━
Your efforts have borne fruit.
It took the better part of the year, but you did manage to discover the truth behind one of the Runes on the handle. It was seemingly the source of the basket's ability to store stonebread far in excess of what its visible volume entailed. This Rune of Stacking as you've come to call it, somehow allows a container to carry far more than its normal capacity, though not indefinitely. The amount varied depending on the item, but it seemed to scale poorly, with bags having the most growth while anything larger than a barrel saw smaller and smaller gains. Further, the Rune reduced the weight of that extra volume by half according to your measurements.
The Rune had few to no similarities to any Runes you knew of. The closest thing to a structural similarity was to the Rune of Passage and Runes you put on buildings of all things and that was only in relation to distance and space. Your best guess was that
something was being stretched by the Rune, but what exactly that was you could not say.
Of course one of the first things you tried to do was put a bag with the Rune of Stacking inside
another bag with the Rune of Stacking. That in itself seemed fine, even when you put items
inside that bag. But if that bag contained items in excess of its normal volume those contents would be jettisoned, either into the bigger bag or if that bag was full, then flying out through an opening or through the container if it was weak enough.
Future tests made you switch out gravel as a test filler for grain instead. Flour or sand got everywhere ya see; too much effort to clean up and the former was not something you wanted floating in the air near a source of open flame.
The other early test you attempted was to try and stack the Rune, hoping to see if multiple copies on an item would increase the effect's potency to no success. A sad thing considering the name you chose but nothing else really
worked.
That aside, the Rune was undoubtedly useful.
Further testing was required, and your mind thinks about ways to expand on the concept now that you think on it some more. It makes you wonder what the other unknown Rune on the basket will do.
━<><><><==><><><>━
Nain feels his muscles strain and his breath hitch as exhaustion creeps closer and closer to overtaking him. The sweltering heat of the forge continually buffets at him, flames as tall as his beard is long flaring out from the opening and making his face look ruby red and casting a stark shadow behind him.
He pushes on, the pace of his blows never faltering.
Around him his fellow journeymen begin flagging, faltering at the torturous pace required, and each and every time they are admonished by a disapproving grunt from the Hammerspite.
He ignores their plight just this once.
Instead, his mind focuses only on the Rune before him, just as his master taught him. Decades of endurance training beneath his teacher's uncompromising gaze and standards have hardened his mind and body. Lessons about pacing himself and honing his mind to ignore the protests of his body long enough to finish his duty without permanently injuring himself are instinctive to him now. To be a Runesmith, as his master put it, was to be as unyielding as the very mountains they lived in.
Nain is so engrossed in his work that he doesn't realize he is one of the last Dwarfs standing, and though he does eventually collapse, it isn't before the Rune is glowing brightly, completed and waiting to be used.
The Hammerspite is silent, watching the latest in a long line of Stoneplates to come to his shop with inscrutable intent.
━<><><><==><><><>━
Khazid Angazhar was doing well enough to warrant its lord commissioning a piece of Runecraft to commemorate their victory over the Beastmen. A hammer and shield, ones fit for the Thane of the ruling Clan, one with the ties and ambition to see a crown upon their heads.
As Angazhar's
only resident Runesmith, Karstah is obviously commissioned and after several years of labour she presents her work before Lord Thuringar.
The shield is composed of a wutroth core and Gromril covering, the Metal embossed with the emblem of Clan Tinbeard surrounded by golden knots and the emblems of all the other Clans currently residing in the settlement. Spaced apart evenly in that outer ring alongside the emblems were the Runes of Warding, Fortitude and Parrying on individual plates of Gromril. The hammer was a thing of blackened steel, Gromril, gold and rubies, its haft stained so that the lines of simple steel wrapped around it stood out, the head was shaped into a stylized depiction of a Dragon, its ruby eyes squinted in fury while two Runes of Fire and a Rune of Fury blazed on its cheeks and forehead respectively.
They were her finest work to date, a thing of great pride not only for Lord Thuringar but also for herself.
The ceremony wherein she had delivered both works to an appreciative Thane would be one she would cherish. Her first real piece of some renown, mayhaps a good intermediary weapon if Khazid Angazar rose to prominence and became a true Karak.
In any case, the windfall she'd gotten for their creation would allow her to continue her research, hopefully, unimpeded for a good long while.
Slow and steady work.
━<><><>< 297 A.P. ><><><>━
You watch as Dolgi pulls at the wire, armour clanking and cheeks puffed out in exertion. A real showman your former apprentice was, though to his credit you could actually see the wire being drawn out.
"You'll need more, or better strength-enhancing Runes than what you have on you lad. Fatigue should be considered but it's meaningless if you can't even get the bar drawn out. Better to get more out of a relatively shorter burst than struggle fruitlessly for hours," you lecture, letting Dolgi finish the bar and passing him a tankard of ale to chug.
"Yes master," he pants out in between deep lungfuls of air.
"Rest up, the hard part's over for now. Now," you mutter, turning away from Dolgi to face your two other apprentices, "Who wants to go next?"
Looking at each other, Fjolla nods and moves up to the Chainforger. Her armour making less sound than Dolgi's plate, though that was more due to the amount of time she spent maintaining the stuff. Dolgi went out on Otrek's campaigns every so often, but he was more content to work in his shop and be with his family as opposed to Fjolla's almost constant excursions, testing her equipment and fine-tuning the light manipulating Runes she was now so fond of. Really, her apprentices had done more to hamper that particular aspect of the lasses' life than anything. Though that was to be expected really, apprentices were quite the investment.
You watch as your grand-niece begins pulling, a simple huff leaving her compared to Dolgi's overdramatic and guttural yell of exertion.
Honestly, that boy could have been a skald in another life.
Eyes still locked onto Fjolla's form, you nevertheless speak to your niece.
"How are your two young charges faring lass?"
"They're doing well! Soon I think, no more than three years before they're ready," she says, no doubt smiling up at you.
"Only a century?" you ask, raising a brow even while your eyes were locked on Fjolla, still making sure she doesn't hurt herself.
"They're
ready," she repeats, conviction running through her voice thicker than the gold seams of Ungor.
You can only nod in the face of that sort of belief. Good. Nothing less than absolute certainty was what you taught them, and it was good to know that Snerra took that lesson to heart.
"You're their master lass, not me. I'll defer to your judgement on the matter," you say.
"So proud of them. Look's like Bolgi's the last one to leave the nest now it seems," Dolgi cuts in, quietly sipping at his drink.
You hum, falling silent as Dolgi and Snerra begin speaking about his daughters' progress. The passing of time being marked by the sounds of construction below, the chanting of the current batch of Masters off in their own little section, and the idle chatter between your charges as Fjolla finishes pulling her length of wire.
It's hard to get the kind of quiet your home used to have, though you must, privately of course, admit that you don't much mind. With a simple grunt, you could get all the silence you wanted well enough.
"Alright lass, your turn," you say to your niece even as your free hand passes a tired Fjolla a cold, frothing mug.
With a chipper skip in her step, Snerra pulls out a bar of Gromril from her satchel and begins setting up the machine. You watch her carefully but efficiently prepare everything even as your ears pick up a bit of quiet whispering between Fjolla and Dolgi. Hmph, acting as if you've gone deaf will they? Not that you
didn't know, well less knew and more had a good hunch, but a hunch for a dwarf your age was a damn solid thing.
For a while you are simply content to remain silent, waiting for the right moment.
"So do you want a shield or an axe for the wedding?" you ask Fjolla, just as she was mid-sip.
You grunt in amusement at Dolgi's yell of indignation as he gets sprayed with ale while silently appreciating Snerra's ability to maintain her composure in the face of their foolishness.
Damn fool beardlings, you were an old hat at this sort of thing, you even lived through it. And wasn't that a mess to get through? You're still sure both of your parents knew, but were kind enough to not mention it until after you got married.
Even centuries hence you still feel a part of yourself shrivel up and wither away at that bit of embarrassment.
"Least you haven't got a bun in the oven. Not sure Joll would live through what your mother would do in that case. You got your right hook from her after all," you continue nonchalantly, silently revelling in how your grand-niece groans in abject horror.
You can see why your family enjoyed doing this.
━<><><><==><><><>━
"You sure this pillar can't get any thicker?" Thargrim mutters, poking at the giant stone cylinder with a finger.
"It doesn't need to be thicker than it already is. Not the first time I've put something in running water you old wheel of cheese," his fellow Hearth Warden mutters.
"No concern for acidity?"
"What do you take me for? A child some two centuries old? This baby's large enough and been treated to remain structurally sound in the face of
Troll acid. A bit of sour water won't wear her away so easily."
Rudil tunes their arguing out as he examines the dwarfs at work. They were in the finishing stages now, and only the Runes that Lord Snorri insisted he inscribe personally were required at this point. The main chamber, the one that had the newly tamed stream running through it, was hewed down to a pleasant hexagonal room with several branching paths. Each one connected it to several storerooms, the large internal sauna his uncle allowed to be built, the boiler rooms and reservoir tanks now connected to the rest of the Workshop's plumbing system, with several dead-end hallways that could be expanded in the future as needed. The whole space was decorated in a style similar to the rest of the Workshop, a few tasteful statues and images of the Ancestors, a bit of fine metal or carved knotwork to break up the monotony of the stone, but otherwise content to let the beauty of the rock shine through. Though there were several pipes running along the ceiling, kept in place with bands of steel, that carried the water where it needed to go. There were of course
other pipes carefully and safely ensconced behind the walls, redundancy was king after all, but having a few remain visible had a certain charm to it he would admit.
Defensively speaking they were much the same. The section connecting their work to the natural caverns was a mass of stone lit by torches and manned by several Hearth Wardens at all times. The approach and hallways leading to and from the gatehouse itself were lined with several crossbow traps, sawblades, swinging hammers and axes, and..well one got the point. A more novel addition was using some of the geyser output to create steam vents purpose built to release bursts of gas hot and fast enough to cook someone alive and strip flesh from bone. Whenever his uncle got around to inscribing the Runes required, the defensive array would be fully realized and Rudil could lower the guards posted down here to just enough to feel comfortable and be almost certain that a warning could get out to the rest of the Workshop should the gatehouse be breached.
━<><><><==><><><>━
By the year's end, despite the many duties you have interrupting your research, you do manage to decipher the second and last unknown Rune on Valaya's Basket.
This Rune sent your mind a tizzy just like the Rune of Stacking did. You've given it the name the Rune of Repair, which was perfectly apt, given that the Rune allowed whatever it was inscribed on to heal from minor cosmetic damage, things like hairline cracks and fractures that could cascade into worse damage over time. Stacking the Rune increased the speed of that effect but not its overall efficacy.
What you've caught on with these two Runes is that they seem more like very early Runes. Simple and straightforward with a startling lack of complexity, at least superficially, yet clearly pointed to greater overall ideas and thoughts with a level of obviousness that made you wonder if these were actually
new Runes. But digging deeper into their construction you can see that they actually
aren'
t.
Healing Runes that allowed inorganic material to repair itself like living flesh had ever been a dream among your colleagues but had never truly worked out. Aye you could make Runes that fixed mistakes, the Rune of Forging was proof enough of that, but they always required outside material. New pieces to be added, replaced or fuel the growth that needed to be done. Nothing like the sort of regeneration the Master Rune of Vitality could do for instance, and yet here before you was that fabled Rune. One that, seemingly from thin air, generated new material to repair small bits of damage done. The striking of the Rune revealed something far more interesting to you though. There were indeed, as you initially saw, parallels to the Rune of Healing, but there also were ties to a wholly different and unintuitive group of Runes. Structures you could, at best, link to the Rune of Cleaving, but in a very roundabout and obtuse sense. From what you could gather these similarities encompassed
division of all things, which confused you greatly.
Valaya seemed to have figured out the issue, in quite the odd way, but that may simply be because you lack the knowledge for it to make sense.
Wouldn't be the first time an elder has confounded you in your life really, nor would it be the last.
━<><><><==><><><>━
"We're even now Prince Laequalys," Gimli grunts out as the elf takes his hand and stands back up from his prone position.
"I suppose," he hisses out through his broken ribs, "you are correct. I feel that I will need to see a healer after this though."
"We shouldn't keep them waiting then!" Gimli chortles, picking his great axe out of the minotaur's skull with his free hand, the other holding out the prince's fallen bow.
A great roar bellows out from the Ghorgon, its body covered in bolts, arrows and terrible wounds yet showing no sign of faltering.
"That one's caught in the depths of a blood rage, never a good sign," Laequalys mutters, taking back his bow and checking over it.
"A fine specimen to kill, those horns tell me it's an old bastard too," Gimli adds.
"Maybe six, seven decades? Depends on the level of nutrition it received," the prince says, agreeing with his assessment.
"We starting on three again or are you going to get overeager and fire your bow too early again?"
"What is it your folk say?
Bah, I believe?"
"HAHA, NOW THAT'S AN AGREEMENT IF I EVER HEARD ONE," Gimli shouts, running at the Ghorgon faster and faster as his belt begins to glow.
━<><><>< 300 A.P. ><><><>━
"Father," Gloin says with a nod as he enters the tent to stand at attention. Around the sitting king are several other Thanes and Dwarfs of import, pouring over the map of the Ankor Drakk.
The campaign was going well, not their greatest, but certainly up there. Though that was more to do with the number of monsters they've culled in previous years lowering the population down to a bit below the expected average. Gloin does not expect it to last, the reclaimed Karaks had never gone farther than two-thirds deep into the peninsula in any real capacity, too few dwarfs to warrant it. And now that there were more and more reports from the rangers from holds at the frontier that made mention of a great build-up of Beastmen, he expects something to try its luck when the land buckles under the strain of supporting so many mouths or, more likely, when their gods beckon them to war. Not to mention the reports from Ornsmotek about stirrings across the Frozen Sea, shared to the rest of the Far Northern holds out of practicality given the perilous nature of their home.
Their people had better odds together than separate.
"Gloin, good you're here," Otrek greets him before waving away the rest of the tent's occupants to give them privacy.
The prince watches them go quizzically before moving towards the seat left for him across the table from his father.
He notes how his father clutches the ring in his hands.
"You have done both the Clan and I proud during this campaign, as you have every other time," the King begins, surprising the Prince with his bluntness. His father wasn't neglectful, but praise was hard to come by, at least verbally. Not that he begrudged him, it was simply his way.
Then again his father and mother doted on his own children with far less restriction than they had with him.
"Father?" Gloin asks, putting that line of thought away.
"I feel it son," Otrek says, "The aches grow with each day as does my weariness. Mayhaps no more than a decade before I am to face our Ancestors in Gazul's halls. With that in mind, I mean to tell you of my plans so that you can better prepare yourself. Over the next seven years I'll begin divesting the rest of my duties to you in full, to properly prepare you for the mantle that will soon be put upon you."
Gloin can only nod, cataloguing how his father seems to mechanically go over his impending death like it was yet another duty expected of him but not really comprehending the reality of the situation.
"What of
Trollslayer?" he asks.
"As the royal weapon of Kraka Drakk, tradition says it ought to be bequeathed to you upon your ascension. But since I am Kraka Drakk's first king, and I loathe to hold the old girl with no expectation of raising her in war once more before I die, I'm afforded the right to start a few traditions for our Hold I believe. And one of them shall be that I lower it in the aftermath of my last campaign, and you shall take both it and
Wyrmguard up when next you march out with the Throng," his father explains, rising out of his seat with a great deal of effort.
He casually waves off his son's attempts to aid him.
"Should I recall Gimli then?"
"I offer you wisdom as both King and father. As King, at least for the next few years, I say not until you ascend. He's doing his part to strengthen our home, even if it seems nothing more than a bit of competition, his letters paint a different picture. As your father, I advise you to let him enjoy his time for a while longer. After all, I won't die
that quickly son. Duty waits for him as it does all of us, let him partake of these days of freedom, not until he passes on the Crown to his own heir shall he be as free as he currently is. But the choice is ultimately yours."
Gloin can only nod.
"But enough of that darkness," his father begins before coughing once more, "Another tradition I intend to instate shall start right here I think."
Gloin blinks dumbly as his father removes the necklace he'd been wearing since the conclusion of the Siege and blinks when he passes it to him.
"Take it, it has proven me a source of strength all these years," his father motions, getting him to take up the simple gold signet on a chain with numb hands.
He expects to feel some wellspring of strength, some unseen power course through him and invigorate his bones. An artifact of Grimnir, a ring he
wore and
gave to Clan Iron-no, his
father for his deeds in the Siege.
He feels none of that. Only the weight of simple steel and gold in his hands, yet he cannot help but notice how his father's posture minutely, almost imperceptibly, slumps as the necklace passes from his hands.
"A good start," his father comments, "A good tradition."
Gloin can only nod, thumbing the ring.
"Grimnir told me something, when he gave me that ring, that I now share with you," Otrek continues, pinning Gloin in place with only his gaze. In that one eye, he can feel the weight of over eight centuries of life bearing down on him.
He listens to the words with rapt attention.
━<><><><==><><><>━
She watches her apprentices present their work to her. The last one they'll show her before returning as hopeful Masters.
Snerra revels in the sense of fulfillment, of knowing that her work and knowledge will be carried on beyond her mortal span but more so in knowing she helped shape two young souls into fine Dawi with a bright future ahead of them and the skill to grab it with both hands.
If this was what Master Snorri felt every time he taught another beardling she could understand why he took on apprentices despite the sheer exhaustion teaching could and did cause her some days. It already sent her own mind tumbling and wheeling through the idea of taking on another young charge, but those were thoughts for later.
Inspecting the Runes etched on each, she does more than ensure their work is as good as it could be for their age. The choice of the Runes in question, finding a thread of purpose behind their chosen combination of work with an exacting eye and two centuries of experience. Jolla had, unsurprisingly, chosen to use a Rune of Fury, but had branched out of her usual comfort zone by applying the Runes of Frost and Lightning on it as well, matching the stylized Brana she had turned the handle into, the double-headed axe forming its splayed out wings. Siggrun meanwhile had chosen to go further than that, branching out of the banners and talismans she made to create her shield. The Runes of Steel, Warding and Preservation form the points of a knotwork triangle surrounding the grim and stern countenance of Thungni.
They'll do fine.
It also means she has time to work on Fjolla's wedding gift. Not that she knew when it was happening, that still had to be hashed out between their two clans, but getting an early start wasn't a bad thing.
━<><><><==><><><>━
You put the basket away once more, nestling it in between the lamp and the stand you built for the necklace. When you are satisfied that it's properly secured, you seal the vault once more and head back upstairs to see to the Master Runesmiths no doubt bungling up the Rune of Forged Limb.
As you walk you go over the last Rune you deciphered, the Master Rune of Valaya, in your mind. Though it took the longest to reverse, the Master Rune is far less interesting to you than the other two Runes found on the basket. It reminds you a great deal of the array on your amulet, and by all appearances, they were functionally identical, but there were minute differences only a Runesmith like you would care to denote. Besides that, there was an obvious difference in terms of potency and greater flexibility of the effect being condensed down to one rune brought. Though that was offset by the whole Master Rune business, at least in the long term.
It's startling to realize that the Master Rune, one carved on an artifact made by Valaya's own hand, was actually the result of your research with the least amount of potential research or novelty. But research opportunities weren't the be all end all of everything, there was something to be said about having a reliable creation ready to go and easily understood in your arsenal.
Besides, you already have so much to study already, it's a bit refreshing to not have to work to get the full benefit of something.
At least that's what you tell yourself.
You won't be seen as ungrateful for a gift from Valaya, you'd die of shame if that were the case.
━<><><>< 302 A.P. ><><><>━
"Why did I listen to you!" Gimli screams, gripping the rampaging animal beneath him for dear life.
"All will be well my stout friend! I see the Shaman, GET READY!" Laequalys shouts gleefully, standing up on the mutant mammoth's back, dodging the swipes of its three blade-tipped trunks even as he steers the rampaging beast through a horde of panicking beastmen.
"Dwarfs aren't meant to be riding things like this! I should've just sprinted alongside or something," the prince complains to himself.
"ON MY MARK!" the elf yells.
Muttering, Gimli rises up onto his legs unsteadily, jostling about as the beast beneath him trundles and charges through their foe.
"JUMP!" Laequalys yells, firing his bow into the back of the monster's head and sending it falling to the earth.
"Khazukan, Kazakit-haAAAAAAAAAARGH! YOU TWIRLING SAUSAGE THAT ONE WAS MINE! WE AGREED NAUGHT BUT FIVE YEARS AGO TO STOP THIS TYPE OF FOOLISHNESS!" Gimli roars, having leapt off the mammoth with his great axe impacting the skull of the enemy caster just seconds before an arrow impales it through the brain.
"I thought you were aiming for the minotaur!" the elf shouts back apologetically.
Sniffing in annoyance, Gimli nimbly dodges out of the way of the aforementioned bull man's charge, axe singing through the air as he twirls to dodge out of the way, only to bring it down and cut cleanly through the minotaur's left leg as it crashes through empty air.
"A DWARF CAN KILL BOTH!" he shouts, slamming the axe into the back of the minotaur's head with a yell of fury.
"One thousand and eighty-five!" the elf yells.
"Bah! One thousand and eighty-four!" he roars back.
━<><><><==><><><>━
He who Shines Brightly stands before his Lord, still as a statue while eyes that spark with power examine him.
He understood that he and the other Brana with him, for all their similarities to the rest of their kin, were odd all his life. But not since they were chicks had their Lord seen it fit to examine them. In the aftermath of their experimentation, it seemed that the status quo was no longer satisfactory.
"You have touched it then? Swum in the river that you have blissfully bathed in at last?" he queries, voice echoing through the chamber.
"Yes Lord, She who Shimmers like Silver was the first, and soon taught the rest of us after we offered sufficient payment," He replies.
"Show this to me child," their Lord orders, beckoning the Brana forward.
The room is silent enough that they can all clearly hear the click of her Gauntlets upon the stone, stopping at the center of the room where the eyes of all stare at her.
The moment that She who Shimmers like Silver begins pulling at the unseen winds, their perception shifts accordingly. The golden wind flows from within and without, suffusing her being yet concentrating upon her outermost self. With his normal sight, He who Shines Brightly sees his fellow Brana shift, white feathers taking on a literal silver sheen and body becoming indistinguishable from a metallic replica save for the rise and fall of her chest and the blinking of her golden eyes.
Many are rightly impressed, but their Lord remains silent, mind inscrutable.
"Metal of mind and body. Bound to the earth and stone, who shuns the sky. As the
Stormcallers and
Bloodhunters before you, I name your role and all those who follow you
Silverbearer. Delve into your craft, create that which will aid our flock, anger not The Ones who Are From Stone, and you shall bear my blessing until you break mine trust," their Lord announces, voice echoing through the Unseen Winds tinged with Sapphire and Diamond, but now with minute flecks of Gold.
━<><><><==><><><>━
At the end of the year, you receive a familiar letter in your mail.
Reading over it you grumble instinctively at its contents before going silent as you keep reading.
Though it's come far earlier than usual, Rhunkalbrogg has been called twenty years hence, and any Runelords able to attend are asked to do so. Beneath the official missive, you see another page added onto your letter that upon further reading handily explains the earliness of the message. It's addressed to and written specifically to you; a
request from Alric Thungnisson to appear alongside Igna, Dwalin and Valma to share your findings about what happened at Karag Dum with the rest of your peers. It is not an order, but it's
Alric Thungnisson, writing to
you!
Coughing, you roll up the letter and stow it away for safekeeping.
It isn't a question of whether or not you'll attend, barring some massive upheaval of your plans of course, but it makes you go over the plan yet one more time.
You'll be revealing the Chain Forger at that Rhunkalbrogg, and you reckon you'll release the Runes of Repair and Stacking in due time. It's simply a question of the kind of trial you want any prospective Runesmith to undergo. And unlike the Rune of Forged Limb, these were Runes simple enough that you reckon even a Journeyman could learn, even if the underlying concepts behind them confused you. At the very least it was more acceptable, if less common, for a Master Runesmith to make it known that they had a Rune they were willing to teach to any wandering Journeyman who passed their trial. More acceptable because Journeymen were still technically Runesmiths in training and it was seen as acceptable for them to seek knowledge from any acceptable source available to them. A Master willing to teach them a Rune, so long as they weren't too invested in forcing their beliefs down their throats or politically motivated in the criteria of their trial, was one such acceptable source. Gottri Hammerspite's trial, something held up as a solid example among your Guild, was one that involved the respective Journeymen climbing up Karak Azul's highest peak in the dead of winter. The catch was that they were only allowed to bring items they made themselves. The Hammerspite made no mention of the kind of item, nor made some arbitrary threshold for what was considered acceptable; instead, he simply made a limitation that meant the Journeyman in question had to show both sufficient creativity, preparedness and ability to pass while giving them enough leeway to practice whichever method they saw best.
Of course, the Hammerspite wouldn't let them
die if they failed, the Cult of Valaya would have his head, Elder and Burudin member or no. Those who lost would simply be taken down to Azul by either the Hammerspite himself, his apprentices or the rangers brought to assist him.
Still, such trials were relatively uncommon across the Karaz Ankor. Maybe a few dozen Masters and Runelords who had partaken in the practice in total. The reasons it was so uncommon were rather simple, after all, who wanted to teach Journeymen? All joking aside, making a Rune simple enough that a Journeyman was capable of learning, while within the remit of any Master, teaching said Journeyman was always an investment. Teaching however many beardlings who came to learn from you meant less time working on commissions, research, duties etc. Moreover, unlike a Master Runesmith, you couldn't expect as much out of them which meant you had to pay extra attention to ensure they weren't fumbling on something. By your estimate, for every 3 Masters you could teach, that same amount of attention had to be put on just 2 Journeymen. Not worthwhile, but on the other hand, Journeymen were more pliable and willing to accept correction and learn than a Master. So while you spent less attention on them, a Master Runesmith took longer to learn if they had habits that made teaching difficult as opposed to a Journeyman.
Regardless, it would remain a thought for a while longer and it wouldn't be a reality until you actually had the free time to do it properly. Most likely after the work at Grom was over and the number of Masters learning the Rune of Forged Limb lessened. Well, that or you got more comfortable watching over larger and larger groups of Dawi without jeopardizing the quality of learning they received.
The time in between then, you would be spending on creating a proper trial for them to undergo.
[ ]
[Trial:] Write-in a trial for each Rune, or make it clear the trial is for both. Be general, set the aesthetic of the trial and Snorri will do his best to match it and keep within acceptable norms.
[ ]
[Trial:] QM's choice.
━<><><>< Khazalid Trivia ><><><>━
Ankor Drakk/Drakk Ankor/Ankor a Kraka Drakk - "Dragon Realm"/ In this context it means the territory under the authority of Kraka Drakk. In others, it could literally mean the territory a literal dragon has claimed or was seen prowling in.
━<><><>< Branakroki Trivia ><><><>━
He who Shines Brightly - Brightwing
She who Shimmers like Silver - Silverplume
Ones who Are From Stone - Dwarfs/Mountainfolk
Stormcaller - High-ranking
Azyr users, Brana who are capable of calling storms and wielding them as the King of the Sky does.
Bloodhunter - High-ranking
Ghur users, usually Brana capable of growing to three times their usual size or altering parts of themselves if needed.
Silverbearer - High-ranking
Chamon users, usually Brana capable of becoming living metal entities for a period of time.
*All of these standards will undoubtedly change as the peak of Brana Spellcraft increases.
━<><><>< Gain ><><><>━
- +5 Progress to Defence. In. The. Depths, new totals:
[Cost (6 -5) =1 actions]
-- -60 Favour with Kraka Drakk, new totals: Favours 440
-- Structurally complete, the Runes need only be inscribed for the work to be finished.
- Understand Valaya's Runes complete! Research Unlocked!
-- New Rune Unlocked!
Master Rune of Valaya [Talisman], Necessary Ingredients: [T2] Stone Troll's Blood: Enemy magic is absorbed and the energy is used to create a defensive shell of energy around the bearer.
-- New Rune Unlocked!
Rune of Repair: Items inscribed with this item can repair minor cosmetic damage done to them overnight. Does not work on flesh. Multiple copies of this Rune inscribed on an item increase speed but not potency.
-- New Rune Unlocked!
Rune of Stacking: Containers that bear this Rune can store multiple times their volume. Weight of extra volume half of what it should be.
- x1 [Ingredient] T4 Pegasus Heart Ordered,
receive Turn 42
Retainers:
- Elderly Expertise Complete!
-- +60 Favours, +1 Standing with Stormpeak and +1 Standing with Karazbinvarr, new totals: Standing 8, Favours 100 and Standing 6
-- Your retainers saved the youngest chicks of Brangandazi and Ebonbeak from their own foolishness.
--- +2 Standing with Brangandazi and Ebonbeak, new totals: Standing 6 and 8
--- Deed,
Aerie Aid: For saving the life of the children of He who Thinks and Ebonbeak, those present for the event have been granted a boon, and their lord his esteem
━<><><><==><><><>━
Remember to vote by plan. There will be a one-hour moratorium for discussion.
AN: This took way too long to do. Sorry about that. Anyhoo, just to clear things up, this vote will have no mechanical or serious narrative implications. Its simply letting you guys have the choice to decide whether or not you want to think of a trial Snorri could put any Journeymen through. Its entirely fluff, so don't freak out. With that said, I hope this was worth the wait. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to C&C. :^)
