Winning Vote said:
[X] [Dron:] Accept. Go to Karag Dron after the Conclave. +1 Pt. to Coronation of 404.
━<><><>< 404 A.P. ><><><>━
Karstah wakes up to learn that her Master has already left for Rhunkalbrogg in the wee hours of the morning, letting her and his retinue sleep in for a few hours more. She's not privy as to why exactly he chose to do so, but she was almost certain it had something to do with Khazagar.
Though whether it was for some greater purpose or because her teacher simply didn't want to deal with a room full of ornery Runelords glaring and shouting at him the moment he entered was still beyond her.
She dresses for her day and mentally prepares for the Conclave set to begin a couple hours from now; donning the armour and weapons she had prepared the night before efficiently before leaving her room to eat breakfast. She greets the retainers standing outside her door then heads downstairs, making a beeline to an open table where she can scarf down her food in peace before she heads out.
The streets are full when she finally leaves, the sound of her footfalls and those of the four Hearth Guard who follow her disappearing into the background noise of hundreds of Dwarfs going about their day. She stands out by a noticeable margin, a Runesmith and four bodyguards around isn't exactly a common sight, but these days she is just one of the many well-to-do Dawi that flock to the city. Folk move out of her way, offer shallow nods or bows, but otherwise go about their business and treat their interaction as one of the many they will have to endure for that day.
When they arrive at the Conclave, a hefty line of grumbling and chatting Runesmiths have already formed up waiting to enter.
Karstah dismisses the Hearth Guard with a nod then moves to get her place in line and settles in to wait.
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Snerra sits down next to you with a smile and a nod.
She is the first to purposefully sit near you out of the three dozen or so Runelords who arrived before her, as evidenced by the noticeable void of empty seats in your immediate vicinity.
"You're early today Uncle," she greets, nonplussed by the noticeable circle of empty seats around you both.
"And you know full well why," you answer.
"Aye," she agrees, nodding.
Khazagar.
Even people who wouldn't dismiss it out of hand are leery of associating themselves with it, and by extension you. No doubt many were hoping that Thungni would have had something to say, but He isn't here to do that.
Not anymore.
"How's Karstah doing?" your niece asks, dispelling your contemplative mood.
"She is performing adequately," you tell her plainly.
"That's good, I haven't seen her in a while. Always so busy. What about you Uncle, have things been well?"
You allow some measure of the good cheer you feel at the thought to leak through
"Aye, they have. My work is finally beginning to bear fruit, and that is something worth celebrating."
Snerra nods.
"What about the social side of things Uncle? Haven't seen you out and about all that much."
"Its fine," you answer, "I talk to plenty of people."
"In a social capacity?"
"Despite the assertions of
several people, I am not a hermit Snerra. I speak to plenty of people on a daily basis," you grumble.
"Uncle, have you gone out of your way to start up a single friendly conversation that isn't related to something you're curious about?"
"How else am I supposed to talk to them?"
"Like I just did?"
"Bah. I'd look daft if I just went up to someone and asked them about their day. No need to talk about nonsense."
"Hmm maybe, but you don't have to be chatty to be social. Perfectly friendly to simply share a brew and listen to a friend speak."
"What has you so interested in improving my friendliness all of a sudden lass?"
"I think a lot of folk could do well by being a bit friendlier, but to answer your question I don't really have a purpose for it. The opportunity simply came about from me being 'friendly,' is all. Funny how that happens doesn't it Uncle?" she answers.
You give her a long considering look.
"Too much Jorri'n you, far,
far too much."
"Da'll be tickled pink to hear that."
You sigh.
He would, the rock eater.
"I've never thought I would want Rhunkalbrogg to get started so the rest of these fools can interrogate me, but here I am," you grouse.
Your niece pouts.
━<><><><==><><><>━
Karstah stands off to the side of where the doors to the Conclave chamber are.
The intermission was a welcome reprieve, but she'd have to enter again soon enough.
Master Snorri was doubtlessly facing a grilling similar, likely even worse than she was receiving however.
That the main topic of discussion was Khazagar was no surprise, that she would be the focus of attention in lieu of her teacher wasn't either, what had caught her off guard were the lines the Conclave's participants had split under.
There was as ever the historic divide between the Radical and Conservative bodies of the assembly, but her teacher's work seemed to initiate another fault within the Radical camp. There were several Northern Runesmiths, mostly from Kraka Drakk, who had put themselves firmly behind Khazagar and what it stood for, letting the assembly know that they would be teaching their lore from within its walls. Nothing truly novel, mostly involving Runes they had learned from their masters but were not commonly known outside their lineage.
In seeming retaliation several more conservative elements had declared they would never teach their Runelore to anyone who would even entertain the idea of walking into the institution's halls. Some because the very idea of Khazagar was affront to their person, but there was also a subset who wouldn't do so because they fell in with Lord Vragni's own rival location.
It made Karstah worry just a smidge.
Part of the Conclave's many historic purposes was to take stock of the collective Runelore of the realms. New discoveries were boasted about, Runes developed attributed to the proper creator, Runes once thought lost, rediscovered or recreated, and the unfortunate, but thankfully rare, cases where another Rune was deemed lost. It was the main way the Runesmiths Guild, with all its independent spirit and fractured politics, kept some semblance of order among its disparate members. Informally it was the way Runelore was proliferated, how marriages were cemented and relationships between people from completely separate ends of the realms could interact.
What was happening with Khazagar was nothing new, mind. There were many examples of individual or even entire lineages of Runesmiths entering feuds and denying their lore to their rivals, and it was actually the main cause for several Runes to be lost. In that way Karstah supposed that Khazagar would merely become one of the many reasons her kin would use to determine whether someone was worthy of their lore, but there was something to be said about
not adding onto something most would agree was a problem.
Not that anyone thought the problem could be fixed, but it was common enough sense not to put pressure on an open fault line.
Would Khazagar be the reason why two Dawi would not be allowed to wed? The cause for a friendship to end, or worse, devolve to a bitter blood feud?
Master Snorri didn't think so, he believed Khazagar's benefit would outweigh the drawbacks, and Karstah was inclined to agree, but seeing the early impact of the decision was a poignant reminder for her.
"Karstah."
"Hmm? Oh, Nain. What can I do for you?"
"You alright?" he asks, staring at her in concern, "Caught you brooding as bad as Master Snorri there."
She chuckles despite herself.
"Thinking Nain, thinking and steeling myself to go back into that mess."
Her fellow apprentice nods in understanding.
"People haven't been giving you too tough a time have they?" Karstah asks, some worry leaking into her voice.
She wasn't the only student Master Snorri had after all.
"Have a little confidence in me Drakksdottir, I'm not a child anymore you know?" her friend grumbles, "They're annoying, but no more annoying than Lord Vragni's students have been. Surprised I haven't had to punch my way out of something though."
She grunts, an apologetic look crossing her face that Nain accepts with a scoff and shake of his head.
"There you two are, the others and I were looking for you lass," Master Dolgi's familiar bass says from behind them.
"Elders," Karstah and Nain greet, nodding as he, Fjolla and their respective families approach them both.
"Heir," Dolgi returns, a grin on his face, "dreading going back in there?"
"Course she's dreading it, Rockhead. Those gravel eaters were the most annoying they've been in three centuries." Fjolla replies instead, her husband nodding along.
Elder Fjolla isn't wrong.
"Not so much dread, more of a headache really," she mutters.
"Ha! Just like Master Snorri," Dolgi says, his grin growing a smidge larger before he glances at the door, "I'd recommend a pep talk from Snerra to get your spirits up, but she's not here sadly. No doubt she's giving Master Snorri a pep talk though, whether he wants one or not."
"Will we have to brawl da?" Dolgi's eldest asks.
"Maybe son, depends on if they push Karstah's buttons a smidge too far. Remember your training, back to back with your fellows, and make sure to make a proper fist!"
"I don't think that's helping her nerves," Nain comments.
Fjolla shakes her head.
"It will be fine," Karstah assures, ignoring how Dolgi's sons nod and make sounds of affirmation as they listen to their father's fist-fighting tips, "no sense standing around though, right?"
The others look at her with skepticism, but she's already begun walking towards the door.
It will be fine, she repeats in her head,
I am the heir of the Gift Giver, angry Runesmiths will not break my resolve.
━<><><><==><><><>━
"Alright Uncle, lets go," your niece urges, coaxing you out of the Meeting Hall.
Giving you a wide berth, the rest of the House of Runelords exits the Meeting Hall in a rushed, but orderly fashion. From the corner of your eye you spot a few familiar faces. Brynna, who gives you an inscrutable look before turning away, others like Dwalin, Valma and Kraggi who offer toothy grins and firm nods, and of course Vragni who alternates between glaring at you and a group of Runelords from Izril who had decried the both of you as spitting on Thungni's will.
Ancestors be good, if feels like every Rhunkalbrogg these past few centuries has had you being a hair's breadth away from punching some wazzok across the face, but this one takes the cake.
You know full well that more than a handful of the people asking were doing it just to rile you up, to get you to slip and give them something to work with. The vast majority of your detractors were far less subtle with four Runelords outright offering to get into a fistfight with you.
They were, in the end, a minority of the House, but one you would sorely love to have walked out of here sporting black eyes and missing a tooth or five.
"I'm fine Snerra, truly. It will take more than that to make me lose my temper these days," you reply, gently pushing her away from you.
"Right," she says, staring at you with naked concern, "I'll hold you to that Uncle, you hear?"
"Aye niece as clear as a mountain spring," you say, chuffing ruefully.
The girl who you took on all those centuries ago would not have had the gumption to do what Snerra was doing now.
She has done well for herself, as have all of your students.
Taking you at your word, Snerra nods in relief.
"Okay then, I'd walk with you back to the inn and catch up with you some more Uncle but I have other appointments tonight I'm afraid."
"I'll be fine enough Snerra, go off now. Don't be late on my account." You wave off.
With a final concerned glance, Snerra walks off towards somewhere deeper in the Hold, her form shortly accompanied by the familiar silhouettes of her Beerguard forming up behind her.
You watch until she becomes indistinguishable from the crowd before you begin walking back to the inn.
The streets are fuller than when you left this morning, but they're in the process of thinning out as the day winds down and businesses begin to close for the night. It hits you then that you've spent an entire day doing nothing but arguing, an entire day with not an ounce of progress to show for it. You may as well have spent all day lazing about and drinking, at least then you'd be happy and drunk by the end of it.
Another sigh escapes your lips.
This was the cost of Khazagar, the cost you knew you would have to pay. Funny how the thing that would perhaps most define you to so many came about because some fool beardlings thought it clever to live in rooms you had set aside for
storage.
The outline of the inn looms ahead, and you force yourself to move just a bit faster so you can get some food in your belly and on your head on a pillow.
But as you get closer, something makes your steps momentarily falter.
A Dwarf, his face bears the markings of middle age and his beard hanging on to the last few streaks of colour in a growing sea of pale stone grey, stands outside the inn doors patiently. The finery of his clothes and jewelry he wears mark him out as someone of higher standing than the common Dawi.
On his shoulder, the emblem of Snorri Grungnisson is displayed proudly, and things click into place.
When the two of you lock eyes, you move towards him a bit more hastily than before.
A messenger from the King of Karaz a Karak can mean only one thing after all.
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It was a miracle you were able to sleep at all last night.
But that's neither here nor there.
You hold the gauntlets with great care, lifting it close so that you may examine it with both your mundane eye and the prosthetic Snerra built for you.
None to be found, or at least they were so small even your eye could not magnify them. It is, practically speaking, flawless.
The maker's mark etched onto one of the finger tips,
Thungni's Rune, is all the explanation necessary really.
Snorri Whitebeard holds to his promises.
You would have loved nothing more than to speak with the King himself about them, but the conclave between the monarchs understandably take precedence over satisfying your curiosity.
The pair were collectively named the
Rikkenbaki, and according to the steward they not only multiplied the King's strength several times over, but they also let him wield
any weapon, even one he had never seen before, with unmatched skill and ease. As you examine the Runes inscribed on both gauntlets, most beyond your ability to comprehend save for one notable exception. One of the Runes, etched into the palm of the right gauntlet, is reminiscent of a Rune you know of at least theoretically.
Dolgi's proposed Master Rune of Featherweight.
Not really though of course, by the looks of things your best guess is that its a simple matter of parallel development. You can also see several structural similarities with more general weight manipulation Runes. Making things lighter so you could carry more isn't exactly a new idea after all. Dolgi's is only novel in the sense that it means to undergo a far more comprehensive level of manipulation than what most other Runesmiths considered worthwhile. To think that Thungni already had something up His sleeve isn't too shocking.
You commit the image of the gauntlets, and associated thoughts sprung from it, to memory.
A part of you wants to show this to Dolgi, as his teacher you want nothing more than for him to succeed after all, but another part shakes its head. Aside from the few time he's come to you for assistance, something which you can tell at least subconsciously galls him, your apprentice is determined to reach this milestone on his own. To create something for his family with his own two hands, insomuch as is possible anyway.
And who are you to deny him that?
Moreover, you're not particularly worried that Dolgi will get stuck or
fail, you taught him better for one thing, but more importantly you know he's skilled enough to overcome such a challenge.
Only a matter of time.
Putting down the gauntlets, you move on to the next item.
━<><><><==><><><>━
Its name is
Angskarrenruf, the Iron from the skies.
Like
Rikkenbaki it too is made from Adamant, the metal treated as to dull its sheen save for the stylized lightning bolts emanating from its striking face where the brilliant lustre of the white metal is on full display.
You note how two small metal claws, shaped like a Griffon's, nai a Brana's, emerged from either side of the haft to "hold" the hammerhead in place, marvelling at how lifelike they appear with their obsidian claws and golden scales. The only bit of truly unique ornamentation on an otherwise mundane, if peerless example of typical Dwarfen craftsmanship. The Runes carved into it let the wielder swing the hammer with incredible force, delivering powerful electrified blows amplified beyond expectation or the possibility to survive.
But what surprises you is the hammer's secondary ability.
According to the steward the weapon allows King Whitebeard to transform into a literal lightning bolt, travel through the air, and reappear near his chosen anchor, the Throne of Power.
The Rune that enables such a feat is a mystery to you, but from your observations its more likely that its some combination of multiple Runes in tandem. There are several related functions to Runes you
do know, but they're spread out across all three of the Hammer's Runes for one thing, even if its in such a way that defies your expectations. Control mechanisms do not lie in the Master Rune, but rather spread across the other two regular Runes, while the structures that you
guess actually translate to the transformation into lightning are obfuscated behind the structures that enable its more obvious abilities and ones whose purpose you cannot even begin to guess at. That in itself leaves so many other questions you have no actual hope in answering though.
An anchor.
You've toyed with the idea in your head, but for something wholly different than what
Angskarrenruf uses it for.
Most of what you've seen is directly useless to you, but what they imply and the concepts it displays certainly aren't.
Onto the last, and the greatest, of the equipment Snorri Whitebeard has given you leave to examine.
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"And what of the Guilds? They would not stand for such fragmentation, or worse yet, actively undermine it."
"We are Kings, our Hold is our domain. They would not dare." The King of Izril grumbles from his chair.
"You forget your history, stripling, and it will be your downfall. Our reach is far, but it is not absolute. These are not the days of Old Zorn, and our Ancestors laid down the traditions that all Guilds operate upon, by Valaya's plaits several of the Guilds were founded by Them." The King of Drazh retorts, emphasizing his point by slamming his tankard against the table.
"And if you care so much for the opinion of the Guilds, then mayhaps you ought to have sent them in your stead!"
"What was that? You'll have to repeat yourself I fear, because all I heard was a fancy way to tell me you
also want a shiner!" The King of Drazh now roars, eyes blazing as he pushes back his chair.
"Come on then!" Izril's monarch challenges, getting out of his seat as well.
"Peace," King Whitebeard finally intrudes, his calm voice and stern gaze cutting through the growing din like a thunderclap, "This is to be a meeting of
kings, to decide the fate and nature of our relationship with each other. The Guilds are an important aspect to consider, tis true, but it will be all the easier to work with the Chapters if all of us are in agreement. Nevertheless, I too believe any solution we decide upon should keep them in mind. The Guilds cannot be ignored any more than the Clans can."
Clan, Guild, Hold.
The glue that held their society together.
Whitebeard is making his move then, Gloin thinks, watching the son of Grungni with one eye while the other sees how his fellow monarchs shift and react to his words.
He isn't as keen minded as his father or his grandson was shaping up to be, but Gloin has ruled long enough to be comfortable in his assertion of King Whitebeard now. This event was just as much a means for him to ascertain the moods and dispositions of his fellow monarchs as it was to actively unify them, and he is certain of that part. Of everyone involved, King Whitebeard's hold draws the most benefit from a unified realm. The Master Chapters of almost every Guild in the realms reside in Karaz a Karak, it is the axis upon which transcontinental trade hinges upon, and most importantly, preserves the efforts of his Parents and Relatives' legacies.
As he calms down the two belligerents, Gloin glances at the people seated near him. More out of familiarity than any actual political unity, the North had ended up sitting relatively close to each other.
There is a war to be fought and here I am.
Unity will win, through inertia and tradition at this point if nothing else, it's just a question of how that unity will shake out thats up in the air.
"What do you make of this? Whitebeard could end this entire thing and yet here we are, letting these southerners dither and argue," Dorr asks, surprising Gloin and the other Northern kings when he voices what many of them feel.
To his quiet shame Gloin reminds himself that for all his brazenness, there is a reason Korr chose the lad to succeed him.
"Reconnaissance," he answers his brother king, earning several other nods of agreement, "to see who is his ally and who is his foe."
"Grungni did not require anything like what is being discussed here. Fealty, restitution, oversight, authority?" Dorr continues dourly.
"Grungni didn't need to. Who would gainsay His word?" Gloin replies.
"Something many of our fellow monarchs all no doubt think as well," Svarti adds, sipping from his tankard.
"This also his aim? Let everyone get so tired of this that we'll accept whatever puts an end to it?" another fellow northmen comments.
"If that's the case, Whitebeard must have stocked a far greater amount of alcohol than we've seen so far," Gloin mutters.
━<><><><==><><><>━
You hold one of Grimnir's axes in your hand.
Carried north by its intended holder, brought south by His son, and now wielded by His nephew.
It does not make you experience odd visions as
Zharrvengryn did, it does little save exist. Resting in your hands as if it were a regular old axe.
And that's the crux of it.
Because this was no mere axe.
A weapon forged and wielded by the Ancestors aside, you hold a physical impossibility.
This weapon should have exploded into shards of molten metal, cracked open a hole in reality and released some fel beast from the nether onto the mortal plane for the sheer hubris its construction represents. It should not work, should not even
exist, and yet it stares you in the eye and seems to cackle at how it throws everything you think you know on its head.
A Wutroth handle, wrapped in leather, supports a double bladed axe head made of Gromril. Gold decorates its surface, holding the leather in place and etched into the Gromril in beautiful geometric patterns with a Ruby embedded on the axe shoulder as the centerpiece. The glow of the Runes is subtle, the small lights emanating from several parts of the patterning on the axe serving as the only hint to their existence until the weapon is swung, wherein they make their presence known to all by blazing to the fullness of their power.
Everything in its construction is perfectly within the means of any Runesmith to acquire, and maybe that is the point. Every last aspect of this axe is perfection incarnate; as if drawing the very idea of what an axe, and the materials that make it up, is from a Dwarf's mind and imprinting it upon reality.
Plain.
And yet
Urkdrengi, the Foefeller, manages to not only break the Rule of three, but does so with multiple
Master Runes as well.
Just Gromril, Wutroth, and Gold.
Grungni needed nothing more to create a weapon worthy of His Brother, to build an artifact that is only lesser to Azamar, and so greatly eclipses the work of the greatest Runelords, living and dead, that it makes you all appear like mere apprentices.
Oh the sacrifices you'd make to know how the Ancestor made this possible, how much more you'd give to learn how to do it yourself.
You know you have no hope of uncovering this weapon's mysteries, but you nevertheless spend most of your allotted time dedicated to trying. Your best guess is that one of the Master Runes shares a tenuous connection to the Rune of Cleaving, another to the Master Rune of Currents, and another to the Rune of Grimnir himself and a final two Runes who's purpose remains a mystery. It is difficult to tell where one Rune ends, and where another begins, all of them seeming to overlay with one another in some way to help create the geometric patterns on the axe's cheeks. How that was done is in itself another mystery, all conventional wisdom says such a thing cannot be done but whats one more on top of the massive pile of laws this weapon breaks? Perhaps another bit of skill Grungni wished to display, perhaps some secret to how the weapon does not destroy itself given the amount of power running through it? Who can say?
So now you're left wondering, if Gromril
is a perfectly suitable material to hold more than three Runes, that it can in fact contain all that power, why can you not manage the same? Grungni is an Ancestor and many of the rules that apply to you do not to Him, but you can't help but wonder if the fault may instead lie with you and not the materials you use.
All you know is that Grungni, and most likely Thungni, can do with Gromril what you nor any other Runesmith can do even with the aid of Adamant.
When you leave the home of Snorri Grungnisson, the memory of that axe weighs heavy on your mind.
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When your time at Karaz a Karak comes to an end, the meeting between the assembled Kings and Queens of the realms still rages on.
Listening to too-loud beardlings prattle on and gossip amongst themselves has given you a general idea of what's happening and it leaves you with one concrete impression.
You're not suited for Kingship.
So as the wagon carrying you and Karstah takes you to Karag Dron to meet with the other Brotherhood members you can only wish Gloin luck and hope his patience holds out.
━<><><>< Khazalid Trivia ><><><>━
Angskarrenruf - Sky Iron
Rikkenbaki - King's Hands/ "Lord Fists"
Urkdrengi - Foefeller/ "Enemy Slayer"
━<><><>< Gain ><><><>━
- Gain 1 Standing and 30 Favours with the Brotherhood of Dron, new totals: Standing 7, Favours 30
-- Standing Bonus received! Fraternity of Thought: Chance for actions researching Runes to proc extra progress, increased chance to to proc extra progress when doing Material Science research
- Examined the
Rikkenbaki, the gauntlets of Snorri Grungnisson [Combo, Mountainbearer?: Master Rune of Featherweight Relative, ???, ???]
-- Any weapon carried by these hands weighs as much as the air, and is handled with surprising deftness and skill. Their fists shall sunder the mightiest foes and make even mountains weigh as feathers.
-- +3 Progress to The Weight of Things, new totals:
[Cost: (10 -3) =7 actions] One of the Runes is very similar to the description of Dolgi's proposed Rune, a branch perhaps, or simply parallel construction.
- Examined
Angskarrenruf, Runehammer of Snorri Grungnisson [Combo, Stormwalker?: ???, ???, ???]
-- Its hammerblow is like thunder, and its wielder's speed is as lightning. With proper intent and action they shall be carried by the storm to its chosen anchor in the blink of an eye.
-- +3 Progress to The Movement of Things Pt. 5b, new totals:
[Cost: (14 -11) = 3 actions] He turns into
lightning. How?
- Examined
Urkdrengi [Combo, ???: Master Rune 1, Master Rune 2, Master Rune 3?, ???, ???,]
-- Once one of a pair. Even without its twin, its keen edge ensures death for the foe of the wielder with the skill to hold it.
-- Forged by Grungni's own hand, He has seemingly done with mere Gromnil not even Adamant allows. Inscribing not only more than
three Runes onto an item, but what appears to be
multiple Master Runes as well. By all that is right in the world, what you would give for such knowledge.
-- +4 Progress to Mysterious Mystery Sword, new totals
[Cost: (12 -5) =7 actions]
-- +2 Progress to The Movement of Things Pt. 6, new totals:
[Cost: (16 -13) = 3 actions]
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AN: Apologies for the delay! Had to help a wedding and getting stuff for my graduation in June. Hopefully part 6 will be out within the week, then back to normal ass turns. Hope you enjoy, and don't forget to C&C. :^)
