Dalbarbin Drengirukul
Old Gate Beside the Killing Vault
I know where the man who killed my father is.
And I can prove it too.
There are four great temples to Grimnir within the Empire of the Dwarfs as of the time of this writing.
No I have not forgotten how to count.
The most famous, of course, resides within Karak Kadrin, where treacherous king Ungrim awaits the dawn of day. A great monument dedicated to Grimnir The Doomed, Ancestor God of Slayers, who the Dwarfs hold single-handedly ended the Great Catastrophe by marching to the North, barechested and wielding his ax, followed by his son, Morgrim. It is a temple open only to the Slayers of Grimnir, a living, mournful testament to the shame culture that dominates the Karaz Ankor. The Shrine of Grimnir, the Shrine of Slayers, a Shrine to Death, where they prepare to march out their armies to menace once again.
The second, and the largest open to the general public, is the Great Temple open within Karaz-A-Karak. This is a familial shrine, not entirely unlike that clod of dirt dedicated to Thungni, near Karak Zorn. Depicting his great march to the north as described by, the certainly accurate and not at all biased source, Morgrim, his son and fellow Thacytharai.
The third in Karak Eight Peaks. I confess, the magics of Valaya protect it well from me; but I am stubborn, and I am arrogant, and I do not give up. I will learn, soon enough.
The fourth, least but still grand among the Taliobrass, lies within the realm known as Karak Azul, created to honor Grimnir the Strategist by Thalnir the Orphan, a wretched man even by the low standards of the Haclad. It is near, but outside, the Karak proper, and the first layer is a particularly well-defended gatehouse. A great, sloping roof of hard Gromril caps a body made of solid granite, iron worked into mundane Runes. Two statues guard a door made of gaudy Barazgal, carved with his grim visage, where the first and simplest of Dwarf scratch magic sits: The Master Rune of Grimnir's Ferocity, the Rune of Stone, and the Rune of Courage. This gives them courage.
Courage to face the darkness.
Courage to defy Chaos.
Courage to lie right to my face.
Where my father's body is hidden.
This Gatehouse is garrisoned by twenty Longbeads, well-armed with Runic equipment, axes and hammers alike forged by the line of Thalnir the Orphan; hard and sharp and protective they are, if artless, squat, ugly things, of metal and suffering.
But arrogant and stubborn, as all the sons of stone must be. And they did not even think to stop a little fly buzzing in.
And so I entered, and I saw the great elevator made of Wutroth, lined with jewels from each of the Karaks, the visage of Grimnir placed in gold. Down and down, down and down, down and down it took me even as sheathed my visage in the stunted, malformed shape of murderers, even as I felt the Runes press against me, against the will of Hoeth, the will of Justice and Knowledge alike.
Until I entered the second part, a part perhaps more appropriate for the Dwarfs than any other.
A combination of a library and treasure room, dedicated to treasures taken and records of the victories of Grimnir and of his death cult. Tomes, codexes, scrolls. The walls decorated with the soft stone, five floors, libraries and treasure halls alternating by layer. Runes guard it, of course, for they were prodigious in their use of their coping mechanism in those days. Flickering torches only barely light the vast, square halls, filled as they are with death and the memories of death. Broken dragon eggs, the bodies of dead dryads--our allies, our friends, our FAMILY, slain for the temerity of allegiance and alliance and loyalty and the bits of their bodies used to make these abominations.
The Master Rune of Climate, the Rune of Stone, the Rune of Preservation, all serve to preserve these things. The trophies. The texts.
It is so very dwarfish. A bleak, dark, hole in the ground, where wretched, vengeful, broken old men can please themselves to the thought of how they were once mighty, and weep and scorn and complain about the youth of today, and hide themselves and do nothing to help anyone. So busy remembering the past, they cannot ever look forward to the future.
Of course, as much as I loathe them, I almost pity them too for they do not even realize their vaunted honor has been tainted by lies, so busy loathing me they do not even think to ask whether, perhaps, the Longbeard in their midst who had the means, the motive, and the opportunity to plant a blade in my father's back as they both acted as diplomats in Tobaro might have done as much. The priest of the place is a corrupt murderer, or at least has aided murder. Has hidden the body of my father.
I know this, for I saw it, as I journeyed in Ulgu and Ghur, in deception and instinct.
Hidden, hidden, hidden from those too blindly stuck in the past to look around. And take stock. A secret chamber, at the very most bottom level, where too there is a map of the Karaz Ankor entire wrought in Gromril. Hidden there by Helric Whiteax, former ambassador to Tobaro, current head priest of the shine, and murderer of my father.
Understand High Loremaster, you can disavow me if you need to; there will be no poor feelings on my part. But I am going to the king of Karak Azul. I am going to present my evidence. And then he will either turn over my father's murderer, and the body; or I will show him, that the fury of a Loremaster is no slight thing, that we who look to the sun have found a new dawn.
I am not asking for approval. By the time you read this, I will have chartered my vessel, I will be on my way. But I believed you deserved to know.
-Loremaster Finael, writing to High Loremaster Cyeos
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For the record, I got approval on this from Soul so I don't want to hear any back sass, if you will.
