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RHUNRIKKI STROLLAR (Warhammer Fantasy Golden Age Dwarf Runelord Quest)

Voted best in category in the Users' Choice awards.
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A friendly reminder to new questers to read the Informational threadmarks and FAQ specifically before asking a question. Links below:

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Discord.

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.

Please endeavour to be cordial. :^)
 
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It's very much spoilers and the reason why it was added will be in the next update, I should clarify that we talked about it before but in spolier box so I would personally count it as spoilers
 
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Andmeuths said:
Honestly, this talk about time spent in research smacks of meta-gaming and AP Penny Pinching, especially since it's a valid in-character interpretation that Snorri takes the raising of the next generation as important as his research. Infact, if apprentices are sub-optimal as you are suggesting, it is a ludicrous accusation to accuse advocates of taking more apprentices of meta-gaming, which has been done by quite a few people in this thread, very unfairly and rudely so in my opinion.

Either
a) Taking apprentices is mechanically suboptimal and therefore is taken because of narrative reasons and hence can never constitute meta-gaming
b) Taking apprentices is mechanically optimal and therefore constitutes meta-gaming
c) Taking apprentices does have an opportunity cost but is a long term investment that will yield personal returns both mechanically and narratively, and therefore is neither mechanically optimal nor suboptimal, in which case, this isn't power-gaming, but merely preference and priority. In which case, taking apprentices still cannot be meta-gaming, but rather is a contest over what kind of narratives people want to read.
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Going to point out that one of the complaints about meta gaming is that it keeps influencing decisions and people are making major decisions based on those. Hell, people keep constantly try to justify meta knowledge for making certain decisions like picking up apprentices all the time which is likely why people hate that argument. Which is further not helped that the runesmith number argument keeps getting countered.

Besides that the simple fact is that apprentices do take up a bit of our time and do slow down our research and crafting time. That said something that people keep missing is that a number of players don't actually mind getting more apprentices. It's just that people would prefer that we get more research done between getting apprentices since they take so much time to teach and our research and stuff we want done keeps growing. I honestly don't understand why people keep missing that fact.
Ragnar said:
Because it's time spent babying that could be put to better use in research? The numbers of Runesmiths we teach will have so small an impact among Runesmith numbers as to be unnoticable. There are high hundreds to thousands of them, and they probably train more per century than we could if we live to be ten thousand.

Right now it's time to focus on establishing a good base. Snorri is kind of good, but he is by no means top tier. He needs to double down on making himself better so he can teach his future students better stuff.
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This^^ For all the people obsessing believing that we can heavily influence things by raising students people keep failing to consider that there are literally thousands to tens of thousands of runesmiths at this time and we would just be one of out many runesmiths teaching students. Also I really hate that people being misleading to win arguments. We have people acting like if we don't teach any runesmiths that they would disappear while completely ignoring that the QM stated that if we don't pick up apprentices ourselves that they would in fact be picked up by other runesmiths so whether we teach or not any potential runesmiths would still be taught
Alratan said:
sets the example that what runesmiths should be doing now is ignoring the world and what happens in it and burying themselves in research, that his juniors will reject his example and go all in on teaching, rather than following it?

Research is also much less likely to compound later than teaching apprentices is, as we're not doing any research at all that increases research or crafting productivity.
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Can you not try to be emotionally manipulative? Because you come across as trying to be by pretty much strawmanning that people want to completely close off ourselves to the world and have Snorri not interact with people when that is definitely not the case. People have repeatedly said that they would want to get research done for a few turns before picking up more students because they take so much time to teach and they take ages as in centuries to become masters. No matter how you try to spin it it's an undeniable fact.

Also getting really tired of the strawmanning since it ignore things like the fact that Snorri does interact with other people during turns like Moira and that ranger along with having already trained multiple students in his life and even 3 at the same time with the last batch.

You appear to have a pretty bad case of tunnel visioning since you seem to outright refuse to see any other point of view that isn't your own. Examples include you repeatedly acting like armoring and increasing our kings and prince survival odds for the coming incursion was a bad thing since we couldn't armor the Sky King sooner. Only to have that turn out to make a colossal difference. But then you ended up shaming the players for not armoring the Sky King before he left while ignoring the fact that your insistence on spending way more turns necessary to get it done likely would have just had it so that not only wouldn't the Sky King have his armor by the time he left but neither would the King and Prince. So yeah, bad case of tunnel visioning.
 
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I think everyone deserves a punishment of our resident healer not allowing Snorri to leave his bed to do any work on pain of soberness for 10 years :V
 
Red Bovine said:
This^^ For all the people obsessing believing that we can heavily influence things by raising students people keep failing to consider that there are literally thousands to tens of thousands of runesmiths at this time and we would just be one of out many runesmiths teaching students. Also I really hate that people being misleading to win arguments. We have people acting like if we don't teach any runesmiths that they would disappear while completely ignoring that the QM stated that if we don't pick up apprentices ourselves that they would in fact be picked up by other runesmiths so whether we teach or not any potential runesmiths would still be taught
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I agree that we don't have to pick up apprentices to save the runesmithing discipline, however, I do believe that our influence upon the northern runesmiths is significant enough that they would pick up more runesmiths than they would have otherwise, meaning more runesmiths get taught up north rather than local talent being sent down south for their training (which I believe makes them more likely to stay down south once they reach mastery because that's where they would've learned their stuff and where they made their connections, rather than moving back up north, though if I'm misunderstanding dwarf psychology tell me)

Also, when was that QM quote? Was it before or after the invasion? Just as a result of who would be killed (older dwarves, including master runesmiths, rather than children who will become apprentices), there will be a surplus of apprentices compared to compatible teachers, at least for as short time. I'm not claiming that "we need to do this or else all runesmiths will die!" or something like that, just that the fewer available teachers as compared to possible students will mean that at least a few students that would otherwise become runesmiths would be left behind, and setting an example for the north will result in fewer of our talented apprentices either being taught down south or not being taught at all, as we are a very influential figure specifically for the runesmiths of the north

Edit: not saying that research is the wrong option here, btw, just want to say that teaching apprentices will do something, unlike what you seem to be saying here
 
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[Canon] In Remembrance, +15 to a Defensive Roll [USED]
  • Sidestory
    • In Remembrance

    Rurduat Stonecrag gazed at the polished granite wall among the halls of his clan. His face gazed back from the mirror finish, sharp eyes and well-kempt white beard, wrinkles crinkling around his eyes, in memory of the centuries filled with laughter and joy. Glancing down, he saw his calloused hands clenched into fists looking more like the knots in a tree worn by time and stone, work and steel, battle and wood. With a steady breath, the tension he was barely aware of released, and with it, his hands relaxed. Bending down, Rurduat Stonecrag could feel his back tense and tear with pain, not yet healed from the injuries. But… there was work to be done, and so he grabbed his hammer and chisel and struck the wall. With each strike of the hammer to chisel, came the memories.

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    He was in his workshop, working on the sketches for a commission from Clan Onyxseeker when the first alarms were raised. The storm which had been gathering on the horizon had finally come, and with fury and rage it attempted to strike down Kraka Drakk. Beastmen flowed like a river of pungent mud into the killing zone, and died before they could reach the walls. Bolts and boulders poured into the killing area, and the mighty runic arrays buried in the earth had been turned on, turning the valley into more of a swamp than anything resembling the tundra it was supposed to be. But as he volunteered to move ammunition to the artillery pieces, Rurduat Stonecrag could see that it would not be enough. The stench of iron was overpowering as blood became more common than water, seeping into the ground and tinting it a dark red, what little of the ground could be seen over the carpet of the dead.

    Then the daemons came, howling from the north and streaming in, first in strands as thin as a spider web, but then in ever greater numbers until it seemed like the cords of some large rope. Pungent abominations, gleeful dancers, twisted sorcerers, and frothing berserkers all came and many died. But not enough, never enough. Soon enough the fields of the dead started to be burned so that more daemons and beastmen could attempt to breakdown the wall. Eventually, he got used to the hideous smell as it wafted around the battlefield. For years this went on, a steady pattern of death, like the drumming of a particularly insane percussionist. But it couldn't stay the same, and in the face of a perpetual storm, even the strongest mountain might be forced to shed a layer of stone. While he didn't see the first wall of Kraka Drakk fall, he could feel it, the shuttering of the earth as a part of the mountain crumbled and fell before the storm hammering at it. And as the alarms of a staggered retreat sounded, Rurduat Stonecrag felt a seed of something he had not felt in almost half a millennia. Fear.

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    By the time the second wall had fallen, a perverted sense of normality had befallen the hold. For almost a decade they had been under-siege, their stores of food carefully rationed to prolong the foods that could not be grown internally. He had even met some of the babes of the clan, in his pitifully few off-hours, that had not known anything else but this endless storm, who believed that this was truly all there was in the world and all that would be. It was grim to see such despondency in those who knew nothing else but this endless battle, but those few children gave another reason to fight all the harder, to ensure that at some point the youngest of them would be able to see sun and moon instead of an eternal storm. It made the stench and exhaustion of battle more bearable, as he hardened his resolve to endure all that the world could throw at him.

    And as he gazed at the sky before delivering another cartload of ammunition, he saw that those honored by the Ancestors struggled just as hard. Hordes of the daemonic swirled in the air above them, striking and being struck down in turn by their allies of the Sky. Griffins dove amongst the lightning, rain, and hail tearing out hearts only to screech in pain as monsters raked them with claws and attempted to pierce their wings. Bolt throwers that could be spared from holding back the tide arrayed upon the earth turned their efforts skyward and pierced the vaults of the heaven, bringing death to those that flew above. But it was not enough, it was never enough, as one by one the mighty griffins who ruled the sky fell against the eternal storm.

    With each step with the cart, Rurduat Stonecrag smothered the fear that was attempting to blossom in his heart. Fear now would be the ruin of Kraka Drakk, paralyze them into inaction and make them prey to the darkness the world bred. All they must do is to hold until the storm broke, for the Dwarfs were of the mountains and no mountain bowed before a storm, no matter how fierce.

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    Rurduat Stonecrag didn't hear or even feel the fall of the third wall, but he heard the tales of the Adamant Wyrm and how he held the breach long enough for a proper retreat to the fourth wall. No, he was in the Underway, fighting with the Cavernlord. It was a shame that he had not held an axe since the days of his youth, for all who could had been called to hold the battle lines. The youngsters were charged with porting ammunition to the quarrelers and the artillery now, and everyone who had ever held an axe was charged with the defense of the hold. In the times of clarity between battles, he did take time to admire the axe. It was shining brightly with runes and was perfectly balanced in his hands, it was unfortunate that he… couldn't quite remember at the moment who had made it for him. Remembering things down here was getting more and more difficult for him, there was only battles, the haze where he wasn't killing something in between them, and sparks of clarity. Had he already thanked the runesmith for the axe? Or had he grabbed the axe from a fallen friend to behead the next daemon in the fight? He… couldn't remember, but as he heard the trumpet to prepare for another wave he smiled. The Cavernlord had never lead them wrong yet, there were more daemons to slay. Gripping his axe and gathering his shield, Rurduat Stonecrag marched to the lines of battle, to rage at and slay that who dared to destroy his home.

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    With the final careful strike, Rurduat Stonecrag finished his work. Years of work on this one hall, carving it into a mural which would allow him, and others, to remember the Great Siege of Kraka Drakk. He had mourned and grieved during those years, but he had kept working. He had raged at the world and drunk himself into a stupor more than once during the years, but every morning he would raise himself up and begin work again. He had prayed and dedicated time to the ancestors to give those who had fallen respite and peace in the eternal halls of Gazul, and yet still he had worked on the wall.

    It was a fine mural, dedicated to those who had fallen amongst his clan during the Great Siege, possibly the finest he had ever made. Starting on the left side of the hallway, it depicted the gathering storm, and the preparations both over and under Kraka Drakk. And as one walked right, it depicted the stages of the siege, of the flowing underground battle, reminiscent of the tides of the ocean, paralleled by the mighty stand above ground, of both Griffin and Dwarf, reminiscent of the eternally enduring mountains. Finally, as one reached the end of the hallway, engraved for all to remember, was the slaying of the Suneater by Otrek Ironarm, the Adamant Wyrm, and the arrival of Grimnir who drove the storm away and let the sun shine once again upon Kraka Drakk.

    Beneath it all was the names of his clansmen who had died, engraved in the order of their death. First was Sardod Stonecrag, who fell in defense of the first wall giving his life so that reinforcements had time to shore up that section of the wall. Sardod Stonecrag was not the last name of the list, and as Rurduat Stonecrag brushed his hand over each name of the fallen, he remembered their faces, works, and tales of how they died. With each name, a tear fell onto his beard, but with the last name, he knelt and wept for what could have been. Trikog Stonecrag, his great-great-grandchild. He was not even twenty years old when he had fallen, a falling monster from the sky crushing him as he was pulling ammunition to the artillery. The very same day that the King of the Sky returned, the Suneater was killed, and Grimnir drove the hordes away. He had been born after the storm had come, and he had died before he had ever felt the sun on his face, or had drunk alcohol under the moonlight. Trikog Stonecrag wanted to be a stone carver like his great-great-grandfather, and he remembered giving the babe some of his older tools to play with. But now, none of it mattered. All that remained were memories and all that could be given was a restful peace knowing that Kraka Drakk still stood. That the sacrifices were not in vain and the mountain still stood.


    A/N: Well, the muse spoke and so I wrote. I hope you find this other perspective of the Siege from an old craftsman to be an enjoyable read. Also, @soulcake another make for the omake throne.
     
  • Sidestory
    • That is just beautifully written, @Thor's Twin. Bravo.

    I'd like to see more omakes from his perspective, actually. Rurduat Stonecrag seems like a good dwarf-on-the-ground POV. How many of his family survived? What will their place in the rebuilding look like?

    Maybe when we work on the griffon nesting grounds, Rurduat can come do some of the stonework.
     
    @soulcake
    Is there a method by which we can create master runes?
    An example would be the master rune of prosthetics having tactile feel and precisely the amount of strength required by each blow, would a rune of might and a rune of precision contribute to that?
     
    Trougue100 said:
    Is there a method by which we can create master runes?
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    Technically these actions.
    soulcake said:
    [ ] The Secrets of Light?: That moment with the shield and sunray, the light of your torch glinting off the crystal, both sparked something in your mind. An ember that refused to be burned out. You've done permutations to the standard Rune of Light and a few on Master Yorri's Rune of Reflection, but maybe there could be more? [Cost: (8 -2) =6 actions] Student of the Odd will proc.
    - [ ] Prod Yorri: Master Yorri may have some knowledge he'd be willing to share.[Cost: 1 prod] Gain 1d3 +1 Progress

    [ ] The Movement of things: The Rune of Waking or Animation as some would call it is a rare rune. How Master Yorri knows both the regular and Master Rune could be explained by either a harrowing adventure full of terror, beasties and treasure or by something as mundane as asking a friend, you could never be sure with the man. Still, this was a rune that, to your frustration, you haven't had much chance to tinker with. Maybe just a peak? [Cost: 8 actions] Student of the Odd will proc.
    - [ ] Prod Yorri: Master Yorri, by his own account, has a good idea about how gronti and their ilk function.[Cost: 1 prod] Gain 1d2+1 Progress, can be taken multiple times.

    [ ] The Rune Metal Pt. 5: You've done it. Adamant is now, slowly, being made from your forge! It is an achievement of your lifetime by the reckoning of most dwarfs, but yet the glittering white stays in your mind. There is more still. [Cost: 12 actions] Student of the Odd and Mind for Metal will proc.

    [ ] Understand a Master Rune: The same idea as studying any rune in theory, in practice it takes a lot longer and there's often a large chance of explosions. [Cost: 16 actions] Depending on the choice, Student of the Odd and/or Mind of Metal may proc
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    Any of the research actions can lead to runes, master or otherwise. The understanding a master rune action is how we'd go from having a master rune from the weapon tree and figure out the banner form of it.

    Anything else is inspiration and study. A throwaway comment from soulcake was that combos using 3 normal runes can sometimes lead to a master rune that has that effect. So studying this and getting lucky could lead to master runes as well.

    soulcake said:
    [ ] C-c-combo Tester!: Write-in format for a Rune Combo you want Snorri to test. Format is as follows: [Placeholder Combo Name] Equipment type: [Rune 1, Rune 2, Rune 3] [Cost: 1 action] If a rune you want requires special ingredients that you don't have access to I will alert you
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    But genuinely, it seems inspiration, research and luck. Followed by having an idea of what we want the master rune to actually do for the type of rune it'll be (banner, talisman, armour, engineering or weapon).
     
    Captain Spatula said:
    Any of the research actions can lead to runes, master or otherwise. The understanding a master rune action is how we'd go from having a master rune from the weapon tree and figure out the banner form of it.
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    Or any other category, though honestly its a bit of a toss up if it gives us universal understanding of a Master Rune such that we can then apply it to any category if its logical for that rune's effect to exist in that category or if it just lets us move a Master Rune a single category.
     
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    Turn 20 Results:
  • Threadmarks
    • Winning Vote:
    [X] Plan Research Friends With Master Yorri
    -[X] Refuse the Heart: Allow the King of the Skies to consume it. Gain standing with the Skarrenraz Ankor and KoTS. ???
    -[X] Odd Places 5/10: [Cost: 1 action] Roll for usefulness. Spend 1 action.
    --[X] Prod Yorri: [Cost: 1 prod] Gain +15 to Odd Places Roll
    -[X] Prod for Prod: [Cost: 1 action] Gain x3 Yorri prods Spend 1 action.
    -[X] The Secrets of Light?: [Cost: (8 -2) =6 actions] Student of the Odd will proc. Spend 1 Action.
    --[X] Prod Yorri: [Cost: 1 prod] Gain 1d3 +1 Progress. 2 +1 =3
    -[X] Diction Direction: [Cost: (6 -4) =2 actions] Student of the Odd will proc. Spend 1 action
    --[X] Prod Yorri: [Cost: 1 prod] Gain 1 Progress
    -[X] The Movement of things: [Cost: 8 actions] Student of the Odd will proc. Spend 1 action
    --[X] Prod Yorri: Master [Cost: 1 prod] Gain 1d2+1 Progress, can be taken multiple times. Spend 4 prods. 10 +1 =11
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    …​

    You crack your back, stretching for the first time in an entire year since you've been put into a bed.

    Freedom, at last!

    Elder Moira stares at the three of you with a look that promises swift doom if she catches you straining yourselves. She still was not at all happy with your "damn beardling foolishness," even after a year to berate all of you for hours on end.

    Otrek begins walking out of the temple, surrounded by his ever more protective Huskarls, both you and Yorri following behind him.

    Your time inside wasn't all monotonous wall staring however, you managed to wrangle a few concessions from Master Yorri in exchange for things you'd learned since leaving his care. Mostly in terms of aid with your own research but you distinctly remember one particular topic of conversation during those long hours with little to do but gather wool.

    …​

    "We're going on a trip Snorri!" Yorri whispers to you none too quietly in the middle of the night.

    "Alright where exactly will that be Master?" You ask, blinking yourself to wakefulness and glancing to make sure Yorri hadn't woken King Otrek.

    "When we get out of here, I'm taking you to a place that'll be useful with all this business being stuck in bed all injured and whatnot," Yorri explains.

    "Alright," you agree, "but I want something in exchange."

    Yorri gives you an unimpressed look, you simply stare back undaunted.

    "I'm showing you marvels of nature and you want me to give you things in return? That's not how a transaction works, former-apprentice," he chides.

    "Research opportunities Master," you reply evenly, not entirely sure if you had him, but given how much you knew…

    "Bah! Fine! I will take you on marvellous adventure and in exchange, I suppose I'd be open to seeing if there's anything in that noggin' of yours worth any of the sagely wisdom in mine. Now, I hope you haven't forgotten the rite of agreement I had you learn to seal this pact of ours," Yorri grunts, staring at you expectantly.

    "I don't have the mulberry on me Master, nor do I have the blood of a goat," you reply back calmly.

    Yorri shakes his head in disbelief, "And here I thought you were a sensible dwarf… No student of mine would be caught dead without a bundle of Mulberry and at least a litre of goat blood. Maybe two decades was too short," he mutters.

    "By all metrics it was!" you whisper back heatedly.

    "Bah!"

    "Bah!"

    "If neither of you go to sleep right now I swear you won't like how I'll make sure you do," Moira's voice echoes out of the now open door, the light of the lamp casting a terrifying shadow on her ominously blank face.

    You both fall asleep.


    …​

    Letting the memory fall back into the back of your mind, you glance at Master Yorri who glances back just as knowingly. He silently mouths the time and location to you while his eyes are on constant lookout for some non-existent spy or eavesdropper looking to get the scoop on the old dwarf's treasured secrets.

    You sigh in exasperation, if anyone wanted Yorri's secrets they clearly would be on high from the ceiling you reply through the seventh of the twelve secret hand sign languages he taught you.

    Your master takes a moment to consider before nodding in agreement, his eyes now taking this new avenue of attack into consideration.

    Did you believe that there was some spy? Not really. But then again you didn't think a Troll could give you much trouble or that there was anything beyond Pure Gromril, so what was some simple caution.

    It's good to have the old dwarf back in your life, at least for a little while before he went off wanderin-

    -you feel the slimy touch of troll tongue slap against your cheek.

    Damn it all, you've gone soft. You huff in anger and glare at Yorri, the old dwarf simply chortles through hand sign language nine.

    (Roll, Morgrim: 93, DC 80)

    You both note that Otrek and his Huskarls have stopped in their tracks and are bowing. Looking in the direction they were towards, both you and Yorri swiftly do the same.

    Morgrim.

    Behind him are several of Grimnir's companions, seemingly healed of their injuries, in their glimmering armour. Morgrim however is unphased by the respect he is receiving, and is instead staring intently at Otrek's neck where Grimnir's ring dangles in the light.

    Stopping some thirty centimetres from Otrek, Morgrim finally speaks, his calm voice paradoxically bringing vivid images of grinding gears and roaring flame to the forefront of your mind.

    "He gave you that ring I imagine," the Ancestor says.

    "Aye Lord," Otrek rumbles back, still bowing, "I will prove myself worthy of it or die trying,"

    "If Grimnir the Valiant gave you that ring beardling you've already proven yourself. Save your death Adamant Wyrm," he replies, glancing at you for a moment before returning to stare at Otrek and continuing, "save it for something better."

    "As you say lord," Otrek replies, voice carefully still.

    Morgrim grunts, nodding at Otrek before walking off, His father's companions in toe.

    You can't imagine it frankly. The kind of elation that your Ancestor found you worthy. Just the thought of Thungni doing the same was… was unthinkable.

    …​

    (Roll, Odd Places #5: 25 +15[Yorri] +10[Seclusion] =50)

    "Hurry it up Snorri!" Yorri calls from ahead of you, somehow staying ahead of you despite the heavier load on his back.

    This took you back.

    Simpler, if arguably more tedious, days of simply absorbing the amount of information being thrown your way. The shortest apprenticeship you've heard of, even when discussing with your contemporaries, two decades was…

    ... mad.

    You remember well the struggle, spending so much time building up your meagre repertoire of Runes over the sixty or so years of your Journeyman's trial on a foundation that compared to other Runesmiths was downright anemic. Travelling the land, desperate for work and inspiration.

    It was the first time you met her.

    You'd found yourself a part of a travelling merchant's caravan, hoping to find some work in minor holds as well as hunt around for clues about Master Yorri's whereabouts. Because the old krut couldn't be simple about his Journeyman's trial either.

    Bah.

    You trudge harder, acknowledging him verbally, but otherwise silent in the face of your master's well intentioned jabs.

    It takes you thirty seconds to reach master Yorri, the older dwarf having stopped at the crest of the hill where he grumbles down at whatever it is that has irked him so.

    As you draw closer you begin to make out what he's saying.

    "Damn daemons and their damn destruction. There was a perfectly good hill here and now look at it! Rubble! Rubble and mud Snorri!" Yorri finishes with a bellow, kicking a stray rock at his feet off the hill and towards the massive pile of earth that was, at one point, a hill.

    You sniff.

    "Come along then Snorri! We're heading over there, see if there's anything worth saving," Yorri says glumly, marching down the hill.

    You nod.

    ...​

    "BAH!" Yorri yells, lifting some unidentifiable mass out of the rock before tossing it aside.

    You pay little attention, digging through your own pile of muck for anything of value. Your gloves touch a stone, and with a sigh you pull out the pick on your back. Getting off your knees you take the proper stance and bring the pick down onto the rock.

    Only for a burst of hot, and rather pleasant, water to spray you in the face. You spend a second or two to luxuriate in the wonderful feeling before moving off to the side, letting the water spray into the air before weakening to a small bubbling trickle.

    You are nearly pushed into the mud by Yorri's enthusiastic slap on the back, only saved by a hasty movement of the hands.

    "HA HA! THERE SHE IS! Behold my once apprentice, a boon to your home's ills! Valaya's Curative Vents!"

    You stare at Yorri.

    "I'll not fight you on the land claim if you use that name." he replies, staring back.

    You turn your head and nod, staring at the spurting fountain of hot water that fizzles down to trickles in the mud.

    "Course we have to bring in a crew to clear all this land," Yorri mutters.

    "Aye,"

    "Just means we can make proper places for this stuff I suppose. Come now lad, let's bottle some samples and do some preliminary research!" Yorri finishes with a yell, running off back to the wagon.

    …​

    The two of you return to the hold covered head to toe, save your beards of course, in mud and muck. As the sight of Kraka Drakk comes into view both you and Yorri note how reconstruction has already begun, as work crews composed of Dwarfs and Griffons have begun clearing away rubble and disposing of bodies into the lava moats.

    What catches most of your attention however is the sight of Lord Morgrim, surrounded by a gaggle of attentive Longbeard engineers, overlooking the whole process. You're too far out to hear what exactly is said, but Morgrim is seemingly grumbling wisdom to the dwarfs around him before handing off a stack of papers to the eldest among them. The Dwarf takes them reverently and bows, Morgrim nods back before marching off back into the hold, His Father's companions trailing behind Him.

    "Wonder what that's all about," Yorri mutters, readjusting the jug of supposed healing water on his back.

    "Don't rightly know, Master. Again, the cart is open for you to put that down on," you reply, staring at the massive Runic keg on his back.

    "Nai! Good to keep yourself fit at my age Snorri, not the spryest spring anymore. If me younger self could see me now he'd shave his beard!" Yorri explains.

    You nod, carefully stepping around the fact that you saw Master Yorri do things you can't ever fathom your body managing throughout your apprenticeship let alone the past few weeks of travel.

    The two of you catch sight of a beardling, only three hundred years old by the look of things, bearing a bundle of letters jogging towards you. You glance at Yorri who only shrugs back in return, must have had this bumbling lad waiting for you the entire time who knows where.

    "Lords! Letters for you Lord Snorri, from the Brotherhood of Dron and a missive from Alric Thungnisson himself for the both of you!" The beardling announces officially, stopping just forty five centimetres from the both of you as tradition dictates, letters in hand waiting to be taken.

    You share another look with your Master, who only raises his brow at you. Deciding to not keep the poor fellow waiting you both take your letters and send him off on his way.

    You open your letter from the Brotherhood first. The page is dominated by a giant image of Thungni's face, below it a long laborious letter congratulating you on your discovery and a desire to continue working with them should you wish. Your eyes however ignore all of that, honing in on the faint runic script marked on Thungni's face, cleverly disguised as simple decoration or stylized stone. It takes you a second, but it reveals a hidden cypher, that when applied to the letter, reads out a message.

    The Conclave. ???XAdsa//?

    You stare confused for a second before realizing that yes, there was another cypher in the letter. As you read through, you find that the letter actually contains a total of seven different cyphers, that when applied to the message in sequence of discovery reveal the whole message.

    The Conclave shall be where we gather.

    You have stumbled upon a discovery of majesty.

    If you wish to discuss more, and perhaps facilitate an exchange, meet us there.

    Thungni safeguard you,

    The Brotherhood of Karag Dron.

    Well if isn't that cryptic as all hell. Rolling the scroll back up you look back at your master and see him scowling down at the letter from Alric Thungnisson.

    (Roll, Perception: 65 +2[Sniffer] +30[Runelord] +20[Student of the Odd] -50[Eldest Writings] -22[Supreme Sniffer] =45) DC ????

    Alric Thungnisson. Eldest living son of Thungni, the unofficial head of the Burudin, the third most knowledgeable Dwarf in terms of Runecraft. Alric Thungnisson knew more of the Runes than you think you'll ever know in your entire lifetime. A living legend amongst your people.

    You unseal the scroll and find what exactly Master Yorri was scowling about.

    To Snorri Son of Klaus, Ordained Runelord of the Karaz Ankor,

    I write to you a summons to Rhunkalbrogg as to replace the fallen Runelords, so tallied diligently and with honest and fair eyes by my fellows, lost in the defense of kin and hold the Karaz Ankor over.

    The rest of the letter is a long, long list of Runelords. All legends in their own right, masters of the art who, while not as storied as Alric Thungnisson, were famed across the realms.

    And they are all dead.

    Kremma Fieryheart, slain in the defence of her hold, the two greater daemons responsible killed and Grudge avenged
    Yorag Stonecutter, buried under the bodies of four cygors, bled out even as his Gromril armour withstood the weight above him.
    Grimmi Coalhand, last stand at the Undergates of Karak Gorrakul, dying to buy the survivors of his hold time.
    Yargrim Yorreksson, died defending his son, Yorrek Yargrimson from a Daemon Prince, who slew his killer in turn.
    Galrim Goldeneye, flooded a section of the Underway with a torrent of Molten gold, holding the horde in place as he was consumed by the metal….

    Names upon names, stories upon stories. Each condensing heroic deeds down to but simple sentences. But what grows the awful pit in your stomach is the awful realization, that of the Runelords who came north with you-

    -Only one dwarf remains alive.

    Gimlet Stareyes, slain in the defence of Kraka Kodragun
    Yarra Beetlebrow, died throwing herself and two Greater daemons into a magma pit.
    Garagrim Axebite, dead in the reclamation of the Foundling Ward of Kraka Ravnsvake

    On and on… faces to names, stories and memories. Of all the wise and noble dawi you were blessed to journey north alongside those centuries ago...

    only you, alone, remain.

    Your numb mind calculates that one in ten of every Runelords within the realms was now dead.

    It fills you with dread to think about the regular Runesmiths who died defending their homes, of the journeymen that were perhaps out there in the wilderness when it all came crashing down.

    Gazul safeguard them.

    …​

    "You swear it beardling?" Moira says, eyeing the bubbling liquid in Yorri's keg, preserved and heated with well-made Runes of Preservation and Heating.

    "Swear it on me beard," Yorri rumbles, staring Elder Moira in the eye.

    You glance between the two of them. The other clergy of Valaya also taking quick peaks at the two staring elders as they go about their work.

    "We'll have to test it, you have any records and evidence to support it?" Moira asks.

    "Course I do," Yorri replies, opening the flap on his bag and pulling out a neat stack of papers, bound with twine.

    Moira huffs, swiping the stack of papers from his hand then marching off.

    "I'll get back to ya whenever," she turns back to say to you both before disappearing around a corner.

    You can't help but feel like she's getting back at you somehow.

    …​

    The rest of the decade is spent in your workshop for periods of intensive study followed by mandatory breaks Master Yorri chose to impose seemingly at random. Forcing you out of your workshop and into the greater populace every few months.

    On one hand it keeps you out and about, in tune with the comings and going of the Hold and news from the south.

    On the other, you're quietly screaming to keep learning.

    At least it's a good excuse for good stonebread you think as you chew into your loaf. Glaring at Yorri as he stares at random dwarfs inconspicuously.

    "Look there Snorri, whaddaya see?" Yorri says, jutting his chin out at the sight of dwarfs going about their day, hauling goods and walking about the hold.

    "Dwarfs going about their business. An occasional Griffon as well," you reply, gaze flat.

    "Bah, too much of a busy body you are lad. Always going about making this thing and that, never taking the time to really look at the foundations of it all. Movement, Snorri, it's their movements I'm pointing out. The tensing of muscle, the fall of boots. Knowing how everything falls together into one synchronous whole of what looks to be so many individual chaotic parts. That's the key lad," Yorri says, chewing his stonebread.

    You aren't getting it, and from the looks of things Master Yorri realizes it as well.

    "Bah! Boy has a brain for engineering Runes but he doesn't see the mechanics of everything around him," your master grumbles before inconspicuously pointing out a dwarf longbeard walking about without an arm. The dwarfs around him nod with respect, honouring the Veteran's sacrifice.

    You frown internally as you glance at the dwarf before looking at Yorri.

    "Solved that," he whispers.

    Your eyes widen.

    .5 Years.​

    Your eyes never leave the Rune that Master Yorri is striking into existence, his hammer blows quick and precise. The curmudgeonly old master finally deigning to actually show you his Runes as opposed to simply filling your head with, admittedly riveting, theory.

    Who knew the locomotion of the common goat was so multifaceted? Admittedly he did also provide a few pointers in how to carve the regular and Master Rune of Waking, alterations that, in his opinion, provided smoother and more fluid movement.

    He sniffs down at the Silver Wutroth appendage, made in a facsimile of good Dwarfen biology, and sets it down before you. His eyes twinkle and his hands are on his hips as he watches you pick up the arm and examine it for yourself.

    "Now Snorri," your master says, clearly too happy for his own good, "let's see what you've learned eh? Standard environment procedures, level ten difficulty let's say because it's clear you've gotten rusty. Now, make that Rune in three...two...one!"

    You barely dodge out of the way of the Troll tongue aimed at your face, only to be smacked by a second tongue coming from the other direction.

    "TOO SLOW!" Yorri cackles.

    Close your eyes Snorri, close your eyes and think of the Runes.

    .6 Years.​

    You take a good long gulp of ale. Practically inhaling the mug in your hand while Yorri takes his time to observe the occupants of the bar.

    "That your apprentice there?" Yorri whispers, eyes directed at Snerra quietly, but happily, drinking a keg amid a crowd of rowdy brewers from Clan Bryggeroot.

    You don't stop chugging as you nod once, trying very hard to hide your apprehension as your Master appraises your young niece.

    "Hmmph, seems like you got something from my teaching then. Me sniffer's got a good feeling about that one."

    You put down the mug, hiding your sigh of relief with a massive burp.

    Yorri cackles, "a solid five at best lad, come now I'll show you a real chug! Barkeep, the biggest damn keg you got!" he shouts politely.

    The old bartender, a dwarf over a thousand years, grunts once and a massive frothing mug comes sliding over.

    Yorri has a twinkle in his eye when he points at the mug.

    "This thing is as big as the one you used trying to impress your wife all those centuries ago! HA!"

    "I was halfway through my mug when you came out of nowhere with a troll tongue," you grouse back goodnaturedly, memory rising to the forefront of your mind.

    Master Yorri cackling his lungs out. Her eyes dance in good humour even as she pulls out a napkin to dab away the foam on your eyebrows.

    "Better days those were," you mutter.

    "Aye, suppose they were in some ways," Yorri agrees, smile sombre, "but we both know she'd not be too pleased with us brooding over such things now would she?"

    You take a long time to reply.

    "I suppose not," you say eventually.

    Your master pats you on the back.

    ...
    ​
    Both you and Yorri stare at the almost complete walls. The sixth layer of the newly remade defensive perimeter was set to be done by the day's end. You've heard talk across the hold that another round of celebrations was in order for the occasion, the greatest, of course, being saved for the full completion of the walls themselves. You spy young Griffons lifting massive stone blocks to the top of the wall using masterfully designed harnesses while Dwarf crews holler and direct them from the ground. Repayment for the work your people were having done for their new home, the structure personally designed by Morgrim Himself alongside rejigging parts of the holds defensive network to be even more devious.

    You had little to do with that business, but you are told the Guildmaster nearly wept at the blueprints and notes Morgrim handed him.

    "Morgrim did a doozy on your work," Yorri says, sipping on his ale.

    "Aye," you say, leaning back into the stone you've made your makeshift chair.

    "Made a book too," Yorri continues conversationally.

    You nod.

    And what a book it was. The Ancestor simply called it the Defensive Almanac, but already some are calling it the Khazadak Kron. The Book of Defence.

    While Morgrim himself wasn't in the Karak, having been moving across the breadth of the north to oversee the defences and reclamation of several minor holds, He did not leave your hold empty-handed. Knowing that He, despite all His prowess, could not be everywhere at once, the Ancestor instead chose this time to publish a work He'd seemingly been working on for who knew how long. A great book of philosophy, axioms, lectures and critical thought exercises meant to help Dwarfs, engineers especially, consider the art of defending themselves, a position or even a Hold. Broken up into several sections, Morgrim, in His great wisdom, did not give exact examples of what defences were best for every occasion. Such an undertaking considered foolhardy by the Ancestor Himself, but rather to aid a Dwarf in understanding and considering their environment and circumstances when concocting a way of making the enemy bleed a gallon for every centimetre they crossed to get to said dwarf. That isn't to say He offered no tips or nuggets of wisdom because there are sections on trap layout that leave you awed in their sheer cleverness and potential for devastation, but He leaves the minutiae to the common dwarf to decide or at the very least consult their closest available engineer. You have no concrete proof, but with a bit of ear straining and a few well-placed looks, you've caught wind that the Ancestor made a tome specifically for the Engineers Guild, a copy of which He has been disseminating to every Master Engineer He can find. You believe the original first copy is destined for the halls of Zhufbar, His favourite haunt, and the great Guildhall there.

    You aren't too sure what Morgrim put in there, but you note that the Engineers have begun to alter the classic Bolt Thrower, and have taken to calling this new variant the Bolt Hurler. There may be more, but you aren't privy to that sort of information.

    Ah, Guild secrets.

    .7 Years.​

    "Translation? What in Thungni's name are you talking about lad?" Yorri asks, staring at you quizzically.

    "That one Rune you used to speak to those goats with," you reply, waving an example in his face.

    "Ah, the one I used to speak to that eagle, Gwanhir If I recall correctly," he mutters, grabbing the torque out of your hand and scratching his beard.

    "Aye that one," you confirm walking over to your desk where your, heavily cyphered, notes lie.

    "AH! For those Griffon folk your King made cause with. I see, I see…hmmm" Yorri mumbles, rattling his head for information.

    You watch patiently as he ponders before the old dwarf finally smacks a fist against his open palm, seemingly having found his answer.

    "Aye, I did do a bit more work on that Rune. Mayhaps not as much you'd like though," he says.

    "I managed to see a Rune related to it on the torque for the King of the Skies, seemed powerful, more complete than what I had at least. Inspired me a good deal. As for the maker, can't rightly discern if it was either Thungni or Grungni, but my bets on the former," you reply.

    "HA! Glimpsing at the work of the Ancestors is always a trip isn't it?" Yorri chortles, walking over to the desk where you are currently hunched over.

    "Humbling too," you mutter back, eyes looking over your notes.

    "Aye, that too," Yorri mutters quietly, shoving you over and looking at what you have so far.

    You grunt.

    "Hmmph, you don't get a mine if you don't dig I suppose. Let's see if we can rustle up something eh?"

    .9 Years.​

    Ebonbeak stares down at the new torque you and Yorri have made, the Pure Gromril accentuated by dark stained iron and the glow of the new Rune of Speech as Yorri has dubbed it. Bouncing from your idea of translation and running with it.

    There's more to speech than just translation after all Snorri!

    "This will facilitate better communication between our peoples?" she asks.

    "Aye it shall, I swear it true," Yorri replies.

    The griffon tilts her head then acquiesces to having her torque replaced with your new creation. You swiftly and gently switch the torques and watch as the Runes flare when the new torque is firmly put into position.

    "How does it sound ?" Ebonbeak replies, now in perfectly understandable and fluent Khazalid.

    "HA! Perfect!" Yorri shouts, clapping once in satisfaction.

    It is at that moment that Ebonbeak looks to the mountain's peak and the slowly rising structure that was the Griffon's new home, the Aerie of Kraka Drakk as it was being called right now.

    Shortly after, the mountain rumbles and the air grows electric. What follows is a massive wave of force that pushes back the encroaching clouds for a few kilometres all around. The clear skies do not last long however, the wave is soon followed by the creation of a swirling nimbus of thick, dark storm clouds overhead. Followed by a massive number of titanic lightning bolts that rise from the mountain's peak, illuminating the swirling darkness in a great display of light.

    "Ah, The King has finished his work," she says nonchalantly, not noticing or perhaps not caring that small arcs of electricity begin appearing all over her body unprompted, that the skin of her front claws grows thick and stone-like, nor the lengthening of the fur of her rear half.

    Bah.

    You still think you could've done something better if ya had the inkling to do it!

    ...​

    Gain:
    - Valaya's Mystical Vents! These healing springs are reputed by Master Yorri to have doubled the speed of his recuperation. Something he swore on his beard in front of both you and the assembled priesthood of Valaya and was proven correct. Right now the springs are buried under earth and rubble but that's fixable. Actions Unlocked
    - The Grand Conclave and more importantly to you, The Runelord Moot or Rhunkalbrogg, begin next year to replace the fallen Runelords in the aftermath of the Great Incursion of Chaos. Action Locked next turn.
    - The Movement of Things Pt. 1 complete! Pt. 2 unlocked! Variant Research unlocked: The Mind of Things
    -- New Rune Unlocked! Rune of Prosthesis: Items inscribed with this rune can act as simple prosthetics. It cannot match natural Dwarf strength, offers no tactile feedback but can be mentally controlled. Better a nugget of gold than no gold at all.
    -- Improved Master Rune and Rune of Waking! More fluid movement and improved strength.
    - Diction Direction Pt. 1 complete! Pt. 2 unlocked!
    -- New Rune Unlocked! Rune of Speech: Bearers of this Rune have their speech converted into fluid Khazalid, though it does not aid them in translating Khazalid back into their language.
    -- Rune of Translation rendered redundant.
    - +3 The Movement of Things Pt. 2, New Totals: [Cost 8 -3 =5 actions]
    - +3 Progress to The Secrets of Light? [Cost: 6 -3 =3 actions]
    - +2 Standing with The King of the Skies, New Totals: 3 Standing, 0 favours
    - +1 Standing with all Griffons

    AN: Morgrim will take up His Father's meme mantle. This one got away from me. I vastly overestimated my energy and time after work, apologies for that. As always thanks for reading and don't forget to C&C. :^)
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • I really do enjoy the little bits of backstory you're sticking in. So Snorri was smitten with his future wife while he was still a journeyman? He really was the Dolgi of his generation wasn't he?
     
    Oh a wonderful update! I really love the relationship Yorri and Snorri have between each other. It's clear to see that they both care for the other!
     
    soulcake said:
    "I don't have the mulberry on me Master, nor do I have the blood of a goat," you reply back calmly.

    Yorri shakes his head in disbelief, "And here I thought you were a sensible dwarf… No student of mine would be caught dead without a bundle of Mulberry and at least a litre of goat blood. Maybe two decades was too short," he mutters.

    "By all metrics it was!" you whisper back heatedly.

    "Bah!"

    "Bah!"

    "If neither of you go to sleep right now I swear you won't like how I'll make sure you do," Moira's voice echoes out of the now open door, the light of the lamp casting a terrifying shadow on her ominously blank face.

    You both fall asleep.
    Click to expand...
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    O.O

    Moira is completely horror movie worthy aaaaaaaah. Nope.

    NOOOOPE!

    soulcake said:
    It's good to have the old dwarf back in your life, at least for a little while before he went off wanderin-

    -you feel the slimy touch of troll tongue slap against your cheek.

    Damn it all, you've gone soft. You huff in anger and glare at Yorri, the old dwarf simply chortles through hand sign language nine.
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    Too caught in your own head Snorri :V

    Also I'm assuming sign language nine is all beard caresses.
    soulcake said:
    "If Grimnir the Valiant gave you that ring beardling you've already proven yourself. Save your death Adamant Wyrm," he replies, glancing at you for a moment before returning to stare at Otrek and continuing, "save it for something better."

    "As you say lord," Otrek replies, voice carefully still.

    Morgrim grunts, nodding at Otrek before walking off, His father's companions in toe.

    You can't imagine it frankly. The kind of elation that your Ancestor found you worthy. Just the thought of Thungni doing the same was… was unthinkable.
    Click to expand...
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    Quite literally considering what happened with Grimnir.

    soulcake said:
    You are nearly pushed into the mud by Yorri's enthusiastic slap on the back, only saved by a hasty movement of the hands.

    "HA HA! THERE SHE IS! Behold my once apprentice, a boon to your home's ills! Valaya's Curative Vents!"

    You stare at Yorri.

    "I'll not fight you on the land claim if you use that name." he replies, staring back.
    Click to expand...
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    Pfffffft.

    I like Yorri's naming sense.

    soulcake said:
    The two of you return to the hold covered head to toe, save your beards of course, in mud and muck. As the sight of Kraka Drakk comes into view both you and Yorri note how reconstruction has already begun, as work crews composed of Dwarfs and Griffons have begun clearing away rubble and disposing of bodies into the lava moats.
    Click to expand...
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    Oh eyy that's awesome!

    That's somebody important's doing for sure.

    soulcake said:
    On and on… faces to names, stories and memories. All that remains of these proud and noble dawi who you journeyed up here all those centuries ago..

    You alone, remain.

    Your numb mind calculates that one in ten of every Runelord within the realms was now dead.
    Click to expand...
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    Hells bells.

    This section hit the hardest of the entire update I think.

    soulcake said:
    You barely dodge out of the way of the Troll tongue aimed at your face, only to be smacked by a second tongue coming from the other direction.

    "TOO SLOW!" Yorri cackles.

    Close your eyes Snorri, close your eyes and think of the Runes.
    Click to expand...
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    Muahahahaahah


    Also glad to see the KoTS getting his magical groove on. That was a pretty swanky lightshow.
     
    So I'm already going to guess that *ahem* 're-arming' Dwarf veterans is going to be a new simple order starting next turn.
     
    Pretty awesome update, I'm pretty excited to see this grand conclave of runelords. I wonder how high up on the hierarchy Yorri is, he must be pretty well respected considering how old he is.
     
    Remind me again, what does the ring being granted to Otrek by Grimnir suppose to represent or symbolize? He certainly sounds significant and means that he is worthy of something sure, but worthy of what exactly?
     
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