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.
Very nice! Though I noticed that you consistently spell 'reagents' as 'regents'. Hunting down the regents of the different kingdoms of Ulthuan would probably not endear him or his family to anyone.
There are many petty kingdoms, dukedoms and lesser noble holdings all over Ulthuan and they all need regents! Regents need to be not only competent but also fit for local expectations in terms of behavior. Finding the right regent for your holding is a complicated process and not all involves getting some fifth son* on the other end of Ulthuan blind drunk and crash educating the poor sod while you ship them to customer.
Much has been written about pressganged soldiers but not nearly as much on the tragic fate of pressganged regents.
I'm glad we are finally drawing attention to this.
No he's really not, his logic is sound, assuming the Adamant truly can't actually be deformed by the force hitting it then it will move as a sheet and apply the force evenly across the wall.
If you took the scene where Thor hits the Caps shield from the first avengers and the shield was made of adamant, the shield would survive perfectly fine and the captain would be a meat paste on the ground it wouldn't be nullifying the force but spreading it evenly across the surface that the adamant is actually in contact with, that's assuming the force isn't enough to deform the adamant. I'm sceptical that adamant foil would be so strong but that's a different issue.
No he's really not, his logic is sound, assuming the Adamant truly can't actually be deformed by the force hitting it then it will move as a sheet and apply the force evenly across the wall.
No his logic is not sound.
The assumption is provably false. Adamant can and has been deformed by a sufficiently motivated blacksmith. Given that we know Adamant Ingots are deformable by force therefore obviously Adamant foil would be more easily deformed as it is thinner.
Secondly his logic is dubious as if Adamant truely were non deformable its not clear as an explanation how we would then turn it into a foil as suggested.
Finally the ability to resist force is not the same as to dissipate it infinitely fast. Shockwaves travel from the point of impact at the speed of sound, even if we both gave it as a given that Adamant foil would be both constructible and indestructible a sufficiently powerful force could still transmit enough force into the wall to destroy it.
No his logic is not sound.
The assumption is provably false. Adamant can and has been deformed by a sufficiently motivated blacksmith. Given that we know Adamant Ingots are deformable by force therefore obviously Adamant foil would be more easily deformed as it is thinner.
Secondly his logic is dubious as if Adamant truely were non deformable its not clear as an explanation how we would then turn it into a foil as suggested.
Finally the ability to resist force is not the same as to dissipate it infinitely fast. Shockwaves travel from the point of impact at the speed of sound, even if we both gave it as a given that Adamant foil would be both constructible and indestructible a sufficiently powerful force could still transmit enough force into the wall to destroy it.
It's not that adamant is indestructable, it's that runed adamant is, at least as long as we're talking about mundane forces (the idea that neither slann nor chaos nor any of the gods can break adamant would be ludicrous).
The point with the shockwave I'm actually pretty dubious about, since physics get silly when mixed with impossibilities.
But aside from all that, I don't think dwarfs need adamant to build walls that are virtually unbreakable and adamant foil is impossible to make anyway.
No his logic is not sound.
The assumption is provably false. Adamant can and has been deformed by a sufficiently motivated blacksmith. Given that we know Adamant Ingots are deformable by force therefore obviously Adamant foil would be more easily deformed as it is thinner.
Secondly his logic is dubious as if Adamant truely were non deformable its not clear as an explanation how we would then turn it into a foil as suggested.
Finally the ability to resist force is not the same as to dissipate it infinitely fast. Shockwaves travel from the point of impact at the speed of sound, even if we both gave it as a given that Adamant foil would be both constructible and indestructible a sufficiently powerful force could still transmit enough force into the wall to destroy it.
1) He's talking about runed adamant which would be much stronger.
2) The speed of sound in a solid is very much faster than through air. It's KM/s in steel for instance. Stiffness of the material determines the speed of sound through it. I would expect runed adamant to be OOMS more stiff than mundane steel for instance but who the fuck knows when you start introducing magic into physics.
3) Ofcourse a sufficient force would be able to destroy a wall no matter how indestructible the plating is eventually the wall becomes a projectile just like the Captain america shield in the example I gave earlier.
Gromril, Adamant and the metal after Adamant have no analogous equivalent IRL. It's not impossible that their properties include something like magically dispersing force, or sudden force only affects them fractionally, or their effective mass is higher under force, or etc.
e: It wouldn't surprise me if the narrative logic of Malus means that wearing armor automagically makes you tough enough that, say, concussive blows that would kill a knight in plated armor IRL don't kill you because reasons.
Orphan and Orphan
That Thalnir the Orphan, Runelord of the Karaz Ankor--Warrior and myth, spiteful, hateful, furious at heart-- approached Karak Brynduraz, approached The Vaulted Forge was not surprising. Was not shocking. Was not unexpected. Karak Azul may have hosted that wretch but he was a creature of travel and curiosity and competence, one whose thirst for knowledge was never quenched, much as his cruelty, much as his contempt, much as his loathing and hatred and arrogance.
But it was unwanted, and so the Runelords of that place prepared to meet him in their own regalia, well armed in armors and talismans, precious jewels and finest metals and greatest, to ensure his Runes, an insult to the craft, could not ruin them. Could not break them. Could not poison the soil and ruin the crop and destroy the forest, as he had destroyed so much else that he had touched. The cruelty, the arrogance, the vindictive heart in his chest, all knew it well--even by the standards of Dawi his deeds were spiteful vengeance.
None tried to consider what had happened to the Crane, what the scratches on his cave tomb meant. None tried to consider the Pantaloon, body shattered and tossed back to his master in emulation of that wretched grin the Chaos-Spawn had bore. None tried to consider the sheer effort it had taken to convince him to back down from the Emeralda, and her efforts to protect her forest.
A vengeful, grim, warrior of purest Grudge.
And so it was a shocked to see him flanked by so many relative youths. His armor, rather than the black and gray thing of nightmares and dread, though still a blue shade, was trimmed by sparkling gold, and his face was exposed at the eyes and the mouth unlike the mountain of gromril he had tried to present himself as.
A cloud of apprentices, for the man from Karak Azul.
And what was more, some slave driver he was not, not to the one who seemed to move more as elf than as man, not to the small woman in armor obsidian black and shimmering gold, not to the Grimnir Red, Grimnir Furious one.
He smiled, splitting craggy, ancient, evil features as a blade might split the rock. "Go on then, the lot of you. Find some reagents, do some studying, gather some knowledge to improve your work, aye?" And with that the cloud of youngsters split off from the man.
And then something a bit more expected came to pass. When the last of them had gone off on their own, the smile immediately fell and he leveled a glare at an old Runelord of Karak Brynduraz.
An old teacher. One he had traded Runes with as a youth. One he had surpassed with his fury. "Hello Aurvangr. I hear you and yours are following Klausson right straight into hell?"
The Dwarf in question was a bit too old to roll his eyes, even as his kinsmen, his sons and nephews and grandsons all alike, grasped at their weapons, gasped at the insult, gasped and gasped their own wrath. But they followed that old Runelord's lead, particular as Aurvangr tossed a warning look at the lot of them. "Why are you here, tormentor?"
"The sprogs were curious." A tenderness filled him, and an ancient weight, ancient as the mountain, ancient as the Grudge, seemed to shift, to fold, to fall, for a brief moment before resuming. "This place is too arrogant, too worldly, for its own good...but you do make wise Runes, good Runes. I would help you with this Vaulted Forge. With this place of creation. I would give it my mark of approval, and the mark of approval of the clan I have crafted together after so much was stolen from me. My apprentices. My heir."
Aurvangr barked, bitter, old, withered laughter at that, the laughter of one jaded beyond jading, the laughter of one who has seen his hopes dashed on the rocks, a thing that seemed to echo and bounce through the cavern that guarded the gate to the Forge. "And why would we want your approval, you who forget the purpose of the Grudge? You who torment, you who descend to the ways of the very beasts you hunt?"
"Because I have wisdom. And I know how to create." He gestured with his ax, a thing more reminiscent of his darker, crueler times, a thing more reminiscent of blood shed and tormented foes, of black steel and black intent and black torment, like the night itself brought to life. Daldrek. The first of his creations, a thing of screaming nightmares and lost hope, a thing chocked in blood and torment and loss and pain. He lifted a simple ring of blackened gold, etched with rough, angular writing, quenched in the blood of shamans, quenched in the blood of Daemons, quenched in the blood of Chaos. Durakbaraz, a thing of endurance, a thing of lingering, a thing of war. "Daldrek. Durakbaraz. The two are made. The third still waits; the third still hides; the third still lingers. In stone and in creation." He gestured at the path where his apprentices had wandered off into the city, protected by themselves and by the reputation of that Runelord, who had brought such destruction onto the Beastmen, who had kept an oath made as only a little boy, still crying for mommy and daddy. "And because those...that lot...they will surpass me, just as they will surpass you. And you will be well served if even one of them should, in the times to come, bless your ramshackle little hovel of a Karak with their presence."
"I am more shocked you have allowed yourself to care for these children." This was the first sentence to fall from Aurvangr's mouth that did not seem as much bile as sound.
"I see...much, of myself in them." There was again a softness. "But with much fewer of my failures."
"...For their sake, then. I shall hear you out."
And so Thalnirr the Orphan, the woeful, the hating, interposed himself onto Brynduraz, for a time.
[X] Plan: Knock Knock Monoliths and Learning. (Turn 59) General
--[X] The Road to Anoqeyån Pt. 2 [1 Snorri AP] ✓
Crafting
--[X] [Difficult] Build Brynbar pt 2 [2 Karstah AP] This is for her own use.
— [X] Brynbar: Combo, Deep Gate+: [Master Rune of Thungni's Presence [T4 Adamant and T4 Ancient Greedy Troll's Heart], Rune of Thungni [T4 Adamant], Rune of Siphoning [T4 Ancient Greedy Troll's Heart].]
--[X] [Simple] Once more with Smelting #2 [1 Snorri AP + 3 KKR + 1 Peerless] Wear BA/Skarren
--[X] [Simple] The Brotherhood Calls [1 Snorri AP + 3 KKR ]
--[X] [Difficult] Skaudardrengi pt 2 [1 Snorri AP + 2 Karaz-Kazak-Rhun + 1 Peerless] This does not finish the Dragon. This is prep for turn 60 and is meant to develop the Rune we chose by Going All Out.
— [X] Choose: Combo, Empowered Awakening+: [Master Rune of Waking [x2 T4 Ancient Greedy Troll's Heart], Rune of Empowerment [x2 T4 Dragon Ogre Shaggoth Heart], Rune of Siphoning [x2 T4 Ancient Greedy Troll's Heart].]
Retainers
--[X] Expedition, Grom [1 Retainer AP + 1 Industry of the North]
--[X] Training Regime Pt. 2 [3 Retainer AP]
Khazagar
--[X] Khazagar [2 Karstah AP = 3 Khaz AP]
---[X] Change Curriculum: Switch Prosthetics with Dum-Denial. [1 Khaz AP.]
---[X] Learning Rune of Spellburning. [2 Khaz AP + [T2 White Lion's Heart]]
Orders ✓
--[X] Order: [T4 Elder Storm Wyrm's Gas Sac]
--[X] Royal Authority Order: [T4 Elder Storm Wyrm Wing Tendons] [-15 Far North Favor]
--[X] Royal Authority Order: [T4 Great Eagle Feather] [-15 Karak Ungor Favor]
--[X] Royal Authority Order: [T4 Elder Storm Wyrm's Heart] [-15 Far North Favor]
--[X] Order finally available! [T4 Voidstone]
[X] Whitebeard's Letter: Through elvish contacts, we know that some elves of Tor Vernath are asking for Bel'Shannar's assistance, putting Malekith and his allies under time pressure. The Mages Malekith visited were suppressed by Bel'Shannar, since he could not ally with them and do not have much incentive to care about magical backlash to the people living here - only that their patron succeeds and spites Bel'Shannar and that the Waystone network in the Far North is not totally destroyed. Prince Gimli is friends with Prince Laequalys of Tor Vernath and the elf and his own mages may have a useful additional perspective.
[X] [Social:] Izgrom, putting another rock by Karstah's door.
[X] [Social:] Joll brings his apprentice, Snorri Jollsson, to Khazagar.
[X] [Letters:] Knowledge about the other Thungni-Chosen [Limited]
[X] [Thungni:] Rune of Thungni's Endurance ✓
[QM OVERRIDE] [X] [Wordly Warding:] Rune of Aethyric Warding Rune of Otherworldly Warding ✓
Peerless Production,: 15, 43, 48, DC 40
Voidstone Availability: 105, 29 (overflow), DC 80
Voidstone Order: 1 turn
Thungni's Brilliance: 30 (Once More with Smelting), DC 80
━<><><>< 493 A.P. ><><><>━
The monthly get-together is at Dolgi's this time, and for understandably good reason. Rather than deal with a drunken Dolgi crowing about his newest grandchildren, or that wretched concoction of a stew, you beat a hasty retreat to the quiet area where said grandchildren were. Relieving Brunna of the duty of watching over them with a gruff grunt and jerked finger pointed at the dinner table.
"Save your husband from his fool father, young lady, he's badgering Skarri to do a jig that will end with two sprained shins and a visit to the Temple of Valaya," you call after her as she heads off before turning to look at the sprogs that are the cause of Dolgi's raucous idiocy.
Young Svina, Dolgi's first grandchild, watches her newest siblings with a small frown on her face. Why? Who can say when it comes to the mind of young ones not even past their second decade.
"Gruncle," she asks, bah, looking up at you, "what's a Runesmith do?"
"Your da and ma not tell you child?" you ask back, ignoring her poor grammar for now.
"They did, but I wanna hear everyone's answer," she explains, as if that is all the answer she needs before frowning in thought.
"Granda Dolgi started talking about jerky halfway through when I asked him…you won't talk about jerky will you?" she adds, staring at you suspiciously.
You huff.
"No I won't," you answer, earning a beaming smile full of holes where fallen baby teeth have yet to be replaced.
Moving around so that she can listen to you while keeping her siblings in eyeshot, Svina sits down on the ground and waits for you to start talking.
The cheekiness of youth, in your day they'd at least ask instead of assuming.
"Listen closely then young lady, for I shant repeat myself," you grumble, "A Runesmith is many things, but first and foremost our craft is Wonder…"
As you begin to explain the proper duties of your craft, you split your attention between the sprogs sitting at your feet and the shape of their souls.
Young Dawi less than twenty years old, another data point—
You stood near the fore of Clan Winterhearth's elders, just a few paces shy of where your great Grand-Uncle, and then your Uncle Krauss once stood. The eldest of the Clan was now a mere three centuries your senior, your older cousin and the Clan's loremaster.
The beardlings step forth, ready to be judged for the strength of the Gift in their veins.
Souls bared, untested and whose Golden veins varied in lustre. Some had no veins at all, others barely veins at all. The weak emanation of Stilling Fields that cannot be seen because they are swallowed whole by your own.
You watch the replica of Karaz-Kazak-Rhun be handed to one lad, how the Rune glows and matches the pulse of the veins in their soul.
He has The Gift, and The elder nods and the young man beams.
Another youth, the light of the Rune as dim as freshly doused coals.
No Gift.
A third, a young Kvinn of twenty-two who had come all the way from Winterhearth Hold, is handed the replica of Karaz-Kazak-Rhun. You had already known upon catching a glimpse of her soul earlier that her Gift was strong.
And the hammer agrees with your assessment, as it glows brightly the moment her hands touch it. For a moment you see a different young lady—in a different dress and with a beaming grin—in the glow before the light fades. It did not match Snerra's of course, no one has in the centuries since her Kumenouht as Jorri loves to crow, but still worthy of cracking a cask and singing a song.
—for your research.
You eye their little souls, noting that their veins shine brightly.
Dolgi's blood, or perhaps a mix of his and Klorah's, seems particularly well suited to producing Runesmiths. All of his children are Runesmiths, and all of his grandchildren so far also bear the Gift. Not that any but you know with any degree of certainty just yet.
The pessimistic part of you worries about what sort of reception the first non-Runesmith grandchild shall do, and the unspoken pressure among his children to not be the one that breaks such a chain.
Then young Svina interrupts you mid explanation, and your thoughts return to the present.
"You said you wouldn't talk about jerky!" she huffs, upset.
You shake your head. These are Dawi, children no less, not just specimens to observe.
"I knew what you meant," you retort back with a grin, "All I said is a proper Runesmith ought to know how to make good Troll Jerky, no more no less—"
She huffs.
Bah.
"—but it wouldn't do to teach you poor habits," you continue, pulling out the toy hidden in your cloak like it had come from thin air.
You hold out the stuffed Branakroki towards her, black and white coat with big button eyes that glint in the light.
She takes the toy from your hand politely and cradles it to her chest for a moment, before she gently puts it down between her siblings.
Svina turns back to you.
"Two more gruncle! You deceived all three of us!" she says, gesturing to the two babies preoccupied with the plush now sandwiched between them.
You raise a brow, and she huffs harder, challenging.
Of for the love of—
"A hammer! A hammer too!" she adds quickly, grinning as you dug your hand into your cloak, almost catching you off guard.
—Bah! She's lucky you actually had a toy hammer on hand.
'Harumph' ing fiercely, you pull out the hammers and toss them to an expectant Svina. Skarri ought to teach his child better manners, you grouse, lest you be stuck dealing with this nonsense every time you speak to this child.
You wonder when Jorri's eldest and their families are visiting, haven't seen your grand nephews in a decade or so now that you think about it.
━<><><><==><><><>━
You and Menlinwen stare intensely at a volume of now empty space.
"Waver?" you prompt, not looking away.
"Indeed, directed westward, yes? Curious," she confirms, rubbing her chin.
As embarrassing as it is that you've put off your lessons in Anoqeyån this long, this most recent discovery is a silver lining in an otherwise slightly mortifying example of procrastination.
"Again?" you ask, to which the Elven mage nods.
Grumbling, you go through the laborious process of changing your frame of mind to the right headspace for the metaphysical component of the word, and then speak the verbal half of the Anoqeyån concept for "sunset."
Again, you and Menlinwen see a portion of your Stilling Field vibrating slightly westward, the space moving like the heat haze on a sweltering summer's day.
"Fascinating," she murmurs, "the phenomena alone is a curiosity, but as to why it behaves this way I can only begin to guess."
"I'd hear those guesses regardless, Ebonsea," you respond, silently disquieted.
"Given what little I am aware of," she begins, tone not judging despite the obvious secrets on your part, "I believe the cause is whatever you've done to yourself Lord Klausson, rather than the Anoqeyån itself. We've done these exercises in the past to no effect after all. I doubt it's mere coincidence that this phenomenon only started occurring after you started lessons again. That said, it's clear from our admittedly few experiments that the full Anoqeyån expression is required, rather than it being one aspect in particular. Thus I'm led to believe that it is awareness of the phenomenon itself that is key to this. If you would be interested, Lord Klausson, I can prepare some exercises for you to help determine if my theory is true."
"If you'd be so inclined. As an aside, there aren't any concerns about possible dangers from me doing independent attempts, are there?" You ask, glancing at Menlinwen curiously.
She takes a moment to think, but eventually shakes her head.
"Your kinds' natural nullification effect makes botching Anoqeyån relatively harmless. Nothing is of course perfectly safe, but I've yet to teach you anything that I could see as being dangerous and requiring a mage's presence just yet. What you know so far should be fine to experiment with at the very least."
You grunt in understanding while making it a point in your head to write this down and test more on your lonesome later.
━<><><>< 494 A.P. ><><><>━
Sparkshrooms, Dolgi called them.
Blid frongol.
Its capabilities as a dye are middling at best compared to what you personally can access, but as a lacquer it's about as good as anything else. Dolgi's schemes to monetize that latter part fell flat on their face for one reason in particular, but he's making a tidy profit selling the raw fungus to Brana mages. Apparently they're useful to Brana who wield Azyr as a quick source of power, and there's even a bit of superstition that if a prospective mother was eating the fungus in the lead up to conception the odds of a chick being able to wield magic were higher. You'd say that last part was nonsense but with the Brana being what they are, there's a chance it's true? Not your business to investigate though.
But moving on. What catches your interest is the raw fungus's capacity to store Azyr, and the release of that energy when it's broken down by either artificial or natural processes. Moreover, the largest samples hold Azyr far in excess of the biggest spheres the Carpenters Guild can yet coax out of Dronwut. And while efforts to increase the size of Dronril orbs haven't borne (heh) fruit in the centuries after those first few years of breakthroughs, the Sparkshrooms are a different story. Supposing that a steady source of Azyr can be found, one can feed the Sparkshroom until it taps out to about the size of a dwarf's torso. At which point the only issue is that such a massive thing is both cumbersome to move about, and liable to shock someone unconscious if they jostle it wrong after its plucked.
The main downside though, beyond the stink and the static—bane of beardcare—the mushrooms produce, is their stringent growing conditions. Dolgi and the Brana who showed him the fungus had noted their strange propensity to appear in ports before lightning struck. Which made their gathering dependent on following in the wake of storms. It was part of what made Dolgi's gathering business die in the cradle. Your eye, however, answers that particular question. Its seeming precognition is only partly a ruse. Testing around the storm-wracked geography of Grungni's Forge has given you a strong suspicion that it has more to do with the presence of Azyr itself than any amount of magical foresight on the fungus's part. The Sapphire Wind's strange interaction with time, from what you understand, is what makes you say partly though. The possibility that storms bring Azyr with them is equally likely as Azyr congregates in places where storms and lightning are fated to occur.
Hard to tell, and probably a bit of column A and column B if you were a betting dawi, but for your purposes the truth doesn't really matter when the end result is the same.
On a whim—and because static is the bane of beardcare—you tried your hand at creating a way to store the mushrooms that wasn't liable to get you struck by errant bolts of electricity, an endeavour that sent your mind spiraling towards your other overarching project.
Akazit.
You had decided to put away playing with the idea of obsidian phials to store the Winds, not permanent of course, but instead you repurpose the building blocks of your initial idea to create something different. As you've gotten better with your eye, and you can finally visualize the concepts of what Elven writers went purple describing in infuriatingly poor detail, you've realized that you're overcomplicating things a bit.
As it is you have two competing designs, one built off your improved comprehension of the Winds, and the other based on your original extrapolations and ideas from observing Dragon Essence. The first design relies on manipulating the properties of the Winds themselves against them; a small stove with clear design inspirations from Dragonblood Smelter, the inside of which would be lined with panes of obsidian. Once burned or even during the breakdown itself, the Wind would be corralled through the furnace's structure into piping that would direct it into your storage barrels. The issue of bottling the ash completely bypassed. The difficult part, that you have yet to solve, is being able to manipulate the process as it's happening. Correctly funnelling the Winds isn't insurmountable, but one of precision and understanding you don't yet have.
The second design is about as difficult though not in the same way as the first method. What you'd be doing is utilizing several principles long pioneered by both the Engineers and Brewers Guilds. Immersing the reagent within a liquid and boiling both away with the Rune of Calcination until a concentrate made of ash, wind and fluid to create something like the Dragon Essence you produce from your smelters. The tricky part, of course, is finding a liquid medium to replace the ash itself.
━<><><><==><><><>━
"Karstah, why is the Skarri's eldest sprog here?" you murmur, looking at a beaming Svina, her hair done up in pigtails.
"Elder Dolgi thought it would be funny to send her your way while he was negotiating with a client," your heir answered dutifully.
You make a mental note to toss gravel at Dolgi, then side eye an unflinching Karstah. Grumbling, you move your gaze and give Svina a sharp look that fails to do so much as make a hair on her head precocious fool's head wilt.
By the Ancestors—you've gone soft!
"Gruncle, I want to see the Smelter you made!" she says, not even bothering to greet you.
Your eyebrow twitches at the word, whatever childish charm the word had at 11 has since lost its lustre at 12, but that doesn't seem to stop Svina.
Though admittedly you can hear the capitalization and nod in approval internally even as you frown and 'harumph' outwardly.
"Think you'll get to see the Greater Dragonblood Smelter will you?" you scoff disbelievingly, "believe I'll humour such a request?"
You have things to do today plaitling, as if Snorri Klausson has the time to play tour guide to a child. Let alone allow her into your Workshop!
"Yes!"
You frown even harder.
Preposterous.
━<><><><==><><><>━
No one says anything as Svina walks into your Workshop, wide-eyed and wondering as she hithers and dithers her way across the place. (Once you had made sure nothing too dangerous or secret was within arms reach ya see.)
Shameful what they teach the youth these days, such disrespect.
Karstah keeps an eye on Dolgi's grand-sprog as you go about your business.
"Don't let her burn herself on the forge Karstah! Won't do to have her lose a finger before she's even learned how to mine now! I'll never hear the end of it from Dolgi's boy," you lecture while walking towards the reagent section of your Vault, trusting Karstah can keep Svina in line while you wait for the click-clack of the vault mechanisms to finish their work.
The door slides open smoothly and you step inside soon after, the chatter of your heir humouring a child fading as you walk through stacks on stacks of preserved reagents.
The Sparkshrooms reminded you of another reagent, one that Fjolla had tossed your way.
Grumbling as you reach the right section, you begin to carefully move aside Runed containers to find it nestled away amongst the other flora samples in your stores.
Fjolla hadn't bothered to name it, frankly it was a footnote to an otherwise more pressing issue she was dealing with, but when pressed she had called it a "Fog Flower"
Bah. Sparkshroom, Fog Flower. Where did you go wrong with those two?
Points for alliteration on Fjolla's part you concede, and not too long winded and prosaic as the elgi seemed to enjoy naming things either. Still! Mistbloom, Shadow Saffron, something just a bit more than Fog Flower! Bah! You open the container and find the dried petals amidst the layer of Ulgu floating within, crushed flat against the container's edge by your Stilling Field. Sniffing, you close the container and sling it under your arm.
You hear girlish giggling outside your reagent vault and know—with the intuition only a Living Ancestor possesses—that there is mischief afoot.
Screwing the lid back on tightly, you walk out with your prize in hand, ready to grumble some decorum back into your Workshop.
━<><><><==><><><>━
"Doesn't do for a child of 13 to be acting with such churlishness," Master Snorri mutters, shaking his head at Svina's retreating form, the child's hand clasped in elder Dolgi's.
Karstah raises a brow.
"Not even halfway to thirty yet Master," she points out, which earns her a round of indecipherable grumbling.
A bit spoiled perhaps, but Svina hadn't cursed so badly that it made a priestess pink with annoyance at just twelve to her knowledge.
Master Snorri is probably just annoyed by the misplaced chisel, switched with one of the many other ones that had lain otherwise falow on her teacher's tool rack. A simple thing that Karstah had allowed on account of her Master's seeming lack of need when he could use Zharrgal or Karaz-Kazak-Rhun to do what he wanted.
She wondered how long it would take for him to notice the swapped hammers deep in the tool chests. Those hadn't been touched in centuries.
"Have you considered it?" Master Snorri prods, still staring at a retreating Svina.
"Much too busy," Karstah replies.
"As if that's ever stopped anyone," Master Snorri retorts, "A Master without an apprentice is missing crucial experience. If it has to be done, I promise you child that your life will only get busier the older you get. I had much more time on my hands teaching Jargrim compared to you and Nain. Course I was a dunderhead at that age, so any gains there were lost to my relative inexperience, but you aren't trying to teach a lad when you're barely an Elder yourself now are you?"
She hums, trusting his wisdom.
"Did Svina really seem that talented?" Karstah asks, eyeing her teacher curiously. Had the eye shown you something?
He snorts.
"Talented at being a pain my arse," he rumbles with mostly exaggerated anger, "But you seemed to have a good hand at it. Compatible temperaments matter more than you would think. Konna was a handful, but I had experience under my belt and Thorgrim kept her from being too foolish. S'no wonder they ended up marrying. Onki, well, he was a challenge. I remember once that he'd visit Kraka Drakk after—"
Karstah pretends not to hear his voice hitch slightly.
"—well it's in the past. Dolgi, Fjolla, Snerra, Nain and you? Bah. Over five hundred, if I had trouble then I wouldn't be fit to be a Runelord. Twas as easy as carving a mineshaft in sandstone in comparison. Compared to what you've already done, does teaching a beardling seem that difficult?"
"Compared to the triplets, occupying a twelve year old plaitling isn't a great issue no," she admits, "and what of you Master? Another student in your future?"
Master Snorri doesn't answer immediately. His hands rest on the pommels of his hammers, while his beard twitches fiercely.
"Who can say my child? Who can say? Quite the crop I've been noticing," he eventually offers.
"Aye?"
"Svina, as you've deduced, is not an incompetent talent. Annoying girl, but Dolgi's blood is strangely fortuitous when it comes to bestowing the Gift. Skarri's two other children have it, but they won't be a consideration for two or three decades. There are a few Winterhearth Dawi as you saw last Kumenouht, a young lady somewhere between Fjolla and Snerra in potential if I'm to give my best estimate. Snerra would have snapped her up right quick, and I reckon the child's parents were expecting such had she not gone and disappeared for a decade. Young enough that starting early is no trouble, and I doubt Snerra was even aware of that plan. There are two lads of some note in the Clan too, around Dolgi's potential. Haven't looked at Kraka Drakk proper, but theres rumblings that a half-Zornish lad among the Stoneplates that has some talent and some others..."
Karstah nods along as Master Snorri gets lost providing a brief overview that most others would consider a thorough breakdown.
━<><><><==><><><>━
Does You wish to take any more Apprentices?
[ ] [Snorri:] No.
[ ] [Snorri:] Yes. Apprentice Vote in next Turn Results. (Taking apprentices will lock minimum 1 action per turn for 10 turns)
Does Karstah start looking for Apprentices?
[ ] [Karstah:] No.
[ ] [Karstah:] Yes. Apprentice Vote in next Turn Results. (Taking apprentices will lock minimum 1 action per turn for 12 turns)
NOTE: Some of the choices won't even be takeable as a student until they turn 30 at minimum. It would be the equivalent to calling dibs.
━<><><><==><><><>━
Old bones grasp the treasure, unworthy, untrusted he thinks.
It and its master disagrees.
One was always their own worst critic.
The hammer, the other hammer, voices that sang in his head.
Reckoning was at hand.
Let it come to its end.
━<><><><Grumblings and Goings ><><><>━
The Realm
- [Late 494] An explosion of some great size was reported to have occurred out east in the depths of Gazul's Haunt. The dawi of that place are tight lipped about what occurred, though it is said the strangeness of the sky above is partly to do with it. The Thungni-chosen Runelord, Thorgard Traitorsbane, was reported to be in the area at the time.
- [Late 495] Strange things come from the Citadel of Creation. Through some mysterious working, Lord Vragni Silverbrand has done something to his creation akin to Lord Klausson's Khazagar. Now every item of Runecraft that henceforth created on the Citadel's grounds now permanently glows with brilliant orange light.
Burudin
- [Burudin] —ruined my view down the length of Peak Pass is all that damn mess of a vanity project has done! The depiction of the axe isn't even right. How do you bungle that when Whitebeard is but a league span and change away, cracking skulls and securing the realm?
- [Burudin] None have heard from Angkra?
- [Burudin] You ought not to expect any. Her last letter was rather clear wasn't it?
- [Burudin] Peace in her final days. It is better she be feasting with her kin when this tomfoolery that Kraka Drakk started finally finishes cooking. Four Holds partaking in this, I've half a mind to raise a Hall of Dunderheads in Everpeak and make it the envy of the realm just to shut up their crowing! Golden Runes this, Orange Runes that, I'm already hearing rumblings that the Jewelbrains down south are thinking of Diamond Necklaces for those who learn from their council. What's Brynduraz doing as their shtick eh? Cooking up some way to make their Gromril sing and dance? bah! At least the Brewers make their vintages taste different. A Rune is a Rune!
Khazagar
- [Early 494] This year's challenge among the Engineers Guild has produced a mighty Grudge Thrower the "Unbowed Yodeller." Clearly Dwalin inspired, as the Engineer and Runesmith were later seen singing along in that Hall of his in Khazid Okraz
- [Mid 494] The Metalsmiths Guildmaster and his eldest associates contract seven Runesmiths from Clan Stoneplate after they impressed many with six sets of armour with arrays that look (and ONLY look) like they work in tandem. A fun bit of visual obfuscation, the effect is actually a result of overlapping fields of effect, but still. Enough to impress.
AN: This already took way too long. Gains will happen next turn result or when I can finish the relevant ones. I wanted this to be rapidfire but IRL decided to hit me with 5 different things at once. :^(
There will be a 2 hour moratorium for discussion.
So glad you decided to go with the one that really spoke to you! I know you're very hesitant to do that, but really, the quest is best when you're having a blast. And I'm saying that as someone who would prefer the option that was voted for!
Damn, so twenty loops is clocking out early.
Maybe we should visit, inform her of the eyeball, see if a runelords dying grace sparks some grand revelation.
Also the apprentice vote will only ever go one way. More sprogs for the legacy…
- [Late 495] Strange things come from the Citadel of Creation. Through some mysterious working, Lord Vragni Silverbrand has done something to his creation akin to Lord Klausson's Khazagar. Now every item of Runecraft that henceforth created on the Citadel's grounds now permanently glows with brilliant orange light.
Through some mysterious working, Lord Vragni Silverbrand has done something to his creation akin to Lord Klausson's Khazagar. Now every item of Runecraft that henceforth created on the Citadel's grounds now permanently glows with brilliant orange light.
As embarrassing as it is that you've put off your lessons in Anoqeyån this long, this most recent discovery is a silver lining in an otherwise slightly mortifying example of procrastination.
Out of curiosity, what's the logic behind not progressing towards the effective end, or at least next stage, of the Windsight project, ala making a variant that doesn't require maiming?
