Winning Vote: said:
[X][Explore]: The Walls.
[X][Explore]: The Temples.
━<><><>< 323 A.P. ><><><>━
Your day begins with a hearty meal and a bellyful of ale as soon as you get out of bed. As you alternately munch on a piece of lamb and sauce coated stonebread respectively, your mind wanders. The coming meeting of your peers amazingly enough is not what dominates your mind. Or at least it isn't any longer. What had been your attempts to string together a proper and concise description of what you saw that day from your notes and memories had broken off into idle musing about gate construction funnily enough.
Describing what was on that
blasted gate as something more useful than
wrong had been difficult, and so you wracked your mind for an adequate comparison. Which, given
where you were, it wasn't that surprising that the grand Surface Gates of Karaz a Karak and the monolithic Rune of Valaya inscribed on its surface came to the forefront of your mind.
Hmph.
Perhaps a visit might be in order, though you'd planned to go to a few other places first before indulging in your curiosity by heading towards the Karak's surface defences. For one thing, there was your other desire to visit the temples of Valaya, Grungni and Grimnir today. Yes, the more you thought of it the more sound it seemed. Head to the temple district as planned, do a bit more light shopping and then round off the day by going to have a looksie at Karaz a Karak's defences before calling it a day.
"Right then! Time to head out there's a whole day's worth of work to do," you grumble, getting out of your seat and moving towards the counter with your payment in hand while the Hearthwardens guarding you today finish up their own meals.
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He stared with a great pile of dread in his gut as the youngest Reckoner, a dwarf of six centuries, finished relaying their judgement to the assembled parties, all equally grim-faced. Beside him, Magna tightened her grip on his hand, reassuring him somewhat, while his sons rubbed their beards and looked to him for guidance.
Jorri did his best to look unflappable, but when his Guildmaster, a man some three centuries his senior, started grumbling and cursing under his breath it was hard to look stoic in comparison.
"It is the opinion of this council, after reviewing all of the relevant evidence and arguments offered by both parties and our own outside research, that
neither the Merchants Guild nor Messengers Guild has full authority over the business venture of one Jorri Klausson. While the remit of the transport of monetary goods is within the Merchants Guild, and the non-monetary to the Messengers Guild, the movement of groups and individual Dawi, who fit in neither category, has traditionally remained an individual and private matter. There has, to our
extensive knowledge, not been a Dwarf who has undertaken the business done by one Jorri Klausson and as such is outside tradition and legal precedent. While this body has confirmed that neither Guild takes precedence over the other, the decision of what must be done, be it the subsumption of Duties to one Guild, the independence of the venture or in the case that it is believed an entirely
new Guild be raised to adequately handle the task, shall remain in the hands of all parties. Unless our aid is needed in the fulfillment of whatever resolution is reached or in the finding of such a resolution, we consider the matter closed. Thus is our Reckoning."
"I accept the Reckoning given," Jorri replies emotionlessly, followed shortly thereafter by the more reluctant admissions of the Guildmasters. Their attendants, the sorry sods tasked with carrying the evidence, begin shuffling notes back into their containers while young Reckoners in training move in and start offering ale.
Idly, Jorri reckons there'll be a great deal more drinking in the days to come.
This will be a mess.
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The looming grandeur of the Hold's temples grows larger and larger as you keep walking. A curious section of the Hold, where the Dwarfen desire for neatly ordered zones and traditional placement warred and coalesced into a distinct district of its own. Where most districts were roughly confined to a single deep, Karaz A Karak's temples were clustered vertically as well as horizontally.
The Temples of Grungni and Grimnir were located highest, with the former adjacent to Everpeak's audience hall. Below that, in the Royal Deeps, the Temple of Valaya sat in its traditional position adjacent to the Queen's own personal chambers. The Temple of Gazul, meanwhile, was situated the lowest of the four; in the very center of the Ancestor Halls, surrounded by the burial vaults. While the shrines to Smednir and Morgrim were located near their respective fathers, though built as close, and connected by large throughways, to the Foundry District.
As for your own Ancestor, well every Runesmith and each Runesmith Clan had a shrine to Thungni in their workshop or Clan Hall. There was little need for a public shrine, let alone Temple, given that for all of Thungni's prominence he was worshipped more similarly to an Ancestor of an individual Clan than the hold or guild wide ceremonies of His family.
You preferred it that way frankly.
A bout of grumbling grabs your attention, distinct and very different from the usual sounds of utter disappointment that came from the average Longbeard. No, this was an argumentative grumble, the kind caused when a group of elders watched two arguing beardlings and were split on who was less foolish than the other. Not that the youngsters would notice, caught in the throes of heated, but ultimately foolish, debate.
And given where you were, in all likelihood, it was theological in nature.
Ach.
Still, your curiosity beats out your wariness and you quietly mosey on over with your retainers not far behind. You find a group of elders, many of whom are priests and priestesses but with a good smattering of regular folk, watching an argument unfold near the Temple of Grimnir. One of the grumbling Longbeards turns at the sound of your footsteps, glances at your beard and nods, grunting at the others to move aside and let another elder enter their midst.
Now ensconced within the greater collective, you can more easily see the impromptu debate that has arisen from two groups of Dwarfs beneath the stone gaze of an ornate image of the Valiant. Both groups are young by your reckoning, each having members in the armoured robes you expect from the Cult of Grimnir but with a smattering of Dwarfs dressed in only a pair of trousers, their chests bare and hair dyed orange and cut into an imposing crest in either group, emulating the appearance Grimnir bore on his Doomward march.
In short? Nonsense.
In less short? A disagreement on theology, one about Grimnir's final journey and what aspects it represents are most important. One point, in particular, was whether His commitment to duty in the face of certain death or in the sacrifice of His Doom was more important. A bit more prompting informed you that arguments like this were a growing occurrence in the Cult, not this particular debate but in general. The Cult, already a combative thing filled with righteous and raucous debate over the actions and very few words of Grimnir, has been understandably reeling for centuries. The immediate grief and mourning have now passed and the survivors are left to pick up the pieces and decide what Grimnir's final
recorded act means. You tasted hints of the struggle in your discussions with Drong, Grimgar and Borax, but it's different to see it play out in public like this.
You aren't one for discussing the nature of the Ancestors in such a fashion, but a bit more prodding helps you pick up on the thoughts of the clergy down here. What you find is different, confusing, but still within the realm of reason you
suppose. It was difficult to articulate but if you could pin it down it would be that the Cult was divided on what Grimnir's sacrifice actually
was. There were so many different interpretations flying around that even among the mass of grumbling elders there was a great deal of division and minute differences. You, again, weren't a fellow who delved deep into the dark depths of theological debate but you liked to think you were clever and perceptive. At least, clever and perceptive enough to notice a particularity across all these different viewpoints being thrown about.
Among the more established, larger and generally southern Holds there was a running thread that Grimnir's sacrifice was something done more out of practicality. That His Doom was done to avert more casualties, to end the fighting. But among the Elders who hailed from younger Holds, the Holds on the frontiers of the Karaz Ankor and the North especially, even large Holds like Ungor and Kadrin thought differently. The smaller Holds were the ones who faced the very real possibility of getting wiped out and being remembered only in the Dammaz Kron and the Major Northern Holds believed they would have certainly been irreparably crippled in the best-case scenario. Suffice it to say, they generally saw Grimnir's march as a
necessity. You could understand the views of the former, you'd feel particularly safe in the midst of a place like Karaz a Karak, Karak Izril or Eight Peaks too after all, but you can't help but feel there's a bit of arrogance there regardless.
Grimnir would not
deprive Himself from His people if He believed the onslaught could be weathered, let alone overcome. Presumptuous given you'd met Him far less than some other dwarfs had, but still. Staring down the hordes of the enemy, seeing the sky filled with enough clouds, lightning and bodies to blot out the sun, watching as boulders pasted entire contingents of foes only for the hole to be filled by yet
more bodies in the span of seconds…
...It could have so easily been the end for you, your home, and all you cared about.
Bah.
Eventually, the debate dies down, and after a round of farewell grunts, you extricate yourself from the dissolving mass of elders and continue on.
There are more temples to see after all.
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"We're down to the last three then your Highness," Gammur murmurs, putting aside the letter from yet another suitor that Valka had rejected.
"A good fit for any other Hold, but my braid tells me he'd have been unpleasant to work with," she replies, still going over her notes on the remaining three.
"The last Dwarf who'd be of an age with you as well my Queen," her second in command replies, "Not sure how the people will appreciate a younger king."
"Thankfully none of them are younger than their 350s. Frankly, I'd resigned myself to such a fate the moment I stipulated that I'd not be sidelined by my husband. The wounds suffered by my people are a delicate matter, and dwarfen stubbornness would be a shovel in a marble quarry if it meant him ignoring me," she admits before passing over a page "Gammur, what have our envoys to say about this one's temperament?"
He scans over the name before turning to another stack, humming to himself as he flips through pages on pages of notes to find what he's looking for. For her part, Valka takes the opportunity to take a sip of her beer, savouring the taste.
"Aha, I've found it. Lord Granitebrow's man, Olgi Goldseam, was the point of contact. From what he could tell the lad seemed amenable to work with such
unorthodox circumstances given he was part of Lady Igna's Throng. Here you are," he explains, handing over Olgi's report.
Valka scoffs as she takes the stack of papers, putting down her tankard and beginning to read.
"Unorthodox is one word, downright depraved if you asked that one fellow from
Zorn. Not sure why he even bothered, but let's see what young Olgi thinks of this fellow."
"The idea of Kingship and all it entails is a particularly strong brew your Highness. I imagine he thought to sideline you after the marriage," he answers dutifully.
"Him and so many others, bah! Didn't live five centuries to get the wool pulled over my eyes with a few pretty words, the jingle of coin or the promise of support. Still, better than all the Drakebeard Claimants who tried to worm their way into my good graces, or the ones dumb enough to talk about
helping by repatriating me back into the Clan. At the very least, I won't be the last Zantrommi to rule my people, I swear on blood and bone."
"Zan un uzkul," Gammur replies.
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With that odd business about Grimnir behind you, your group makes it way down grand and winding staircases to the level below. To the Royal Deep where, right next to the Queen's own chambers, the Temple of Valaya awaits.
You idly wonder how Valaya feels about having a temple dedicated to her be so close to her own chambers.
But the thought is pushed aside as you turn the corner however as your mind and eyes honed in on the sight before you.
The stairs open up into a massive open square, where on each corner titanic stone columns, richly decorated in gold and jewels were erected. The faces of several Ancestors are carved onto the pillars themselves, with beards and braids of stone and gemstone eyes that twinkle with the glow of Runes. Beneath their glittering gazes, hundreds of dwarfs move to and fro, boots and shoes stepping over the masterful knotwork paths crafted from dozens of varieties of differently coloured stone. Lorekeepers, Royal aides, messengers and guards mix and move alongside the throng of faithful Dwarfs and everyday traffic to the Temple.
And what a sight it is.
Even from where you stand, hundreds of meters away, it looms in the distance. The massive structure is raised above the cavern floor a good twenty meters; the stone walls, with their golden decoration and likenesses of Ancestral Matrons carved onto their granite hard surfaces, rise up like an imposing fortress. Richly decorated paths and stairs are guarded by stalwart pairs of Valkyrie Guard, make the passing pilgrims look up at the temple's massive set of golden doors, opened wide to let the warm light within shine out, the shadow of two looming silhouettes visible even from so far away. Above the doorway, a massive golden shield, inscribed with an absolutely massive Rune of Valaya, is flanked by a depiction of
Kradskonti and a sheaf of wheat on the left and right respectively. As you walk closer the silhouettes of the statues disappear, the perspective from the bottom of the steps before the temple obscuring them utterly, letting only the shadows they cast against the temple's lighting mark their presence. Yet the higher you climb the steps, more and more of the colossal stone effigies become visible in stark and awe-inspiring detail.
Two faces, one was helmeted the other not, one's features stern and watchful and the other serene, but on closer examination are nevertheless the same person. The higher one goes the more is revealed, details grow sharper and the rest of the Ancestor becomes visible. Then, just as you crest the last step and stand right outside the temple doors the statues come fully into view. The helmeted shield maiden is clothed in chainmail, posed with a golden shield braced in front of her and a silverine axe raised in the other. Valaya the Shield Maiden, protector of hearth and home revealed in all her glory. Beside her Valaya the Matron, with a braid so long it falls around her feet and clothed in deep purple robes trimmed in gold, with a babe in the crook of one arm and tankard in her hand, a barrel of ale and a sheaf of wheat at her feet. On both statues one Rune is present, the Agrurhun symbol that had long been attributed to the Protector of your People, the Mother of your culture and way of life.
Gromthi Rinri, the Ancestor Queen.
You and your retainers simply stand there for a moment, taking in the sight and quietly luxuriating in the glow of the temple's indoor lights as dwarfs stream past.
Then, when you've had your fill you walk inside, retainers trailing after you.
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You stop before the statue of Valaya the Matron, bowing your head even as your retainers maintain their vigil beside you. Here you are only one of dozens of Dwarfs offering their respects. Around the statue's base are dozens of beer barrels and pots of food, offerings left by people ranging from individual Dawi to entire Clans. Every so often young clerics in training appears from a passage and begin packing up the barrels to bring down into the temple's storage vaults. The offerings would end up being used by the cult in some capacity; be it supplying Valayan aid caravans, being turned into siege stores or saved for particular holidays and feasts. As for the more perishable food, much would be used to help feed the foundling ward or be given out to the feeding halls, where those particularly down on their luck Dwarfs could always count on receiving a meal to fill their bellies.
As for yourself, you, with a bit of help from Jorri, had made arrangements with the Yinlinssons months prior, buying up stock and then having it sent over to be delivered today as your own offering. While you personally hadn't been here to deliver it, you were more content in the knowledge that you had not come to the temple empty-handed. With a clear conscience, you beseech Valaya for guidance, that she watch your coming efforts and finds no disappointment in them.
You hope to emulate her and the greatest wordsmiths and speakers of both your Clan and your mother's original Clan; you hope that even a fraction of that talent has been passed onto you, and that it be readily evident in the days to come. To do right by their memory and that you not shame either self or kin.
Only when you stand up, reflection finished, do you turn to face the Dwarf and her guards standing behind you.
At first glance you are immediately reminded of Moira, what with the deep purple robes and the golden charms to Valaya, but on closer inspection the differences are evident. The Matron standing before you has her hair broken into three voluminous braids, two running down over her front before crossing at her waist and then looping back around her back. The third, largest braid you can only tell from how a part of it is just visible behind her, raised from the floor through a bit more hooping. As for the rest of her, she looks older than even the High Priestess of your home, face bearing scars yet gracefully aged all the same, while her build is shorter and stockier. Beneath her robes, you can see the glint of
Gromril chainmail while a glowing Runic pendant pulses every so often from where it dangles on her neck. A beautifully wrought axe is holstered to her hip, and an ironwood staff, decorated richly in golden iconography pertinent to Valaya, is gripped tightly in her hand.
"Lord Klausson, a pleasure. I am Grunna, daughter of Lakin, High Priestess of the Temple of Karaz a Karak," she says, introducing herself with a small nod.
"High Priestess, it is an honour to meet with you. While this is a pleasant surprise, do Her servants have a need of me?" you ask, straightening up.
"You've done more than enough Rhunrikki. No, I came here just to offer my personal compliments and further thanks for your work before duty calls me back to my tasks," she answers, nodding to the two Valkyrie Guards beside her. Each warrior wearing armour you had made and hefting equally beautiful shields, with their weapons holstered.
"It was an honour to be asked by the Clergy High Priestess, I can only hope that my creations serve their wearers well," you respond.
"Oh they will, the frontier will benefit greatly from it, of that, I can assure you. What with all of the Gori and other nonsense coming out from the west trying to have a go at us. We'll be called to defend our kin more and more these coming days I imagine. I do not doubt we'll have our fellow clergy scouring the wilds in search of dwarfs, herbs and foes soon enough. Something which you've been doing out of your own initiative passably enough so I'm told. It is good to see that not all of our menfolk forget Valaya's lessons so readily," she says.
"Winterhearth blood flows through me, I would shame myself and my Clan if I did anything less," you rumble, feeling a smidge of pride at her praise.
"Good, good. I'll leave you to your business then, She abhors purposeless wool-gathering after all, though I might offer you a word of wisdom before I depart Lord Klausson," High Priestess Grunna says, tapping her staff on the ground lightly.
You stare at her quizzically before replying.
"Of course High Priestess, your wisdom would be most welcome."
"Hmph. Then listen well to what I have to tell you lad. In Her efforts to straighten out the flaws in our ways, Valaya snuffed out many of our worst traditions. Those borne from our inherent flaws that which, in our blindness, solidified into a calcareous muck that clogged and marred us. The Clan Wars, the Old Remits of Zorn, the Castes, the mistreatment and Binding Oaths of the Lower Clans, all done away with. Consigned to the pages of tomes never to be repeated.
Yet. It was not without purpose, and what was destroyed she replaced with better, truer ways. Valaya understood our people better than even ourselves. You seem the type to try and change things for better or worse, can't say I had that much energy at your age but be aware of this moving forward. Things are done for reasons, they may not be good ones, but those reasons need to be addressed one way or another."
With her piece said the High Priestess nods a final time before she walks off back deeper into the temple, Valkyrie Guard following dutifully.
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Your business at the temples concluded, your small party makes its way up staircases and causeways, traversing the deeps until you, at last, find yourself on Karaz a Karak's surface levels. The Hold was constructed finely, masterfully wrought passages having been carved through the mountain's heart to the surface allowed light from the sun to reach certain parts of the Karak as readily as if that great ball of fire itself shone from the cavern's roof. A marvel of Dawi ingenuity and engineering that let your people tell the passing of time despite living comfortably behind and below hundreds of meters of stone, metal and earth.
But marvelling at the beauty of infrastructural ingenuity was-
-actually, this was the perfect time for it really.
You sniff appreciatively at the masterful masonry of Karaz a Karak's walls, so finely made that they appeared to be one cohesive mass of Rune reinforced rock. Gold, or gilded steel in particularly important areas, decorate the walls and break up the surface with knotted patterns and the visages of the Ancestors while equally decorated statues the size of Ghorgons or Cygors dot and appear everywhere. Indents in the stone, carved to appear like snarling drakes, with blackened ends are the only visible proof that Karaz a Karak's walls can spew fire or, if the situation calls for it, lava at any would-be attacker trying to scale their titanic height. The mountain's face is dotted with towers and platforms, places where massive Grudge and Bolt Throwers larger than even the biggest siege weapons in the Far North can be rolled out from protective stone bunkers and aimed at the target below. The approach is funneled to a single massive path, mechanisms and contraptions meant to send sections falling down Dwarf-made chasms deep enough for even the tallest foes to be swallowed whole and glowing with the baleful light of Rune created lava.
It is altogether nothing out of the ordinary, with nowhere near the level of the Runic complexity of a Hold like Brynduraz or Izril, or with the clever mechanisms and traps of Zhufbar and Varn's engineers. It is, if you are forced to admit, standard. But that description belies just exactly what makes Karaz a Karak's defences so wondrous. It is more than just standard, it is
the standard, the one by which all other Karaks compare to and all Longbeards regardless of origin will admit is a fine thing indeed. Despite being younger than many of the other Southern Holds, its defenses were just as impressive. Built from the ground up by the minds of
all the Ancestors working in concert in one way or another. Grungni's stone working, Valaya's keen eye for architecture, Grimnir's savant understanding of battle and the specialties of all their children. This hold was the culmination of their skills, all working in a beautiful harmony, that even now, is still being completed.
Out there, in the valley proper and on the slopes of the approach, you are told a great number of defensive watch towers have slowly been erected over the decades. Caches, forts and holdfasts that will, in time, cover the entire valley with dwarfen eyes. No enemy army will ever approach Everpeak unnoticed, caught by keen Dwarfen eyes and stymied by clever Dwarfen traps until the rest of the network can reroute bodies to repel the invaders. A layered defence of great beauty and sophistication, but who's working looks like the simplest thing on earth.
Ach, it can bring a tear of joy to one's eye and send a spike of jealousy running through them all at the same time.
Here, where Grungni, Valaya and their relatives held court, at the heart of the Realms, your people would
never fall, not until the days of Khazakrendum and, a particularly proud part of you whispers, perhaps even
beyond.
And yet for all its splendour, for all its glory, this masterpiece of defensive construction comes firmly in third place in terms of wonder.
Standing solidly in second place by a wide margin is, what you consider, the crowning glory of Karaz a Karak's surface structures and beaten out only by the magnificence that was
Azamar.
122-meter tall doors seamlessly and beautifully hewn from the living bedrock, reinforced by beams of Gromril, Steel and Ironwood inside its structure and then decorated with the finest gold found across the realms. Standing on either side of which are statues of Grungni and Grimnir, posed victoriously over a fallen dragon respectively, each wyrm's head pointed perfectly so that its gaping maw could spray molten death at any foe trying to assail the gates. The massive doors themselves are currently open, revealing the splendour within to the world, but patrols can be seen walking over the surrounding walls in numbers far in excess of normal, flashing silverine forms scurrying across the tops of the fortifications.
The Great Gates of Karaz a Karak; a wonder of the Karaz Ankor, of the world even.
Or more specifically the massive Agrurhun of Valaya inscribed on them.
Carved onto the gates by Valaya herself, the massive Rune is a sight to behold. So purposefully made that it appears as if it was struck by one massive chisel as if a giant Dwarf had marked the stone with only a few masterful blows of an equally titanic set of tools. When in reality it was the labour of months of careful chiselling, measurement and transcendent skill to create.
And you haven't a clue
what exactly it did.
Well, that was an exaggeration, you knew just a smidge about what the massive Rune did. For one thing, it was said that it served to reinforce the gate itself, though how only a few truly knew, rendering it more durable than its natural construction would allow. And, rumour has it at least, it plays a part in some great working over the Karak's defences itself. Not that you've seen it in action before, nor do you really wish to see it truly put to the test.
Since that would, you know, mean Karaz a Karak would be put to siege.
Yet you stubbornly continue to stare at the great Rune, gaze roving over its features desperately searching for some clue or hint as to what it could
do. A quiet plea to learn, to expand your knowledge. The masterful carving does nothing, uncaring of the desperate desires within your mind.
Then your eyes pick up something, a flare, a pulse, a quiet thrum of power.
[ ]
Gromthi Rinri: Hearth
[ ]
Gromthi Rinri: Home
[ ]
Gromthi Rinri: Healing
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Your sightseeing on the surface finished, you began making your way back down into the depths of the Karak. Though your trek back to the comfort of the inn is interrupted when you run into someone you haven't seen in a while.
"Lady Brynna," you begin, "What brings you up here?"
"Honoured Elder, this is a pleasant surprise," she greets with a bow, "I profess that I did not expect to see any of my colleagues before Rhunkalbrogg had begun. As for your question, well I have come up here for inspiration of a sort. The wonders of the Revered Ancestors' work, though beyond my skill to recreate, can nevertheless be a source of profound knowledge as I am sure you are no doubt aware."
You think back to
Zharvengryn, the glow of the Runes and the power within and more recently to the Rune on Karaz a Karak's gate.
"Aye," you respond, "I am well aware. Hit a creative roadblock then?"
"Of a sort. I think it more accurate to say that I'm in need of focus. Too many thoughts, too many avenues of research, I require...clarity before I'm willing to proceed."
"Mmm, I wish you good fortune in that endeavour at the very least. I realize I've never actually gotten the chance to ask myself, but how has everything else been?"
She blinks at your question before taking a moment to consider her answer. You watch her face morph as she contemplates your question.
"You are correct. I hadn't realized how infrequently we've met until you've brought it to my attention. I assure you however that our duties and simple scheduling differences are the cause and not some dislike of you on my part at least. As for your question, it has been… interesting at the very least. It was as you said when we first met, though I was not expecting to be thrust back into the politics and norms of Zorn once more."
"The Zornish Clans, a surprise for everyone involved I imagine," you say with a nod.
"It was a long time coming," she corrects, "Tungaz no doubt overstepped his bounds."
You raise a brow, the unspoken question obvious to the both of you.
"Suffice it to say that His Highness was a bit too fond of the Rights of the Old Kings even before he found himself sat upon Zorn's throne. I can only imagine what such a position did to worsen his behaviour," she says with a scoff.
"If I may ask, it sounds as if you have a history."
"I have a history with his type," she corrects again, "but that business is behind me now and hopefully forever. Aiding King Otrek with his work to start integrating my distant kin into the Hold was about as much as I wish to stomach. But as I said, everything else has been tolerable. Novel, difficult; the sort of challenge that does our kind good to face. Still, I'm not yet fully accustomed to how... improper the Dawi outside of my home can be."
"Give it time, it's only been two centuries after all," you rumble back.
Brynna can only nod.
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(Roll, Books +30: 53, 47, 109)
"You're certain this is the genuine article?" a dwarf mutters, nursing a mug of ale.
"My contact is of the highest repute, good Dwarf. The mages of Saphery are loath to give away any material that's been in circulation for less than two centuries, at least not without a great deal of political or monetary concessions. That tome there was published only 120 years ago," another, lighter, voice replies.
The shopkeep runs his hand through his beard, staring down at the innocuous white book and taking in the gold and jewels that decorate the leather.
"Then my client will no doubt appreciate the trouble you went through to get this," he eventually mutters out.
"The gold they throw my way is more than worth the hassle frankly," the elven merchant responds.
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You wake up, rise out of the bed, and after blinking away the last of your drowsiness slowly realize that Rhunkalbrogg will be today.
Not falling into panic, you drag your feet off the bed and go about your morning routine as per usual; combing and braiding your beard, stretching and putting on some of your finer robes for the occasion. With a grunt, you slide on your boots and head to the counter for a hearty meal before heading out.
You do not rush, savouring the food and drink with the poise of an elder of your station, and take the time your body spends eating running through the plan in your mind again.
First off was your plan regarding the report around Karag Dum and what you had witnessed therein. While you were doing your due diligence and reporting on everything that occurred there was still a decision to be made. You weren't blind to the opinions of the rest of your peers, you simply didn't care overmuch what they thought. But you have to consider if that sort of thinking will be tenable in the long run. Maybe High Priestess Grunna's words impacted you more than you had thought, but there was something to be said about
[ ]
[Dum] Tailor your Report
- [ ]
Conservative: Try and earn the respect and interest of the more conservative members of the House. Emphasize the creativity of Dum's last Runesmiths, the efforts of Gazul, the securing of Guild Secrets and the elimination of any and all Frurndar and their foul assistance.
- [ ]
Radical: Try and earn the respect and interest of the more radical members of the House. Talk about the existence of the mammoth, the resourcefulness of Dum's last Runesmiths, the safeguarding of the Guild's Secrets and the death of the Frurndar and their erstwhile allies.
- [ ]
Yourself: Emphasize what actually interests
you and what you feel is most important. The potential research, the survival of the untainted and their subsequent clearing by Gazul. Not to mention the odd phenomena encountered during and on the way there; like the passing of time, the magic-wielding Dawi and the armoured Beastmen.
[ ]
[Dum] Be factual and as objective as possible. You are here to inform and give opinions if asked, nothing more, nothing less. You can't say for certain if it's the best use of the opportunity, but some people will doubtlessly appreciate your attempt at objectivity. The question is whether they'll be Dwarfs whose opinions you particularly care for.
And then of course the topic that's more personally relevant to you, the Chainforger and how you'll be disseminating the knowledge behind its creation and function to the greater Guild. If there were going to be opinions about your report on Dum, it would pale in comparison to the response your decision here would generate.
Frankly, you'd still find all the grumbling and rumbling worthwhile if it meant more Dwarfs would live where they wouldn't otherwise.
[ ]
[Forger] Teaching.
As with the Rune of Forged Limb, you'll announce to all present that you will be teaching the creation of the Chainforger and its constituent Runes to any who come to your workshop. Slow going but is the least likely to ruffle any feathers. Or at the very least any more feathers than what your actions would already ruffle.
Traditional Method. Cost: [1 actions] Locked in for 4 turns.
- [ ]
[When] Write-in: Beginning of Turn ?
When will you actually commit some of your personal attention to the effort?
[ ]
[Forger] Books.
Runesmiths do not write things down regarding Runes willy nilly. Tomes containing Runic lore are cryptically written and layered with some of the most complex ciphers, mind benders and puzzles a Master's mind can conjure, and
even then you are loath to put such hard-won knowledge down on something so, relatively, easy to discover or steal! But the benefit is great, though it will doubtlessly rankle at the most Conservative members of the Guild.
Unorthodox and faster. Take on Book Binding: Cost: [6 actions] Peerless Production will proc.
- [ ]
[When] Write-in: Beginning of Turn ?
When will you actually commit some of your personal attention to the effort?
[ ]
[Forger] Both.
Do both. The knowledge has been proven, the usefulness undeniable, therefore it must be shared with all the speed and efficiency the Dawi can bring to bear when sufficiently motivated. It will be expensive and it will be very unorthodox, but the results will speak for themselves.
Cost: [1 actions] Locked in for 4 turns. Take on Book Binding: Cost: [6 actions] Peerless Production will proc.
- [ ]
[When] Write-in: Beginning of Turn ?
When will you actually commit some of your personal attention to the effort?
━<><><>< Khazalid Trivia ><><><>━
Agrurhun - "Picture Runes"/ The older, pseudo pictographic script used in writing Khazalid. Opposed to the alphabetic nature of Klinkarhun.
Baraz a zan un uzkul - "I swear on blood and bone,"/ "Oath of blood and bone"
Gromthi Rinri - Ancestor Queen/ A title and mundane Rune commonly attributed to Valaya
Khazakrendum - "The Days of Warring Doom"/ The End Times.
Klinkarhun - "Chisel Runes"/ The simpler alphabetic script used in writing Khazalid.
Zantrommi - Redbeard
Zan un uzkul - "blood and bone", a saying of the Dwarfs of Kraka Grom.
━<><><><==><><><>━
There will be a twelve-hour moratorium for discussion.
AN: Pipes and insulation replaced, basement cleaned and update otherwise complete! Sorry for the extended delay, I didn't expect this thing to take two weeks to get out but here we are. Anyhoo, I'm trying something a bit different here, but don't freak out too badly. I'll be here to answer questions and stuff for a bit before I gotta go to bed, and I'll try to answer any questions sent my way during work but no promises. Vote will be a long one unless it looks like a landslide. Sorry again for the delay, hope it was worth the wait, and don't forget to C&C. :^)
