"Winning Vote" said:
[X]Plan Chains and Dragons
Snorri/Karstah
-[X] A Wonderful Endeavor ✓
--[X] Petition the Hold 45 Kraka Drakk Favor
-[X] [Difficult] Akazit 2 AP
-[X] [Difficult] The Rune Metal Pt. 3b 2 AP
--[X] Brotherhood Expertise Spend 1 [5 Brotherhood Favor + 95 Cult of Valaya Favour]
-[X] [Difficult] The Rune Metal Pt. 5 0 AP
--[X] Brotherhood Expertise Spend 2 [50 Cult of Valaya Favor]
- [X] Egg(s) for your Thoughts Gain variable number of Viable Shard Wyrm Egg(s). 1 AP ✓
-- [X] Write-in: All Three Eggs.
-- [X] Write-in: Use one Charge per Egg.
-[X] Fimir Eyes 1 Bonus Research + 1 Karstah Action
Retainers
-[X] Glimmering Steel 1 Retainer
-[X] Waywarding 1 Retainer
-[X] Valaya Calls 1 Retainer
Orders
-[X] Order: T4 Magma Wyrm Brain ✓
-[X] Kingly Authority Order 2: T4 Magma Wyrm Brain 15 Kraka Drakk Favor ✓
-[X] Kingly Authority Order 3: T4 Magma Wyrm Heart 15 Kraka Drakk Favor ✓
-[X] Kingly Authority Order 4: T4 Elder Wyrm's Gas Sac 15 Kraka Grom Favor ✓
-[X] Kingly Authority Order 5: T3 Flawless Solar Ruby 10 Kraka Grom Favor ✓
-[X] Kingly Authority Order 6: T3 Dirach Eye 10 Kraka Drakk Favor ✓
-[X] Princely Hunting: T4 Greedy Troll. 10 Kraka Drakk Favor ✓
[X] [Letters:] The Mechanics of Dragon Flight ✓
[X] [Social:] Nain seeking what defines him.
[X] [Social:] Dolgi coming to you for advice on his hunt for a specific reagent.✓
━<><><>< 385 A.P. ><><><>━
The first ticket off the docket was to pour over the stacks of notes on Repairing and Spatial Runes that Ogra had a trusted grandson of hers personally deliver to your Workshop.
It took you only a few months to parse through both the finalized and rough drafts of your colleague's work, partly thanks to her efficient and succinct writing style. Much of what's there is related to interacting with Buildings and structures and admittedly seemed to attack the problems the Runes of Repair and Stacking addressed from a completely different angle. Ogra relied on drawing on surrounding material from the environment to enable restoration of structures, and the spatial manipulation seemed to not suffer the same fall in efficacy as the container scaled up at all for instance, but you're still able to make use of it to compare against the Runes you had.
Where Ogra found it difficult to the point of abandoning the idea of spontaneous repair, the Rune of Repair had no issue generating material from seemingly nowhere, akin to the Rune of Hearty Soup and a few other odd Runes you know and know of, but lacked in both speed and efficacy in recompense. Something you potentially
could resolve, but the underlying striking of the Rune along with the resulting energy draw would make it an unwieldy and inelegant answer. The Rune of Stacking suffered from similar issues, the effort of improving it being beyond the value of the result, and that said much given you were, well
you.
Deep in your gut, though you have no concrete proof of it, you think you know why this is the case.
The maker of the Rune of Repair and the Rune of Stacking, perhaps Valaya, perhaps Thungni, purposefully gave you Runes that could not simply be iterated upon, at least with any degree of ease or efficiency. They were, for lack of a better term, dead-ends. Perfectly acceptable and functioning dead-ends mind you, but developmentally…complete? You can't describe it any other way really.
If you could liken it to anything, it felt as if you were being given a proof of concept and nothing more. A show by an elder Master to their younger counterparts of what was possible, but with an expectation that the younger find their way there without them holding their hand.
It felt…appropriate? Vexing given you were over a millennium old, but appropriate.
Nothing for it then, if you have to make a new Rune to properly make use of what you've learned then that's what you'll do.
Just…not now.
There's a lot more reading to do.
━<><><><==><><><>━
Next up on the docket is a long overdue flurry of letters you exchange with several people.
Many are to your fellow brotherhood members, asking for their time, attention, and if they have it, their notes since the discovery of Adamant to see if you've missed anything and to inspire your own stalled efforts. A good deal of exchanges were had, and you had to rely on your connections with the Cult of Valaya to do a lot of the heavy lifting, but agreements are made and you begin to receive a slow trickle of secure packages from out of breath messengers.
The other group you frequently contact are the Guild Leaders of the Hold's Craftguild's, leveraging the debt you have earned with many of them and their lines to continue the progress towards Khazagar's initial construction. With the material largely secured or promised, now comes the hard part of coordinating everything. At the Fall Equinox of the following year you've gotten them to agree to attend a round table discussion where the final details and agreements can be hashed out. Normally such talks were an affair reserved between the two relevant parties, but when projects got large enough, significant enough, coordination was required, and Khazagar is, in your opinion, exactly that.
For many of the younger Guild Leaders it will be an event they've never seen, some of the older ones may even recall the hubbub that went about during the construction of the Brana Aerie all those centuries ago, but Khazagar was beyond that. Only the original founding of the Hold, of which very few have ever experienced, was a greater and more involved affair. Which you think appropriate, after all, when you said this would be a Hold in miniature you were not lying. Such is the scale that King Gloin is obviously kept abreast of the situation and, barring unforeseen circumstances, likely to attend the meeting in some way shape or form too.
Speaking of the King, you're not entirely sure if he's relieved or stressed by the fact that you've decided to actually start calling in several of the debts they owe you. Getting the father to lend his authority, as well as Queen Valka you remind yourself, to get what was effectively the upper torso of an Elder Wyrm plus some other things delivered up north while poking the former's son to go and take a company of Dwarfs to kill an Elder Greedy Troll on your behalf is a good deal of work after all.
Bah.
Gloin will manage.
The last two pieces of correspondence of any particular note that you've only now just gone through are accompanied by a book each. The first is from Valma who, as promised, has passed you a copy of her latest translation. An entry level book on the Wind of Beasts, Ghur, while the other is the transcribed words of the Dragon Scarwind written by his rider that Myrion sent you. The book itself was apparently full of, albeit biased, wisdom, fanciful tales and actual knowledge relevant to your interests in equal measure about the nature of Dragons and their lives, but Myrion assured you that several colleagues in high esteem pointed her to it when she began inquiring herself. Curiously synergistic and useful given that you possess three Dragon eggs. Admittedly you had originally written to Myrion asking about the underlying mechanics behind Draconic flight, and how they could keep themselves airborne. Something you were especially curious about because of one particular plan fermenting in the confines of your mind about what the Capstone monument for Khazagar could be.
A true Silver Wyrm, a flying titan that could spit flames as hot as the sun upon whose adamant scales armies would break.
A far off dream, perhaps even an impossible dream, but one that was worth actual honest effort to prove one way or another.
━<><><><==><><><>━
(Roll, Monster hunt: 94 + 10 [Trollbane] +25 [Equipment] +15 [Omake] =144, Crit: 58 +44 [Rollover] = 102)
When the Gift Giver calls upon the ancient debts, Clan Ironarm is honourbound to answer.
The fact that Gimli gets to go out and hunt a mighty monster into the heart of the Northern mountains, and also work on the Hold's foreign policy by inviting King Dorr? Its a debt he's all too happy to help pay off.
Ah, if he could only bring his boy. Least Thorek and Grimnar are with him, always a fun time to have family about.
Most times, when they weren't disparaging his son that is.
"The boy isn't exactly his namesake," Grimnar admits, "he gives it a gamely try, but…"
"Bah!" Gimli grumbles with a shake of his head, "So what if he's an average fighter? He'll find his way."
"More like two left feet brother. I love the lad, but there wouldn't be rumours if he were
just an average warrior."
He scoffs at Thorek and shakes his head.
"Enough of this nonsense, I won't have this sort of talk when we regroup with King Dorr. Have a little faith eh? He's a bright lad, when he finds his stride there'll be no one greater."
Both Thorek and Grimnar nod, though Gimli isn't foolish enough to not notice the hesitation and doubt baked into his sibling's frames. Fatherly pride has nothing to do with it, he can simply see what so many cannot he supposes. They expect to see his Grandfather come again, the Uniter reborn in his lad. And if that were the case he'd be just as proud as he was now. There is greatness behind those perceptive eyes, a wisdom that belied his son's age and a cleverness Gimli never possessed when he was that young. War may not end up being Otrek's calling, but that was fine by him.
His namesake was better remembered as Otrek the Uniter not Otrek Wyrmbane after all.
A thundering roar in the distance coming from the direction of roughly where Dorr's party ought to be draws Gimli from his thoughts. He doesn't even bother to look back and see if the others are following him, merely taking off in a dead sprint towards the noise's source with a grin on his lips and his largest axe held squarely in his hands, all the while the amulet dangling from his neck and the belt on his waist glows with increasing intensity.
━<><><>< 386 A.P. ><><><>━
Karstah quietly passes out another round of drinks while she listens to Master Snorri continue to negotiate with the Guildmasters of the Stonemasons and Carpenters Guilds about the height of Khazagar's ceiling. These talks have been going on for the better part of the day and show no signs of stopping.
Being here was one of her responsibilities as Master Snorri's heir, and while there's a deep seated amusement at seeing Elders many centuries her senior argue like beardlings over topics like the amount of wood needed or the appropriate number of pillars in the entrance hall, Karstah does wish she could be back in her workshop. Progress on the armour, in between her other duties and the eye dissection she was doing under Master Snorri's supervision, was going well. By the turn of the decade Karstah strongly believed she would be roughly halfway through the entire affair.
What insights she'd made so far were extremely interesting already; while the magical effect of it was still far off, the more mundane aspects of its physical properties were, in her opinion, equally compelling. The Iron and Bronze were scarce like anything she'd seen before, and its material properties were something outside her knowledge to recreate. While the magic imbued into the armour almost certainly improved its durability and required active if temporary dispelling of its enchantment, even on their own both the Iron and Bronze had more material similarities to very high grade steel than their normal counterparts. Unique and specialized variants of metals weren't unheard of of course, there were many Smithing Clans and Holds who were famed for their ability to create better variants of alloys and ingots like Kadrin Steel, the confusingly named Barazgal of Galbaraz and Karak Vlag Iron, but it would be quite the boon to discover how to recreate it for her own uses. She was fairly certain that some form of magic was involved during the actual smelting process, but Karstah's only real experience in that department was Master Snorri's Adamant Smelters.
He did have a few Elven textbooks about magic, perhaps she could ask for permission to review them and see if anything like what may have been done to this metal was mentioned there.
Aside from that, the construction of the actual equipment was a confusing mix of modern and unknown but incredibly complex techniques applied to create more archaic and primitive forms-
-Eyeing an empty mug, Karstah moves to refill it, gesturing to the other apprentices honoured to be in the room that she's on it while doing so. One ear tunes in to the discussion between her teacher and Master Gormak over the usage rights of the forge space planned for the facility as well.
Where was she?
Right, the forms and aesthetic. The scale mail for instance was something she'd read about in sagas, and seen in a few extremely old examples held within the Winterhearth vaults. An ancient heirloom from a time before even Master Yorri, she thinks. Yet the links were an ingenious array of interconnected segments that maximized movement while retaining structural durability. Had the thought not been patently ridiculous, Karstah would have been led to believe it'd be easier to simply grow the entire mass out of one block of metal rather than individually forging the relevant pieces and assembling them together. Yet, she could find no mark where the wire had been cut, no mark denoting where a scale was beaten into shape, and though she chalked it up to her simply being incapable of finding an example the thought
did stick in her mind.
An entire suit of armour, forged from a singular block like a mason cuts a sculpture out of the natural ston-
- "Construction can begin immediately Lord Klausson, we need only your word."
That draws Karstah's full attention, and from the looks of things, everyone in the room as well. For his part, Master Snorri's face is as blank as a river stone, not showing even a speck of what he feels.
Then, with a voice no different from any of the other times he's spoken, but with an undeniable weight behind it all the same he speaks.
"So be it."
There'd be no going back now.
━<><><>< 387 A.P. ><><><>━
Amidst the backdrop of daily life, the Dwarfs of Kraka Drakk and Khazid Okraz notice a new development taking place.
Craftsmen and material begin moving in absolutely titanic quantities, Dwarfs from not one or two Guilds, but it seems almost every last one in the Karak itself make their way towards the Gift Giver's workshop. When questions are asked, be it by curious relatives or nosy neighbours, these workmen answer with all honesty.
A commission from the Gift Giver.
For many of the Elders, accustomed to the eccentricities of the enigmatic Runelord and trusting in his intent, it is enough. For others, mainly the young and the Rhunki, they dig deeper, and after a few free beers for the trouble the Craftsmen oblige.
It is a building, nai, a complex to be dedicated to the art of Runecraft. It began as a place where the Gift Giver says he can better teach those Runes he has already agreed to divulge, yes, but this place, this
Khazagar, is to go beyond even that. It shall be a place that shall follow Durin's example and beliefs; where Runesmiths may compete in a crucible of debate and rigorous tribulation to advance the art of Thungni, where the only limit to their ability shall hopefully be their skill. Where the material wealth of Kraka Drakk shall be within easy reach of procurement, where competitions can be held and commissions taken. And, most scandalously, where
some, only
some, knowledge can be kept and handed to those Runesmiths who prove worthy. And, if any so wish, they too can disseminate their work here as the Gift Giver does. The key word, they and the Runelord stress, is
can.
Not may, not
should, and most certainly NOT
will.
Understanding spreads first across Kraka Drakk in a matter of days, then to her outlying domain in weeks, then the peninsula in a little under two months. News often reaches the south in the span of years, yet such is the magnitude of this act and flurry of talk that it generates that even distant and ever judging Zorn is aware by the year's end.
The reactions of the public follow a largely similar path.
In the Far North the news is, generally, positive. This is merely a gift to the Rhunki from a living Ancestor known for such acts. None doubt the benevolence of his intent at the very least. To the lords and Thanes it is yet another gem in Kraka Drakk's crown; another mark that defines the Hold's uniqueness and fertilizer to fuel its meteoric growth, and garners whatever reaction is appropriate based on their relationship with the Hold in question. Ravnsvake and Grom congratulate, Dorden waits and watches with squinted eye, and Ornsmotek grumbles despite Prince Gimli and Clan Ironarm's efforts.
For the south, they see it at first as curiosity, for the Gift Giver's oddity is a known quantity to those who know his name. Then it is grudging respect as the intent is understood, then worry, as more and more details of what entails is discussed, then finally a decision between cautious hope and disbelief. Many in the south expected that anything even remotely related to Rune Smithing on this scale would happen in either Izril or Brynduraz, or most likely Karaz a Karak. Ancient Holds, Runesmith Holds one and all. Not a young and middling Hold with a grudgingly respectable rise and notable defiance, not the odd folk who share their home with bird lions, not the ones whose kings argue more like Clan heads than sovereign lords, and if one believes it, wage war upon cyclopean lizards.
For the Runesmiths, as with all things for those in the know, they are far more dramatic about things.
Curiosity, followed by astonishment as intent is understood with far greater context, followed by fury for what exactly this appears like at first glance, then depending on their generosity reactions temper as details are explained.
The Runesmiths of Kraka Drakk largely celebrate, for many of the young Masters believe the secret meetings and quiet discussions now have a true home. A culmination of a movement building beneath the Runelord's notice. The other Runelords of that Hold run the gamut from that same enthusiasm to quiet worry, both for their elder and the Guild in general. In the Far North the trend largely follows, but the Runesmith community of Ornsmotek, ever the domain of Vragni SIlverbrand, is the most hostile. It is truth revealed, brazen disregard for the past and arrogance unbound. Even if his intent is likely benevolent this can only end in schism, and so they disavow it as nonsense even as Silverbrand swears to resist and curtail Klausson's influence from infecting the rest of the north any more than it already has.
For the south many of the eldest eyes turn northwards, either in fury, envy or curiosity.
How dare he claim the intent of Durin? How dare he besmirch the Firstborn of Thungni by saying
this follows his words and wisdom the staunchest opponents and most traditional all but shout. It is a Guildhall no matter how many technicalities he shields himself with plain and simple. Some Radicals respect the sheer audacity of the act, the boldness and trust in both the Runelord's claims as well as because it follows their own beliefs. Either because they actually believe Klausson or, like the Conservatives, believe it is a Guildhall but actually see such developments as a benefit for not only the Guild but the Realms as a whole. Many, many more, both Conservative and Radical, see it as yet more proof that Klausson cares not for the ways of their people. Izril calls it madness just shy of heresy and the Glittering Lords of that realm grow angry that this Hazkal dares claim any form of rivalry with their betters. Brynduraz scoffs at the brazenness of youth, for such was their history with Izril, even as the elders grumble and debate over letting an upstart in the North all but declare their intent to surpass the Brightstone Hold's pedigree. For Karaz a Karak, the home of Thungni, home of the Eldest, the brightest, and the
Burudin, they are startlingly mixed. Both assent and damnation come from the children of The Runelord. But the one Dwarf, all would agree can
truly decide if this breaks faith with His tenets has not shown His face in decades, and so none can petition Him over it.
All also agree that at the very least, Klausson has not kicked the hornet's nest, but rather smashed it open with a hammer and, depending on one's view, dumped either honey or poison inside.
What stays the hand of the Guild, what prevents the might of the Rune-blooded from descending on Klausson is a variety of factors. The most common are the shield of technicalities, the pedigree of his work and deeds, fear of what outright schism would mean and what side Thungni would favour. For others, the reasons are sometimes personal, sometimes ideological, for others they are out of any lack of real interest or care for the actions of some far-flung part of the realm.
━<><><>< 388 A.P. ><><><>━
Dolgi dodges past a trio of puffing Dwarfs hauling a sled full of grint.
Town sure is busy, he thinks.
He had left his Workshop after several years of productive research to find his home empty. Before he could start worrying, the smell of freshly baked goods led him to a plate of fruit bread, goat milk and a note from Klorah letting him know she and the boys had gone to watch Skarri practice, Though he was tempted to join them, the importance of his task stayed his hand, and instead began the trek to his teacher's Workshop.
Even if he wasn't exactly aware of why there was so much traffic in town he merely chalked it up to his teacher being up to his usual self. The feeling only grew surer when he saw the door to the Workshop blown wide open, the entry way clearly being widened by teams of busy Masons even as two lanes of traffic moved to and from the door. When Dolgi came up to the path's entrance the two Hearth Guard nodded at his approach, and as he was one of the few people given open door access, motioned for him to follow one of them. Dolgi contents himself with observing the work being done as he follows the hearthwarden to the door, the retainer shouting for people to make way for the two of them.
Several Dwarfs nod his way as they pass, and by the time Dolgi is ushered through the entrance doors and led just outside room Master Snorri was currently in his curiosity has only grown.
When the door to his teacher's office opens Dolgi is face to face with a Master Snorri that was as haggard as Dolgi's ever seen him.
"Dolgi," he greets, tired, and isn't
that a surprise, "come in. Shut the door for me will you?"
Still too dumbfounded to react, Dolgi merely nods and does as he's told. He notices young Karstah hard at work on several stacks of papers and greets her as he enters, she moves to get up though their teacher merely waves her down and motions for her to keep working. When Dolgi sits down, Master Snorri slides over a tankard of ale for him while nursing a mug of his own.
"What can I do for you lad?" his teacher asks, forcing some energy into his voice..
"I'm looking for a reagent. One I
know I don't have access to. I was hoping to negotiate with you, maybe introducing me to your suppliers if they had access to it."
"What exactly is it?"
"Pegasus muscle fibers, specifically the wing muscles."
Master Snorri hums, closing his eyes as he thinks, before eventually nodding.
"I know someone aye. I imagine you want Clan Scorriling to start a more permanent arrangement with him and his too?"
"If it isn't too much to ask."
His teacher chuffs.
"I'm not the one you should be asking that question to Dolgi. Muscle fibers eh? You could probably do with something a bit more common couldn't you?"
"Wish that was the case. Rune shouldn't be outside the realms of the average Master's ability to make, so I made the choice to account for that. More common means more chances for mistakes with how I've built it. And if they still managed to fumble the damn thing they're beyond help."
His teacher nods, taking him for his word.
"Say Master," Dolgi broaches, "I've been holed up for the better part of two decades now, what's got everyone swarming over the Workshop now? Another upgrade? Anything to do with the stacks of paper you got?"
His teacher blinks, then sighs.
"Two decades you say?"
Dolgi nods.
"
Right. Guess you missed it then. I have business to attend to, but if you really wanna know we can talk while we walk," Master Snorri says, getting out of his chair.
Dolgi shrugs, he doesn't have anything better to do.
━<><><><==><><><>━
You wave at Dolgi's retreating back for another moment before lowering your hand and walking back inside.
Sitting back down at your desk you sigh, today has been a stressful one.
You knew this would happen, prepared for it even, but Khazagar has caused you to get more mail than you've received in the past century in total. About half of them were from Clans and Guilds outside Kraka Drakk who were making polite inquiries about who exactly was allowed inside. Those you largely left to Karstah to reply to in her capacity as your heir. Most of your writing time was devoted to the other major group of senders; Runesmiths, Runelords, even Kings and powerful Thanes that want a word or explanation from you, sometimes politely, other times demanding it from you as if they had authority over you. And though you find it galling that the latter group think they can demand anything from you, you're not so blind to politics to not understand that a firmly worded letter reminding them that they hold no power over you before
graciously answering is a good idea. Especially when many of that group are the Runelords of Izril and Brynduraz half the time. The puffed up songbirds they acted like notwithstanding.
It made you contemplate wearing Barak Azamar just to not deal with the exhaustion, but you quashed the thought before getting back to writing.
Khazagar was worth it, the ideal it represented, the good it could
do was worth it.
Which leaves the recipients of the three dozen remaining letters that you've either been reading over and over again or kept because you have yet to reply to them.
About two thirds of them are from your fellow Burudin members, some congratulating you, some cautioning you, others still calling you an idiot, and all with a thought about your stance and description of Khazagar, but to your surprise and relief, none actually ever gainsay one point in particular. That, at its core, Khazagar doesn't go against Durin's hopes and dreams for the Runesmiths. Goes beyond them? Perverts and twists them? Pursues them with a reckless disregard of the consequences? Aye they say that, but that's all chaff you've heard before. But at the end of the day you made an institution whose major purpose was to facilitate greater debate and communication between Runesmiths in the hopes that better Runes result from it, and the Burudin are an organization dedicated to that purpose. Not all of them warrant responses nor expect one, but the wisdom they contain and comments are nevertheless worth keeping in mind, even if only to remind you of what
not to do.
The last twelve are an eclectic mix of local and foreign figures. One is an insult filled rant from Vragni, of which you've sent an equally insult filled critique back about his own Radicalness with an equally petty remark about his own little project that he's starting because of you.
A few more are from the Cults or their representatives, expressing interest in having a presence nearby that was more substantial than a Shrine. It's bothersome and a headache to navigate. Khazagar's, and your, survival and prosperity mean navigating this web of obligations, duties and politics without shoving your foot in your mouth and breaking your word. So getting tangled with them at this juncture is inadvisable, and wording things in a way that offers no offense is always a pain in your arse.
This was a place of learning, and barring someone attempting to steal or instigate malcontent and sabotage anything, you were of a mind to leave them to it.
Then there were three letters which simply left you feeling, all sorts of things really. One is from
Snorri Whitebeard, and though its contents are not that groundbreaking or novel, if said with a great deal more tact, the fact that you've roused the eye of the Son of Grungni is…good? Bad? It's certainly
something. It can be argued that the other two are more significant than a word from the heir of Grungni but they are to you. One is from Alric Thungnisson, who, while warning you of the pitfalls that lay ahead,
does wish you well even if he thinks this is a project bound for failure. Its not a big surprise to see he believes that,
still it does sting just a smidge to know one of your childhood idols thinks you're not capable of succeeding.
The last is from an anonymous sender, but being on yet another wafer thin sheet of Gromril narrows down the list of writers
significantly.
Judgement withheld pending results.
Those words… even thinking of them is almost enough to make you reach for a barrel and begin chugging until either it's empty or you're unconscious…again.
You need to focus on something else right now, otherwise you're liable to fumble.
A thought rises unbidden from your mind. Reckless, unsafe, not at all smart, and yet anything is better than being here.
"Karstah!" you bark, spooking the lass.
"Gather supplies for a trip to the anvil, we leave in three days time," you inform her, watching as she scurries off to inform your Retainers and the relevant parties of your upcoming departure.
You suppose that while everyone's busy frothing at the mouth over your actions you may as well go whole hog and make them question your sanity by hatching some
Drakk too.
━<><><><==><><><>━
(Roll: 2,3; 1,3; 4,1)
Three creatures stare at you, two with curiosity and the third as if you were food.
When you had brought the eggs here, a healthy mix of pity, curiosity and self-doubt burning in your breast as you did so, you expected a great convocation of power to erupt the moment you laid them atop the anvil. Instead it seemed the exact opposite had come to pass. The luminescent hues grew dull and then faded completely, the mists grew stagnant and unmoving, the ground around the anvil growing cold and lifeless. Meanwhile the eggs had seemed to gorge on the power they, perhaps instinctively, drew from around them.
You watched as each pitch black ovoid of spines took on the aesthetics of the anvil like wet paper leeching the pigment from an inkpot. The metallic sheen travelled up their forms until each egg was fully transformed.
Then, without an ounce of fanfare or anticipation they simply… cracked open.
A part of you was immensely curious as to what a baby
Drakk would look like, and the answer is both disappointing and expected.
They are, unlike Snerra once posited, cute creatures, at least to you. Their bodies are completely covered in shiny silvery quills reminiscent of those on the back of a hedgehog, with four stubby limbs placed along the first and final quarter of their bodies like a ferret's. The creatures' heads are perhaps the most disturbing to you. Large, metallic eyes stare out at the world from a skull that seems too small for them, nostrils flare as they take in the scents while long sinuous tongues loll out and alternate between tasting the air and wiping the fluid still coating their bodies off before retreating back into beak-like jaws.
The three of them are clearly related, but each sibling does have a few key visual differences from the others. The one on the left has scales that are duller than its siblings, reminiscent of freshly beaten rather than polished gromril, with hints of copper and lines of silver in its eyes. Some of the middle hatchling's spines, mostly those atop its head and running down to the middle of its back, shift from silver to a dull plum following the colour gradient steel takes when being heated. The last Drakk, the one that looks at you like food, is the largest of its siblings; Its head is bigger, its body longer, and claws noticeably sharper. Notably, it has more pronounced spines running along its jaw and most, eye-catchingly, eyes that seemed to shift from the solid gold of its siblings to glowing, molten, metal on occasion.
For a while the four of you simply stay where you are; the three of them gazing at you even as they start consuming their shells, while you quietly gauged if it was safe to move. You do not fear for your safety, well maybe your beard, given that these are but babes, but you admit you won't enjoy what needs to be done if any of these prove…dangerous.
Slowly, cautiously and achingly so, you begin moving towards them, palms lifted upwards to show you hold nothing in your hand while remaining otherwise silent.
Eventually you get within arms reach of the three hatchlings, and with great trepidation, move your hand towards their snapping jaws so that they can learn and imprint onto your scent.
Without warning and not even a sound, the largest leaps onto your arm and before you can retract it out of surprise, clambers up until all one and a half meters of its body drapes itself over and around your upper torso and neck like some folk do with their beards or braids. You move to pry it off, expecting it to try, and futilely, squeeze down and suffocate you but pause when nothing else happens. Straining your head upward, you lock gazes with the hatchling who merely breathes a huff of hot air into your face.
Seeing that you're seemingly not reacting to the intrusion, the other two hatchlings scramble to follow their sibling by jumping down from the Anvil and scrambling up your body to join it. Sighing, you move to offer them up some troll jerky, and hiss, more out of surprise than any real pain, when they snap it out of your hands hungrily.
When you walk out of the Anvil chamber to meet with Karstah and Rudil, they find you with three hatchlings draped over your arms and upper torso.
You call them-
[ ]
[Name:] Write-in. No more than 3, preferably 2, syllables.
- [ ] Write-in, The left hatchling with beaten Gromril spines and copper flecked eyes.
- [ ] Write-in, The middle hatchling, with some spines that look as if they were subjected to flames.
- [ ] Write-in, The right hatchling, larger than its siblings with shifting eyes.
Then, to your surprise and chagrin, they catch sight of your heir, troll jerky in her hands
, and promptly leave you to scramble up her legs to whine and paw at the food still held squarely in her hands with far more restraint than they showed you.
You squint at her accusatorily, uncaring of the obvious discomfort she feels having become their new roost.
━<><><>< Khazalid Trivia ><><><>━
Hazkal - Fiery young warrior, unaged brew.
Grint - Waste rock or spoil left by a Miner's excavations
Rhunki - Runesmith
━<><><>< Gain ><><><>━
- +3 Progress to a Wonderful Endeavour, new totals:
[Cost: (24 -6) =18 actions]
-- The Realms know what you intend, and they are not afraid to tell you what they think.
--- +1 Very brief but anxiety inducing letter written on Gromril leaf.
-- -45 Favours with Kraka Drakk. (calculated below)
- Eggs for your Thoughts complete!
-- You now own three small Drakk hatchlings.
--- One with beaten Gromril spines and copper flecked eyes.
--- One with some spines that look as if they were subjected to flames.
--- One that is larger than its siblings with shifting eyes.
-- They seem to like Karstah more than you, but at least they'll eat the jerky you brought them.
- The Fixing of Things complete! The Fixing of Things Pt. 2 Unlocked for Turn 49!
-- Ogra's research is of course entirely building focused, and depends on drawing upon existing material surrounding the structure to fuel its repairs.
--- It's of no use when upgrading the Rune of Repair, but it gives you enough information to realize the Rune of Repair
isn't worth upgrading. Whoever created it, Valaya or Thungni, seemed to have made this Rune as a mere proof of concept, a way to introduce someone, like say whoever received the metal basket it was inscribed on, about this path.
-- In other news, some of Ogra's notes can be incorporated into your secondary Gronti project at least.
--- +1 Progress to the Movement of Things 5b, new totals:
[Cost: (14 -8) =6 actions]
- The Secrets of Storage complete! The Secrets of Storage Pt. 2 Unlocked for Turn 49!
-- Ogras notes are enlightening. While the direction of her research was aimed towards expanding the internal volume of buildings, some of that knowledge is still applicable to the Rune of Storage.
--- Admittedly they seem to appear to tackle the issue at completely different ends of the spectrum.
--- However, like the Rune of Repair the cost is frankly not worth the effort and points to deliberate action to make it so. An entirely new Rune needs to be designed you reckon. After that, you're certain that you'll reach an impasse of what exactly your focus should be though.
-- +1 Progress to the Secrets of Storage Pt. 2, new totals:
[Cost: (14 -1) =13 actions]
- Supplies ordered!
-- x1 [Ingredient] T4 Elder Magma Wyrm Heart Ordered,
received Turn 50
-- x1 [Ingredient] T4 Elder Wyrm's Gas Sac Item Ordered,
received Turn 50
-- x2 [Ingredient] T4 Elder Magma Wyrm's Brain,
received Turn 50
-- x1 [Ingredient] T3 Flawless Solar Ruby Ordered,
received Turn 49
-- x1 [Ingredient] T3 Dirach's Eye Ordered,
received Turn 49
--- -40 Favours with Kraka Drakk. (calculated below)
--- -25 Favours with Kraka Grom. (calculated below)
- Princely Hunting complete!
- +1 [Corpse] Ancient Greedy Troll
-- +1 [Ingredient] T4 Ancient Greedy Troll's Heart
-- +4 [Ingredient] T4 Ancient Greedy Troll's Blood
-- +1 [Ingredient] T4 Ancient Greedy Troll's Stomach
- -10 Favours with Kraka Drakk. (calculated below)
Favour and Standing
- -95 Favours with Kraka Drakk, new totals: Favours 315
- -25 Favours with Kraka Grom, new totals: Favours 390
Retainers:
In pt. 2
━<><><><==><><><>━
Remember to vote by plan. There will be a three-hour moratorium for discussion.
AN: I'll be updating the character sheets
after part two is posted. Just so I only have to do it once and because some of these changes, like the Favour and Standing, may fluctuate. Anyway please enjoy and don't forget to C&C. :^)
