Winning Vote: said:
[X][Gromthi Rinri]: Hearth
[X][Dum]: Tailor your Report.
- [X] 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.
[X][Forger]: Teaching.
- [X] [When] Beginning of Turn 42
━<><><>< 323 A.P. ><><><>━
The doors to the Meeting Hall loom over you once more, and above the massive closed doors, Thungni's grim countenance is as stern and uncompromising as it was so many centuries ago. When you start getting closer you see that the smaller door opens every few seconds, groups of Dwarfs passing through. Some more are waiting outside, a queue naturally forming up, to allow the herald inside enough time to announce each entrant. It's there, at the line's end, that you find Brynna quietly waiting behind a Runelord clad in gold and who had several tattoos on his bald head.
You grumble lightly as you step in line behind her.
"Honoured Lord Klausson," Brynna says, turning at the sound of your greeting.
"Lady Brynna," you respond with a nod.
"This is a particularly full Rhunkalbrogg by the looks of things, a surprise given current events" she observes.
"Whitebeard's call to arms? Aye, you're right. There's more than I expected to be here as well," you reply.
"I must admit Honoured Elder, I had thought you would have already been inside," Brynna says, stepping forward as the line moves up.
"As did I, but when I woke up it was as if Thungni Himself smacked me upside the head with all manner of inspiration," you admit with a grunt.
"Indeed? Did it have anything to do with your inspection of the Gates?"
"Bah."
Brynna nods, braids bobbing with the motion.
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Fjolla watches as two Master Runesmiths descend into their row, the rest of the assembly watching and listening to either one's argument.
"There is no feasible way that such a Rune was made independently, let alone constructed with the resources at hand! I've only heard of such work from Lord Gundrik Thormsson of Karak Drazh and these Dwarfs were never recorded to have met the man!" one thunders, freckles of beer foam sticking to his deep red beard.
"And
you refuse to accept the possibility of independent discovery when it's practically a mainstay of our art! I saw what I saw you daft goat, I have offered my notes and corroborated evidence with a dozen Runesmiths from multiple Karaks! Do you claim we're
all daft in the head as well!?" the other shouts.
She turns to Joll when he pokes her shoulder and finds, to her joy, a frothing mug of ale waiting for her when she does.
"Thank you," she whispers, turning back to and refocusing on the arguing pair while drinking from her tankard.
"-half of these testimonies are by Runesmiths from the Far North! I'd sooner say my apprentice of twenty years is ready for the Journeyman's Trial than I would trust those half-mad fools to understand how a Rune works!"
A round of agreeing and offended grumbling erupts across the chamber.
"You offer no
credible response and so resort to insults upon the honour of not only myself but my colleagues as well! No better than a beardling who's run out of excuses when his elders find out he's eaten all the Stone Stew! Childish, and ill-thought!" the other Dwarf roars back, spittle flying from his mouth.
"Bah! I'll not hear such talk from a Runesmith a century my junior!"
"I've done more in a century than you have in five, you hidebound oaf!"
"You
dare!?"
"Is it too much to hope they'll act like adults? Nevermind, don't answer. Joll go grab a priestess of Valaya if you'd please. There'll be a lot of broken noses when this madness is done with," she mutters, hand running down her face.
He only huffs and skulks off.
No sooner than when he disappears from her sight does the first instance of "Wazzok," gets used and the fists start flying.
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When you finally enter the chamber, the herald calling your name and Brynna's out in quick succession, you find yourself locking eyes with Kraggi. You nod to him, and after offering a simple farewell, leave Brynna and make your way towards your fellow Brotherhood member, shuffling past your other colleagues until you park yourself in the seat to the curmudgeonly old grump's left.
"Kraggi," you greet gruffly.
"Snorri," he grumbles back with a nod.
"Anything interesting happened since your last letter?" you ask, looking over at him.
"My grandnephew and his wife had another couple of their sprogs come of age. Elder one had the Gift but the younger one sadly didn't. An old apprentice of mine is teaching the former and the latter is going into the Runescribes after his ma. On a more personal, and depressing note, it seems my research for
Old Breaker has hit a bit of a snag. So I've been taking commissions to get the mind going. You?"
Old Breaker was Kraggi's personal pet project. A great hammer meant to be wielded as deftly and quickly a blacksmith's mallet with all the force and power of something with the Master Rune of Breaking
and Conduction in it. Of course,
Old Breaker had, at this point, become an ideal that Kraggi kept plodding towards but never ever got close to. Every few decades or century he would scoff at his progress and say it wasn't worthy of Old Breaker, and would try to do more. Gorra had dissuaded you from trying to set him straight, telling you that they'd all tried, both individually and as a group, and failed.
"Well enough, well enough Kraggi. My work has been progressing along nicely, Another one of my apprentices is getting married soon, the other's youngest is getting ready to take his Journeyman's Trial in a couple years' time."
"The one with all those children with the Gift?" Kraggi grumbles out.
"Aye, all seven of them," you confirm.
"Seven! Some folk just hit the seam on the first blow don't they?" he mutters with a shake of the head.
"Hmph," you grumble.
There isn't much you can say against that, not that you would, considering that you agree with your colleague's assessment. Some folk had the Ancestors blessing them more often than others you suppose, and Dolgi's seven Runesmith children were as obvious a blessing as, say, unearthing a seam of Gromril in the aftermath of an earthquake.
"Ready to reveal it then?" Kraggi whispers, taking a sip from a tankard.
"As ready as I'll ever be, but I have my testimony to give first," you reply just as quietly.
"Ah,
Karag Dum, yes. Dark, dark business that, I can't even begin to understand the whole thing, but it leaves a foul taste on my tongue regardless."
"Better a foul taste on your tongue than blood on your hands. All told, Dum was-"
You pause and consider your next words.
"Dum was not an experience I'd wish upon anyone. I'd rather not go over it until I have to Kraggi, calling it an unpleasant memory is an understatement at the very least."
The grim old Runelord nods, if not in understanding, then with sympathy.
With that particular topic buried, for now, you're both content to sit and wait for everyone to pile in. In the meantime, you start idly scanning the room for any familiar faces amongst the diminished crowd of Runelords. Prince Whitebeard's call to arms had roused an appreciable number of you, an even mix of the eldest who felt duty and honour bound to heed his call and the youngest, most starry-eyed, members of the House who wished to serve alongside the eldest son of Grungni Himself. It leaves the assembled crowd composed of mainly Runelords who, by the law of averages, were roughly middle-aged for your profession. For whatever little that really did mean when all of you were over half a millennium in age.
It takes a bit of looking, but you do eventually find the others asked to testify about the events at Karag Dum along with many of the Far Northern Runelords. Both Igna and Dwalin sat to your left, while Valma was to your right, quietly chatting with Lorna. Of Bara, you saw no sign, at least until you turned your head back and saw her sitting a few rows up, behind your right side. The other Far Northern Runelords were scattered across the room, Ogra and Vragni sitting across from you while the twins of Ravnsvake sat between them and Sven of Dorden, who was chugging down a truly massive tankard of ale.
"Alric Thungnisson, Rhunrikki a Karaz a Karak!" the herald calls, drawing the now envy and awe-filled eyes of many in the room to the legendary figure walking into the room, his beard and robes immaculate.
He makes his way across the hall to his customary seat, and nothing happens. A few quiet murmurs erupt, especially among the young and new Runelords in their first Rhunkalbrogg.
You close your eyes and breathe audibly through your nose as the sinking realization settles in.
The doors swing open and a lone figure steps into view, silencing what little muttering there was.
"Thungni Grungnisson, Rhunrikki a Karaz Ankor!" the dwarf announces.
Oh.
Oh
no.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Kraggi send you a sympathetic look, as do some other Runelords who sit around you. Internally, you grimly accept the fact that your nerves will need a good long while to recover from
this ordeal. Idly, you look over and see that Igna, Dwalin and Valma look little better, the knowledge that they'll be testifying before
Thungni doing just as much to disrupt their calm as it has you.
The room watches as the eldest Runelord makes His way to the vacant seat only He could ever lay claim to. Gracefully sliding into the carved rock with all the skill and finesse of a true master, Thungni takes a moment to compose Himself and clear His throat before the familiar roll of thunder that was his voice echoes through the hall.
"Dark days loom ahead, and we must gird ourselves accordingly. I, Thungni Grungnisson, would call this Rhunkalbrogg into session. Does the House accede?"
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"I've never seen you so well composed as you were back there," Laequalys whispers in mock surprise, brows raised to enhance the effect.
Gimli glares at him before turning away and sighing audibly.
"Now that I've taken on the title of Crown Prince, certain duties are expected of me. Of them, hosting guests and entering talks with the local Thanes to keep an eye on the Karak are the ones I least enjoy," he mutters, facial hair drooping comically to match his dour mood. Behind and in front of the two of them, pairs of Huskarls march and part the bustling crowd of Kraka Drakk's market.
"Well you're making the best of it from what I can tell," his friend replies.
"I do what I know, and that means going about and slaying beasts and singing-"
"More like butchering-,"
"-
singing epics and telling sagas you willow limbed ninny. That entire debacle was fine enough I
suppose, but It could have gone better if we were outdoors and were hunting a band of trolls, and not...sitting at a table discussing things and drinking, admittedly delicious, ale. That's more Ladra's mineshaft than it is mine."
"And is that partly why you had
my presence there, throw him off and even the field?" the elf replies, raising a brow.
Gimli scoffs.
"I'd rather have a friend along, such duplicity and cunning are neither my strength or proper for the Crown Prince of Kraka Drakk to do Mr. Fair locks. 'Sides, Thane Grimfist is no yearling who'll get caught unawares by something so simple as hosting another person. And ignoring that, you've visited often enough that most folk don't bat an eye at the sight of you these days."
"It's been years and your people are still staring at me with more befuddlement than the literal Griffons," the elf replies dryly.
"That's because the Brana have been living with us for centuries at this point. Besides, the only people staring at you these days are the beardlings and the women, though the latter are doing it out of envy of your hair rather than wonderment I must admit," he says.
Neither one needs to mention the opinion of Kraka Drakk's longbeards, one having been born into and the other now well acquainted with the squinted gazes and grumbling distrust of elderly dwarfs to know it was the natural state of eldery dwarfs.
Laequalys chuckles to himself regardless, and the two of them settle into a companionable silence as they walk through the hold to the next one of Gimli's meetings.
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Of course, you aren't expected to head down to the dais and testify immediately, there's still a proper procedure to be observed after all. By order of Thungni, your ranks are to be expanded, just a smidge mind you, to prepare for the eventual growth of the Karaz Ankor. The number is smaller than expected, but more due to the loss of several Runelords in the intervening centuries, either in battle or never having come out of their workshops. And so you mentally prepare yourself even as Runelords start to make their way down and begin bringing forth their chosen candidates for consideration by their peers.
But even so, you are not given a true reprieve to gird yourself.
After all, each candidate must be considered carefully, the truth of their abilities ascertained and all while not looking like a complete fool before the gaze of Thungni by asking the wrong questions.
You've, hopefully, done so before, and believe you can manage it a second time, but that wasn't what ate away at you. The truth was, for all that you understood that reporting on Karag Dum as
well as preparing to present your creation before the assembled body of your peers was
quite the workload, you had still done what you believed was your due diligence and kept an eye out for potential candidates to bring forward.
And there is one candidate, one so blindingly obvious even a beardling would maybe get it through their little heads.
But it's Snerra, who is, even taking aside her age, so unconventional in so many other ways as to raise more than just brows.
Yet is she not talented? Yet is she not
worthy? Uncovering a Master Rune of her own making before her third century of life alone would be enough to get grumbling nods of understanding. Topped with everything else Snerra has accomplished, you have a
solid case even considering her age and unorthodoxy. Few have done it, become Runelords so, so very young, and yet all who have had become
legends.
You ruminate on this as more and more Runelords come forward. Not so much going through the motions, but certainly preoccupied, even as you grill your colleagues like a steak over the stovetop about their own candidates. All the while you are wrestling with the decision in your mind-
-until that decision is taken from you.
Just as the last Runelord who came with an officially notified candidate returns to their seat, the Ancestor calls for any who have another, more recently decided, candidate to bring forward. For a moment you pause, knowing that this would be your last chance to bring Snerra forward for another two centuries at the
latest.
That moment costs you.
The room
freezes when Thungni rises out of His seat and begins making His way downwards. They stay stock still as He reaches the dais, and turns to face the, not quite but almost, stunned crowd. Even His own children stare curiously at their father's actions.
"I nominate four individuals for the position of Runelord," He begins, voice calm.
It's been
centuries since Thungni last nominated a candidate. Such a thing is a rarity beyond rarities, for few have ever truly met the exacting standards of the Ancestor and have had the fortitude of will to withstand the crushing weight of expectation such a feat brings. One is a sign of good fortune, four is...well it hasn't needed to be done since the very earliest days of your Guild. When the Runelords could be counted in only two sets of hands, and Thungni still actively taught students.
You pay rapt attention as the Ancestor pulls a scroll-sized rod of gold from His robe. The glow of Runelight emanates from it with a steady pulse until He taps it, wherein a beam of light erupts from it that transforms into a massive report visible to everyone in the room.
"Firstly, I name Kazador Cromsson, Master Runesmith of Karak Varn and student of Kazrik Thimbursson for consideration."
A quick read-through shows a host of information of what Thungni deemed most important or impressive about the individual in question alongside a whole host of other information.
542 years old, brown of hair and green of eye. Member of Clan Stonehall, apprenticed under his grandfather. Shows an aptitude for Weapon and Engineering Runes…
"Quick of wit and fine of mind, he has been tempered and his foolhardiness forged into iron will."
A fast learner, he had become a journeyman a full half-century before his fellow apprentices and joined a band of young warriors soon after. An understanding of Banner and Casting Runes more expected of a master two centuries into their rank as a journeyman and an equal talent for using those Casting Runes of all things in unorthodox scenarios.
Eliminating multiple Beastmen warbands with a group of Dawi who were colloquially called the Beast Slayers...
Avenging 15 separate Grudges for the death of his comrades by eliminating a warherd of Beastmen in a single night...
Slew a Cygor in single combat as a Journeyman by knocking it to the ground using force Runes and braining the creature with a pre-prepared iron spike...
"Secondly, I nominate Thorgard Thagrimsson, Master Runesmith of Uzkulak and student of Bron Gromsson."
529 years old, black of hair and grey of eye. Member of Clan Coalback, apprenticed by his uncle. Shows an aptitude for Warding, and Defensive Runes.
"Tempered by the flames of not only the foe, but of my Uncle, he has stared into the abyss and found only resolve."
Survived 200 encounters against the Frurndar...
Many look confused at the word, but for you, it brings an ugly mix of vindictiveness and sorrow.
Personally avenged the Grudge against his Uncle's slayer, the Oathbreaker and Sorcerer Prophet Thaggrod Kragsson...
Participated in the avenging of Khazid Zharr alongside Gazul and His Watchers, continued to follow for 70 years before attaining rank of Master...
"Thirdly, I name Rorek Jarnisson, Master Runesmith of Karak Izril, student of Lunna Olkasdottir."
512 years old, gold of hair and blue of eye...
Casting Rune specialist, understanding and skill of a master twice his age in Talismanic and Engineering Runes. Member of Clan Ruby-axe, trained by his grandmother.
"Methodical in approach and calm in temperament, yet with a Gromril will."
Singular investment returns totalling, at best estimate, 5% of Izril's yearly income...
Slew a rampaging fire drake then fashioned a wyrm shaped and sized Gronti using ingredients from its body...
"And fourthly, I name Snerra Magnasdottir, Master Runesmith of Kraka Drakk, student of Runelord Snorri Klausson."
There was a small amount of murmuring going on when Thungni was presenting the other contestants, but it grows noticeably louder when the details of Snerra's career come into view. Any possible chance at disbelief is crushed by the overwhelming knowledge that it was
Thungni of all people presenting the information, while others look at you in muted disbelief.
You meanwhile stare straight ahead, reading through Thungni's observations and opinions on your student. You knew everything written down here, yet to see it splayed out before you in a neatly itemized list from the perspective of the Dwarf you owe, well effectively everything to, is a wholly different experience.
358 years old, brown of hair and eye… apprenticed under her uncle at 18…
Affinity for all Runes, preference for Armour and Talismanic Runes. Work and skill far ahead of contemporaries, comparable to Masters over twice her age. Natural born talent, acceptable potential...
...Master at 187…
...independently developed a Master Rune at 278…
Amidst the murmuring, muttery and looks you sit visibly undisturbed, not letting the ruckus around you impact your mood. Internally you are anything but the appearance of calm stoicism you project. Still, despite everything it feels good to be vindicated.
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"Then we'll expect these in ten years time then lass," Grunna says with finality, signing the contract with a few flicks of her pen.
"It will be done High Priestess," Snerra says, braids swaying forward as she nods before signing the contract herself.
"See that it is lass, others have vouched for you. Do not shame them by breaking that trust," the High Priestess reminds her.
"Of course High Priestess," the young Runesmith agrees.
"Now, if that's our business concluded, then I'll have one of the apprentices bring you a keg and see you out. There's daylight to burn and Valaya abhors wastefulness."
"Your hospitality is greatly appreciated," Snerra responds, not wanting to inconvenience the temple but knowing full well what trying to argue with a High Priestess of Valaya about the necessity of their hospitality would do.
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With the vote over Thungni's candidates, for all the formality it arguably is, out of the way, the time comes for the four of you to testify about the events at Karag Dum. The four of you walk down and line up at the dais. Young dwarfs scurrying about with the stacks of notes, information and appendices each one of you prepared.
Igna is the first of you to present, as the Dwarf closest to the events both personally and as leader of the expedition to avenge the fallen hold. She speaks succinctly and factually, doing her best to maintain her composure and even temper while beneath the collective eyes of all your peers. Her explanation is mostly from an overview of the strategic situation, dealing with the logistical troubles the unexpected phenomena you encountered caused and the taking of the Karak. The only time she ever gets truly aggrieved is when she's forced to explain what the Frundar
truly were, how they came to be and the dark days that led to the Hold's fall. Still, you can pick out the fact that Igna takes the time to draw attention to the desecration of the Hold beyond salvageability, the utter taint of the mountain, and more importantly, the clearing of the untainted denizens of any potential taint or maliciousness. Her arguments are not emotional nor defensive, at least not entirely, but instead, emphasize the testimonies of Dwarfs the House would not deem circumspect or tainted. Your fellow Runelords, the Guildmasters asked to monitor the progress of the Dum-born apprentices,
multiple priests and priestess, Valayans especially, and most powerfully of all the word of Gazul Himself. Overall a logical and factual bent to everything, which was no doubt purposefully done so as to mitigate the accusations of bias.
You think she's swayed enough of them to, at the very least, believe her kinfolk are not oathbreaking thieves greedily staring at the work of your Guild. It's another question entirely as to whether they'd trust them, but you think she managed with the younger and Radical elements of the House while making the more Moderate to lightly Conservative elements at least second guess themselves. From the looks of it, Igna wasn't willing to try and overreach and cause any potential backlash, not even trying to convince the hardline Conservatives, and did her level best to make sure her Clan and Hold would not be blacklisted by the wider community nor seen as threats to the Guild's secrets.
Next up is Dwalin, who adds insight and new details onto the events Igna was not present for. Where Igna sought to mitigate the backlash against her people, Dwalin instead focused on a smaller-scale view of events. He, in his own way, ended up focusing on the enemies you had faced and spoke of the benefit of having so many Runesmiths acting in concert with each other. Without all of you to disrupt the enemy's magic so completely, it was doubtless that the enemy would have managed far worse things than what you had encountered.
Purposefully or not his saga telling made it a point to emphasize the greater argument about the need for the Guild to be united in the face of those who would steal their secrets or harm them and their kin. It is not so much a rebuke against those who were pointing fingers at the Dwarfs of Kraka Grom, but against factionalism in the face of a greater threat. There were now foes who your Guild could say for certain were both motivated and perfectly situated to try and steal the secrets of Runecraft from you, and the Guild had to be more vigilant than ever against the enemy beyond rather than poke and prod at those already deemed clear by one of the highest authorities in the Karaz Ankor. All in all, you believe it does its job of trying to direct the House's attention away from grumbling down distrustfully at the Dwarfs of Kraka Grom.
At her personal request to you, it is Valma who speaks before the assembly after your colleague finishes his self-styled Saga. Her report is similar to Dwalins's in its emphasis on the foes faced there, but where he had spoken of how the working of Runesmiths helped overcome the danger Valma focused on the bigger picture. The possibility of the Frurndar binding the Beastmen, coordinating them to fight with such meticulous and well-synchronized unity impacted her greatly it seems. Talking about their ability to bring down her Gronti, to the sustained wave tactics they enacted to wear down the Throng before sending in bands of Minotaur shock troops to punch gaping holes in the shieldwall for the Frurndar to exploit and widen.
Beyond that she spoke about the industriousness of your people turned to nefarious purposes. Some, quietly, scoff at the direness with which she speaks, but others look more thoughtful as they digest what they have heard.
The enemy has proven themselves ready and willing to pervert and change the means by which they will wage war against us. Inside agents, puppet Beastmen and the subversion of entire Holds from within to serve their purposes. The Runesmiths must be prepared for the threat the Dumgromthi pose, and that can only be done by devising new methods, new Runes, with which their dark magic can be defeated. It's a decidedly Conservative solution for an otherwise Radical plan. Adapt to the foe by employing new strategies to beat them back and augment it by discovering new Runes.
When Valma's speech winds down, you take the opportunity to neaten up the stack of papers that had gotten progressively more messy in your hands and look around the room. In the next few seconds it would be your turn, and in your mind whispered a final prayer to Valaya as Valma left the dais empty.
It was time.
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Alric listens as Yorri's student goes through his testimony.
Around him other Runelords do the same, hearing the words but doing a worse job at hiding their befuddlement.
Klausson's report wasn't like the rest of his colleagues, which given who he learned under was exactly what Alric should have expected far earlier. The report was the meticulous, almost to the point of obscenity, recollection many of his colleagues had come to expect from the Northener yes, but there was the undercurrent only he and perhaps a handful of others recognize when the veneer of normalcy fell away and the noted oddity of the Gift Giver came to the fore.
At first, it is the scientific curiosity, the self-same desire to understand and create that many in their Guild, himself included, had sometimes forgotten.
His recollection of the odd time-warping effect was backed by the testimonies of not only other Runesmiths, but mundane Dawi from the Throng, the expeditions and even those who lived in Dum. By his Grandfather's beard, he'd even gone and gotten testimony from one of those Branakroki who accompanied them. But rather than use it to simply confirm the effect's existence, as one would logically assume they were for, it was instead used to broach the possible method by which the presence of so many Runesmiths interfered with the spell's original effect and purpose.
As if it were his own thoughts and personal theories published under the expectation of scrutiny.
It was a commonality in all the times he spoke about what happened at that blighted place. From the controlled beastmen, to the foul workings of the dark mockeries he witnessed and personally destroyed. Clinically, though with a good deal of disgust lacing his voice, describing the possible Runes that had been reverse engineered, corroborated with meticulous notes on their workings along with gathered evidence copied from the
Frurndar's workshops. Then just as objectively, but with a great deal of satisfaction in his tone this time, explaining their errors and the method by which they were destroyed.
Had Gottri been here and not out campaigning with his Uncle, Alric imagines he'd be tickled pink to hear the words "Rendered inoperable through consecutive hammer blows," repeated so often.
Yet had it been just that, that detached notation and logical breakdown of events, Klausson would not have confused them all so easily as he had.
No, it was only in juxtaposition with the parts of his report that described what happened in the Fallen Hold that his notes seemed so out of place. Where there was cold detachment describing the potential methodology by which the Sorcerer controlled the Beastmen there was fire,
life, in the Runelord's recollection of what he felt and saw the first time his eyes fell on that blasphemous gate, and all the other horrors within.
He'd heard better, but there was an earnestness to it that evoked emotion regardless. Anger, confusion, betrayal and horror all laid bare as completely as he had detailed everything else. Jumping from the disgust at the knowledge that
Runesmiths were used as simple reagents to forge the chains that had bound a Greater servant of the Bloody One to mechanically explaining the means that said demon had its blood let for their foul rituals like a goat was milked by a shepherd. The barely restrained fury at the
unbaraki Hogrimm Ironhand to coldly explaining the way the traitor was burned by his foolish reliance on magic and eventual death. Going from speaking with Gromrilclad conviction and earnestness in Dum's survivors to a practical and thought-out explanation about the benefits of his retainers speeding up their evacuation rather than aiding him.
It is a maddening fusion, on paper it should be a rambling diatribe that confounds and confuddles with its tonal whiplash. Yet in context it fits, the temper and passion their people usually held so tightly bound released at specific intervals. Though the points Klausson saw fit to involve his emotions weren't what one normally expected from a dwarf recalling the fulfillment of a Grudge, almost as if he had opened himself up when he could but clamped down on his feelings on the parts he feels need to be conveyed as clearly and objectively as possible. It should not work, and at certain points it almost falls apart entirely-
And yet, Alric thinks,
it doesn't.
It, maddeningly enough,
fits him, like an apprentice's nine hundredth attempt at a dovetail joint admittedly, but by his Grandfather's beard, it fits him.
The young man hid it well in public, but this presentation had reminded him that Klausson was Yorri's student down to the roots of his beard
.
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You can't rightly say what the assembly thinks of you now, having chosen to be forthright in your interests and opinions about what happened at Dum. Well, aside from the usual confusion on many of their faces, but the smattering of flat stares among others was a new development.
Not much you can do but shrug, internally of course, and live with the consequences.
Funny how in the aftermath of it all, even the thought of potentially lowering Thungni's opinion of you is only horribly terrifying compared to before.
Of course, there's one thing left to do, and so when the others climb back up to their seats you remain where you are.
There are a few murmurs of confusion but Thungni takes your odd behaviour in stride.
"Snorri, son of Klaus, have you another matter to bring forward to the House?" He asks, silencing the whispers before they grow any further.
"Aye, I do Lord Ancestor," you confirm with a nod.
"Then by the ancient rites of Rhunkalbrogg, I bid you present your case."
With Thungni's blessing, you turn and grunt. Immediately a group of young Reckoners come out, several of them hauling the hulking form of the Chainforger, while two carry the notes you prepared for this very occasion, and a shirt of Gromril Chainmail respectively.
The first two draw curious stares, while the third brings about looks of confusion, desire and understanding all at once.
"So this is the means by which you managed it then?" Thungni observes, His features revealing nothing about His thoughts on the matter.
"In a sense Lord, this is the result of what I've learned after cracking the secret. I call it the Chainforger, and its purpose is self-evident," you clarify, nodding at the large contraption.
The Ancestor only hums, simply nodding while the some in the room begin eyeing the Chainforger inquisitively. Seeing that Thungni is content to remain silent, as was most of the rest of the House, you begin to explain.
"I do not claim to be the first to solve this particular problem, my own research has disabused me of such beliefs. But I believe I am, if not the first then one of the earliest, to have successfully created a method that is employable by the vast majority of Runesmiths. The costs are not inconsequential, the machine itself requires a not-insignificant amount of Gromril to make after all never mind the Runes involved, though once made requires nothing more than mundane maintenance of its Runes to continue proper function. Still, given the utility of the fine Gromril chain economically and militarily, I believe that disseminating the method of its construction is, and by extension how to make the two Runes developed solely for that purpose, the proper course of action."
The whispering grows louder, the stares grow wilder, and the air is charged with...something. No one here is fool enough to not realize what you imply by doing this, what you are saying about yourself through this one act. Of course, that wasn't the reason
why you did this, but the precedent wasn't on your side.
"You would share this knowledge then? Is it truly so important?" Alric cuts in, voice betraying nothing of what he thinks about your decision.
"Aye, as soon as I return to my workshop I open my doors to any Master who would wish to learn," you reply.
Whispers and grumbling grow louder and louder until one of the sitting Runelords addresses you openly.
"You overstep boy! Arrogance! Arrogance so blatant that it is like coal dust upon a bleached woollen shirt! It is an insult to put those Runes such as those alongside works far better made, they are the words of a fool! An up jumped Rune of Flame and a butchered Master Rune of Conduction are all I see!" a particularly aged Runelord, Thorek Stonefoot your mind helpfully supplies, shouts. Simultaneously rising from his chair and pointing a finger at the Master Rune of Forgeflame especially.
The shouting and grumbling reach new heights at his declaration, the floodgates opening as others pitch in their support and criticism in equal measure. For a while you stand there and stare at him, features revealing nothing outwardly while you fume in the confines of your own mind.
How
dare he? When have you ever shown yourself as the kind of glory-hungry fool he claims you to be? It is an insult of the highest order, one that strikes a nerve every dwarf possesses.
"I am
no fool Thorek Stonefoot! Nor am I some glory hungry half beard like you claim! The Runes you so deride exist whether we wish them to or not, and
I have found a use for them that has benefitted the Karaz Ankor while you twiddle about and settle for what you have been given like a beardling who knows no better! So close-minded are you that you see this Rune and can only compare it to that which you know instead of opening your eyes and mind to the possibilities and opportunities! The type of thinking you display is a disservice to this Guild, to this
Craft, and I will not stand idly by as you insult my honour and dismiss my work because you refuse to use that piece of mouldy chuf between your ears that you call a brain like any Runesmith
ought to!" You roar at him, voice carrying over the din.
A small part of you boggles at bringing up what is
proper for the Guild and art of Runesmithing when Thungni is literally meters away from you but is shouted down by the indignance of a Dwarf who has been wronged.
"You
dare claim such a thing against me?
" Thorek thunders back, fists curling and foot taking an aggressive step forwards.
"I speak no falsehood Stonefoot! Come down here and prove yourself right or take back your insult, I will not be cowed by your blustering!" you counter back heatedly.
"
Enough," a voice speaks, tone calm yet with an authority that is undeniable.
Thungni has not altered His position on His throne since this entire debacle began, but where before His presence was more akin to a clear summit it is now akin to a storm-ravaged peak. An aura of controlled power, held back by a will so titanic that it dwarfs the mountains themselves, that can nevertheless be felt and seen from kilometres around.
Many settle down, those standing returning to their seats while tempers are cooled by a sudden, ice-cold, deluge of shame and embarrassment.
"Enough," Thungni repeats, and those few stragglers rush to join their compatriots.
The Ancestor waits for a solid minute, eyes roving through the House and cowing any possible dissent. The loudest and most aggressive supporters and detractors, some who were Dwarfs over a millennium old, bow their heads like chastised beardlings when Thungni stares at them; their eyes unable to meet the Ancestor's for longer than a moment or two.
Then Thungni turns His imposing gaze down onto you.
Eyes, bluer than the richest sapphires and that occasionally twinkle with scintillating multihued light, bear down on you with only a fraction of the force a
Will older than many of the oldest Holds can bring to bear. A part of you quails in fear and terror, the rest are frozen in a state of shock and awe. It's as if you are a geode cracked open upon an anvil, inner thoughts laid bare beneath
that gaze.
You do not look away, and that is acknowledged.
After what feels like an eternity, they eventually look away and the rumbling voice begins again.
"Knowledge has been given freely and without insult intended. Take it or dismiss it at your own discretion, as has ever been your right. Snorri Klausson, Runelord of Kraka Drakk, have you any final remarks?" He says, looking at you expectantly.
"No Lord Ancestor."
"Have any within the House a question to ask Snorri, son of Klaus, Runelord of Kraka Drakk?"
A half-minute of silence meets the Ancestor. Meanwhile, you quietly pick up your papers, hand them to the aides and Reckoners who have scuttled in to bring the rest of your things away, then march back to your seat. Thungni turns away from you and addresses the entire room.
"Have any within the House have a matter they wish to bring forward?"
None speak.
"Then by the ancient rites of Rhunkalbrogg, I shall proceed," Thungni says with a nod.
The smack of fist against stone echoes through the now silent hall.
"The last of the living have been queried, the positions given and not taken are now passed to the hands of the dead...
━<><><><==><><><>━
You need enough drink to get piss blind drunk.
Ancestors preserve you, shouting and trying to goad another Runelord into a fistfight during Rhunkalbrogg was one thing, but to do it in front of
Thungni?
Oh, the shame burns in you.
Were it not for that, truly massive, blunder you would have said this Rhunkalbrogg was an absolute success. As it is, the looming shadow of what you did weighs on you like a tonne of stone blocks piled onto your back. A palpable aura of gloom hangs off of you, your Retainers keeping silent even as they walk alongside you. Dwarfs who pass you by glance in your direction so obvious is your distress. Such behaviour is unbecoming of a Runelord you think, and yet you are too mortified to do anything about it. A stab of shame mixes with the embarrassment and guilt already bubbling away in your gut.
Have you mentioned that you need a drink?
The streets are thankfully, relatively, bare of foot traffic this late at night and so you are at least making good time to the tavern. Or at least that's what would have happened had you and your retainers not noticed a figure coming towards your little group. Bidding the beardlings to relax, you straighten your back and turn to fully face the
[ ][
Figure]: Tall one.
[ ][
Figure]: Broad one.
[ ][
Figure]: Shapely one.
[ ][
Figure]: Hunched one.
━<><><>< Khazalid Trivia ><><><>━
Chuf - A piece of very old cheese a Miner keeps under his hat for emergencies.
Dumgromthi - "Doom Ancestor"/God, Chaos God
Unbaraki - Oathbreaker, the gravest insult a Dwarf can call someone, of which there is nothing worse in the eyes of many.
Wazzok - A Dwarf who has exchanged gold or some other valuable item for something of little or no worth; a foolish or gullible Dwarf; an insult.
━<><><>< Gain ><><><>━
-
Hearth chosen,
-- +1 Progress to Firebird's Feather, new totals:
[Cost: (2 -1) =1 actions]
-- +2 Progress and ??? to Wardstones, new totals:
[Cost: (5 -2) =3 actions]
-- +2 Progress to The Secrets of Light Pt. 2, new totals:
[Cost: (8 -5) =3 actions]
-- ???
- Legendary? Deed,
Chainwright: You are not the first among Grungni's folk to discover the secret to finer Gromril manipulation, but you are the first to make it doable for the average Master Runesmith. Which is still a damn rare thing given how few Dwarfs actually have such a skill but compared to the handful of Dwarfs before it's many magnitudes more easily done and far more accessible. Despite the opinion of a very loud, but very small, minority, it is an achievement worthy of praise.
-- +1 Standing with Conservative and Radical Runesmiths, new totals: Standing 9
-- ???
- Snerra Magnasdottir has achieved the rank of Runelord at the prodigious age of 358! A talent recognized by Thungni Himself! Glory and Honour upon her for she brings the same to both Clan and Hold!
- Your version of the events at Karag Dum has confused and confounded...others' opinions of you but that's par for the course. The report itself was meticulous, thorough and easily digestible of course.
-- ???
━<><><><==><><><>━
There will be a one-hour moratorium for discussion.
AN: Two weeks plus a day or thereabouts. Not my intent to delay it for so long, but life got in the way then the bit of writer's block I was having burst like a pimple so I got hit by a burning need to put word to page and the update ballooned from there. This was supposed to be relatively
short! One last doot and then I'll update all the gains after consolidating them. Sorry for the delay again, hope it was worth the wait though! As always, thanks for reading and don't forget to C&C. :^)
. 
