Winning Vote said:
[X] Plan We need some ENERGY
Snorri and Karstah
-[X] Runemetal Pt. 6: 3 Snorri AP ✓
-- [X] Brotherhood Expertise: 30 Brotherhood Favor + 70 Valayan Favor
-[X] Compress Amplifier: 0 AP
-[X] Odd Wyrm's Blood: 1 Research AP
-[X] A Wonderful Endeavor: 1 Karstah AP
-[X] Yorri's Other Request: 1 Karstah AP
-[X] Understand Master Rune of Gromril: 0 AP ✓
-[X] Prod for Prod: 1 Snorri AP ✓
-[X] Mysterious Mystery Stones Pt. 3: 1 Snorri AP
-- [X] Prod Yorri: 11 Yorri Prods
-[X] A Wonderful Endeavour: 0 AP
--[X] Petition the Hold: 45 Drakk Favor
Retainers
-[X] Drakk 2 Retainer AP ✓
-[X] A Wonderful Endeavor 1 Retainer AP
Orders ✓
--[X]Order: T4 Magma Wyrm Blood
--[X]Order 2: T4 Voidstone 15 Grom Favor
--[X]Order 3: T4 Griffon Brain 15 Grom Favor
[X] [Social:] Brokk ✓
[X] [Social:] Brynna
[X] [Patreon:] Dolgi
━<><><>< 414 A.P. ><><><>━
"Master," Karstah calls, drawing your attention away from the fire, "I've given Rudil the letters like you asked."
You stare at her for a moment before beckoning her to sit down on the chair you've added for the occasion, on the opposite side of the chair that's sat empty for centuries.
Looking at you quizzically, your heir nevertheless does as she's told. The crackle of the fire filling the silence of the room.
You've promised many things to many people. You're proud to say you've kept
almost all of them.
Almost.
Lying does no one any lasting good, and Master Yorri's words have made you confront the fact that you've failed to truly keep one of the promises you made, to your own mother on her deathbed no less. Its not a crushing guilt, not the terrible weight of a monumental failure that would,
should, break the back of any Dwarf. In some ways it is worse.
It's cloying mud, sucking you down with each foolhardy,
stubborn, step forward; making it harder and harder to keep walking until you'll eventually find yourself buried neck deep with no recourse.
Some part of you is angry, angry that you have been forced to carry this responsibility, feels forced to agree to make such a connection. The other brutally reminds you that
you chose to scour the foundling ward, chose to accept a bright eyed and foul tempered wisp of a girl who had only just stepped into the first forays of adulthood, chose to
ignore the obvious connections and implications of your decision.
Chose to promise your mother that you would treat Karstah right.
How easily can you say that Karstah is your heir compared to calling her your daughter?
The grief cannot,
will not, fade.
But you know full well that it should not have crippled you as it has. For all you've overcome since her loss, the situation surrounding you and your heir makes it perfectly clear you are not as well as you thought you were.
So many mistakes, many you can come up with easily, many more no doubt that will make themselves known if you give it a second or two further introspection.
And Karstah will not complain.
How that
shames you.
You don't know if you can call her your daughter, not even in the face of so much overwhelming evidence in support of it, even now something you can't figure out stops you.
But at the very least you can do as your teacher asks, inform your heir so that if the worst comes to pass you will not leave her alone and confused.
Not like you were, so many times now.
You turn away from the fire and look at Karstah, who has otherwise been patient enough to wait for you to speak your mind.
"I imagine you've noticed my new eye," you begin, just lightly cursing yourself with how easily the mantle of teacher drapes itself over you like a comforter when the very idea of fatherhood is like a burning brand.
━<><><>< 415 A.P. ><><><>━
You lean back and watch Brokk carefully consider the revised contract, ready to haggle if the persnickety old goat tried something. This was outside your usual fair, but you had agreed to Rudil's reforms to the Hearth Guard and part of that meant sitting in for meetings like this as the group's acting liege and, in this case, an intermediary for Clan Winterhearth. The favours you had to throw around to get your kin to agree weren't terrible, but you're sure that more than a few nephews and cousins are sleeping late for the foreseeable future to fulfill the agreement you were hashing out now. Idly, you realized It's a rarity for you to see Brokk when it doesn't relate to business nowadays. Creating a new Clan has left the elderly Ranger-turned-Thane with almost no time for what little idle talk he participated in before.
You're sure Snerra would be staring at you rather pointedly, were she here.
Ahem.
Business, Brokk, right!
Look at that, he was nodding!
"Terms are agreeable, we'll be looking forward to those scribes' help Klausson. Ancestors know the beardlings can't write anything more complex than their names to save their lives," he grunts out, signing the contract with an air of finality before passing it over to you.
"None of them know the value of literacy, it's true. Clan doing well enough otherwise Brokk?" you casually ask while signing the various dotted lines on the contract.
"Better than being no Clan. A thousand and one fires burning and running ourselves ragged putting them out, but it's not as bad as the first few years. You Klausson? This Khazagar business eating your nights as bad as my Clan business?" he replies gruffly..
"Oh aye," you confirm, nodding agreeably. "Cursing my younger self even as we speak, but it'll be worth it in the end."
"S'what we all tell ourselves isn't it?" Brokk grumbles, taking a swig from a nearby tankard.
"If that isn't the truth," you agree, "Our heirs don't know the half of the grint we shovel through on a daily basis."
"And they have the temerity to complain when they don't think we can hear them. I'd kick open the gates to the Hold for a workload that light."
"Absolutely shameful."
"Mhmm."
As you and Brokk descend into the time honoured tradition of bemoaning the state of the younger generations, you grudgingly admit that Snerra wasn't completely wrong about the benefits of an occasional bit of wool-gathering.
━<><><><==><><><>━
After your meeting with Brokk, you pass by the entrance to Karstah's workshop on your way for some food, and stop to stare at the shut doors in front of you.
It's been a few months since your heir locked herself in to work on her projects now.
True to your word you
had spoken to her like your teacher asked, and let her know what you found.
She had taken the news well.
Or as well as anyone can take the knowledge that their teacher,
their father-figure you force yourself to acknowledge, is attempting potentially lethal and entirely unsafe experimentation into novel fields of study.
"Did you tell her?"
You blink, and turn to face an expectant Master Yorri.
He looks...healthier at least. Your teacher's always been one to flit about like a leaf on the breeze, but even with his return he's been disappearing to do who knows what with who knows who and who knows where more than usual.
"Aye."
"I figured."
"Then why'd you ask?" you ask, genuinely perplexed.
"Could have been wrong. Plenty of beardlings get caught up in their own business, and I hear she had taken on another commission, some diplomatic gift or something, so it could have easily been that."
"No mention of the seven axes you asked for?" you prod, narrowing your eyes.
"I can wait, I hope you told her that." he shrugs.
"D'you think that means anything to her, considering what you know?" you counter, walking away from Karstah's workshop towards the Food Hall.
It was sensibly the second facility to become active, if only to make it easier to feed the legion of workers and patrols of guards that were present.
"Fair," your teacher concedes, falling in step with you.
The two of you walk in silence for several minutes before Yorri sees fit to speak again, his gaze alternating between the monumental scale of the hallway you're walking in and the dozens of Dawi busily walking through the halls.
"Big place this Khazagar, I know you said you'd do it, but seeing's different from believing."
"It's been hell and a half to get to this point. I'm fairly sure King Gloin is only happy with how much he's doling out because of its defensive utility and the debt his clan owes me," you admit, sidestepping out of the way of a column of basalt being carried by a trio of apprentice Stoneshapers.
Yorri hums.
You're normally content to leave the silence be, there's already enough on your plate that a bit of relative quiet does you good, but you feel the need to speak.
"I'll be busy for the next few years, Master, a lot of other work besides Khazagar that needs to be done and can't be left to the wayside you understand." You explain before turning you head to stare at him before continuing, "But when I come back out and restock on ale you better be here, I've a favour or five to call upon."
Master Yorri grins.
━<><><>< 417 A.P. ><><><>━
"How are things here?" Rudil asks, walking over with a stylus in hand from when he was checking in on progress with the Hearthwardens working on Khazagar.
"Well enough, Vala's turn right now," Grunna replies, watching her sister-in-arms at work.
Rudil nods, and turns to watch as the copper-eyed one hissed and bristled at the Hearth Guard assigned to be his teacher.
"The young lady will be very displeased to know you haven't been obeying her elders when she gets back," Vala, one of the former Valkyries among their number, tuts, unfazed by Izgrom's show of defiance.
The dragon says nothing but squints its eyes.
"You know I'm right," she says, giving him a knowing look.
Izgrom, grudgingly, does as he is told and gets onto the scale, letting the Hearthwarden gather his measurements in peace before she sends him off with a piece of Dronril for his trouble.
"Not much trouble?" Rudil asks her, watching as Izgrom shuffles off to his lair.
"Nai Hearth Lord, no more than my grandson when he was a babe. Mention disappointing their mother and they fall in line quickly enough." she replies airily.
"Doubt that works for Grim," he says conversationally.
"That one is a touch different. Berund is the best one with them so far. Apparently she's not too dissimilar to a goat."
Rudil raises a brow.
Vala raises her up her palms, " 'E says if you know what motivates her then it's easier. Not as food driven as the no-so-little devil is, but enough that we can get her out of that room."
"Right," Rudil murmurs, "well whatever works. Anything you two need here?"
"A dip in those springs for my bones," Grunna scoffs, "but no lad. Vala and I have things handled."
Nodding, Rudil bids the two Hearthwardens farewell before heading off to his next destination.
With both Granduncle Snorri and Karstah disappearing into their workshops, the duty of overseeing both Khazagar's construction and their dragons has been left to the Hearth Guard, and more specifically Rudil, until they come out again. Then there was the former's teacher, popping in and out of the place as was his want, sometimes to ask Rudil if his former student had finished with his work, other times merely to, in his own words, "spook the stress out of him."
Privately Rudil thinks he's doing it solely to spook him, stress be damned, but he's not going to go out and
say that.
He stops by Lady Karstah's door, looks to the two guards stationed here who merely shake their head at him, before continuing with his route.
Hopefully either one or both she and Granduncle will be out eventually.
━<><><><==><><><>━
You're not sure how to feel.
These past few years you've finally buckled down and attempted to find out the correct path forward when it came to improving Adamant. Another round round of letters to your colleagues in the Brotherhood, examining the Master Rune of Gromril, plus a few years of experimentation later and-
-you haven't gotten anywhere.
Right, now you were being overdramatic. To say you've gotten nowhere isn't true, but the progress you've made did not match the amount of effort and resources you put in.
The first thing you've done is properly, if such a thing is possible with what you have on hand, shoring up your theory that Adamant is, in simplest terms, an empty vessel magically speaking. The Winds wish to enter, yet some invisible force you've yet to determine keeps it from doing so. So that in the act of inscribing a Rune, you somehow filled the Adamant with
only the energy of Runecraft, allowing that same power to express itself fully and with a greater degree of power than was otherwise possible.
In theory, can't look at the bar easily, and the moment a Rune is struck the thing becomes invisible to your Windsight eye.
So you theoretically knew the
why. Nevermind that the why was altogether another mystery that will likely remain unsolved until you develop a better Rune of Windsight, and even then any information beyond that point isn't something you can actually observe.
Your work naturally moved on to determining what kind of energy would actually be most conducive to Runecraft, and how to put that energy into Adamant.
And that's where you've been stuck.
Your entire theory hinged off the idea, the assumption really, that to break the Rule of Three, you needed to create a medium that could not only
accept Runes, but one that was so conducive, so perfectly suited to Runecraft, that it could contain the energy of more than three Runes. So it only made sense to you to actually make sure that theory held water, and not waste time devising methods, which you knew
should exist, to impart an energy that may not even exist.
Which, unsurprisingly, was easier said than done.
You spend years trying to devise a Rune that could try and do what you want, but it all comes for naught. Understandable really, you have no idea where to even begin for one thing, just tossing pebbles into the dark and hoping they bounce off an ore vein. Pointless really. Dozens of ideas are churned up, a fraction are tested rigorously and meticulously, and
none are found worthwhile. Too messy, too busy, too
explosive. Failure upon failure for years until eventually even your patience cannot sustain the relentless and fruitless tedium you put yourself through, and you force yourself to step away and reassess your position over a tankard or five of ale.
I'm a miner following raw stone and hoping I strike a vein, you think, rubbing your forehead in annoyance.
You run over the idea in your head, wracking your head for some other angle to tackle the problem from.
Perhaps you're simply
wrong for once, and your hunch is off the mark just like your colleagues' were.
Were you to beleaguer the mining analogy, you don't even have proof that the ore you're looking for, hell,
any ore at all is here; not an outcropping, not a nodule, not even a hopeful whiff from the soil to point you in the right direction or affirm your suspicions.
You stop short, mug millimeters from your mouth.
Mining.
Ore.
Veins.
A memory rises, Blizzardwing's words the nugget among the pyrite.
The core, it is the same, but there are...channels? Seams perhaps, of metal and quartz. A dwarf is a rock, you are ore. Through the seams, the unseen winds flow more easily but are directed…
What better medium to carry the energy of Runecraft, you think energetically,
than the very beings who wrought them into being?
Its a hope, a desperate hope, but its certainly more compelling than half the nonsense you've come up with until now.
━<><><><==><><><>━
Dolgi grumbles, half contemplating, half celebrating what's before him.
The armour is acceptable, several kilos of Gromril fitted for a standard Dwarf body. No one particular in mind, but it was never meant to be worn.
Is it finished?
He thinks so.
Ah he feels
giddy.
A Master Rune,
his Master Rune.
This is the gift he will give his children, one to be passed down, that will make them the envy of many and strengthen his family's personal alliance with the Brana. The thick plates and all-encompassing suits that Ironwing and his brood wore were a rarity, with no more than one or two pieces at most. Even with Gromril, that level of protection required an above average level of strength. The regular Rune of Featherweight made the burden bearable, but his Master Rune would remove it almost entirely.
A
tenth.
Kilograms of Gromril would now feel like a fraction of their original weight on a wearer's body, enough that if Ironwing for instance felt so inclined, he could actually cover himself from talon to tail in Silverstone half again over and weigh
less than with his current armour. It would be a while before he would even consider attempting that sort of endeavour though. While the cost would be negligible to him the time commitment would not be, and he feels selfish enough right now to prefer spending time with his family before doing something like that.
After all, he's been holed up in his workshop for a few years now, pushing through the final steps to create
his Master Rune.
Still lovely to the ear, and likely to be that way for years to come.
Chortling, Dolgi puts the armour onto a stand and begins making his way towards the stairs.
Hopefully Klorah'll cook his favourite stew in celebration!
━<><><>< 418 A.P. ><><><>━
You walk out of your workshop with not so much a Rune, let alone an incomplete one, but an idea.
The path you found was promising, incredibly so, but your results were lacklustre.
It was easy to say you needed the essence of a Runesmith, but again, far harder to describe, let alone
create, that essence.
The Rune of Calcination was perhaps your closest bet, but it was…crude? No, that wasn't it.
Insufficient.
Yes, that fit better.
A pure wind, you think, is not the answer. Were it the case your Ancestors would have stumbled on that answer long ago, besides, Gromril was almost all
Chamon and that proved insufficient.
The next step you had to take to prove your theory wasn't completely baseless requires a level of finesse you did not possess. Firstly, a means to isolate and capture the essence of a Runesmith, then a way to actually instill it into Adamant. Even if your idea proved a failure, having that ability would still be invaluable and far more rewarding than the two years you spent slamming your head into a brick wall.
So, for now, you had to put away the search for your prize. First, you needed the right tools for the job.
Much as you want to continue that research, to test your theory true, you will have to wait just a smidge longer.
You had an appointment with Master Yorri to keep after all.
━<><><>< Khazalid Trivia ><><><>━
Grint - Waste rock or spoil left by mining.
━<><><>< Gain ><><><>━
Snorri
- New Rune Understood!
Master Rune of Gromril.
-- +3 Progress to The Rune Metal Pt. 6, new totals:
[Cost: (18 -14) =4 actions]
- The Rune Metal Pt. 6 complete! The Rune Metal Pt. 7 Locked!
-- You realize now that the best path forward if you want to prove your theory correct is to find a way to isolate, distill then imbue Adamant with the proper energy. You even have a promising theoretical candidate, but you need the right tools to see if you've struck gold, or if you've found little more than pyrite.
-- +10 Progress rollover to The Rune Metal Pt. 7 banked, new totals
[Cost: (22 -10) =12 actions]
-- +2 Progress to Akazit Pt. 2, new totals:
[Cost: (14 -3) =11 actions]
-- -30 Favour with the Brotherhood of Dron, new totals: (calculated below)
-- -70 Favour with the Cult of Valaya, new totals: (calculated below)
-- Soul of the Earth
[0/18] > [4/18]
- New Runes/ Combos Unlocked!
--
Master Rune of Featherweight [Armour], Necessary Ingredients: [T3] Pegasus' Wing Tendons: Armour bearing this Rune acts as if it is only 1/10th of its actual mass.
Retainers
- +2 Progress to Drakk Rearing, new totals:
[Progress: 5/?? actions]
- Their growth is ramping?'
- Grimgal is 8.75 meters long
- Izgrom and Zharrok are 7.5 meters long.
- They are close to acceptable, behaviorally speaking. Their
supposedly innate desire to hoard and collect wealth slowly but surely withheld by discipline and geared towards directions that do not risk theft or unsavoury means of acquiring it.
-- Grimgal seems to immerse herself in Deep Magic? She had claimed one of your Siphoning Rooms until Karstah built one for her, and frequents areas where those Runes are present.
-- Zharrok's current and longest running obsession is, unsurprisingly, the application of flame. The little pyromaniac thankfully has the wherewithal to keep to strictly acceptable uses.
-- Izgrom tests the limits of Dwarfen patience, but not much more than an overly cheeky beardling. Can be bribed to behave properly with precious stones and metals, he particularly likes Dronril.
- +1 Progress to A Wonderful Endeavour, new totals:
[Cost: (24 -18) =6 actions]
Orders
- +1 [Tier 4] Magma Wyrm Blood, arriving
Turn 53
- +1 [Tier 4] Elder Griffon's Brain, arriving
Turn 52
-- -15 Favour with Kraka Grom, new totals: (calculated below)
- Voidstone not found, being rolled for every turn.
Cannot order more Voidstone until one is found.
-- -15 Favour with Kraka Grom, new totals: (calculated below)
Favour and Standing
- -30 Favour with the Brotherhood of Dron, new totals: Favours 0
- -70 Favour with the Cult of Valaya, new totals: Favours 5
- -30 Favour with Kraka Grom, new totals: Favours 245
━<><><><==><><><>━
AN: Small doot, want to keep the ball rolling. Stuff gets better next part, I hopefully get it out by this week if everything goes well and turn 52 right after. Feels a bit sparse I admit, but hey! At least you got (or will get) a Master Rune from Dolgi. His POV was voted for by the Patreons, and it very handily coincided with his research finishing up. Honestly the math behind how much the Rune reduced effective mass was still being finalized even as I wrote the update, and I had to ask a few people in the patron channel and in DMS to make sure the effect wouldn't screw with physics too much but my worries were assuaged. Hope you enjoy, and don't forget to C&C. :^)
