Winning Vote:
[X] Plan Betting on Synergy
-[X] Expanding the Workshop, Protection: [Cost: (2-1) =1 actions, -1 vial of Dragon's Blood-]
—[X] 1 action
-[X] [Simple] Pure Gromril:[Cost: (6-3) =3 actions] Productivity Like No Other will proc.
--[X] 2 Actions
-[X] [Simple] Defence. In. Depth Pt1: [Cost: 2 actions] Productivity Like No Other Will proc.
--[X] 1 Apprentice Action
-[X] The Rune Metal Pt. 2: [Cost: (6-3) =3 Actions] Student of the Odd will proc.
--[X] 1 Action
-[X] Teach your apprentices. [Cost: 1 Action] Locked in for 8 turns.
-[X] Order: Magma Dragon's Blood
Jorri finally leaves the hold a month later, having traded his caravan's cargo of southern goods for gold, and comparatively less Gromril on account of the hold hoarding the stuff for the impending completion of the smelter. Thankfully for your brother, the gold and jewels that your hold was originally founded for had begun to be worked in exportable quantities, giving him an ample supply of the raw material and the finished goods the gold and jewel smiths had been making to bring south as consolation.
You meanwhile, while sad to see your brother go, are happy to finally have your
Dragon's Blood and get to using it right away
.
No need to rush if you were brutally honest with yourself, you could tell these Runes of Preservation were
potent, the stuff inside wouldn't suffer any degradation for a good few centuries at the least.
You could do better obviously, but that was neither here nor there.
But the sight of the unfinished work, in
your personal space? It rankled at you something fierce. A half-complete toy on the workbench in the corner got you itching to finish it when you got the chance, the struggle of being in the same space as that wonderful, but Rune Free, room almost made you scream.
Stages of work? Fine.
Adding onto or revising older projects that were designed to be built up over time? Acceptable, good even, it showed a level of long term thinking any dwarf could respect.
Getting something done in one go? You weren't a fan, but there were many dwarfs who thought that way and you can admit you could see the appeal.
But this? BAH! BAH, you say!
You release years worth of tension into the act of, properly, removing the keg's lid, ignoring the thump of reinforced steel crumpling against the Runed stone of your workspace.
Immediately you are hit with the pungent odour of
Drakk. A mix of flame, flesh, and wealth that assaulted your nostrils like an angry troll.
This was some
fresh blood. You remember Jorri saying they harvested it only minutes after the beast had died, but by Grungni's beard, this stuff was
strong.
Made you wonder if it'd work in a brew, but despite the curiosity you persevere and move on with the work you
planned on instead of jumping to some new side project.
After telling your apprentices to not bother you and get on with their assigned duties you walk back into your workshop and begin working.
…
It is the labour of months, you'd prepared adequately by storing enough food to last you as you worked from within the seclusion of your workshop, saving time by not having to leave the space.
Inscribing some Runes were simple, the work of hours mayhaps even minutes if the Smith were skilled enough and the Rune simple in its formation.
Then there were others.
Others that were the work of far longer timescales. Days, weeks, months, the latter especially once you got to work on Master Runes, which was in fact what you were doing. Hell, there was talk that some of the Burudin knew of Runes so powerful and intricate they took over a year to complete, things of such power and skill that they could make even an Elder shed a tear at the sight of them.
You shuddered.
But sadly you were not working on something so terrible and awe-inspiring, yet, your work was comparatively more simple. Well as simple as a Rune
can be.
It is a painstaking effort that forces even
you to speak this Rune's chant to aid you, only having ever done this twice before.
It was one of the earliest universal Runic combinations that every Runesmith who held the rank of Master or higher was taught, if only because it was needed to experiment on the Master Runes safely.
In function it was the basis for your talisman, turning magical energy into a shield that in this case defended the room it was inscribed on.
In reality these were the
originally discovered forms of the Rune of Spelleating, Spellbreaking and Warding found by Thungni. A work so potent that it put the portable array you were taught and inscribed on your amulet to shame. Within a space of a certain size, this Rune array would consume the energy of a Master Rune's magical feedback and turn it into a self-sustaining shield that was meant to contain the explosion itself by eating the magic and converting it.
It was said Thungni's work on these Runes eventually led him to discover the principles behind the Rune of Daemonslaying and make the portable versions you used on your amulet.
The catch for that potency?
It worked best in a stationary position, something about its construction demanding it not be moved much to many Runesmiths, Thungni included, dismay. It was considered a miracle that Thungni managed to remove that restriction, though at the cost of much of its prodigious potency.
You remember spending a good half a century giving a shot at it before admitting defeat.
It is a reminder of the awesome might of your work and sheer breadth of knowledge even you, a Runelord, simply do not possess.
It is humbling.
That feeling of quiet reverence permeates your mood as you spend the months diligently chanting and chiseling the final array into existence. The keg that held the dragon's blood is stored away, empty, for the Rune of Spelleating seemingly drank the whole of the barrel as you continued to pour and pour.
Finally, you finish after three months of intense labour. As you wipe your brow, the sight of the Rune's dull light, ever ready to save you from your own stupidity, leaves you feeling safer already.
…
Only days after, finally recuperated from your exhaustive ritual, you are informed that the smelter is finally ready to receive the necessary runes on a crisp new year's morning.
A good bit of fortune.
It takes you only a few short hours to have the reagents you'd ordered readied by your apprentices and loaded onto the cart prepared for the occasion.
The three of you set out immediately, you at the head while your apprentices led the six ornery goats that pulled the cart by their collars. Yet another training exercise you borrowed from Master Yorri.
As your cart moves along the paved path between your Workshop and the Hold you eventually see the heartening sight of one of the original curtain walls in the middle of being torn down, its materials destined for use in the newer, defensive array you played no small part in shaping. The sight of dwarf work crews carefully lifting the massive granite blocks and uprooting the incredibly thick oak timbers that made up this ultimately temporary piece of architecture doing your heart good.
Its replacement was honestly quite the piece of work as you were well aware, being one of the main minds behind it.
The first part consisted of seven layers of walls, guard towers and artillery placements. Each layer growing larger and more imposing as they came closer and closer to the gates of the hold itself.
While no stone was yet laid down, you saw other work crews cutting down the outlying forest on your way to the hold, stopping, for now, just half a kilometre from the farthest of the planned layers. This on account of the carpenters guild simply not having the capacity to process the wood gathered from clearing several square kilometres of dense woodland in front of the hold that the final plan called for.
A good pace had to be set you suppose.
An idea crosses your mind as you walk towards the Foundry District, apprentices in tow. You were already planning to have them try and likely fail to order the ingredients
they thought you'd use, but maybe you'd send them out on a little field trip to see
where they thought the best location for the Runes would be on the walls as well.
You haven't had the chance to laugh at such horrible opinions in months after all, on account of that whole business ensuring you didn't die from a master rune exploding in your face, or worse.
Burning off your beard.
You shudder in the way only a dwarf whose hair was in danger could.
…
The sight of the almost completed smelter complex is a dazzling one. A massive complex of pipes and metal inscribed in beautiful tableaus of dwarf smiths creating ore, the earliest tales of Grungni and Smednir featuring prominently on its walls.
The First Pickaxe, the
First Ore Smelter, the
Tale of Burdin Bungleweave and the First Ingot and many more classic dwarf sagas illustrated with helpful subtitles for all to see.
A monument to your history and traditions.
Inside is no less beautiful if more utilitarian. The knot artwork that was favoured by many in the hold present in the flooring and walls, the pillars are inscribed with the names of the dwarfs who helped build this great structure from eldest longbeard to even the most foolish apprentices. Lastly there, standing proudly in the center of the structure's main hall, the master schedule where a Dwarf would be tasked with the unenviable duty of managing the allotted times of cantankerous master smiths chomping at the bit to smelt
Pure Gromril.
You'd best get started, all but certain that even the Smiths' prodigious patiences were near the breaking point.
Gromril had that effect on people.
Over the next two years, you spend weeks at a time here, inscribing individual Smelters with the appropriate Runes, testing the Gromril, then leaving to pick up more reagents from your suppliers. The hold's denizens become so impatient, and
efficient, that they simply deliver the reagents to you while you work in the smelter, along with ample supplies of good beer and fresh stonebread. While they couldn't enter the building properly so as to respect the secrecy of your work, that didn't mean you couldn't send out your beardlings to pick it up and bring the supplies inside. Indeed, those last few months end up with the three of you practically living inside the smelter as you enter the steady rhythm of inscribing and testing the smelters while your beardlings watch you with extreme focus. The three of you eating meals of hearty ale and stonebread in between each smelter, practically scarfing down the food to get back to work. While your apprentices hustled about, prepping the next smelters for you as much as they are able to further minimize time wasted. Then, almost as if it were a dream, you finish the final smelter, your apprentices standing and staring, their forms haggard and dirty, but their spirits raised.
You allow them a quiet cheer while you dust yourself off. As you do final checks on the last smelter, your apprentices bustle about and clean up after yourselves. After all, it wouldn't do being a messy worker now could it? When the floors are spotless, and the smelters running smoothly; then, and only then, do you pronounce the work complete for all to hear.
When at last the three of you leave the building you are met by a thunderous cheer.
Outside, somehow beyond your notice, an outright festival has been set up, with stands, games and general merriment filling the air.
"Master," Dolgi speaks up, confusion evident, "when did they set this up?"
You don't rightly know, but like hell you were going to let the Beardlings know that you didn't know.
"Get better hearing beardling, I heard this entire festival get set up the whole time how did you not? I kept sending the two of you out so often that I can't believe you
didn't see it. If you still can't figure it out you'd best ask Fjolla. Now come along both of you, there's a festival to enjoy! Can't leave all this stonebread for just the
beardlings to eat." you say, moving past him as you rub your hands together.
A young dwarf plaitling comes over to you, a tray of foaming mugs in both hands.
"Rhunrikki," she says, doing her best to curtsy.
Sniffing gruffly at her you gingerly take four mugs off the plate and begin drinking, walking deeper into the rowdy crowd of joyous dwarfs and towards the heavenly, yet different, scent of fresh stonebread.
Oh? Is that honey you smell? Well, it's certainly unconventional but you suppose you'd give whoever baked it some good solid advice about how harebrained their idea was.
Behind you, your apprentices are muttering to each other, neither still certain as to when this all got set up.
…
"Do we follow him?" Dolgi whispers, eyeing the food stands.
"I think so?" Fjolla mutters back, looking around in bewilderment before she pales and curses under her breath.
"What's wrong? Is i-whoa!" the dwarf says suddenly as his fellow apprentice grabs him by the arm, running in the direction they last saw their master.
"I saw that idiot
Goren Dromminling coming over with two mugs of ale and a blush on his cheeks. I'm not
risking it, now have you seen Master Snorri? How did we lose him!?," she answers back hotly, pausing to look around.
"I can't see anything through this crowd!" Dolgi shouts back, eyes desperately searching for Master Snorri's familiar silhouette.
"The stonebread!" Fjolla says suddenly, fist in her palm, "Let's check the Stonebread stalls, its as good a place as a-"
"-Fjolla! Fjolla Stokkisdottir!" a different young dwarf says, mugs of ale in hand, "it's me! Gorrik Drogginsson of Clan Grimseal! Would you like a mu-"
"-Grungni damn it all,
RUN Ruby-head! I want no part in this!" she says running off, leaving her fellow apprentice and would-be suitor behind.
"Fjolla wait!" Dolgi says, following shortly after.
…
It is only days later that the Pure Gromril begins to flow in small, but noticeable quantities. Already finding its way into the hands of eager craftsmen and bright-eyed merchants. As for you, the Smelter provides a small but steady bounty of some of the purest Gromril possible, Gromril fit for use in making the Master Rune that it shares its name with.
The moment should be magnificent, and in some ways it is.
But looking at the shimmering silver bar before you, your mind turns towards an even brighter sheen of silver, and flashes of bright white light that make the bar of Pure Gromril in your hand seem duller than lead.
...
The end of the decade is spent banging your head against the puzzle of Gromril while you had your apprentice's hanging about the slowly rising walls of Kraka Drakk's defences. Your work with the Pure Gromril smelter gave you time to solidify your thoughts and also make you question things.
Gromril, like any ore, had to be smelted, refined and purified to be of any use for your people. While it took far greater temperatures to melt and far more force to forge the stuff compared to most things it was otherwise workable like any metal.
Purified Gromril then, was simply that metal refined to a degree that even Dwarfs found impressive. The silver sheen of the ingots are a good deal brighter than the regular bars.
But not bright enough.
And that was the sticking point, what made even Pure Gromril's sheen seem dull compared to what you saw that day? The metal didn't even the tiniest speck of rock in its structure, the form perfect like, like...
...you lost it, whatever insight was about to come simply refused to.
Bah.
Looking for something to take your mind off the roadblock you've hit, you move over to your desk, a pile of letters waiting for you. Several are letters of thanks, others are requests better off being sent to younger runesmiths but one
does catch your eye. Jorri's familiar and unique stationary sticking out like a particularly sore thumb. Picking up your brother's letter, received only weeks after you asked him to keep an eye out for some Magma Dragon's blood, you begin to read. What could prompt a reply in such short notice?
Snorri,
Word down south is that a Magma Dragon attacked the mines of Ungor a decade ago. Fresh enough trail that I got a few potential sellers, shouldn't take too long to procure. Lucky that you asked now instead of later, this stuff's a hot
commodity after all.
HA!
Anyway, your Gromril was magnificent, perfect, almost as beautiful as my sweet Magna! speaking of my darling wife, I can tell she's going to love it when she gets it on our anniversary. She's found every last one of my surprise gifts before I know, but this time is different Snorri. I can feel it in my beard!
Jorri.
Then, written in far neater script below your brother's scrawl is a note from Magna.
Snorri,
I think you'll be mightily pleased to know I hit Jorri upside the head for you, thank you very much for the Gromril. Also, I'm pregnant, I'll name them after you. Don't tell Jorri you know how he gets.
Regards,
Magna
You fold up the letter, the frown on your face having turned into a small smile especially after reading that part.
Well, at least some things were going well.
…
Gain:
- The Hold of Kraka Drakk can now produce Pure Gromril natively. The efforts of the entire community to bring greater prosperity for all is a thing many a dwarf can appreciate.
- Work has begun on the permanent outer defences of Kraka Drakk. There are already talks in the hold of finding ways to incorporate their new Pure Gromril into the growing defences of the hold.
- Due to good rolls, Magma Dragon's Blood will arrive in
2 turns.
- Snorri's Workshop is now able to safely handle the destructive power of a Master Rune experiment gone wrong!
AN: Sorry for the delay on this one, got distracted by my cats. Anyway, thanks for reading and don't forget to C&C :^)
