AHHHHHH ITS HUGE!
Lorna is drinking with friends in one of the quiet bars of Karaz a Karak when the messenger finds her. A dwarf in deep grey robes, the Rune of Thungni over his breast.
He walks up to her, much to the awe of the Runesmiths present in the bar and Lorna's own growing disbelief.
Eventually, she closes her mouth, takes a deep breath, then hollers loud enough for every patron to hear.
"BARKEEP! THE NEXT FIVE ROUNDS FOR EVERY DWARF IN HERE ARE ON ME!" she shouts, immense joy on her usually shy features.
The bar erupts in a cacophony of joyous celebration.
YAY!
I really love this reaction. I hope we get to see her some next update.
It does good to your soul, you must admit within the privacy of your own thoughts, to be reminded that for all the loss that has occurred there are just as many new beginnings.
A beaming grin blooms into the forefront of your mind. Pearly white teeth and eyes crinkled in mirth and pride. The face you like to remember compared to the quiet peacefulness on the deathbed. Klaus Drausson wasn't a dwarf of idleness, and the look of stillness did not suit him.
You were happy he got to see you fulfill your dream, that you proved him right.
"Aye," you say, taking a long swig.
"I've got something. Just today actually, s'about Korri," Jorri continues.
"Snorri," Jorri says casually.
"Aye?"
"I want that prosthetic arm yer' making me able to transform into a weapon," Jorri says.
"...I can do an axe, more a hatchet really, a hammer would have space issues," you reply, taking a sip.
"Jorri Axe-hand. Has a nice ring to it don't you think? Or should I say, has a nice swi-"
"-Finish that pun and I'm making the arm out of copper," you warn, cutting him off without looking away from your drink.
Jorri wisely doesn't finish, and the two of you drink in companionable silence the rest of the night.
Honestly. Snorri's lost a lot. Kind of morose sometimes.
(Roll, Presence: 89 + 20[???] =109, DC 80)
(Crit Roll, Presence 2: 93 +20[???] =113, DC 80)
5/7
"You here for the Throne Rhunrikki?" a dwarf behind you asks.
You turn to see a pair of dwarfs, one man and one woman. Both are elders, that despite their looks, are certainly far older than they appear. The first thing you notice is the husband's glorious white beard, ending in a four-pronged fork so immaculate and symmetrical that it doubtlessly brings envy to the eye of many a dwarf. As you shake his hand, you notice the light, almost invisible, specks of dust underneath his fingers, the calluses on his hands from years of work.
Eyyy I'm pretty sure that's tracking how many Ancestors we've met! Cool stuff!
When they stop and turn back to look upon their work, their eyes see beyond what lays immediately before them, all the way to the beginning of their journey so long ago. From the rocky peaks that soared over the untamed jungle to the frozen poles of the farthest northern reaches, they have come to claim as their own. In the face of tragedy and loss, victory and hardship, they stare at what they, and those who followed them, have all helped build
An enduring people, born from stone.
A great many kingdoms, families and clans.
All united in a realm everlasting
God wow. That's a powerful image.
Definitely
definitely worth it and worth listening to a good song while reading.
You are a Runelord, but by Grungni that look is enough to make you feel like you're barely past your second decade.
"Hmmm, well I suppose I'll offer you this bit of wisdom then youngster. No peak is unclimbable, after all, we've gone from Zorn all the way up to that young place up north, whatsit called?"
Goddammit Grungni, quit being a troll!
"Kraka Drakk dear, the hold with those wonderful stones, and where this young lad is from. If you bothered to use those keen eyes on something other than your creations."
Oooooh she likes them!
YAY!
*Claps like a little kid*
I really liked that entire interaction.
"Is that all you have to say? It's a literal Gift from the Ancestors! The implications, the presti-"
"Snorri," Jorri cuts in, head popping out of the wagon "to me, the fact that our clan, you, our grandniece, and my daughter survived that mess is a Gift from the Ancestors. One I'm thankful for, and will always continue to be. That's a fine Basket and wonderful necklace, ones worthy of Winterhearth's most secure vaults aye, but as far as I'm concerned these two things are just the jam on my stonebread. Can't properly respect those gifts if there was no Clan Winterhearth now could we?"
"That's surprisingly insightful of you."
"Oh it is, but it's also the only thing keeping me from throttling you over all your damn luck then storing those two artifacts in the most hidden and well-secured vault I can get my mitts on. Now, pick up the damn luggage and help me oh Brother of mine!" Jorri hollers from within the carriage.
"Alright, alright keep your pants on I'm coming!"
And this is getting into what I mean a bit, along with what Snorri said after viewing Azamar.
He's like. Snorri's humble. But he's also sad and Jorri is a bright light in his life. As are all of his apprentices. Also hey! We got news of Korri Redmane again! Old friends are still alive. I guess the four to go are apprentices, I think soul's said he's had four before.
You recall telling Jorri that this sounded like something that required a new guild altogether, but the withering glare he sent your way was enough to shut down that avenue of discussion.
The current legal troubles were stonefruit seeds compared to the legal hellscape that came with the founding of a new guild.
And yet, the crazy bearded bastards still go through with it even so.
You are drawn out of your idle musing by a quiet knock on the table's surface. You look up expecting to see Jorri only to be thoroughly surprised by the respectfully bowed form of Brynna Gildedeyes. For a moment you simply boggle at the sight of the southern Runelord somehow being here before collecting yourself.
"Honoured Elder," she says, noticing that she has your attention, golden orbs looking up from the floor to stare at you.
"Brynna, this is surprising. Why are you here this far north?" You ask, already having a good idea why, but wanting to confirm regardless.
"When news reached Zorn about the call for Runesmiths in the north I jumped at the opportunity after certain circumstances changed in my home. I came to pay the proper respects before the others doubtlessly follow suit. To be frank, I did not expect the House to allow for so many of your candidates to be accepted and had I not already confirmed my situation through correspondence with His Highness, King Otrek of the Royal Clan Ironarm, I would have changed my choice in longterm lodgings," she explains.
"Sensible, though you couldn't have foreseen it happening," you agree, privately connecting a few dots and gaining a better understanding of her question from your first meeting.
Brynna! Hey!
Wonder what the fuck happened in Zorn that she felt compelled to go all the way to the end of the known world. From what she's said she seems very duty centric, and tbh I think it wasn't anything shameful but instead she took it Really Seriously. That sort of seems to be her default mode of thought.
You are elbow-deep in the guts of a dragon ogre when the slimy touch of a troll tongue smacks itself against your cheek. Nearly making you drop the shaggoth heart you were trying to pry out.
You glare at Yorri.
"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he chortles, "now that I have your attention. Mayhaps you'd like to do a bit of eating, hmm? You've been in here a while now."
Lol. Still getting surprised even in his old age.
"It's only been," you look at the newly installed time teller, recently approved by the Engineers Guild after an enterprising youth attempted to recreate Morgrim's own invention. Took him about four centuries if you remember rightly, "seven months!"
Honestly, this was embarrassing forthe both of you. What was your Master, some beardling who couldn't handle a year of unimpeded research?
"I know, I know it's rather short, but unlike you, I need something more than stonebread to go with my ale you know! Roughing it is all well and good and every dwarf should be able to do it, but I'm in the mood for some fine Troll and gravel stew."
You sigh, "let me put this heart in its container and then we can go," knowing full well how annoying Yorri can get should he put his mind to it.
HEY WE GOT A CLOCK!
COOLIO.
"Suneater's hide is constantly emitting static," you hiss to receive a grimace of understanding in return.
The bane of fine beard maintenance, damn that scaly centaur. Even from beyond the grave, he proves irksome to your people.
*Flips a finger at Kholek's ghost*
Fuck you too you giant lizard centaur.
"Brain though," you continue, piquing Yorri's interest, "got a feeling in the roots of my beard its something special."
He snorts.
"You gonna hem and haw like you've been doing with that heart lad?" he says with a chuckle.
You don't have much to say about that.
"We in Izril have long studied crystals, gems and their formation, " Magda says as she eats the stew you'd made for lunch.
"In a similar vein we have some experience in the use and manipulation of light. A good way to test a gem's purity as any dwarf knows," Modi continues when Magda pauses to take a bite out of a soft yet chewy piece of marinated troll she's pulled out of her soup then stuffed inside a slice of stonebread.
You nod.
"With that in mind, many a beardling of Izril has always spent at least a decade or two tinkering with the use of light. My brother and I are no exception. You should start a pub and sell this by the by," Magda says.
"Magda's right on both accounts. We spent a good three-"
"-four-" Magda corrects in between bites.
"-four decades tinkering with a Rune we could use to manipulate light. Didn't lead anywhere really, too many issues with the interface," Modi finishes.
[Student of the Odd]
You rub your beard.
"I think I may have something for that," you say.
"Hmm, well let's sort out this Voidstone business first and then we'll see what we can do with the Lights eh?"
You lift the goggles off your face, and blink out the stars in your vision. Peeling off the beard protector you are especially thankful when you see the black residue that would have ruined your beard is instead covering everywhere but.
Right, the others. Beardcare later in this rare instance...
"Ho-hows the shard?" you manage to slur out.
"S'alright! Structural integrity is untouched. Modi you Wazzock, get up and write this down!" Magda shouts.
She's met only by a groan.
Scoffing she hobbles over to a stray piece of stone and starts chiseling.
"Test 532, all signs corroborate S.K. theory of 'Higher Daemonic Post Mortem Terminal Structural Collapse Encapsulation Phenomena,' otherwise known as the energy of the True Death of Greater Daemonic entities being captured in the resulting formation of Obsidian from the accompanying exothermic explosion."
"I told you! My beard's never led me astray before!" you shout from your position, pinned under a table, "Now help me up Magda!"
Silence from both twins.
"…Magda?"
You are finally met by the sound of very light snoring.
"Grungni damnit, Moira's gonna tan my hide for this..." you mutter before falling unconscious.
God I love these two. But also oh god these three are absolutely
terrible for each other's health.
Just. So Bad.
Look at this! They created a rampant explosion just trying to figure out a new ingredient. Crazy, the lot of them!
The Rune of Refraction as you've come to call it, allowed for far greater manipulation of incoming light. Combining or separating beams with a simple command, even the ability to alter the color of the light itself. Of course it was limited in other ways, the light emitted was not stronger than the light received, and trying to emit too much light in a concentrated beam did start compromising the Rune's ability.
As is, it's a neat way to make rather clever lighting setups and for making glowing toys and not much else. A solid proof of concept, and it does make you wonder just how much you could do with such a simple concept as light.
Hmmph. Thoughts better left for another time.
You have commissions and meetings to get through after all!
Ooo! A thing for toys! Kids gets Shiny Baubles and Night Lights!
NEAT!
You walk through the halls of Kraka Drakk, around the foundry, past the merchant's and temple district until you reach your destination deep in the heart of the residential district.
A large hollow pillar of Brick and metal that leads all the way up to the very peak of Kraka Drakk and the Underway Terminal below.
A lift, powered by sets of massive water wheels, windmills and old fashioned Dwarfen muscle, whose purpose was meant to ferry dwarfs and griffons through the hold's three most distinct layers. The Lift is large enough to fit a decently sized group of dwarfs, and split into four separate sections that could move independently of each other. Even as you approach, you see dwarfs and Griffons entering and leaving the ornate entrances.
OoooooooO!
We have an elevator! Neato!
From the hidden troll hunting to Brokk's long and dangerous investigation and clue hunting. Culminating in their first meeting, where a stylized depiction of you and Brokk stand facing a rather oversized rendition of Ebonbeak to be honest.
Hehehe, Brokk's famous!
Nice to hear about him again, even peripherally.
Perhaps It could be smoothed out into a single continuous journey, and you don't doubt it was well within the Ancestor's capability to do so...
But Morgrim saw it fitting that whoever rode this creation would have the time to behold this piece of art, to know and truly see the bonds made in that crucible. A monument, and reminder in equal measure.
Your eyes do not turn away from the image, even as the platform begins smoothly ascending once more.
Morgrim is a Bro confirmed.
Where below it spoke of the Ancestors and the journey from Zorn, culminating into the siege, the reverse is shown from that point forward. Carvings of Griffons being armed and interacting with dwarfs fade away into the symbolic, yet jagged art they are rather fond of. Compared to the exacting precision and persistence of Dwarf artisanry, the claw marks are bestial and passionate. Yet still, you can see commonalities more than you do differences, at least in their purpose.
The imagery, you are told, exalts the pinnacles of their race. They have no written word in a manner your folk understand, using strong lines and powerful strikes to convey meaning and movement as a way to tell their stories. Thankfully, literal and interpreted Khazalid translations are helpfully provided on a thin line below each distinct image.
Ooooo they basically have representative art. Oooo, that's really really cool.
I am super interested to see where they take that, though I expect their writings will always be meant for stone given their lack of thumbs and large claws. Clawing into a hard surface is the easiest way for them to write anything if they want to. Dwarves might have some fun discussions about carving stone.
"She who Rides on Blizzard Winds, storm rider, lightning bearer, sundered thrice her kin's number in foes on the Darkest Day."
"He who Flies with Iron Wing, render of foes, warden of the peaks, girder of clutch of and kin, who saved the life of He who Girds the Many for the fifteenth time."
You snort at the translation of the latter name, written in fine print on the bottom corner of the mural.
Figures Dolgi would find himself here somehow.
Hah
Dolgi is a stone meme now! Muahahahahahahah!
Pairs mate for life, and will not take another in the event of one's death. Sharing their treasures as a symbolic act of their union.
Awwwwwww. That's really sweet.
There were also traps of course.
Flame spewers, Quarreller positions, and hidden staircases that led to hidden bolt thrower emplacements all along the roof and upper half of the cavern. Made explicitly for drawfen allies to aid in the defence of this place.
The unspoken message is not hard to pick up on.
"We stand together" indeed.
Which in its own, minuscule way, says much about the sacrifice of the Branakroki* as it does the Runelord himself.
He would wake up to find four feathers on his bedside. Only having a moment to get a look before he is rightly smacked across the head by a pan and knocked back into unconsciousness by an irate High Priestess of Valaya whose younger colleagues watch in mute horror.
*clap clap*
Good work Snorri, now sleep before Moira literally chokes you into unconsciousness.
