Winning Vote: said:
[X] [Karaz-Kazak-Rhun:] Go together.
[X] [Adamant:] Offer each of them a shard of Voidstone and loan enough Adamant [x10] to make a Greater Smelter. The Adamant will be repaid once the smelter is built.
━<><><>< 472 A.P. ><><><>━
You, Karstah and threescore of your Hearthwardens reach Karak Izril in a caravan made up of several plain, old wagons you bothered Jorri into loaning out to you. Getting to the Hold with as little fuss and so quickly as you had managed was honestly a miracle in and of itself. The entire journey was slapdash and rushed, far too rushed for your liking, but time was of the essence given the possible reward. Saying "Runelord Business," is all well and good when it comes to disappearing for years on end, but that doesn't get deal with the dozens of meetings and plans that were upended because of it. Thankfully you have a retainer that you can task with clearing all that up while you disappear.
You make the mental note to get something nice for Rudil while you're here. Poor lad's definitely going to suffer a few dozen sleepless nights getting everything sorted while you and Karstah are away.
But that was for later, right now you and your group were trying to pass through the Underway gates of Karak Izril without too much unwanted attention. The line leading into Izril splits off into several forks, each one overseen by a guard who interviews each person before allowing or denying them access to the city proper. You idly note that there is another line, one made up of caravans that bear markings from the other Southern Holds, the leaders of which merely present a scroll to the guard who lets them through without a fuss.
A rush line perhaps, going by the material you can see on several of the wagons it probably has something to do with that temple the Runesmiths of Izril are building.
When your turn finally arrives you hop off the lead wagon with a grunt and walk to the guard, sizing him up quietly.
"Beardling," you greet gruffly.
The gate guard, noticing the length and color of your beard, nods respectfully.
"Karugromthi," he returns, "what brings you and your band to the City of Jewels?"
"Business." you grunt out.
"What sort?"
"Mine," you grumble, raising a brow.
The guard, looking lost, turns and catches his older colleague's eye. You watch the older Dwarf glance your way for a second, turn back to his colleague and then shake his head before going back to interviewing the Dwarf in front of him. Realizing he's been left alone, the young man sighs and turns to face you with as much composure as he can muster.
"
Right." He mutters tiredly, "We will need the names of those present before letting you through Elder."
You grumble then make a show of lifting the hood off your head, having removed your Prosthetic eye in favour of a patch that does little to hide the scarring from
Skarrenbakraz's creation. The sight of which makes the elder guard from earlier whistle appreciatively.
"Snorri One-eye," you say grumpily.
━<><><><==><><><>━
Izril is a beautiful place, but sadly you can't spare the time to view the beauty and splendour of the Hold this time. Perhaps in the future, when you aren't chasing down the hammer of Thungni and the local Runesmiths don't see you as a curse upon the Guild.
Still, wonder and age permeates the streets of Izril as readily as the gems do her mines. While you aren't walking on paths cobbled with gemstones, the hold is definitely rich with the wealth of the earth. The main avenue your party walks down is flanked by alternating sets of statues and massive supporting pillars that were both decorated in a king's ransom of gems and metal. Jewels larger than a Dwarf's head, the sort of prize that would be a prospector's crowning treasure, are common enough that they've been used as the eyes for each of the dozens of Ancestor statues, while smaller examples have been used to liberally decorate the golden scrollwork and brilliant lights that wraps around the enormous girth of the pillars.
The rest of the Hold's buildings are, while not as opulent, beautiful in their own right too. Each of the structures that line the road have metal shingles on their roofs and gold filigree on the stonework on a smaller but similar look to the scrolls on the pillars. Tavern doors are swung perpetually open, leaking the warm light within while shops have their wares behind glass displays that most likely cost a literal fortune to create.
Of course that wealth isn't exclusive to just the Hold's infrastructure either. Several Dawi can be seen walking around with enough jewels on their person to outright glitter under the light of the massive Rune-inscribed Quartzes, and even the lowliest labourers can be seen with several pieces of jewelry, often using humbler materials you admit, on them.
Then of course, there are the Hold's Runesmiths.
Dressed as richly as kings and with only a smidge less the pride they bustle about the Hold like a fire's been lit under their arses. Often you spot one or a pair of them leading a band of workers hauling construction material off deeper into the Hold, no doubt headed for the massive complex they're building.
Your party pays them no mind, but in the name of remaining unnoticed your Hearth Guard break off into small groups and pretend to do a bit of window shopping while you and Karstah make a beeline straight for the Miners Guild to purchase the necessary permits.
While you've no compunction about being a sneaky lad when the need arises, you are still a law-abiding Dawi and you'll sooner mistake Pyrite for real gold than commit a crime.
Normally it takes a few days for a permit to delve below the Caverns beneath the Hold to be run through the Guild and returned to the applicant, doubly so for an outsider such as yourself. Course that unspoken delay quietly leaves the room when an ornery Living Ancestor such as yourself walks in at the head of a party of several other, slightly younger but equally grumpy Living Ancestors behind him.
After a blisteringly fast few hours that involved a long exchange of grunts and grumbles with the head of the Miners Guild about why a band of Dawi would want to go down there, and you're on your way.
━<><><><==><><><>━
The journey down isn't all that noteworthy. Your small caravan travelling past areas of Dwarf habitation to the natural cave systems and mines that make up the lowest Deeps of Karak Izril, precise and well decorated masonry growing increasingly utilitarian before slowly giving way to the raw rock of the earth. Only when you're well out of sight of any nosey sorts do you give the okay for everyone to don more appropriate gear for the potential trial below, simple steel and the occasional bit of Gromril giving way to Pure Gromril and Dragonhide, while you don the glimmering trappings of your Adamant gear. You continued on, following the maps provided by the Miners Guild, at great expense, until you reach their edge, only to continue on down, down, down into the deeps.
Despite having no map, you were not without direction, putting your faith in Karstah's efforts to decipher Thungni's riddle to lead you through the winding maze of caves. Normally you'd think it the height of madness, but as your band marches deeper you become increasingly aware that you are passing by the exact sort of locations that the riddle could hint to.
Roughly hewn tunnels and ancient prospecting paths, the marks of the pickaxes that carved them visible to the naked eye.
Wanrag or strolled, bar or khazen/ Wherein I have left, yet I remain.
Fossilized mud flats along a long-dried riverbed dotted by alien footprints of long-departed beings that all directed you onwards.
Wanrag or nai tiwak, bar Rhun bin Tiwaz/ Where I have not rested, yet my mark s'upon the bed.
Caverns filled with white glowing slime and quartz crystals as large as tree-trunks, each crystal pointing in the same general direction.
Wanrag or gandaz skarizril, bar nai Lhune / Where I may gaze at the stars but see not the moon.
Riven fault lines that belch magma and noxious gas that "feed" into a massive crack in the earth where the orange glow of a river of magma illuminates the surrounding rock.
Wanrag brynen, bar nu mhornaz/ Where there can be light yet ought to be dark.
Leading you to the entrance of an unassuming cavern so far off the beaten path that there wasn't even the sign of any other Dwarf being here before you. Only for the Rune of Thungni to blaze into life above the entrance once you pass some unseen threshold.
Wanrag ungor an brynen, wanrak or adgotet./ Where the land shines only when I do.
The sight of it, the realization that the riddle actually led you somewhere…
It takes a supreme effort on your end for you not to run in like an impatient beardling. Instead you order your retainers to break camp and prepare for the ordeal that was sure to come.
━<><><><==><><><>━
You walk down the winding path of the tunnel at the front of a column fourteen Dwarfs deep and four Dwarfs wide, while Karstah, Dreng and
Mhorni walk behind you.
"Master," Karstah whispers, "What will be done with the Hammer once you've found it?"
"Don't know," you admit, eyes scanning the tunnel walls for anything out of place, "Too many things to consider, and it felt like building the mine before striking any ore to do so. We're both fairly sure it
is Karaz-Kazak-Rhun, but it may not even be there. It's not a good answer, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it Karstah."
"Very well."
A minute of pointed silence passes before you turn to look at Karstah.
"Ask your other question lass."
"What do you make of Master Yorri's words that day?" she asks, making you blink.
"Which ones Karstah? He has a habit of saying far too many sometimes, you'll have to specify." you grumble.
"When he was going on about Karaz-Kazak-Rhun. He seemed to
know already didn't he?"
You don't say anything right away.
"It's impolite to gossip about your Elders Karstah, but the signs point to that being the case, aye," You admit.
Karstah nods, staying silent for a few moments herself before speaking again.
"Master Yorri's past is confusing—"
That's one way to say it.
"—and while I am not his student, he seems like…"
You turn your head slightly, regarding Karstah as her words falter.
"A troubled man? Secretive? Aye. Not everyday a Dwarf
erases himself from history, that's true enough."
"Have you ever wondered why?"
You scoff.
"These are questions I've thought about for longer than some have been
alive Karstah, and the conclusion I came to? It isn't worth whatever hurt I will cause."
"You don't think what he said about the letter is the real reason he isn't touching Karaz-Kazak-Rhun either, do you?" she asks, voice quiet.
You sigh, more tired of the situation that caused her to ask than at Karstah herself.
"No lass. No I don't. And I think everyone present for that exchange knew that," you say softly.
Before you can say anything else you notice the tunnel opening out up ahead, putting a stop to your discussion for the moment as the two of you look at what's before you.
The path branched off into three separate routes that share no discernable diff—wait a moment.
Squinting, you walk over and run a hand down the side of one wall, letting out a noise of surprise when you feel an indentation that does not match the texture of the stone before you.
Looking over at your heir you beckon her over with a jerk of your head and motion for her to do the same. You're vindicated when a similar expression crosses features as she runs her hand over the same spot a few more times herself.
"Feels like—"
"—a Rune" you finish.
A bit of mental drawing and you realize that the Rune inscribed onto the wall matches the Rune of Warding, and after a bit more exploration you find that the other two paths also have symbols carved into them as well, the middle fork bearing the Rune of Might and the rightmost path the Rune of Speed.
Karstah and your Retainers look at you expectantly.
━<><><><==><><><>━
[ ] [
Path:] Rune of Warding.
[ ] [
Path:] Rune of Might.
[ ] [
Path:] Rune of Speed.
━<><><>< Khazalid Trivia ><><><>━
Wanrag or strolled, bar or khazen
Wanrag or nai tiwak, bar Rhun bin Tiwaz
Wanrag or gandaz skarizril, bar nai Lhune
Wanrag or gandaz skarizril, bar nu mhornaz
Wanrag ungor an brynen, wanrak or adgotet.
Roughly translates to.
Wherein I have left, yet I remain.
Where I have not rested, yet my mark s'upon the bed.
Where I may gaze at the stars but see not the moon.
Where there can be light yet ought to be dark.
Where the land shines only when I do.
━<><><><==><><><>━
There will be an hour long moratorium for discussion.
