On Thread Etiquette:
I'm not going to weigh in on the logic of either side's arguments, but I will ask that everyone read over what they write and really consider if the words they used are polite and won't be inflammatory intentionally or not. You cant account for people's tolerances perfectly but at least try to say your piece without saying things that can be easily construed as overly dismissive of the other side of the argument, thank you.
I don't know why but Mathilde's face looks a bit cursed in this image, but still it is really good artwork of the three of them and I would love to see an actual crossover.
I don't know why but Mathilde's face looks a bit cursed in this image, but still it is really good artwork of the three of them and I would love to see an actual crossover.
Well its easy to critise ... so I will.
I think its the over deep lines around her face and her looking at nearly right angles to the way her body is pointing gives her the appearance of a ventriloquists dummy.
Could you imagine those 3 being alive at the same time, by the ancestors imagine Snorii's reaction to those mad umgi who in less then a century often did more than a who clans of dawi in the same time.
For a second there, I thought that Snorri's white pants leg was part of his beard. Considering how large dwarf beards can get, that made sense in my head.
For a second there, I thought that Snorri's white pants leg was part of his beard. Considering how large dwarf beards can get, that made sense in my head.
only things missing from that picture are the MC's Animals. Drakes for the Gift Giver, A Griffon for the Gold Giver and whatever animal the Wizard has, I haven't read that story, so I don't know what animal her favorite is.
only things missing from that picture are the MC's Animals. Drakes for the Gift Giver, A Griffon for the Gold Giver and whatever animal the Wizard has, I haven't read that story, so I don't know what animal her favorite is.
(It's worth noting that the wolf isn't simply called Wolf because he's a wolf. Mathilde named him after a human priest of Ranald called Wolf that died purifying a shrine to Stromfels)
I wonder if Matty took the hat off, they would be the same height? but then again Snorri would have to take off his stomping boots as those have to be adding a few inches from how thick they are
Freddy given his is alegmetation of Human and Dawi...I did not pass the chapter after they started travel to main temple of imperial God of Sea so I don't know what happened more. And Matilda...still on expedition towards Northen Holds.
Fair, Fated Transaction
"No gold have I, Branawongr. No silver, He Who Girds the Many."
Dolgi, for his part, simply sat at his drawing table, waiting for the Beardling (Chick? Youth? Nomenclature was so hard when they didn't grow a beard nor plaits, not even the facsimile of one the Brana often adopted) to finish speaking. The Branakroki were many things, too fond of magic by half among them, but damn fools they were not. Adaptable as all hell though, in every sense, for both the better and the worst.
Take, for instance, the Brana in front of him--Thunderkissed. A young Stormcaller, a few decades over a hundred-and-forty, pen pal with elves working on refining their own magic, making it "more reliable" (Bah!), more potent, more everything, and not for the first time Dolgi thanked the Ancestors that he was born a dwarf, wielding proper Runes and following the path of the Ancestors rather than trying to build a worthy edifice on a crack of wind, especially that particular wind.
"But I do have knowledge, and resources, for to grow your wealth. A resource the Dawi would not otherwise know, a resource even the Elgi have no knowledge of, a resource I alone discovered. I claimed it for myself, but would--gladly--share it with you in return for a commission." There was an agitation in her, something waiting, something grinding against her mind trying to burst out, some story she desired to share.
Hm. That went faster than expected. "Seems to me you'd be better served keeping it to yourself, or only apportioning it out to your kinsmen, rather than claiming I. Why toss that aside?"
Some dam seemed to burst in the Brana, perhaps pushed onward by the simple fact that they by and large regarded Dolgi as a friend, all the clever Griffons did. Well, perhaps friend was not the right word, that was too personable, but ally? Estimable? Trustworthy? Whatever the case might he had It, and the Brana all knew it. "Daraval finally mastered Azyr, and to celebrate he sewd himself robes of silk and wool and cotton, of all the colors of the eight World Jewels, and now he won't stop being an insufferable git about it."
Ah.
"And you think a commission from me would be enough to shut him up, then?"
"That's my hope, He Who Girds the Many. Though not the only one." Her voice crackled with an electricity he could understand more than well-enough-- a punctured ego. "Decades I've known him, decades I've studied with him, decades I've seen what he does. He won't be cowed--but he'll see what it can do, and he'll see you made it, and he'll decide what he has to do is become as able a craftsman as you, to make something better, particularly when he's finally mastered Qhaysh."
He snorts. He can't help it, even though he knows well enough he probably shouldn't. The elves do many things and screw about when they decide there's something that needs doing is not one of them.
The other part of him snorts in amusement that someone so young has the audacity to try and surpass a Longbeard, while the third is instead annoyed that some upjumped beardling would have the gaul to try.
He folds his hands on the table, and her rambling stops. "I make no promises yet, but show this to me, and we'll see."
"You will not be dissappointed, Branawongr. I promise you that." She smiles, and then turns towards the door, looking over her shoulder. "The journey should not be too terrible."
--
As he looks at the sky-blue liquid below him, gathered into a vast lake, Dolgi has to acknowledge that the Brana certainly wasn't lying. His senses tell him one thing, and one very important thing at that:
Magic.
Lots, and lots, of magic.
Seeing as it hasn't blown up yet either, relatively stable magic, though the relatively there is doing as much work as Master Snorri had in setting up the Underway, way back when. He still kept a good few dozen feet away from it on a great rock ledge, looking down at it. It might be the shade of the day-sky, soft and shining and pure, with white threads like clouds woven into it; but more, glimmering sparkles like someone had crushed diamonds and strewn them about hither and thither inside the pool made it seem like the stars were trapped in it it, only waiting to be put to some better, more noble use. Shimmering, prismatic things seemed to form colors like the planets that also twirled through the night sky, the sun, and Valaya's moon too.
"I wouldn't go swimming in it, but it hasn't blown up when I've touched it either," the Brana offered, "of course on the other hand, it's quite possible that it being so magically potent is a needed and necessary component in functioning, in which case I really wouldn't actively try to dispel the magic on it."
He nodded his assent. The Elgi and the Brana can talk all they want about the serene heart, calm disposition, and even temper of the magic of Azyr, even giving the benefit of the doubt for the moment it can chance. What if it turned into Aqshy--a massive pit of fire and rage spewing from this great cleave in the earth, burning everything it touched. Ulgu, an entire mountain just disappeared in an instant from view.
Or worst of all, Hysh. Forgiveness, bah.
"Well, you certainly didn't lie Thunderkissed." The Brana trilled with pride. "I'll need to study this, and not just a little, but unless this all turns to be some kind of deranged, far too much effort for a lie, lie, I can't imagine it won't be done."
They're silent for a moment.
"It's a material contradiction, you know." Thunderkissed scratches the silence, not quite breaking it. As Dolgi says nothing to stop her, she continues. "I've been reading the Elvish material. They divide the magic into three to understand it. The Elemental, the primal force a wind latches itself to, the material that most reflects its essence, its nature, its form. Aqshy and fire, Ghyran and water, Chamon and gold. The Mystical, the metaphorical, the thoughtful, the poetic. Hysh and a scroll, Shyish and the sands, Ghur and fang. Cardinal, the energies of magic itself, filtered and undiluted by mere cultural floatsam. Ulgu and confusion. Azyr and intent. And foresight. And this...this is all built along Mystical Azyr. The materialization of a metaphor." She shakes her wings, the equivalent of a shrug. "Or perhaps I still don't understand the Elves enough even at this point."
Imagine a runed gate that simply acts like a portal bettwen the two.
Make two Indentical dorframes or one to be cut in half, enruned so that steping throu one gets you throu the other...
And Voila, budged case portal tech.
... @soulcake ? what would we need for a step on that road, to do next?
[X] Plan: Ahah, Find the Off Switch
-[X] Snorri and five Hearthguard Warriors search the room looking for an off switch, or hidden inactive gronti to turn to our side. If there isn't anything, go help Dreng and Karstah.
-[X] The Hearthguard attempts to kite three of the Gronti around the room, blinding and slowing or toppling them with Trollgut acid bombs and any other equipment on hand.
-[X] Karstah and Dreng form a duo and attack the nearest Gronti with intent to disable its legs, then attack the other Gronti in sequence.
There was no question in your mind that this was still ultimately a problem that had a solution. You only needed to figure out what exactly Thungni intended for a participant to do to pass this particular trial. You are a Runelord, bereft of your Runes aye, but not your mind. More importantly sixty-two other Dwarfs are here with you, and that accounts for something. You can only imagine how much worse your situation would be if you and Karstah had come here alone.
Wait a moment.
Thungni, you reckon, would have accounted for every possibility. So wouldn't it stand to reason that there would be a way for a lone Dawi to pass this trial. If you considered the likelihood that this lone Dwarf would also have had their equipment rendered inert as well, then even the most martially inclined Runelord would not stand a chance against four Thungni-made Gronti Duraz. So there should be another way to pass.
Maybe its the half-formed conclusions of a fool, but what did you have to lose at this point?
Mouth settling into a grim line, you look to your champion, "Ylva, how many Trollgut Bombs are you carrying?"
"Half of us are carrying a satchel."
You glance at the lumbering Gronti, noting the moments where bare stone peaks through the Gromril plate covering their bodies, and nod firmly.
"Fling them, it won't eat Runed Gromril, but the stone could be another story. Better we be disappointed than left wondering either way. How many Hearthwardens do you reckon can knock one of these Gronti down and keep them like that? Destroying it would be best, but I'm happy with immobilizing."
The former Valkyrie guard hums for a moment, "Twenty for certain."
"Give me five and split them as you see fit."
"That leaves one unaccounted for."
You nod in agreement before turning to your heir.
"Karstah, I am trusting you with preoccupying the final Gronti," you state, giving her a knowing look
"It will be done Master," she replies, while Dreng offers you an imperceptible nod.
"Good. Give me as much time as you can, but don't spend your lives on it. It shouldn't have to come to that though," you grouse.
"Aye Lord." Ylva nods before turning away from you, "Hearth Guard! Time to show me you lot were worth the Gromril covering your arses!"
You grab the tablet off the pedestal and jog off to the opposite end of the room where the three glowing rectangles were, not even waiting to see if the five retainers you requested are following or not.
Time was of the essence.
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Watching Dreng get thrashed is a surreal experience, the old warrior gets bodily thrown into a wall by a contemptuous swipe of the Gronti's shield and the impact of Dwarf on stone is accompanied by a cloud of dust where he landed.
"Dreng!" Karstah shouts before turning back to the construct with a quiet snarl.
With a yell on her lips, she dashes towards her foe with both hammers out, each one's head blazing with angry Runelight. The golem turns its head away from Dreng to her and moves to put its shield between the two of them, the massive slab of Rune-inscribed Gromril smoothly filling her vision like a door being shut in her face.
Rather than stop Karstah pushes herself further, trusting in the Master Rune of Wandering to get her there faster than the Gronti can move itself. A trust that is vindicated when she zips past the shield, getting into the golem's guard where she begins pummelling its legs in a flurry of alternating blows.
The Gromril armour shows no sign of damage from her assault, but when the Gronti's legs give out and it falls to one knee, the stone beneath having cracked apart from the thermal shock, she feels a savage grin form on her face.
Only to blink when it drops its weapon and shield in favour of quickly grabbing her by the feet and shoulders before raising her overhead like a keg of ale.
She lets the Gronti know her displeasure with a stream of expletives, but can do little else but struggle in its unyielding grip.
Whatever the Gronti is going to do is prevented when Dreng arrives though, the old Dwarf crossing the width of the room during their struggle and using the discarded shield as a platform to leap off of, letting out a guttural yell when his axe cuts through the bare stone arms of the golem, literally disarming it and dropping her in the process.
She breaks her fall with a grunt and roll, standing up and nodding when Dreng walks to stand beside her.
"No worse than a Minotaur," Dreng mutters, spitting out a globule of phlegm and blood onto the ground.
Karstah nods, "Three lef—"
Threat recalibration. Urk level Dwe
—the words die on her lips when she sees previously dim Runes on the Gronti glow and activate in the face of the damage its body has suffered. Stone runs like liquid down the construct's stump arms, forming new limbs in the span of seconds as it gets up from its kneeling position to stand on two perfectly functioning legs, undoing the damage they've dealt with contemptuous ease.
"Krunk," Dreng mutters.
Thungni damn it all.
━<><><><==><><><>━
There's nothing here.
You run your hand down the glowing segment of the wall with a frown on your face. It was a conspicuous thing that the four Gronti-Duraz had come from glowing blocks identical to the three here, and it made you reckon that there were three similar constructs hidden behind these three blocks. That perhaps Thungni intended for a theoretical trial taker to somehow rouse these Gronti to fight alongside them and overcome the other four. But if that was the case you cannot find anything that struck you as some sort of switch or lever to do that. Merely bare, glowing stone.
Pained yells and the sound of battle.
Humming, you pull out Zharrgal and look between it and the wall. Even bereft of Runes, it was a dangerous weapon and you were still you…
Without a word you smash your hammer into the wall with enough force to break stone, but are met only by the dull thunk of metal hitting stone. You try another three times, but you don't even get a chip in the rock for your efforts.
There goes that theory.
Squinting, you look over the tablet with a growing sense of suspicion.
Hail the Mighty…
Karstah mentioned the curious word choice on the tablet earlier hadn't she? Aldrhun is a deliberate thing, the pictographic writing system of your forefathers was unerringly precise in what each symbol meant and the context it was supposed to be used in. Yet that same rigidity of purpose was an unintentional motherlode of wordplay opportunities. A Runelord had to be at least decently well versed in their understanding of the Old Tongue if for no other reason than tradition, but for a Dwarf that grew up in an age where the only written word was Aldrhun? For who bears the Clever as an epitaph? A Dwarf who had secrets to keep and a desire to ensure that only the worthy may find them?
You're ashamed you didn't realize something was afoot sooner.
After all but ripping the gauntlet off of one of your hands you run the bare skin of your fingertips down the stone's surface, looking for the clue you're fairly certain that Thungi has left behind.
It takes a few passes to notice and a few more on top of that just to be sure, but eventually even you cannot deny what you feel beneath your fingers.
Runes, five to be exact, but somehow the breaking of the Rule of Three has lost some of its wonder in the face of the many absurdities you are now confronted by.
These are Runes on a scale you altogether did not believe possible, for they are carved into the very grooves of several Aldrhun symbols. Too small for even you to deduce their exact construction, but just big enough for you to tell that they are there and that they are real.
Five Runes, each one carved into its own word in the phrase.
Hail, Craft, Skill, Overcome, and Undone.
But why? Why these words and not any of the others written here? What was their significance?
You grumble in confusion, and were you in any other situation you would probably spend months coming up with theories before touching these Runes at all.
But the sound of your heir's pained yell somewhere behind you forces your hand.
━<><><><==><><><>━
They hadn't managed to bring the Gronti down again after the first time.
It had targeted Dreng immediately after healing itself; rushing forward quicker, hitting harder, swinging faster and fighting better than it had before. It was all they could do not to immediately crumble before the construct's renewed assault. Despite this, both she and the old Dwarf found themselves on the backfoot, and then lying on the other side of the room after a wicked reverse swing of its weapon sent the both of them flying.
Before either of them could so much as groan, it was upon them; pinning Dreng to the ground with a punch that cracked and embedded him into the stone floor before moving on to do the same to Karstah. But just as the Gromril-clad fist is about to connect with her chest— and doubtlessly break several ribs
—It stops.
She watches the Gronti's hand pull away, followed by the fist it had kept pressed down on Dreng before it stands back up, having gone from thrashing them to within an inch of their lives to forgetting their existence in favour of turning to face in the direction Master Snorri had headed off to. Both her and Dreng stare cautiously at the now still construct for several moments before Karstah dares to speak.
"What's going on? Has Master Snorri done it, you think?"
"He took his sweet time figuring it out is what he did," Dreng wheezes out, "Now help me out of here."
With a groan of her own, Karstah rolls over and gets up with a bit of effort, feeling her body protest at the movement. It takes her a bit longer than usual, but she does eventually hobble over to Dreng and helps the Longbeard up out of the crater he was in.
"Any injuries?" she asks, looking at him worriedly.
"My pride, several ribs and a leg, plus a great deal of bruising," he hisses out, glaring daggers at the stone giant, "But I've suffered worse."
She's fairly sure he's downplaying the state of his body, but she doesn't doubt that last part at least.
The sound of moving stone makes the both of them step— or hop in Dreng's case —back. Watching warily as the Gronti dips down and picks up its axe and shield and begins moving again, and only relaxing when it turns away from them and begins walking back to the individual alcove it had emerged from. Dreng doesn't stop staring at its retreating form, but Karstah looks around to see the other three Gronti mimicking this one; ignoring the warriors they had been thoroughly trouncing moments earlier to return to the spots they came from.
"At least it's over," she finds herself saying out loud.
That earns a snort from Dreng.
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Several dozen Dawi lay on the floor of the room in various states of injury. None dead, thank the Ancestors, but they're certainly bellyaching as if they were. Several of their fellow Hearth Guard tend and admonish them in equal measure, while those who were more lightly injured settled with sitting on the ground or against each other and taking the moment to rest up. The fact that the Gronti hadn't killed anyone was, you suspect, less a testament to your martial skill and more on Thungni not being a zaki who'd kill other Dawi out of hand. Even for something as priceless as Karaz-Kazak-Rhun.
"How bad is it Ylva?" you grumble, walking over to your Fire Keeper while looking around at the sorry state of your retinue.
Ylva isn't exactly in the best shape either given the bandage wrapped around her head and shield arm, but most of her wounds are barely more than skin deep according to her sisters in arms.
"We're not done, but so far a good third of us are too injured to continue in my opinion. Nevermind the young Lady's bodyguard, that oaf is the worst off among us which is a miracle in and of itself. With the Cult of Valaya's provisions it won't do more than leave a bit of light scarring if we see to it properly, but I strongly suggest they not continue my Lord."
You nod in agreement, knowing it would be a poor idea to argue with a former Valkyrie Guard about proper treatment, even one sworn to your service.
Maybe especially so in that case actually.
"Bring them outside and get them seen to Ylva, wrangle as many of your colleagues as you need to see them back safely too. I doubt Thungni would booby trap the way back but—"
"—the same can't be said for the other things beneath the earth aye. I'll see it done my Lord," she finishes, smacking her fist against her breastplate and walking off to yell orders at her comrades.
You give her a parting nod and look down at the tablet in your hand.
It had been the height of recklessness to do what you did, but there was no other path forward if you didn't want your heir flattened like a griddle cake. So you had pressed down on the Rune-bearing symbols randomly until something happened. You still aren't entirely sure why, but one of the times you pressed down on Overcome the Gronti had stopped. Getting them to walk back had given you a hint, having passed your thumb over Hail and Undone got the constructs to step back and go back to their original spots, inert once more. You're sorely tempted to see if you can rouse the Gronti and press them into your service, but given how little you know about this thing's function, you make the sound decision to simply let it be for now.
Bah.
You put the tablet from your mind and turn to face Karstah, brow raised.
"Ylva made no mention of any injuries you had," you begin, "but I think we both know it isn't because you got off scott free."
Your heir straightens her back and tries to hide a wince from doing so.
"A few bruises, and my back's sore, but it's nothing serious."
"Aye?"
She sighs in defeat.
"I'll have Ylva make sure, but I would vastly prefer continuing deeper regardless."
You imagine she would, given the effort she's put in both at your request and on her own initiative. It would be smarter to have Karstah recuperate with the others, but there were things bigger than that.
Aye, Karstah didn't just want to see this through.
She had to.
"If you think you can handle the journey, but you're not to do anything that'll aggravate those wounds further if we can help it, understand?"
"Aye Master."
In the end half of your retainers are forced to head back towards the entrance. Nineteen were too injured to continue on, and eleven more to escort them back and protect their colleagues from anything and everything that may wish them harm. Joining them would be Dreng, much to the old warrior's displeasure, the old Dwarf only got on a stretcher after several of the former Valkyrie Guard amongst you yell and grumble him into admitting defeat. Leaving you with your heir, and the remaining half of your retinue.
But there's still the issue of your equipment.
The Runes on your gear remain inert, and you have a sinking suspicion as to why that's the case.
You pull out the tablet once more and stare at it.
It seems Thungni is not keen to share anything beyond what He promised.
You wouldn't dare say that Thungni was something so scandalous as stingy.
But you'll damn well think it! Think it loudly and angrily too!
You're complaining, in your mind of course, even as you take it towards the plinth, and when you put the marvel of Runecraft back in its place. Only moving to an open and outright grumble as the plinth and the tablet disappear into the floor while the Gronti disappear into the wall and your Runes blaze with newly restored power.
Bah!
━<><><>< Khazalid Trivia ><><><>━
Krunk - A disaster; an underground rock fall.
Zaki - A crazed Dwarf who wanders in the mountains Urk - Enemy or Foul Thing. Will eventually become synonymous with Orcs.
Dwe - Three
━<><><><Results ><><><>━
- -30 Hearth Guard available due to injuries and tending to the wounded, new total: 30
TBD
TLDR: Hearth Guard Stalled but could not damage. Karstah and Dreng had the ability to damage, but could only manage to stall until the Gronti recalculated their threat level and then thoroughly trounced them. It took you a few rounds to figure out the off switch.
━<><><><==><><><>━ No Vote, it should be clear why in the next update.
AN: Gonna try and make 'em shorter. Hope you enjoy, its not my best work. Not by a longshot, but Im not in a headspace to delay the update to fix it.
Guys all the anniversary reactions are avalible right now! Let's make the first post (and the pinned post at the top of every page) sport a full collection!!
Yep that went about as well as could be expected versus 4 gronti. If we expect them to bulldoze through entire armies of trash, bowling over 60 dawi repeatedly is trivial. Once again Thungni shows mastery of gronti above and beyond everyone else. This time we got to see a repair rune that seems like a mix of our repair and waking elemental trees and a control system.
