Voted best in category in the Users' Choice awards.
Turn 56 Results Pt. 3:
Karstah Vote said:
[X] [Rune:] Rune of Charcoal [Structural]: Removes mundane impurities from metal in forges inscribed with or within rooms incribed with this Rune
[X] [Rune:] Rune of Tin [Structural]: Structures and rooms bearing this Rune have metal being worked on within made more malleable

[X] [Lesson:] Armour: Improve specialty Armour Runes
Winning Vote said:
[X] [Khazagar:] Allow the Guild to host their contest but do not work with them.
[X] [Livestock:] Bigger.
Winning Vote said:
[X] Plan: Grant us eyes and a Roadtrip
Snorri & Karstah
-[X] [Difficult] Extra-sensory Pt. 1: 3 Snorri AP ✓
-[X] MARCH 1 Snorri AP ✓
-[X] [Simple] Chimaera Autopsy 1 Research AP ✓

-[X] Riddle Me This 1 Karstah + 1 Snorri AP ✓

-[X] [Difficult] Write In, Talisman, Flamedrinking Prototype pt 1: 1 Karstah AP ✓
-- You're a runelord who has opted to use flame copiously in your work and with the advent of better smelters the thought kicked you upside the head: Why not find a way to use that heat to enhance or even fuel your runes in some way? After sharing the thought with Karstah the two of you have decided that she will make a pair of Pure Gromril amulets to test the idea - on the first a set of runes provided by you, and on the second a set of runes that she will decide upon.
--[X] Combo: Rune of Furnace + Ancestor Rune of Thungni + Rune of Thungni's Presence
--[X] Theme: "Heat is energy. It is fluid and changeable. Through Thungni's ingenuity, change it into the light and energy of Runes."

-[X] [Difficult] Brynbar: The Glittering Gate, Pt 1: 1 Karstah AP ✓
-- A circular clasp whose seam depicts a shimmering and glowing gate to the glittering realm. On each half of the clasp the runes of Siphoning and Thungni glow, surrounded by 'runes' from the early days of runesmithing, inlaid with dronril in imitation of runelight. Rest in spoiler in my post.
--[X] Choose: Master Rune of Thungni's Presence (Adamant and Ancient Greedy Troll Heart), Ancestor Rune of Thungni (Adamant), Siphoning (Ancient Greedy Troll Heart)

-[X] [Difficult] Staffing Pt. 1: [Cost: 1 action] Azrilzhufgotten, or The Silver River Marches. 1 Karstah AP ✓
-- The Hearthwardens have been stretched to their limits these past few centuries, taking on multiple new duties spread wide across the north, while bearing only the baseline equipment you give them on taking their oath. It's time to start fixing that. Rest in spoiler in my post.
--[X] Choose: Master Rune of Traversal (Radiant Pegasus' Heart [T4]), Rune of Impact (Stonehorn Leg Muscles [T3]), Rune of Amber (Barazgal [T4]).


Retainers
-[X] Expedition, Aiding Ravnsvake 2 Retainer ✓
-[X] Expedition, Aiding Dorden 1 Retainer ✓
-[X] Training Regime Pt. 2: ✓
--[X] Drakk Expertise (15 Kraka Drakk favour)
--[X] Ornsmotek Expertise (45 Kraka Ornsmotek favour)
--[X] Krum Expertise (30 Kraka Drum favour)
--[X] Grom Expertise (15 Kraka Grom favour)

Orders ✓
-[X] Order: T4 Ancient Greedy Troll Heart

[X] [Social:] Snerra, navigating crowds of suitors. ✓
[X] [Social:] Bara, congratulating Karstah for her work with the Greater Smelter ✓

[X] [Letters:] Knowledge about Ulthuan's reaction to the Fimir War [Developing] ✓
[X] [Patreon] Snerra ✓



━<><><>< 471 A.P. ><><><>━​

(Roll, Riddle 2: 82 = +20 [Snorri] +10[Karstah] +15[Omake] =127, Crit: 3 +27[Rollover] = 30)
(Total Progress: 57[Previous Progress] +127 +3 =187)
(Raw DC 80/90/105/130/150/180/210)
(DC -40[Yorri])
(Real DC 40/50/65/90/110/140/170)

Perhaps egged on by Master Yorri's incessant grumbling, you decide to take the time and apply yourself to the task of Thungni's riddle.

The Hammer of the Ancestor isn't just any prize after all.

And you have a notion that Thungni didn't keep the riddle between just you and Him. It certainly seemed in character for the Ancestor to hand off His prized tool to someone clever enough to solve His riddle after all.

You sincerely hope not, since that would mean you've spent countless decades squandering a potential lead, but you can't discount the possibility.

Where, oh where, would Thungni hide Karaz-Kazak-Rhun? There are an innumerable number of ways for a Dwarf to hide something in the World's Edge if they want. From the research she's already done your heir believes the likeliest answer is somewhere in the South and you are inclined to agree, but South is still a big area with equally many hidey-holes for the Clever One to choose from.

Ultimately Karstah and you tackle the problem from two directions. Given her familiarity with the actual Riddle at this point, you task her with combing over the words to see if she can't tease out some other third hidden meaning from them. Meanwhile you'll be doing something you've become something of an expert in out of necessity.

Going over extensive, far flung, and exceedingly obscure sources that Karstah's own search may have missed for scraps of useful knowledge and then compiling it all together. But this time it'll also be onto a map of the Worlds Edge as well as a book.

Goodie.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

Hundreds, thousands of pages worth of writing flows in and out of Khazagar on a daily basis. From business and personal letters, ledgers, freshly made copies of existing books and newly bought tomes and scrolls for filling Khazagar's library with. So while you doubt any notices the order and subsequent arrival of dozens of sealed books, records and painstakingly made copies of truly ancient lore making their way to you, at least they aren't saying anything about it. Despite the near constant influx of material for you to sift through, there are moments when you have the time to read something else if by chance alone.

Like now for instance.

You finish going over a series of old Zornish construction records faster than expected, and are left with a few days of peace before a copy of several treatises written by Durin the Lost, commissioned at great expense from the understandably tired and drama-avoidant Runescribes Guild of Izril, are due to arrive.

Rather than rest and enjoy the quiet, you delve into reading a letter from Myrion that you've left to molder for a few months by that point.

You recall that the two of you had started discussing the state of the war in the lead up to your departure for the Underway, but hadn't really gotten into the weeds before both of you were called away by your respective duties.

Thinking about the lead up to the war makes you frown as your mind eventually dredges up what happened down there.

The memory of the Shadowy wazzok who escaped you is a fresh and bitter pill in the back of your mind, and you aren't much inclined to return to that headspace so soon after if you can help it.

You look at the letter again.

Bah, you're no child.

With a grunt you pop the seal and begin reading.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

"Finally got him to actually look at it himself eh lass?" Master Yorri asks, nonchalantly appearing out from behind a random pillar.

"I don't know if I did anything," she answers, flipping to another page.

"Course you did!" he assures before looking over her shoulder curiously. "Now I reckon I know what you're looking for eh? Secret meanings upon secret meanings?"

"At Master Snorri's request," Karstah confirms.

"Bah. Not familiar enough with the material was his excuse I take it? S'what he gets for not actually doing the work himself. I'll offer you another hint, young lady. It won't make itself clear until much later."

She finally turns away from her book to look at Master Yorri, only to mumble in annoyance when she sees he's disappeared into seemingly thin air.

"Elders and their mysterious exits…"

Nevertheless she keeps his cryptic hint in mind as she goes back to reading.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

You put down Myrion's letter with a contemplative look on your face.

Elves are a strange folk, but they aren't without their own odd logic you suppose.

Nevertheless, Myrion's writings have given you a bit more insight into their world, and what you see really is telling. While the Elgi aren't ambivalent to the war going on, especially now with the knowledge of what the Fimir are attempting being spread around, the other Kingdoms don't seem particularly motivated to lend their support either.

This was, in Myrion's opinion, Malekith's war, not one of the Elves as a whole, with all the political and social implications that would inevitably dredge up. While the intricacies and minutiae of courtly politics the archmage mentions is lost on you, you're a clever enough lad to put a few pieces together. From the looks of things there was a three way division in Elven thought. The first major splinter were those Elgi who saw no proverbial skin in the game. Much like the Old Holds saw you and your conflict as a strictly regional affair, they too saw the Fimir War as one of the many conflicts affecting them. Myrion paid them little mind, but you gathered that the individual opinions within that camp ranged from mildly ambivalent to hidden hostility. The former from a lack of interest and/or focus drawn elsewhere, and the latter were likely Malekith's political opponents who saw this as a weapon the Prince would wield in his ambitions.

That seems to fit what you've already learned about the Prince from both Myrion and Menliwen. Hell, it's not even alien to you; jostling Thanes trying to win prestige is an old story that's been played out many a time.

Neither are the other two divisions within Elven thought. While both under the larger umbrella of the Elves involved in the Fimir War, they were split, funnily enough, around Malekith again. Whichever side Myrion was on seemed like a secret she kept close to her chest. Nor could you tease out an answer, not that you were all that interested in knowing either really. Point was though, that much like what you imagined was the case for the ambivalent side, those who supported the War were either happy or unhappy about Malekith's involvement. The former were largely made up of Elven nobles who supported Malekith's legitimacy, largely from Nagarythe and the majority of the regular warriors in the armies of the three Kingdoms. Unified in the belief that the son of the First Phoenix King was the best man for the job, and saw him as continuing the legacy of Aenarion the Defender.

Those more critical of Malekith's leadership were a far more eclectic group, united more out of their own self interest and stance than overarching belief about Malekith himself. In fact, supporters of both Malekith and Bel Shanaar made up their number if that made any lick of sense. They were largely the Nobility from Cothique and Chrace who had a vested interest in the colony of Tor Vernath and coasts of the peninsula. Their worry was that the prince would end up subordinating them for his ambition, using his deeds here as leverage against them. Or well, for more leverage than he already had. Calling for aid was already a blow to their control that they bore only after the significance of the threat was made abundantly clear, and they knew that every victory Malekith led their armies to here would be another bolt in his pouch to aim at either them or his political opponents.

Myrion makes pains to mention that most of that divide is merely intellectual, and that the Elves are united in purpose for the duration of the war.

That makes you snort.

Personally, you're happy someone is doing something, but you have no stake in how this whole Malekith business will shake out.

Ancestors know what could have happened if you had decided to march alongside the High King instead of with Valka. Even the chance of getting caught up in that mess, low as it was, made you reach for a tankard.

Foreign policy? Bugger that, you had enough on your plate and its name was Khazagar.

━<><><>< 472 A.P. ><><><>━​

"You're still working on this?" Yorri asks, though you're both too preoccupied to make a comment on the suddenness of his appearance.

"All possibilities have to be examined," Karstah murmurs from her desk half heartedly.

You nod.

Yorri tuts.

"The young lady and I have already done most of the Work Snorri, what's the hold up. Head south!"

"Knowing its south can only take us so far, Master. Thungni's touch can be felt everywhere south of Drazh. By Valaya, there are a dozen by a dozen different places of significance around Izril alone! Nevermind the Hold proper."

"Like seeing a beardling climbing the very mountain he's searching for to get a better look around. You're going in circles and chasing dead-ends, failing to understand the order of this nonsense. Maybe I shouldn't have given the goat away so easily, clearly I've fuddled with the Ancestor's intent."

You give him a withering and half hearted glare.

"I don't see how. If you know where it is, which you continuously imply you do, why haven't you gone and gotten it?"

"The Riddle wasn't meant for me," Yorri answers easily, "it's meant for you and whoever else Thungni decided to give it to. That Hammer's rightful wielder is among that lot. Not me."

"That's ridiculous," you hear Karstah mutter.

"That's the truth young lady," Yorri responds primly, taking an empty seat for himself. "Only the worthy may wield Her, and I'm not worthy."

"I fail to see how, you're clearly more than skilled enough to be a Runelord," Karstah continues.

"The issue isn't one of skill. But of mentality. Only Durin could be considered worthy enough to outright, but Durin's gone. So Thungni is making do."

You know Karstah is about to ask the obvious question, but a pointed look from you stops her from voicing it.

"Bah. You'll figure it out young Karstah. This wazzok" Yorri states, jutting a thumb your way, "Is busy hunting for clues neither of you need, but your noggin's big enough to put two and two together I should think. I'm off to learn some more Anoqeyan. Toodaloo!"

The room descends into silence with your Master's departure, but his words linger like the stink of mouldy cheese.

You need to think.

"There are duties I must see too Karstah," you grumble out, standing up from your seat, "the rest of today and tomorrow is yours to do with as you wish."

━<><><><==><><><>━​

You wander Khazagar for the next few hours, your mind unusually stifled by the amount of thoughts running through it.

Was Master Yorri right?

Phsh, what sort of question is that? Course he's right, you're angry, not stupid. There's few places you trust your Master's word more in than the realm of odd riddles and ancient, often esoteric knowledge. You're more upset with yourself than anything. The Riddle was meant to be something of a— well not wind down, but a change of pace from the frustration that's built up and remained over the past few years. A vain hope considering you made far greater progress with the Rune of Windsigh than this damn Riddle and still haven't felt better.

Bah.

That usually isn't enough to frustrate you nowadays either, so what was different?

You grumble absentmindedly, causing a few nearby Dwarfs to straighten up instinctively, and stare up at the ceiling.

Out of the corner of your eye you see a proper beardling, barely out of his thirtieth winter you reckon, huffing and puffing as he carries a stack of books behind an elder Runescribe. His elder keeping ahead at a steady pace, feigning disinterest when in truth he's paying careful attention to make sure that his apprentice is keeping up with him. The sight of it is nostalgic.

The realities of your life have made the thought of teaching more apprentices something of a poor decision. Even you doubt that you'll find the time to properly teach a young lad or lass the proper way of things with everything you've piled onto your plate. Then again, who's to say if that's true?

Hmm.

Maybe that has something to do with it. Master Yorri's words, whether he meant them to or not, have made you wonder if you've not done enough for your own apprentices. You know that you've already bungled up more than enough of Karstah's life, but you had reckoned you had been doing better. The thought that you had foisted off more work onto her plate, while you were going off on a dead-end search and wasting both of your time? Hrm.

You've taught and directed nine lives into the position of Master Runesmith. Of them, one is a Runelord like yourself, four are either at or well on their way to reaching that level of skill even if they never attain the rank, and the remaining four…

A sigh escapes you, the bone-deep weariness you keep locked up tight given one of the few opportunities for release before you regain control of faculties.

Have you done enough? You believe so, but now the thought is stuck in your mind and the only way to exercise it is to let it run its course. Of your students in Kraka Drakk, only Karstah has properly worked with Adamant from what you've seen. It isn't as if the others don't know how, they were quick enough to grab that bit of knowledge from you the moment they could, but yet none of them had actually made anything. Why? It's not your business really, but you doubt they'd turn you away?

Then again, you thought you had Karstah's situation well in hand, and look how that turned out.

Do they even want more of your help in that regard? Who's to say?

You reckon you can at least offer though?

Bah.

Something to think about. You've already given Karstah today and tomorrow off, but that doesn't mean you can't get back to business.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

The map in front of you is a Masterwork. Three by five meters of the finest Eight Peaks parchment, treated to maximize its durability and drawn with a wash of different colored inks across its surface is the most detailed depiction of the Karaz Ankor as Clan Winterhearth's Runescribes can manage. A massive feat spearheaded by a distant nephew of yours that involved a dozen other artisans, Runescribes and loremasters combing over records and maps and piecing together a singular cohesive whole.

And it is useless.

Funny how things go.

"We're going about this wrong Karstah." you say firmly, looking away from the map and turning to your heir.

"How so?"

"We've been modelling Thungni incorrectly. Or I suppose, more incorrectly than we'd like. Expecting subterfuge and double-backing despite everything being laid before us."

"Master, I don't mean to question your logic but isn't that the point of a Riddle?"

You snort.

"The complexity and mystery of the Riddle is not found in something so lowly as tricks and misdirection Karstah. No, we're fools for thinking so poorly of the Ancestor. He'll ply you with wordplay, multiple interpretations, and increasingly obtuse complexity aye, but that's the key. The complexity builds. The first reading is the most literal, the most obvious, but the test is seeing if the reader is clever enough to find every subsequent meaning. Each one, I reckon, shall build on the other, culminating into the path that leads us to Karaz-Kazak-Rhun."

"Alright," Karstah murmurs, still conflicted, "what does that mean for our search then?"

"It is Izril," you say, surer than anything, "The first reading is literal. It is a cavern, and allegorical of the Glittering Realm. No other Hold has as much history with Thungni as Izril."

Your heir takes a moment to consider your words.

"If you believe that's the case, then I'll believe you. But, if you'll indulge my curiosity Master, how'd you come to that conclusion?"

Because I spent an entire day brooding over my life and the way I taught my students you think.

"Because I came to a conclusion of my own. That Thungni is a teacher, and Karaz-Kazak-Rhun the reward for the brightest of His students. This riddle, like everything He shows His kin, is just another lesson to be picked apart and understood."

You half-expect Master Yorri to pop out of some corner and lambast or congratulate you, but it doesn't come to pass.

"What now?"

Here you grimace.

"If Master Yorri is right, and we aren't the only Dawi that Thungni gave this riddle to then we're on the clock."

"Should I begin packing?"

You pause and regard Karstah thoughtfully.

Someone should go, but does it have to be you? There are duties here you cannot simply waive away, at least not without a good bit of grumbling for your part. The movement of a Runelord is not an easily kept secret either, which is something to consider if you think the eyes of others may be on you. You could send Karstah, or even your Hearth Guard, though you reckon a Runesmith will need to be present. Then again you could throw caution to the wind and have both you and Karstah gone, much as that may throw Khazagar into disarray.

[ ] [Karaz-Kazak-Rhun:] Go alone.
Lock in 1 general and retainer action next turn. Start Interlude "The Enduring War Rune"

[ ] [Karaz-Kazak-Rhun:] Send Karstah
Lock in 1 heir and retainer action next turn. Have the option to follow Karstah instead of Snorri next turn.

[ ] [Karaz-Kazak-Rhun:] Go together.
Lock in 1 general, retainer and heir action next turn. Start Interlude "The Enduring War Rune"

━<><><><==><><><>━​

What do you offer your students? They may or may not accept.

[ ] [Adamant:] Do not offer them Adamant.

[ ] [Adamant:] Offer each of them [Write-in] Bars of Adamant.
You have x76 Bars of Adamant.

[ ] [Adamant:] Offer each of them [Write-in] Bars of Adamant a turn.
You produce x10 Bars of Adamant a Turn

[ ] [Adamant:] Offer each of them [Write-in] Bars of Adamant a turn, staring when the next smelter is constructed.
You will produce x16 Bars of Adamant a Turn

[ ] [Adamant:] Offer each of them a shard of Voidstone.
You have x7 Shards of Voidstone

[ ] [Adamant:] Offer each of them a shard of Voidstone and enough Adamant [x10] to make a Greater Smelter
You have x7 Shards of Voidstone
You have x76 Bars of Adamant.

[ ] [Adamant:] Offer each of them a shard of Voidstone and loan enough Adamant [x10] to make a Greater Smelter. The Adamant will be repaid once the smelter is built.
You have x7 Shards of Voidstone
You have x76 Bars of Adamant.

[ ] [Adamant:] Offer each of them a test. Using [Write-in] Bars of Adamant from your stock, craft a masterpiece to prove they are worthy of using the metal.
Reward for success: [Write-in] Bars of Adamant a turn.
Reward for failure: your disappointemt. For shame, beardling!
You produce x10 Bars of Adamant a Turn

━<><><>< Grumblings and Goings ><><><>━

- [Early 465] Mattok Copperbottom of Karak Drazh has struck a seam of gold, nothing that would normally be noteworthy for a Hold so wealthy as Drazh, but this vein in particular has not only been deemed one of the largest, and the purest, example of Drazh's famous dark Gold as any have seen but Copperbottom has found a smaller seam of Oathgold within the greater vein as well. A great source of joy for the man, having come from a poor Miners Clan.

- [Mid 467] Karak Varn has hit a new Gromril seam in its mines along the rim of the Blackwater, early surveying reports by the prospectors roused to give their opinion on the matter say its "appreciable," and consequently the Hold is celebrating the discovery of one of the larger Gromril veins seen in living memory. While never really a contested position, this has driven Varn farther away from any prospective rivals for Gromril production like Eight Peaks or Kraka Drakk.

- [Mid 468] With the breaking of the Fimir army that has been plaguing the Underway, a sombre moment of mourning is held in Kraka Grom as King Consort Grednir Grunsson removes the mantle of Grungni to don Grimnir's and seek his Doom in the north. A sorrowful fate, one that neither his wife, closest friends nor the priesthood could convince him away from. Die well son of the Mountains, die and be redeemed before yourself and your Ancestors.

- [Mid 468] Nain's made a fine hammer for King Gloin, a gift to his nephew the King of Karak Ungor. The name itself isn't the most inspiring thing, [T4] Dalgrund, but Nain's taken to beauty in simplicity. In that vein the aesthetics focus more on accentuating a few key parts by remaining rather austere elsewhere. A strong Wutroth haft accented with silver at the butt and along the sides, most of the decoration has been reserved for the Hammer's head where the image of Grungni The hammer bears the Master Rune of Grungni, Rune of Speed and Rune of Echoblow.

- [Late 468] Queen Valka of Kraka Grom announces her pregnancy and, seemingly blessed by Valaya, with twins no less! A brilliant diamond in a shaft otherwise replete with sulfur and slotch. No replacement for what was lost, but the Hold celebrates the occasion, desperate for some measure of baggage-less positivity.

- [Mid 469] Kraka Dorden is physically repaired. The damage done by the Fimir has been undone, though the lives taken have not. The vigorous effort of the Karak and by several other parties such as the Cults of Valaya and Grungni, as well as Lord Klausson's Hearth Guard have seen that everything completed ahead of schedule. The only sign that anything has even happened to the Karak is the inclusion of a memorial onto the Hold's walls, the names of the defenders inscribed into Rune-reinforced stone.

- [Late 469] Mere months later the same can be said for Kraka Ravnsvake, with King Villi seeing to it that the docks are repaired and that barks once more fill their berths. Though we Dawi are not creatures of the sea in the way that the Elves are, we will not allow the Fimir to believe themselves our betters in any regard. Let them come again, let them break upon our walls, let them see their efforts were unmade in but years, and let them know as we drive them back to their hovels that the Dawi of Kraka Ravnsvake are coming from them." By land or by sea," swears King Villi, "the Grudge shall be avenged."

- [Early 470] the Runesmith Skarri Dolgisson has taken to the field of battle alongside his companion the Branakroki Thunder Wing as the first of Kraka Drakk's Skarr-kazhunki. Mounted warriors that eschew millennia of Dwarfen wisdom; to not only ride upon the back of a beast to war, but to take to the air doing it as well like he's some Elven Princeling. The Zaki is not alone in this endeavour either, somehow wrangling a group of six other madmen and women to join him in the air. Northern strangeness once more shows itself. At the very least he is well armed. Wielding a [T3] Runestaff that calls down lightning and ice, and a [T3] size-shifting Gromril Axe that he either hurls from above or swings in long, loping swings.

Bah!

- [Mid 470] Hail to the twin daughters of Queen Valka of Kraka Grom, Grelda and Selda Valkasdottir. Truly Valaya has shown her favour by gifting the queen such a wonder as twin daughters. The Cult of Valaya proclaims them fitter than most babes their age, something the Hold is thankful to have. Already the Queen has proclaimed that Kraka Grom shall honour the Gromthi Rhinri with large scale improvements to the Hold's already respectable temple to Valaya, and long term material and monetary support to the Hold.

- [Mid 470] A Slayer returns to Kraka Grom with the head of a [T3] Dragon being dragged behind him in chains. Such portents remind Queen Valka that she too must honour Grimnir the Fearless, and soon after the same promise is made to improve the temple to Bold Grimnir's temple as well.

- [Late 470] Nain Kazzarsson, one of the apprentices of the Gift Giver, has been given leave by King Gloin to head a grand project beneath Kraka Drakk. While Lord Klausson is largely responsible for the Hold's large number of infrastructural Runes, his apprentice seeks to make his own mark. Expanding the lift network that connects the Aerie of Drongkaraz to the Dragon Hold by creating not one, but two sister lifts of equal scale to Morgrim's original creation while expanding the first to reach the natural caverns beneath Kraka Drakk's Underway terminal. Though none dare say the Runesmith can match His work, three lift complexes is still better than one.

- [Early 471] The town of Khazid Korr was assailed by a rowdy group of trolls wishing to storm and ransack the Brewery which was the town's pride, and slaughtered the Dwarfs defending their homes. The town's last living elder ordered the women and children to be evacuated while he and those who elected to remain would hold back the Trolls. The survivors who reached the next settlement spoke, however, of great bursts of light flaring up and the thundering of the earth from the town as they retreated. When a muster of warriors was finally dispatched to the town they found both what they expected and oddness in equal measure. Bodies of Trolls, crushed to paste or gored through were scattered all over the burnt ruins, while the bodies of the defenders had seemingly all been dragged to the center of town.

- [Early 472] Fjolla has made a [T4] set of jewelry for each Queen Valka's daughters at the Rinri's request. Each one meant to protect the wearer from grievous harm. Fjolla tells you it was a damn pain to get the individual parts to work in tandem, but she's properly satisfied with the quality of her craft.

- [Mid 472] Another Fimir citadel falls at the hands of the High King and Prince Malekith's combined armies. The roar of dragons locked in combat with their enslaved kindred mixed with the thunder of siege weapons and the clang of Gromril, Ithilmar, Steel and Iron were the backing chorus to the Meargh's death knell, her head cleaved from her body by the Axe of Grimnir. The Grudge inches ever closer to proper closure.

- [Mid 472] Skarrin Dolgisson and his mad bunch prove themselves not incapable at least. Whenever the Throng of the High King found itself fighting alone, they have proven themselves perfectly capable of fighting off both airborne and monstrous foes, even if they end up bearing more than a few scars for it. The efficacy of him and his fellow riders is not in question, merely the necessity. Surely, the charge of simple Dawi boots is enough, nay? Harumph!

- [Late 472] Dolgi let it slip during your monthly dinner that his work on deriving another variant of his Master Rune is coming close to completion. Similarly, Snerra has mentioned that she may be preoccupied for the next little while as she works on a secret commission for a new high-profile client. A mysterious Kvinn she met while walking through Khazagar to buy some supplies apparently.

- [Early 473] A fleet battle upon the open waves! The vengeful Seadwarfs of Ravnsvake and Dorden cut through the waves to crash upon the unsuspecting mass of Fimir. Having arrived perpendicular to the approaching Fimir, the ships used a combination of fair winds and Brana magic to close the distance and slice through dozens of Fimir ships and slave beasts. Though the battle was bloody, the Dawi fleet retains all of their ships while half of that particular FImir flotilla now feeds the beasts beneath the waves. It is not enough, not until their hulls are but flotsam and driftwood! Or drift-iron one reckons. Bah!

- [Early 473]
Snorri,

I'm off!

- Yorri.


- [Burudin] I did it you wazzoks. You thought me a fool, but you'll see! Come a few years and the mountains bow in the face of my talent!

-
[Burudin] Pull the other one.

- [Burudin] You'll be eating stonebread soon enough!



━<><><>< Gain ><><><>━

Snorri
- Riddle me this complete?

- March complete!
-- Fimir presence in the Underway rendered negligible.
-- The Fimir in the Underway no longer pose a significant threat to your people. Their strategy of dispersing to escape your wrath has rendered the individual fragments easy pickings for the vengeful Throngs of the Holds they have so butchered.
-- The truth of their actions remains conjecture only, as the Meargh left nothing to examine save the trail of ruin she led.
-- The Meargh herself has escaped, despite your best efforts, and remains at large.
--- Grudge: The Shadow Hag, for the personal slaughter of eighty-seven Dawi and orchestrating the deaths of 3,534 Dawi as well as a sum total of 324,982 Gold and 245 Brass pieces in damage both material and emotional to the towns of Khazid-Vran, Durak's Claim, Mingol Ril, Migdhal S...
…and harm to the Holds of Kraka Krum and Kraka Grom, the sentence shall be death.
Actions toward setting this Grudge have a chance to gain +1 action worth of progress. +5 Bonus to rolls against the Fimir and +10 Bonus to Rolls against the Shadow Hag,
-- Loot:
--- +1 [Tier 3] Greater Slave Wyrm's Corpse. Research unlocked!
--- +1 [Tier 2] Slave Wyrm's Corpse. Research unlocked!
--- +1 [Tier 2] Artefact worth +15 Favour with Kraka Krum, new totals: (calculated below)

- +5 Progress to Extra-Sensory Pt. 1, new totals: [Cost: (16 -6) =10 actions]
-- Range and scope is the easier of the two problems you have with your current Rune. Having good enough Windsight to be able to tease out the details that will hopefully bypass Durin's consternation however, is a different and far more difficult matter.

- Standing Bonus proc!
-- +2 Progress to Slave Wyrm autopsy, new totals: [Cost: (4 -2) =2 actions]

- Chimaera Autopsy complete!
-- [Windsight] The corpse is bathed in a hideous mix of colors, but there are occasionally a few organs that are largely resonant with just a single wind or resemble those of other beasts.
-- Every Chimaera is almost entirely different, and the organs are no exception, there isn't a uniform answer. Only horror and melded flesh.
-- [Tier 3] Chimaera Corpse x5 yields
--- +2 [Tier 2] Griffon Brain, new totals: x12
--- +2 [Tier 3] Thundertusk's Heart, new totals: x3
--- +2 [Tier 2] Dragon's Gas Sac, new totals: x4
--- +1 [Tier 3] Pegasus' Heart, new totals: x3
--- +1 [Tier 3] Giant Cave Spider's Venom, new totals: x4
-- +2 progress to Akazit Pt. 2, new totals: [Cost: (14 -9) =5 actions]
-- +2 progress to The Movement of Things Pt. 6b, The Body: [Cost: (18 -8) =10 actions]
-- Master of the Odd [0/15] > [2/15]

- New Runes/ Combos unlocked!
-- Rune of Forgeflame [Talismanic]: Heat absorbed by the wearer is instead taken by the Rune and discharged into the air over time.
-- Rune of Ironskin [Talismanic]: User gains iron-hard skin.
-- Combo, Goruz-Kazak Rikkaz: [Master Rune of Traversal, Rune of Impact, Rune of Amber] Allies in range charge together in formation and deal increased damage upon contact with the enemy, the larger the formation the greater the speed and damage dealt. When charging they ignore most mundane obstacles.
-- Combo, Flamedrinking: [Master Rune of Thungni's Presence, Rune of Thungni, Rune of Forgeflame] Magical and mundane flame fired against the user is absorbed and turned into Runic energy. (Your Windsight eye reveals the truth of it, mundane fire itself isn't being use. but rather the Aqshy that is drawn to that fire which the Runes seem to eat while snuffing out the physical flame)
-- Combo, Deep Gate [Master Rune of Thungni's Presence, Rune of Thungni, Rune of Siphoning] Enemies suffer even greater casting debuff and spells that are not dispelled are weakened around the user. The user's equipped Master Runes have one aspect of their effect improved. (Your Windsight Eye shows that the Runes saturate an area in Deep Magic, and for some reason that energy is oddly resistant to being used by Wizards when it normally wouldn't be.)

Karstah
- Flamedrinking Prototype Pt. 1 complete!
-- The piece with your Runes is a necklace similar to Karstah's, but using the appearance of a regular Dragon rather than a shard wyrm. Silver-scaled with blue sapphire eyes overlaid atop the Runes to provide them with a bright glow.
-- Rune of Thungni, Rune of Thungni's Presence, Rune of Furnace.
-- New Combo unlocked! Combo, Flamedrinking: [Rune of Thungni's Presence, Rune of Thungni, Rune of Forgeflame]
-- ??? [0/6] > [1/6]

- Brynbar Pt. 1 complete!
-- New Combo unlocked! Combo, Deep Gate: [Master Rune of Thungni's Presence, Rune of Thungni, Rune of Siphoning]
-- ??? [1/6] > [2/6]

- Staffing Pt. 1 complete!
-- New Combo unlocked! Combo, Goruz-Kazak Rikkaz: [Master Rune of Traversal, Rune of Impact, Rune of Amber]
-- ??? [0/6] > [1/6]

- Helmet Investigation complete!
-- New Rune unlocked! Rune of Ironskin [Talismanic]
-- The helmet seems to be an experimental piece, stretching and playing with material design that clashed strongly with certain aspects of southern style for the period but remaining recognizably from that time.
-- Master of the Odd [9/15] > [11/15]
-- ??? [2/6] > [3/6]

- From doing ??? this turn.
-- ??-tasking [0/6] > [3/6]

- New Rune understood! Master Rune of Grimnir!
-- ??? [5/6] > Wisdom with Weapons [0/6] Every 3 research actions used for Weapon Runes add 1 extra progress.

- New Runes learned!
-- Rune of Charcoal [Structural]: Removes mundane impurities from metal in forges inscribed with or within rooms incribed with this Rune
-- Rune of Tin [Structural]: Structures and rooms bearing this Rune have metal being worked on within made more malleable

Retainers
- Expedition, Aiding Ravnsvake complete!
-- Ravnsvake recovery speed improved, damage repaired and patrols restored.
-- +4 Bonus to recruitment Dice
-- +1 Standing with Kraka Ravsnvake, new totals: (calculated below)

- Expedition, Aiding Dorden complete!
-- Dorden recovery speed improved, damage repaired and patrols restored.
-- +4 Bonus to recruitment Dice
-- +1 Standing with Kraka Dorden, new totals: (calculated below)

- Training Regime Pt. 2, new totals: [Cost: 0/(2 +1 +1 +1 +1) =6 retainer actions]
-- The price has been paid, and Rudil has been given the go-ahead with the full extent of his plans.
-- -15 Favour with Kraka Drakk, new totals: (calculated below)
-- -45 Favour with Kraka Ornsmotek, new totals: (calculated below)
-- -30 Favour with Kraka Krum, new totals: (calculated below)
-- -15 Favour with Kraka Grom, new totals: (calculated below)

- x2 Priests of Grungni upgraded into x2 Masons of Grungni:
-- The Warrior Brotherhood of the Order of the Stone Wall prides itself in embodying the unyielding will of Grungni in all things. Masters of defensive combat in all its forms, and training their will and endurance to the point that it seems near endless to the average Dwarf. They put these skills, and their hammers, to the task of protecting the temples of the Ancestor and the people He leads.

- x2 Priests of Gazul upgraded into x2 Watchers of Gazul:
-- Watchers of Gazul are a militant arm of the greater Cult, born from the secret war waged in the east against the Frurndar and their Broken God, they are the ever open eye and flaming blade in the dark against those who threaten the souls of innocent Dawi. Each one carries a Runed flaming longsword given to them by the Cult of Gazul.

- +3 Masons of Grungni recruited, new totals: 5
- +3 Priests of Grimnir recruited, new totals: 5
- +3 Watchers of Gazul recruited, new totals: 5
- +8 Hearthwarden Rangers recruited, new totals: 48

- 137 +17 =154/240

Khazagar
- Master Runesmith Okri Halfbrow was deemed the champion of the Summer Solstice tournament for his Runecraft on the [T3] Grudge Thrower, "Bale Eye." A fitting tribute to Morgrim and Thungni both, which, you are told, was part of the impetus for the Engineer's request.

- The Engineers Guild, sensing opportunity, have poked their head about in a more official capacity. They're wondering if they can hold a competition that the Guild itself will sponsor. They wish to know if such a thing would be deemed inflammatory or permissible given what they know about the ruckus this is causing.
-- With your approval the Engineers Guild have announced a Guild Sponsored tournament to decide which Runesmith shall have the honour of inscribing Runes onto the Grudge Thrower that the Guild's greatest members have built the coming summer solstice celebrations held in Morgrim's honour.

- The winner of the Engineering contest, one Katla Furlasdottir, won over the grumbling and critical opinions of the judges with a masterful [T4] Crossbow, "Dragon's Breath", who's firing mechanism and aesthetic craftsmanship were grudgingly considered "above average" by those in attendance. A fine piece of work for her age in your opinion. Smoothest reloading action you've seen and heard in a good while, and all without a speck of oil to lubricate it as well.

Orders
- +1 [Tier 4] Ancient Greedy Troll's Heart, arriving Turn 57
- +10 [Tier 4] Adamant, new totals: x76
- +3 [Tier 2] Dragon's Essence, new totals: x42

Favour and Standing
- +1 Standing with Kraka Dorden, new totals: Standing 10
-- Standing Bonus received! Industry of the North: Once per turn, 1 retainer action adds 1 extra progress to "Expedition" options.

- +1 Standing with Kraka Ravsnvake, new totals: Standing 10
-- Standing Bonus received! Bar a Varaz Ankor II: -1 turn timer to on all Ulthuani orders (minimum 1), Chance for esoteric item orders to appear increases, cost of orders reduced.

- You're getting rather close to becoming a figure of near-unparalleled renown in the Far North.

- -15 Favour with Kraka Drakk, new totals: Favours 90

- -45 Favour with Kraka Ornsmotek, new totals: Favours 75

- (-30 +15) = -15 Favour with Kraka Krum, new totals: Favours 40

- -15 Favour with Kraka Grom, new totals: Favours 215

Trait(s) Gained/Upgraded
Snorri

- Master of the Odd [0/15] > [2/15]

Karstah

- Master of the Odd [9/15] > [11/15]
- Master of Metal [5/12] > [7/12]
- ??? [5/6] > Wisdom with Weapons [0/6] Every 3 research actions used for Weapon Runes add 1 extra progress.
- Specialty, Armour Runes.


The vote will open 12pm MST tomorrow.
AN: Wanted this out Monday, but this will do I guess. Had a bit of a false start but I got in the groove. Hope you like, and don't forget to C&C. :^)
 
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The Enduring War Rune Pt. 1, The Cavern:
Winning Vote: said:
[X] [Karaz-Kazak-Rhun:] Go together.
[X] [Adamant:] Offer each of them a shard of Voidstone and loan enough Adamant [x10] to make a Greater Smelter. The Adamant will be repaid once the smelter is built.


━<><><>< 472 A.P. ><><><>━​

You, Karstah and threescore of your Hearthwardens reach Karak Izril in a caravan made up of several plain, old wagons you bothered Jorri into loaning out to you. Getting to the Hold with as little fuss and so quickly as you had managed was honestly a miracle in and of itself. The entire journey was slapdash and rushed, far too rushed for your liking, but time was of the essence given the possible reward. Saying "Runelord Business," is all well and good when it comes to disappearing for years on end, but that doesn't get deal with the dozens of meetings and plans that were upended because of it. Thankfully you have a retainer that you can task with clearing all that up while you disappear.

You make the mental note to get something nice for Rudil while you're here. Poor lad's definitely going to suffer a few dozen sleepless nights getting everything sorted while you and Karstah are away.

But that was for later, right now you and your group were trying to pass through the Underway gates of Karak Izril without too much unwanted attention. The line leading into Izril splits off into several forks, each one overseen by a guard who interviews each person before allowing or denying them access to the city proper. You idly note that there is another line, one made up of caravans that bear markings from the other Southern Holds, the leaders of which merely present a scroll to the guard who lets them through without a fuss.

A rush line perhaps, going by the material you can see on several of the wagons it probably has something to do with that temple the Runesmiths of Izril are building.

When your turn finally arrives you hop off the lead wagon with a grunt and walk to the guard, sizing him up quietly.

"Beardling," you greet gruffly.

The gate guard, noticing the length and color of your beard, nods respectfully.

"Karugromthi," he returns, "what brings you and your band to the City of Jewels?"

"Business." you grunt out.

"What sort?"

"Mine," you grumble, raising a brow.

The guard, looking lost, turns and catches his older colleague's eye. You watch the older Dwarf glance your way for a second, turn back to his colleague and then shake his head before going back to interviewing the Dwarf in front of him. Realizing he's been left alone, the young man sighs and turns to face you with as much composure as he can muster.

"Right." He mutters tiredly, "We will need the names of those present before letting you through Elder."

You grumble then make a show of lifting the hood off your head, having removed your Prosthetic eye in favour of a patch that does little to hide the scarring from Skarrenbakraz's creation. The sight of which makes the elder guard from earlier whistle appreciatively.

"Snorri One-eye," you say grumpily.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

Izril is a beautiful place, but sadly you can't spare the time to view the beauty and splendour of the Hold this time. Perhaps in the future, when you aren't chasing down the hammer of Thungni and the local Runesmiths don't see you as a curse upon the Guild.

Still, wonder and age permeates the streets of Izril as readily as the gems do her mines. While you aren't walking on paths cobbled with gemstones, the hold is definitely rich with the wealth of the earth. The main avenue your party walks down is flanked by alternating sets of statues and massive supporting pillars that were both decorated in a king's ransom of gems and metal. Jewels larger than a Dwarf's head, the sort of prize that would be a prospector's crowning treasure, are common enough that they've been used as the eyes for each of the dozens of Ancestor statues, while smaller examples have been used to liberally decorate the golden scrollwork and brilliant lights that wraps around the enormous girth of the pillars.

The rest of the Hold's buildings are, while not as opulent, beautiful in their own right too. Each of the structures that line the road have metal shingles on their roofs and gold filigree on the stonework on a smaller but similar look to the scrolls on the pillars. Tavern doors are swung perpetually open, leaking the warm light within while shops have their wares behind glass displays that most likely cost a literal fortune to create.

Of course that wealth isn't exclusive to just the Hold's infrastructure either. Several Dawi can be seen walking around with enough jewels on their person to outright glitter under the light of the massive Rune-inscribed Quartzes, and even the lowliest labourers can be seen with several pieces of jewelry, often using humbler materials you admit, on them.

Then of course, there are the Hold's Runesmiths.

Dressed as richly as kings and with only a smidge less the pride they bustle about the Hold like a fire's been lit under their arses. Often you spot one or a pair of them leading a band of workers hauling construction material off deeper into the Hold, no doubt headed for the massive complex they're building.

Your party pays them no mind, but in the name of remaining unnoticed your Hearth Guard break off into small groups and pretend to do a bit of window shopping while you and Karstah make a beeline straight for the Miners Guild to purchase the necessary permits.

While you've no compunction about being a sneaky lad when the need arises, you are still a law-abiding Dawi and you'll sooner mistake Pyrite for real gold than commit a crime.

Normally it takes a few days for a permit to delve below the Caverns beneath the Hold to be run through the Guild and returned to the applicant, doubly so for an outsider such as yourself. Course that unspoken delay quietly leaves the room when an ornery Living Ancestor such as yourself walks in at the head of a party of several other, slightly younger but equally grumpy Living Ancestors behind him.

After a blisteringly fast few hours that involved a long exchange of grunts and grumbles with the head of the Miners Guild about why a band of Dawi would want to go down there, and you're on your way.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

The journey down isn't all that noteworthy. Your small caravan travelling past areas of Dwarf habitation to the natural cave systems and mines that make up the lowest Deeps of Karak Izril, precise and well decorated masonry growing increasingly utilitarian before slowly giving way to the raw rock of the earth. Only when you're well out of sight of any nosey sorts do you give the okay for everyone to don more appropriate gear for the potential trial below, simple steel and the occasional bit of Gromril giving way to Pure Gromril and Dragonhide, while you don the glimmering trappings of your Adamant gear. You continued on, following the maps provided by the Miners Guild, at great expense, until you reach their edge, only to continue on down, down, down into the deeps.

Despite having no map, you were not without direction, putting your faith in Karstah's efforts to decipher Thungni's riddle to lead you through the winding maze of caves. Normally you'd think it the height of madness, but as your band marches deeper you become increasingly aware that you are passing by the exact sort of locations that the riddle could hint to.

Roughly hewn tunnels and ancient prospecting paths, the marks of the pickaxes that carved them visible to the naked eye.
Wanrag or strolled, bar or khazen/ Wherein I have left, yet I remain.
Fossilized mud flats along a long-dried riverbed dotted by alien footprints of long-departed beings that all directed you onwards.
Wanrag or nai tiwak, bar Rhun bin Tiwaz/ Where I have not rested, yet my mark s'upon the bed.
Caverns filled with white glowing slime and quartz crystals as large as tree-trunks, each crystal pointing in the same general direction.
Wanrag or gandaz skarizril, bar nai Lhune / Where I may gaze at the stars but see not the moon.
Riven fault lines that belch magma and noxious gas that "feed" into a massive crack in the earth where the orange glow of a river of magma illuminates the surrounding rock.
Wanrag brynen, bar nu mhornaz/ Where there can be light yet ought to be dark.​
Leading you to the entrance of an unassuming cavern so far off the beaten path that there wasn't even the sign of any other Dwarf being here before you. Only for the Rune of Thungni to blaze into life above the entrance once you pass some unseen threshold.
Wanrag ungor an brynen, wanrak or adgotet./ Where the land shines only when I do.
The sight of it, the realization that the riddle actually led you somewhere…

It takes a supreme effort on your end for you not to run in like an impatient beardling. Instead you order your retainers to break camp and prepare for the ordeal that was sure to come.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

You walk down the winding path of the tunnel at the front of a column fourteen Dwarfs deep and four Dwarfs wide, while Karstah, Dreng and Mhorni walk behind you.

"Master," Karstah whispers, "What will be done with the Hammer once you've found it?"

"Don't know," you admit, eyes scanning the tunnel walls for anything out of place, "Too many things to consider, and it felt like building the mine before striking any ore to do so. We're both fairly sure it is Karaz-Kazak-Rhun, but it may not even be there. It's not a good answer, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it Karstah."

"Very well."

A minute of pointed silence passes before you turn to look at Karstah.

"Ask your other question lass."

"What do you make of Master Yorri's words that day?" she asks, making you blink.

"Which ones Karstah? He has a habit of saying far too many sometimes, you'll have to specify." you grumble.

"When he was going on about Karaz-Kazak-Rhun. He seemed to know already didn't he?"

You don't say anything right away.

"It's impolite to gossip about your Elders Karstah, but the signs point to that being the case, aye," You admit.

Karstah nods, staying silent for a few moments herself before speaking again.

"Master Yorri's past is confusing—"

That's one way to say it.

"—and while I am not his student, he seems like…"

You turn your head slightly, regarding Karstah as her words falter.

"A troubled man? Secretive? Aye. Not everyday a Dwarf erases himself from history, that's true enough."

"Have you ever wondered why?"

You scoff.

"These are questions I've thought about for longer than some have been alive Karstah, and the conclusion I came to? It isn't worth whatever hurt I will cause."

"You don't think what he said about the letter is the real reason he isn't touching Karaz-Kazak-Rhun either, do you?" she asks, voice quiet.

You sigh, more tired of the situation that caused her to ask than at Karstah herself.

"No lass. No I don't. And I think everyone present for that exchange knew that," you say softly.

Before you can say anything else you notice the tunnel opening out up ahead, putting a stop to your discussion for the moment as the two of you look at what's before you.

The path branched off into three separate routes that share no discernable diff—wait a moment.

Squinting, you walk over and run a hand down the side of one wall, letting out a noise of surprise when you feel an indentation that does not match the texture of the stone before you.

Looking over at your heir you beckon her over with a jerk of your head and motion for her to do the same. You're vindicated when a similar expression crosses features as she runs her hand over the same spot a few more times herself.

"Feels like—"

"—a Rune" you finish.

A bit of mental drawing and you realize that the Rune inscribed onto the wall matches the Rune of Warding, and after a bit more exploration you find that the other two paths also have symbols carved into them as well, the middle fork bearing the Rune of Might and the rightmost path the Rune of Speed.

Karstah and your Retainers look at you expectantly.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

[ ] [Path:] Rune of Warding.

[ ] [Path:] Rune of Might.

[ ] [Path:] Rune of Speed.

━<><><>< Khazalid Trivia ><><><>━

Wanrag or strolled, bar or khazen
Wanrag or nai tiwak, bar Rhun bin Tiwaz
Wanrag or gandaz skarizril, bar nai Lhune
Wanrag or gandaz skarizril, bar nu mhornaz
Wanrag ungor an brynen, wanrak or adgotet.

Roughly translates to.

Wherein I have left, yet I remain.
Where I have not rested, yet my mark s'upon the bed.
Where I may gaze at the stars but see not the moon.
Where there can be light yet ought to be dark.
Where the land shines only when I do.

━<><><><==><><><>━

There will be an hour long moratorium for discussion.
 
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The Enduring War Rune Pt. 2, Trial of Speed:
Winning Vote: said:
[X] [Path:] Rune of Speed.


━<><><>< 472 A.P. ><><><>━​

"It's the riddle," Karstah says suddenly.

You glance her way, and see your heir look at the Rune with newfound understanding.

"Speed, Preservation, Might, Cleaving, Sanctuary, Vision, Light, Fire, Concealment, Spellbreaking, Warding, Courage and Stone," Karstah recites like a mantra, gaze going unfocused for a split second before her mind returns to the present, "The Runes that pointed to it being Karaz-Kazak-Rhun. And of the three presented, Speed is the first in the sequence."

Rubbing your beard in thought you mutter, "Fits with our theory. Hmmm…"

You look at Karstah one more time, see the conviction in her gaze and come to a decision.

"One lead's better than none. We follow my heir's intuition and see where it takes us," you announce to the others, earning several nods and grunts of confirmation.

Without any more fanfare your party takes the rightmost path, the sound of your combined footfalls echoing through the confines of the tunnel.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

You continue walking for another five minutes before the tunnel empties out into a large cavern.

Pillars lined the path, hewn out of the stone into perfect hexagonal columns that were two meters apart from each other. The pillars seemed to be endless, stretching out until they were but distant specks. You all fan out and begin scouring the room for clues or signs of something, anything to prove you had not chosen incorrectly.

You come up to one of the pillars with a Rune of Light in hand and, after finding no visible markings, run your hand down its surface to see if the same trick earlier had been repeated here as well.

Much to your disappointment your hands feel nothing but smooth, well cut stone.

Before you can voice even a snort of distaste however, several shouts of surprise draw your attention to the center of the room where you see that Karstah has accidentally stepped onto a pressure plate, lighting up the ground beneath her feet.

"Kars-" you begin to say only to get cut off when your heir simply pops out of existence.

No.

Not again.


Eyes widening in alarm, thoughts of the pillar leave your mind as you make a mad dash to the spot she was last in, Dreng coming from where he was standing as well.

"Where'd she go," the old warrior demands, eyes looking around the room methodically for some sign or trouble.

"I'm finding out," you snap, kneeling down to look at the stonework with both eyes.

Without Karstah's boot pressing down on it the panel has become flush with the floor once more, leaving no trace of its activation or the Dawi that had triggered it in the first place. Your Windsight eye is equally unhelpful, showing no unique concentration of magic from the pressure plate either

You were just about to press down the area she had just stepped in before your mind catches up with your body, and you slowly draw your hand back.

"A rod! Someone hand me a rod!" you order, eyes not leaving the space Karstah had occupied mere moments ago.

It takes only a moment but one of your Hearthwardens passes over a spare bolt that you cautiously use to push down onto the tile. You suck in a breath when you feel the stone give way and the plate depress, but nothing else happens.

"You better not die Karstah, or I'm coming down there to give you a proper haranguing," you grumble angrily.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

Karstah draws out her hammers instinctively and falls into a combat stance.

Everyone is gone.

She scans her surroundings, cursing herself for being so complacent even as she tries to get her bearings. It was Idiotic of her to think that there wouldn't be something to test her, but she pushes the reprimand off to the side. She could reflect after she got back to the others.

To her eye this place was a perfect copy of the room she was in originally sans, of course, the sixty other Dawi that had come with her here.

She eyes the ground critically before putting her foot back down onto the spot she had lifted it from.

Much to her chagrin, no hidden tile depressed downwards and lights up.

Course that was too much to ask for, she grouses.

The sound of fracturing stone makes Karstah pause, listening further she feels a small pit form in her stomach even as she begins craning her neck to look at the now failing pillars flanking her.

Further cracking from ahead draws her eye towards the hairline fractures already forming at the base of the pair just ahead of her position.

"Speed," she mutters with dawning comprehension.

Needing no further clarification Karstah begins running, the Runes on Stonestrider rousing to life as she picks up her momentum.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

In the end you don't have to do anything.

One moment you are kneeling before over the plate, growing increasingly frustrated by your lack of progress and mounting worry then the entire cavern begins shaking hard enough that you think an Earthquake is taking place.

"Cover!" you roar, slamming Zharrgal into the ground and forcing up thick pillars of rock to flow upwards and buttress themselves against the ceiling.

Around you the original pillars in the room crack and fall apart one after another in sequence, starting from the entrance you came from all the way to the end of the room. Despite all the of the commotion happening around you, you keep an eye on the plate were your eye Windsight eye reveals an absolute torrent of Ulgu spilling out of the stone before, just as suddenly as it began, the quake ends and Karstah returns to you all in another pop of displaced air.

You're about to ask her what happened, but stop yourself when you realize your heir's current appearance.

Bent over her knees, taking deep lungfuls of air like a drunkard having their favourite pint, her face grown ruddy red with exhaustion and a faint layer of stone dust coating her from head to toe.

Without a word you proffer her a drinking horn from your belt, though it takes Karstah several more moments of hard breathing before she takes it from you.

Neither you or Dreng say anything as she chugs down the drinking horn's content in a few impressively loud gulps, nor when the old guard passes her a second horn that she finishes just as quickly.

Eventually Karstah's thirst is quenched however, and you think the reality of her situation fully sinks in.

"Thank the Ancestors," she whispers, "I'm back."

"What happened beardling," Dreng asks immediately.

"I was taken to a room that looked identical to this one. Before I could do anything more than blink, the pillars started to fail, one after another." she begins, absentmindedly handing Dreng and you your vessels back.

"Like these?" you mutter, gesturing with your chin to the broken piles of stone where the original set of pillars once stood, "Thought it was a damn quake with how hard things were shaking."

"Aye, aye like that. That was the trial I believe. Had to outrun the pillars." she explains, eyeing the rubble inscrutably. "By my guess I was running at full tilt for four hours. There'd have been no way I would have survived If I hadn't been wearing Stonestrider."

That makes you raise your brows.

"It's only been ten minutes Karstah," you tell her.

She whips her head towards you, eyes wide and searching for some hint of deception.

"That- that makes no sense. I know how long I was running, and—what?" she finishes in a half astonished whisper, face falling somewhere between astounded and confused beyond measure.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

After Karstah's return you ordered the Hearth Guard to settle in and wait while you and your heir discussed what to do going forward.

"It seems Thungni is ensuring that whoever may yet take up Karaz-Kazak-Rhun is not only fit in mind, but in body," you conclude, looking at Karstah for any sign that she has overestimated her recovery.

"Safe to assume that the other chambers will have their own trials too then."

"I would have been more surprised if it was simply picking the right path. It's a sample of one, but I'll bet my favourite goat that every room we enter will have something similarly tied to the Rune it's associated with."

"Would they also single one of us out like what happened here?" Karstah wonders.

"I'm more concerned about what will happen if one of us fails a trial." you murmur, eyeing the pillars.

"Thungni would not create a lethal test would he?"

Your eyes move to look at the pillars once more. Had one fallen on Karstah in just the right way or had she slowed down just for a moment you—

"—There's a world of difference between a test being lethal and a test actually going through with it Karstah," you lecture with a hard stare, "It would be dangerous to assume that we'd simply be plucked away to safety at the last moment. Treat everything here as if it was life or death."

"I understand," she acquiesces.

You hold back a sigh.

"Are you ready to move?"

"Yes Master," she confirms.

"Right then, the next Rune in the sequence should be Preservation, but that doesn't exactly narrow down what to expect. I can't say for sure if it'll single one of us out again either, but regardless, you won't be taking that trial. Is that understood?"

Karstah begins to say something, but the look on your face has her stop and nod.

"Good. Alright you lot, up and at them. We march!"

━<><><><==><><><>━​

You were open to seeing many different things after leaving that room. The most likely outcome in your mind was that the tunnel would branch out like it did earlier, with several paths each marked with their own unique Rune of which the Rune of Preservation would be one among them. Repeat thirteen times until you had run through every one of the Runes Karstah listed in the order she found them in. There was the strong chance that Thungni would of course throw a wrench into things in one way or another. Things like using more obtuse depictions of the Runes, trials within trials, even using variants of the same Rune as a way of testing your knowledge of history by selecting the first discovered variant among them.

Not this.

When the path opens up, you do not see another branch in the road, instead you come upon a massive cavern, wherein three Stone statues wait at the center. The entire room is bereft of light save for your Runes of light and a single shaft of light that shines down onto the statues themselves. As you get closer you can begin making out the finer details that differentiate the three from each other.

The first statue is that of a woman in a dress with an apron tied around her front, the patterning is modest but well made. Her hair is bound in a single braid that reaches to her waist. And a youthful face stares lovingly down at the swell of her stomach. She braces a pot in the crook of one arm, while the other holds a fire poker.

The next statue is of an elder, dressed in the richly decorated and incredibly well made clothes. His fingers all bear rings and a Gromril necklace dangles from his neck, while his beard loops around his belt twice over. His face is contemplative, and in one hand he carries a bundle of scrolls and books, while the other holds a staff.

The last statue is of a Fullbeard dressed for war. His armour bears the signs of battle; the chainmail scuffed, the helmet dented and one of its horns snapped off. His features are tired but resolute, his beard showing signs of only the most basic care. One hand rests on the handle of a hammer hanging from his belt, a dented and damaged shield in the other.

A closer inspection shows you that all of the statues stand on a special pattern in the floor, an entwined bit of knotwork that continues deeper into the cavern.

A pedestal with a protrusion stands beside each statue, while the same message has been carved into the base each one stands on.

What perseveres?

You move aside and let the rest of the group examine the statues for themselves.

"Clear enough we need to do something with those pedestals, but let's try and see what's going on before we make a decision. No one touches anything, don't want to deal with another one of you disappearing into thin air!"

With a final glance at Karstah, you raise the light in your hand higher and point it towards the opposite end of the cavern, looking at where the pattern in the floor leads to. Only to see them end unceremoniously in the far side of the room.

Now this is a beard scratcher.

"Reckon we press one and see?" one Hearthwarden hedges.

"If you want to risk meeting your Ancestors early, be my guest Thring." Another answers.

"Quiet you two," Ylva barks out, "Less chatting and more looking!"

You let your retainers bickering fade into the background as you walk alongside the pattern to its end point. Kneeling down, you use the crossbow bolt from earlier to do a few experimental passes over the floor to see if there was some hidden mechanism you were failing to notice. It takes a bit of finagling but your efforts are rewarded when the bolt slides into a small gap between two stones, you follow the divot with the bolt to trace out the shape of a suspiciously large rectangle.

Turning to face your heir who has been content to follow your earlier order and observe quietly, you motion for her to step back and off to the side. After all of you are clear of the immediate area, you compel Mhorni to stand where you found the plate, watching with bated breath as the stone sinks with the additional weight atop it.

For a moment nothing happens.

And then there is heat.

Faster than you can react to, seven glowing circles appear along the wall for a brief moment before jets of pseudo fire and ore-melting heat strike the spot Mhorni stood on. Instinctively you order the others to move back, feeling the heat radiating off of the concentrated stream and knowing that if someone got too close their hair was liable to literally combust. Your eyes go wide as you witness Mhorni's physical form literally melt faster than it can pull more stone to rebuild itself with. A growing whine from Barak Azamar makes you look away to see the Runes on your armour actually flicker and the lines of power that illuminate the Dragon skin undersuit dim before the beams of destruction cease firing, somehow leaving a perfectly pristine floor behind while Mhorni has been reduced to a barely mobile puddle of molten rock

Dimly, you point your light towards the spot where the energy had come from, illuminating a mural of seven snarling Wyrms, their mouths open and ready to spew their flame once more, across the wall.

"Well," Karstah mutters dumbly, "I suppose that's what's whatever is being persevered against."

Dreng grunts.

[ ] [Statue:] Mother

[ ] [Statue:] Elder

[ ] [Statue:] Warrior

━<><><><==><><><>━
There will be a two-hour long moratorium for discussion.
AN: Hope you like enjoy, and don't forget to C&C. :^)
 
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The Enduring War Rune Pt. 3, Trial of Preservation:
Winning Vote: said:
[X] [Statue:] Mother


━<><><>< 472 A.P. ><><><>━​

You're not one to boast, but you reckon you're a dab hand at crafting a Gronti or construct of lesser size.

But when you press down on the button next to the statue of the mother you are given a sharp reminder about who exactly created this trial, and that your skill pales in comparison to Him.

For all that Gronti are stone given life, the vast majority are still subject to the physical realities of the material they are made from. Even you are not capable of fully overcoming those limits even with your newest work. While it can fudge around with the realities of stone and metal to give them a startling level of flexibility, the Master Rune of Waking could not work miracles. You bypassed most of those concerns by using the altered the Master Rune of Waking you learned and by creating what was effectively a doll by building the anatomy of the Gronti and fashioning to-scale equipment for them. A solution that you recognize is something that needs access to a Master Rune to mask and smooth out the basic animation, and the wealth of a King and the labour of a Clan to build.

Even still there is always something wrong. To the untrained eye and from a great enough distance it isn't noticeable, but for a Dwarf who has studied the mechanics of the form as intensely as you have they are clear as day. Mistakes and mechanical movements born from compromises made in the name of practicality that had to be done for the sake of movement, joints and flexibility that meat and bone could manage, but that stone and metal could never mimic even with the Master Rune. The Gronti's body is a compromise of anatomical accuracy and mechanical necessity.

But Thungni?

Thungni scoffs at the very idea of compromise it seems.

The Mother's statue comes to life, her head raising to meet the gaze of everyone in the room with a smile and nod before she turns away and begins walking sedately down the path marked on the floor. Would it that anyone bothered to look at you instead of the Gronti-duraz, they would have thought you an altogether indecent sort with how intensely you were staring, but that couldn't be farther from the truth.

It is a perfect rendition.

The dress moved, exactly as you'd imagine it would were it made from cloth and wool; the "fabric" folding and crinkling as if they weren't hewn from stone. The statue's braid swayed with every step it took, and though you saw it for only a moment the image of how its face moved, as if it were true flesh and its chest rose and fell as if it needed to breathe, shall stick with you forever.

For a moment you believed a living Dwarf had simply stepped off her pedestal before the reality of its stoney body sunk in.

It is craftsmanship and skill that others would call devilry, to you it is a show of talent that reminds you there is so much for you to achieve.

You begin to follow after the construct as it keeps walking, though keeping an understandable distance away given what you've just witnessed.

When the statue finally reaches the end of the path it turns to face the wall casually, as if it were waiting for something as mundane as bread to finish baking.

Then, just as before, seven bright spots light up along the wall. Then, just as before, seven torrents of heat struck out at the spot where the statue stood. But instead of melting stone you witness the construct raise her fire poker, hidden Runes along its length glittering to wakefulness and creating a semicircular field in front of it just as the beams were about to strike. Everyone in the group tenses and you activate Barak Azamar plant yourself between the statue and Karstah to shield her from the backsplash of deflected energy, closing your eyes as you do so.

But the heat does not come.

Instead you open your eyes and step aside, letting Karstah see the absurdity playing out in front of you.

Seven beams of heat strong enough to overcome Mhorni's regeneration, strong enough to tax even Barak Azamar's seemingly inexhaustible output slam into the fire poker's shield only to seemingly disappear without a trace. Taken in by the almost invisible barrier of energy without issue. Your eyes drift towards the poker, and you aren't surprised to see them unbothered by the energy they're intaking. You're almost too stunned by what you're seeing to use your Windsight Eye, but the vision it provides is telling.

Seven bright beams of ruby red Aqshy slam into an invisible wall, one you can only see by the way the Winds spill over its surface before they seemingly fall into it, disappearing without fuss or issue. You aren't blind to the similarities between what you're seeing, Karstah's hypothetical gauntlet and your Smelter, energy being absorbed and used would make the most sense, but the scale and ease with which this simple stone fire poker could manage was far beyond you.

You glance at the Runes, but something draws your eye.

A thread of magic, of Chamon, sprouting from the statue's back like a stray hair that hangs in the air and connects it to something beneath where the construct originally stood. That in itself made no sense given the limits of your eye unless it considered the statue part of some larger thing, but as you kept staring you realized something even stranger.

It was not the only thread.

You sprint away from the statue of the mother, leaving everyone else behind to stare at bewilderment while you hurried over to see if your eyes were truly playing tricks on you.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

Karstah wants to chase after Master Snorri but she is stopped by the sudden lack of heat and the sound of grinding stone.

Turning back to the statue, Karstah sees that it has stepped back from the plate it stood on, letting the stone smoothly rise up from the floor through some unknown mechanism to reveal another plinth, though with a hole on its surface. The stone ceases moving when it reaches chest-height, allowing for the construct to reach into the pocket of its apron and reveal a Gromril plate no bigger than the palm of Karstah's hand and engraved with some unknown Rune that glows softly in the darkness. Then at last it turns to Karstah and offers out the plate with a soft, motherly smile on its lips.

"What in the blazes is going on girl?" Dreng mutters, looking at her questioningly.

"I don't rightly know," Karstah admits, "but Im not going to question it."

Not waiting for Dreng to reply, she steps forward and takes the proffered plate nodding at the statue as she does so, a gesture that causes it to nod back before whatever animating force within it ends, returning it to lifeless stone once more.

She looks down at the plate in confusion before shaking her head and turning to face the knelt over form of Master Snorri several meters back over where the other two statues still stood.

"Master!" She shouts, waving the gromril piece in the air like a piece of parchment. "There's something here I think you'll want to see!"

She watches Master Snorri's form slowly rise and turn to face her, take several steps before pausing to look back for a couple moments before making his way over to them once more. Though he's too far for her to make out the expression on his face, it's not hard to notice the palpable sense of shock that radiates from him.

When he finally reaches them his face is contorted into a hard squint, still deep in thought by whatever it was that drew him back there.

"Master," she greets, grabbing his attention by moving the Gromril plate into his field of view, "the statue offered this to us."

He doesn't say anything at first, merely taking it from her hands before turning to look at the plinth and its conspicuously shaped hole.

Without a word he puts the plate into the slot and steps back, though not before glancing at the inert statue.

The question on her mind is on the tip of her tongue when the room starts to shake, the previously dark room beginning to light up as the Runes inscribed on quartz rods along the walls flare into activity, while the wall mural of the seven dragons parts like a door to reveal a hidden tunnel with the Rune of Might carved above it.

"Form up," Master Snorri orders quietly before looking at her knowingly. "We can talk and walk Karstah."

She nods.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

"What drew you away Master?" Karstah whispers as you walk down the tunnel, a few meters of space between the two of you and the others for the sake of privacy.

"Three Gronti-Duraz Karstah. All linked to one source, to one Rune," you tell her frankly.

"Like the Rune of Waking Elements?" she asks, taking your non sequitur in stride.

"It's like my Rune the same way a wooden mallet is like Drongrundum," you clarify to her, snorting at the thought.

"It was that much better? I believe you Master, but I can't see how much more the Rune can do beyond the obvious and that doesn't seem like thats enough to use those sorts of words," she replies.

"Neither did I, until Thungni showed me how. The Rune wasn't laid bare before me, but I didn't need it to be when this eye–" You tap your prosthetic. "—Let me see what was happening in real time.

I can't truly confirm it, not without cracking open the statues themselves, but my running theory is that the statues were slaved to a single controlling Rune; either directly or by something akin to the Rune of Direction. No other way I can imagine my eye deciding all three and whatever was below the floor were all connected. Can you imagine it? Three bodies, all remotely controlled. Aye, I'll grant you that perhaps the Rune may not be able to control all three at once, but that does not take away from what I've seen. This entire complex is Thungni showing us beardlings just how far Runecraft can go."

Karstah nods along with your ramblings, before she poses a question of her own.

"How do you suppose Thungni is powering all of these Runes?" she mutters, looking around at the tunnels walls, as if they would give up some hidden truth to her.

"Not a damn clue." you tell her happily.

She blinks in surprise at your admission.

"Really?"

"Aye," you confirm, "those Dragons released enough energy that even Barak Azamar worked up a sweat to keep up. It's been centuries since I've ever had to worry about concerns of power lass, and I can't even be certain if its because Thungni found a way to do it Himself or if He simply made Runes so efficient that they can release an equal, or near enough to it to not matter, amount of energy in under two minutes. I'm inclined to believe its the former, but if it is then it outpaces anything I've seen, and the maps don't mention any Ley Lines or Monoliths nearby. I can't discount the possibility of course, but my eye can't pick it up, and our gear is operating as if there wasn't one either."

You let out a long breath.

"It's good to be challenged Karstah, to be reminded that I can still improve," you tell her, "Hammer or not this entire place is a Gromril mine of knowledge. I'm tempted to rip up the most interesting bits to bring home and examine for myself. Even if Izril's Runesmiths find out and blow more hot air out their arses than five herds of Eight Peaks Longhorn, I'd still reckon it'd be a good trade."

"Khazagar would certainly be more popular if that was the case," Karstah muses drily, "But it would mean having to host more wazzoks from Izril."

You bark out a laugh.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

The next chamber all of you enter is similarly bereft of ornamentation, plain if well cut stone for the walls, ceiling and floor with a plinth in the center with a dark grey Granite tablet atop it.

You and Karsstah walk forward and examine it, finding only three lines of Aldrhun etched into the rock and overlaid with a pleasantly contrasting Gold.

Hail the Mighty.

By Craft, by Skill, overcome.

What Remains, must be Undone.


"What do you reckon this means then?" you mutter, looking around the room.

"Two choices? Craft or Skill, though the terminology its using is rather odd. The Aldrhun for 'Skill' is deliberately very martial in context, but how would we even pick?" Karstah answers frustratedly, bending down to see if there was something on the plinth she was missing before turning her head up to look at you.

You nod in approval at your heir for having the good sense not to immediately lift the tablet off the plinth at least.

Even if you both realize that's what will probably need to be done.

Passing a look between the two of you, Karstah sighs and steps behind you, pulling out her hammers as she does so.

"Step back and form up! You know the drill!" you order, activating Barak Azamar at the same time.

You eye the slowly reforming form of Mhorni with a smidge of apprehension and grudging respect for the weapons that did that to it.

Still, your shadow does reform itself, and heeding your order, moves to lift the tablet off of the plinth.

And thats when things go immediately wrong.

The Runes on Barak Azamar whine angrily as something activates them, then you watch in mute surprise and horror as one by one, each Rune on your armour starts to fizzle and flicker before going out completely as Mhorni crumbles into a pile of rock in front of you. You attempt to ignite Zharrgal and rouse Skarrenbakraz out of instinct, but can cause only a spark of flame and trickle of ash to spill before their Runes too, sputter and die.

(Modifiers, Snorri: Base: 20 + 15 Karugromthi + 15 with BA Zharrgal + 20 Barak Azamar + 15 The Earth Shadow + 25 with BA Skarrenbakraz + 15 Set bonus +10 Eye of the Ancestors +15 with BA Zharr-a-Drakhazi = +150)
(DC: 50/100/150/???,????...)

Before you can react to what's happened you see the plinth pulse, and watch as thick bands of light travel on the floor away from the it and up the walls, filling up three glowing, vertical rectangles you hadn't been able to see with either your natural or Windsight eye on the wall opposite from where you had entered.

With your equipment inactive you can only stare, wide eyed, as four Gronti Duraz emerge from hidden doors on either side of the room. They bore none of the lifelike finesse of the trio from before, forgoing beauty and detail in favour of sheer, brutal deadliness with Rune-inscribed Gromril equipment overtop their only vaguely bipedal bodies. They stand still for only a moment before they begin walking towards your position slowly.

"Hearth Guard!" Ylva roars, "To your Lord and the heir! Hold to your oaths, in Valaya's name!"

"Khazuk! Khazuk!" they shout back, fluidly forming a circle around you with their weapons drawn.

"Dreng!" Karstah shouts, "looks like you'll get to use your axe after all!"

The old warrior grunts in agreement.

Ylva jogs up to you, face grim.

"What are your orders, Lord?"

There are 4 Gronti of indeterminate strength heading towards your position. They are Ogre-sized, and are wielding Runed Gromril.

For this combat Encounter Snorri's equipment is nonfunctional, modifiers are as follows.

Modifiers, Snorri
Base: 20+ 15 [Karugromthi] =35

Modifiers, 60 Hearth Guard
Base 25 +35 [Equipment] +10[Present Numbers] =70

Modifiers, Karstah
Base: 15 +10 {Langkgrindal] +60[Equipment] =85

Modifiers, Dreng
Base: 30 +25[Karugromthi 2] +50[Equipment] +50[Skills] =155, Must Defend Karstah.


[ ] [Write-in] Plan. 100 word limit

━<><><><==><><><>━
There will be a twelve-hour long moratorium for discussion.

AN: Yeeeeeee, and I do say hawwwww. Don't forget to C&C, and feel free to ask me questions. I hope you enjoy. :^)
 
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The Enduring War Rune Pt. 4, Trial of Might:
Imagine a runed gate that simply acts like a portal bettwen the two.
Make two Indentical dorframes or one to be cut in half, enruned so that steping throu one gets you throu the other...
And Voila, budged case portal tech.

... @soulcake ? what would we need for a step on that road, to do next?
Can't answer that. I can however post this.

Winning Vote: said:
[X] Plan: Ahah, Find the Off Switch
-[X] Snorri and five Hearthguard Warriors search the room looking for an off switch, or hidden inactive gronti to turn to our side. If there isn't anything, go help Dreng and Karstah.
-[X] The Hearthguard attempts to kite three of the Gronti around the room, blinding and slowing or toppling them with Trollgut acid bombs and any other equipment on hand.
-[X] Karstah and Dreng form a duo and attack the nearest Gronti with intent to disable its legs, then attack the other Gronti in sequence.

━<><><>< 472 A.P. ><><><>━​

You take a moment to stop and think.

There was no question in your mind that this was still ultimately a problem that had a solution. You only needed to figure out what exactly Thungni intended for a participant to do to pass this particular trial. You are a Runelord, bereft of your Runes aye, but not your mind. More importantly sixty-two other Dwarfs are here with you, and that accounts for something. You can only imagine how much worse your situation would be if you and Karstah had come here alone.

Wait a moment.

Thungni, you reckon, would have accounted for every possibility. So wouldn't it stand to reason that there would be a way for a lone Dawi to pass this trial. If you considered the likelihood that this lone Dwarf would also have had their equipment rendered inert as well, then even the most martially inclined Runelord would not stand a chance against four Thungni-made Gronti Duraz. So there should be another way to pass.

Maybe its the half-formed conclusions of a fool, but what did you have to lose at this point?

Mouth settling into a grim line, you look to your champion, "Ylva, how many Trollgut Bombs are you carrying?"

"Half of us are carrying a satchel."

You glance at the lumbering Gronti, noting the moments where bare stone peaks through the Gromril plate covering their bodies, and nod firmly.

"Fling them, it won't eat Runed Gromril, but the stone could be another story. Better we be disappointed than left wondering either way. How many Hearthwardens do you reckon can knock one of these Gronti down and keep them like that? Destroying it would be best, but I'm happy with immobilizing."

The former Valkyrie guard hums for a moment, "Twenty for certain."

"Give me five and split them as you see fit."

"That leaves one unaccounted for."

You nod in agreement before turning to your heir.

"Karstah, I am trusting you with preoccupying the final Gronti," you state, giving her a knowing look

"It will be done Master," she replies, while Dreng offers you an imperceptible nod.

"Good. Give me as much time as you can, but don't spend your lives on it. It shouldn't have to come to that though," you grouse.

"Aye Lord." Ylva nods before turning away from you, "Hearth Guard! Time to show me you lot were worth the Gromril covering your arses!"

You grab the tablet off the pedestal and jog off to the opposite end of the room where the three glowing rectangles were, not even waiting to see if the five retainers you requested are following or not.

Time was of the essence.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

Watching Dreng get thrashed is a surreal experience, the old warrior gets bodily thrown into a wall by a contemptuous swipe of the Gronti's shield and the impact of Dwarf on stone is accompanied by a cloud of dust where he landed.

"Dreng!" Karstah shouts before turning back to the construct with a quiet snarl.

With a yell on her lips, she dashes towards her foe with both hammers out, each one's head blazing with angry Runelight. The golem turns its head away from Dreng to her and moves to put its shield between the two of them, the massive slab of Rune-inscribed Gromril smoothly filling her vision like a door being shut in her face.

Rather than stop Karstah pushes herself further, trusting in the Master Rune of Wandering to get her there faster than the Gronti can move itself. A trust that is vindicated when she zips past the shield, getting into the golem's guard where she begins pummelling its legs in a flurry of alternating blows.

The Gromril armour shows no sign of damage from her assault, but when the Gronti's legs give out and it falls to one knee, the stone beneath having cracked apart from the thermal shock, she feels a savage grin form on her face.

Only to blink when it drops its weapon and shield in favour of quickly grabbing her by the feet and shoulders before raising her overhead like a keg of ale.

She lets the Gronti know her displeasure with a stream of expletives, but can do little else but struggle in its unyielding grip.

Whatever the Gronti is going to do is prevented when Dreng arrives though, the old Dwarf crossing the width of the room during their struggle and using the discarded shield as a platform to leap off of, letting out a guttural yell when his axe cuts through the bare stone arms of the golem, literally disarming it and dropping her in the process.

She breaks her fall with a grunt and roll, standing up and nodding when Dreng walks to stand beside her.

"No worse than a Minotaur," Dreng mutters, spitting out a globule of phlegm and blood onto the ground.

Karstah nods, "Three lef—"
Threat recalibration. Urk level Dwe
—the words die on her lips when she sees previously dim Runes on the Gronti glow and activate in the face of the damage its body has suffered. Stone runs like liquid down the construct's stump arms, forming new limbs in the span of seconds as it gets up from its kneeling position to stand on two perfectly functioning legs, undoing the damage they've dealt with contemptuous ease.

"Krunk," Dreng mutters.

Thungni damn it all.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

There's nothing here.

You run your hand down the glowing segment of the wall with a frown on your face. It was a conspicuous thing that the four Gronti-Duraz had come from glowing blocks identical to the three here, and it made you reckon that there were three similar constructs hidden behind these three blocks. That perhaps Thungni intended for a theoretical trial taker to somehow rouse these Gronti to fight alongside them and overcome the other four. But if that was the case you cannot find anything that struck you as some sort of switch or lever to do that. Merely bare, glowing stone.
Pained yells and the sound of battle.
Humming, you pull out Zharrgal and look between it and the wall. Even bereft of Runes, it was a dangerous weapon and you were still you…

Without a word you smash your hammer into the wall with enough force to break stone, but are met only by the dull thunk of metal hitting stone. You try another three times, but you don't even get a chip in the rock for your efforts.

There goes that theory.

Squinting, you look over the tablet with a growing sense of suspicion.

Hail the Mighty…

Karstah mentioned the curious word choice on the tablet earlier hadn't she? Aldrhun is a deliberate thing, the pictographic writing system of your forefathers was unerringly precise in what each symbol meant and the context it was supposed to be used in. Yet that same rigidity of purpose was an unintentional motherlode of wordplay opportunities. A Runelord had to be at least decently well versed in their understanding of the Old Tongue if for no other reason than tradition, but for a Dwarf that grew up in an age where the only written word was Aldrhun? For who bears the Clever as an epitaph? A Dwarf who had secrets to keep and a desire to ensure that only the worthy may find them?

You're ashamed you didn't realize something was afoot sooner.

After all but ripping the gauntlet off of one of your hands you run the bare skin of your fingertips down the stone's surface, looking for the clue you're fairly certain that Thungi has left behind.

It takes a few passes to notice and a few more on top of that just to be sure, but eventually even you cannot deny what you feel beneath your fingers.

Runes, five to be exact, but somehow the breaking of the Rule of Three has lost some of its wonder in the face of the many absurdities you are now confronted by.

These are Runes on a scale you altogether did not believe possible, for they are carved into the very grooves of several Aldrhun symbols. Too small for even you to deduce their exact construction, but just big enough for you to tell that they are there and that they are real.

Five Runes, each one carved into its own word in the phrase.

Hail, Craft, Skill, Overcome, and Undone.

But why? Why these words and not any of the others written here? What was their significance?

You grumble in confusion, and were you in any other situation you would probably spend months coming up with theories before touching these Runes at all.

But the sound of your heir's pained yell somewhere behind you forces your hand.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

They hadn't managed to bring the Gronti down again after the first time.

It had targeted Dreng immediately after healing itself; rushing forward quicker, hitting harder, swinging faster and fighting better than it had before. It was all they could do not to immediately crumble before the construct's renewed assault. Despite this, both she and the old Dwarf found themselves on the backfoot, and then lying on the other side of the room after a wicked reverse swing of its weapon sent the both of them flying.

Before either of them could so much as groan, it was upon them; pinning Dreng to the ground with a punch that cracked and embedded him into the stone floor before moving on to do the same to Karstah. But just as the Gromril-clad fist is about to connect with her chest— and doubtlessly break several ribs

—It stops.

She watches the Gronti's hand pull away, followed by the fist it had kept pressed down on Dreng before it stands back up, having gone from thrashing them to within an inch of their lives to forgetting their existence in favour of turning to face in the direction Master Snorri had headed off to. Both her and Dreng stare cautiously at the now still construct for several moments before Karstah dares to speak.

"What's going on? Has Master Snorri done it, you think?"

"He took his sweet time figuring it out is what he did," Dreng wheezes out, "Now help me out of here."

With a groan of her own, Karstah rolls over and gets up with a bit of effort, feeling her body protest at the movement. It takes her a bit longer than usual, but she does eventually hobble over to Dreng and helps the Longbeard up out of the crater he was in.

"Any injuries?" she asks, looking at him worriedly.

"My pride, several ribs and a leg, plus a great deal of bruising," he hisses out, glaring daggers at the stone giant, "But I've suffered worse."

She's fairly sure he's downplaying the state of his body, but she doesn't doubt that last part at least.

The sound of moving stone makes the both of them step— or hop in Dreng's case —back. Watching warily as the Gronti dips down and picks up its axe and shield and begins moving again, and only relaxing when it turns away from them and begins walking back to the individual alcove it had emerged from. Dreng doesn't stop staring at its retreating form, but Karstah looks around to see the other three Gronti mimicking this one; ignoring the warriors they had been thoroughly trouncing moments earlier to return to the spots they came from.

"At least it's over," she finds herself saying out loud.

That earns a snort from Dreng.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

Several dozen Dawi lay on the floor of the room in various states of injury. None dead, thank the Ancestors, but they're certainly bellyaching as if they were. Several of their fellow Hearth Guard tend and admonish them in equal measure, while those who were more lightly injured settled with sitting on the ground or against each other and taking the moment to rest up. The fact that the Gronti hadn't killed anyone was, you suspect, less a testament to your martial skill and more on Thungni not being a zaki who'd kill other Dawi out of hand. Even for something as priceless as Karaz-Kazak-Rhun.

"How bad is it Ylva?" you grumble, walking over to your Fire Keeper while looking around at the sorry state of your retinue.

Ylva isn't exactly in the best shape either given the bandage wrapped around her head and shield arm, but most of her wounds are barely more than skin deep according to her sisters in arms.

"We're not done, but so far a good third of us are too injured to continue in my opinion. Nevermind the young Lady's bodyguard, that oaf is the worst off among us which is a miracle in and of itself. With the Cult of Valaya's provisions it won't do more than leave a bit of light scarring if we see to it properly, but I strongly suggest they not continue my Lord."

You nod in agreement, knowing it would be a poor idea to argue with a former Valkyrie Guard about proper treatment, even one sworn to your service.

Maybe especially so in that case actually.

"Bring them outside and get them seen to Ylva, wrangle as many of your colleagues as you need to see them back safely too. I doubt Thungni would booby trap the way back but—"

"—the same can't be said for the other things beneath the earth aye. I'll see it done my Lord," she finishes, smacking her fist against her breastplate and walking off to yell orders at her comrades.

You give her a parting nod and look down at the tablet in your hand.

It had been the height of recklessness to do what you did, but there was no other path forward if you didn't want your heir flattened like a griddle cake. So you had pressed down on the Rune-bearing symbols randomly until something happened. You still aren't entirely sure why, but one of the times you pressed down on Overcome the Gronti had stopped. Getting them to walk back had given you a hint, having passed your thumb over Hail and Undone got the constructs to step back and go back to their original spots, inert once more. You're sorely tempted to see if you can rouse the Gronti and press them into your service, but given how little you know about this thing's function, you make the sound decision to simply let it be for now.

Bah.

You put the tablet from your mind and turn to face Karstah, brow raised.

"Ylva made no mention of any injuries you had," you begin, "but I think we both know it isn't because you got off scott free."

Your heir straightens her back and tries to hide a wince from doing so.

"A few bruises, and my back's sore, but it's nothing serious."

"Aye?"

She sighs in defeat.

"I'll have Ylva make sure, but I would vastly prefer continuing deeper regardless."

You imagine she would, given the effort she's put in both at your request and on her own initiative. It would be smarter to have Karstah recuperate with the others, but there were things bigger than that.

Aye, Karstah didn't just want to see this through.

She had to.

"If you think you can handle the journey, but you're not to do anything that'll aggravate those wounds further if we can help it, understand?"

"Aye Master."

In the end half of your retainers are forced to head back towards the entrance. Nineteen were too injured to continue on, and eleven more to escort them back and protect their colleagues from anything and everything that may wish them harm. Joining them would be Dreng, much to the old warrior's displeasure, the old Dwarf only got on a stretcher after several of the former Valkyrie Guard amongst you yell and grumble him into admitting defeat. Leaving you with your heir, and the remaining half of your retinue.

But there's still the issue of your equipment.

The Runes on your gear remain inert, and you have a sinking suspicion as to why that's the case.

You pull out the tablet once more and stare at it.

It seems Thungni is not keen to share anything beyond what He promised.

You wouldn't dare say that Thungni was something so scandalous as stingy.

But you'll damn well think it! Think it loudly and angrily too!

You're complaining, in your mind of course, even as you take it towards the plinth, and when you put the marvel of Runecraft back in its place. Only moving to an open and outright grumble as the plinth and the tablet disappear into the floor while the Gronti disappear into the wall and your Runes blaze with newly restored power.

Bah!

━<><><>< Khazalid Trivia ><><><>━

Krunk - A disaster; an underground rock fall.
Zaki - A crazed Dwarf who wanders in the mountains
Urk - Enemy or Foul Thing. Will eventually become synonymous with Orcs.
Dwe - Three


━<><><>< Results ><><><>━
- -30 Hearth Guard available due to injuries and tending to the wounded, new total: 30

TBD
TLDR: Hearth Guard Stalled but could not damage. Karstah and Dreng had the ability to damage, but could only manage to stall until the Gronti recalculated their threat level and then thoroughly trounced them. It took you a few rounds to figure out the off switch.
━<><><><==><><><>━
No Vote, it should be clear why in the next update.

AN: Gonna try and make 'em shorter. Hope you enjoy, its not my best work. Not by a longshot, but Im not in a headspace to delay the update to fix it.
 
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The Enduring War Rune Pt. 5, Trial of Cleaving:
━<><><>< 472 A.P. ><><><>━​

The next trial room you enter is a strange one. For one thing it looks like a dead end, and while that would normally be a poor sign of your progress, the lone Aldrhun glyph carved into the far end tells you all you need to know.

Cleave.

You look at the others, then back at the symbol, then begin making your way closer.

Cleaving is something you can do.

Humming quietly, you unholster Zharrgal and hold the edge of the hammer's head against the wall in front of you. With a mental tug the stone falls under your sway, and you immediately force the rock to split apart like it was made from soft clay, revealing pristine tiling like in the Trial of Preservation that will no doubt direct you to where you need to go. The others release sighs of relief as they realize that they won't need to pull out their picks and get digging.

Nothing for it but to go where Thungni's pointing you suppose.

You resume your walk, retainers and heir following behind the path you carve through the stone.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

"Fire Keeper," Selda mutters, looking around in open confusion, "Shouldn't we have passed a few chambers before getting here?"

Ylva grunts.

She'd dealt with strange things in the centuries she's served under Lord Klausson, but this certainly ranks somewhere near the top.

They had begun the long trek back to the entrance and their wagons only minutes prior, but when they should have entered the room of the previous trial Ylva and her compatriots instead found themselves turning a corner that should not have been and spilling out of the cavern mouth to where their wagons and supplies were.

She spares a glance back at the cavern entrance, eyes the glowing Rune above it, and shakes her head.

"Just appreciate that we didn't have to walk as long as we expected Selda. If Lord Klausson was flummoxed by what he saw in there, what chance do we have?"

"Aye Fire Keeper."

Ancestor made or not, this damn Rhunki nonsense could drive someone —namely her —to reach for a drink or twenty.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

The trail ends, predictably, in a chamber with a solid slab of richly decorated and Rune inscribed Gromril barring the way forward.

A quick once over confirms that there's no hinge for you to break and you'll bet good coin that it would be a waste of time to break the surrounding stone in the hopes that you could simply ignore the metal barring your way forward.

Not that it would stop you from trying, just for thoroughness sake, but you're not holding out any hope.

No other way but through you reckon.

You swap out your Windsight Eye for the Eye of the Ancestors, the glow of magic disappearing from your vision to be replaced by the brightly glowing flaws in the material around you. Even the door and floor light up with myriad imperfections, something that does make you inhale in surprise, but then you notice the oddity in it.

Cleave.

Thungni had purposefully left imperfections in His work so that, altogether, they formed the same Aldrhun symbol you saw earlier.

Because of course He would.

"Sit down and rest up all of you," you shout back casually, "I'll be at this for a while."

Zharrgal ignites in a flash, bathing most of the tunnel in the glow of its ethereal flame and casting your shadow large against the walls.

Mhorni silently steps beside you, the glow of its pseudo-Zharrgal joining yours and creating a second set of shadows in the tunnel.

Out of obligation you do attempt to part the stone around the Gromril slab and are not that surprised to find that Zharrgal's ability has had the door, heh, shut in its proverbial face.

Moments later the rhythmic sound of metal striking metal fills the otherwise silent air in an odd facsimile of a proper forge.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

Gromril is unbreakable.

This is a piece of wisdom most Dwarfs wholeheartedly believe, and indeed for the average Dwarf it very well is true, for your people have found no mundane metal can hope to match the durability Gromril provides for its weight. Blades bend, Hammers dent and even the stones of a Grudgethrower would sooner kill the Dwarf in the armour than so much as dent the Star Metal that encases them.

It is nevertheless, still a polite fiction.

Gromril can break, for how else can the Smiths shape it into mighty arms and armour? Why would there stories of broken Gromril weapons being reforged? Of ancestral armours restored to the fullness of their glory by the descendants of their makers?

In the end nothing is truly eternal, and with enough effort even Gromril can break.

Heat and time, as with all things, seems to do the trick and is the basis for how it is done traditionally.

But brute force?

It takes an especially freakish level of strength to dent, let alone break Gromril. A rarity, but in this world finding someone or something with that level of strength isn't exactly hard either.

For all that Barak Azamar does to strengthen you though, wearing it does not put you among that number. What you do have however is Runes, time, and the stubborn persistence needed to hammer away at the damn thing until the manifold imperfections Thungni left become structurally unsound.

It takes what you reckon to be four hours of constant and insistent hammering between the two of you before the dent you've been making fails and the first crack becomes visible to the naked eye. It takes half that time to grow that crack by a handspan, an hour for it to grow to half the door's length, and so on and so forth as your hammer and your eye find more and more imperfections to seize upon.

Until finally, accompanied by the sorrowful chime of sundered Runes and shattering metal, Gromril falls before your unyielding Will.

You turn back around to do the time-honoured tradition of grumbling at the youth for lazing about, willfully ignoring that you told them to rest in the first place of course, but stop when you look at the changes that have been wrought to the chamber after the door's destruction. Immediately you are hit by the sudden change. Where there had been the tight confines of the tunnel you had carved was a chamber a great deal more open than it was before complete with a vaulted ceiling supported by fourteen hexagonal columns and artistic murals on the walls, ceiling and floor.

Idly, you realize the path you had followed was now a simple arrow leading from the entrance to the exit, rather than the twisting snake of tiles that led you this way and that through, at least what felt like kilometers, of virgin stone.

You switch out your eyes once more, again out of obligation than anything else, but find no hint or clue as to what Runes Thungni used to do that.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

As anticlimactic as the Trial of Cleaving— a naming convention you've caught yourself starting to use— was, you're grateful for the reprieve it offered everyone else in the aftermath of the Trial of Might.

But from the looks of it you'll be jumping right back into the nonsense.

The entrance to the next Trial was up front about it at least, a grand archway with the Rune of Sanctuary emblazoned above. Though you didn't see anything out of the ordinary when you first saw the archway, the moment you pass beneath its threshold your vision briefly goes dark before you find yourselves standing in a room far larger than what you first walked into. The cavern is enormous, tall enough that you cannot see the roof and expansive enough that you cannot see the other end. In front of your group is yet another pedestal with a stone tablet, but what catches your eye are the four massive structures that stand off some unknown distance behind the plinth.

It is the Ancestors, or at the very least statues of them. Each carved with such exacting detail as to almost seem alive and in a way you have rarely seen.

Grungni in His aspect as Lord, with Drongrundum held in both hands yes, but rather than a helm as most Dawi would use for, it is the Dragon Crown that graces his brow. But even that is strange, the gem in its center blazes with light, some unseen Rune has been carved into it. Another oddity is in His clothing, rather than being armed in plate Grungni dons a set of scalemale that glitters in a familiar Silver you have seen only once before.

Beside him is Grimnir the Doomed. Bereft of His armour but not His arms. Az-Dreugidum and, strangely enough, Urkdrengi held easily in His mighty hands and His towering crest granting the Doomed a great deal of height over His fellows. Though you should be too far to tell, let alone read, you know what the tattoos carved into his stone form are. Deathsongs and the direst of Oaths, Lamentations and promises of terrible, bloody, Vengeance; the final words and promises of a man Doomed to die.

Third was Valaya as the Defender of Dwarfkind, donning the raiment that the Valkyrie Guard based their own appearance off of. Though She held Kradskonti, it was a Runestaff of all things in Her other hand rather than the shield most would expect. A gem that sparkled so brightly to be seen, lit the area around her in bright, multihued light, while simultaneously casting shadows darker than the Void around her as well.

And to round off the quartet was Gazul the Slayer of Monsters, Zharrvengryn held in front of him in an almost ceremonial position, with his head bowed so that the flat of the blade just kissed the rim of his hood. His cloak flares out behind him, though you found it difficult to decipher just where the cloak ended, seemingly melding into the very shadows that Valaya's staff cast. Slung over His back, the tip of a Crossbow only just peaked out, the gleaming tip of a Gromril Quarrel glittering in the dark like a star.

Tearing your eyes away from the statues and their various aesthetic oddities, you step towards the plinth and read the inscription upon it.

Kneel and find reprieve for what is to come.

Lovely.

Choose One:
[ ] Grungni the Lord

[ ] Grimnir the Doomed

[ ] Valaya the Defender

[ ] Gazul the Monsterslayer

━<><><>< Khazalid Trivia ><><><>━

Drongrundum - Thunderhammer
Az-Dreugidum - War-axe of Doom
Urkdrengi - Foefeller/ "Enemy Slayer"
Kradskonti - Peacegiver
Zharrvengryn - Flaming Vengeance
━<><><><==><><><>━

There will be a two-hour long moratorium.
AN: Hope you enjoy this shorter one. Not happy it took so long but IRL decided to be busy. Anyway, please don't forget to C&C. :^)
 
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The Enduring War Rune Pt. 6, The Sanctuary:
Winning Vote: said:
[X] Gazul the Monsterslayer

━<><><>< 472 A.P. ><><><>━​

You're anxious.

All signs pointed to this being a boon of some sort, or at the very least a moment to rest before the trials that would come after.

But oddly enough you can't help but feel like there's more to it.

Not that you reckon you can figure out what that is.

"Best to just get it over with," you murmur before turning to the others.

"Whoever you kneel before is wholly your choice. It will most certainly do something, but whether it does something for everyone or only some of you remains to be seen. Either way, I see no harm in honouring Them regardless."

There's a round of idle chatter among your retainers, but it doesn't take long before people start moving past you.

"We'll not turn away any help either." you add quietly, passively watching the group break apart as people head towards their chosen Ancestor.

Your immediate thought is to do as tradition would expect, and kneel before the Patron of your Clan and the Mother of your people as you see Karstah and several of your retainers do.

But you stop yourself, and think.

The next trial, whatever it may be, will hinge around the concept of vision.

And of all the Ancestors, you've come to associate that with Gazul.

Vigilant Gazul who's flaming blade lights the dark, The Watcher of the Dead, Hunter of Monsters, foe of what lurks unseen in the darkness of the world.

You sigh and make your choice, correcting your course so that you end up standing next to one of the few Dawi who have chosen the Keeper as well. If they have anything to say on the matter they keep it to themselves, but they do shimmy over to make room for you.

The moment you kneel, things become strange.

Your head is down, but you swear images of the statue flash in your head, its brow raised in muted surprise. Then you feel something not so much intrude, but step into your mind. It is a voice; grinding like the lid being slid over a coffin, echoing like it came from within a burial vault, and yet resounding with absolute serene calmness, speaks to you.

You are not who I expected to be here.

The glow of burning red eyes, like barely stoked embers, fill your head. The head they sit in, the body of the Ancestor hidden by all-consuming shadow. There are only the eyes, staring, judging you by some mysterious metric for what feels like an eternity and not.

Surprised? Harumph. This Deep, this Close, and with My Nephew's trinkets, We have a tad more leeway here than We would otherwise.

Your nose is filled with the scent of stale air, your mouth feels parched but you feel at peace.

She's unhappy, but that's your problem to contend with I suppose.

To emphasize that point, a vague wave of feelings you immediately associate with crossness hits you from where Valaya's statue stands.

But I suppose My ramblings aren't why you're here are you? Bah. Take this blessing and be off with you then.

You suddenly jolt back from whatever that was by a hard smack to the shoulder. Looking up, you see no one at all, but turning to look at the retainers who had kneeled here alongside you only shows you that you're alone. In fact, when you turn to the other side you realize you're actually the last one to get up. Everyone else, it seems, has already congregated in between all the statues to patiently wait for you.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

As you walk through the tunnels after leaving the Trial, or maybe the Room of Sanctuary you flex your fingers experimentally.

The sound of hurried steps behind you draws your eye, and you come face to face with Karstah. You show no outward sign of curiosity, but you certainly noticed your heir lag behind you and disappear into the retinue as you walked to the next trial.

"Back from your detour then?"

"Aye. I was satisfying my curiosity about what happened back there."

That earns a nod of understanding from you.

"And you're done now?"

"Almost." she admits after a moment, pausing hesitantly.

Hmm.

You suppose there's no harm.

A knowing grunt from you is all Karstah needs to know you'll answer.

"What do you recall, Master?" she asks before clarifying, "from the statue."

You hum for a moment.

Your recollection of events is a point of pride for you, and though it may take a moment or two to recall something, nothing is truly forgotten. As a lad, you even had the temerity to openly claim that your head was more tightly sealed than a Longbeard's personal vault in fact. It got you in trouble, as so many rockheaded things tend to do, and you learned your lesson far too late in your life.

Now you only think about it from the privacy of your own mind, but thankfully not as often.

So it rankles something fierce to not recall what happened. Oh you know, but you don't know if that made a lick of sense. Like knowing no more than a summary of what happened, even though you were there.

"The words are lost to me I'm afraid. Impressions, the feelings are as easy to see as a beardling skulking about the ale kegs, but for the life of me I can't tell you what exactly was said."

Your heir nods at your words.

"That seems to track with everyone else I've asked."

You would think that would mollify the little injury your pride has suffered, but to your embarrassment and relief it hasn't.

Honestly, you don't know what would be worse. Being so petty as to find succour from that knowledge or to be so vain as to think you had any chance of defying the will of the Ancestors.

"A question then lass. What exactly did the others have to say?" you ask, genuinely curious.

"The ones who knelt before Grungni varied the most. They all agreed that it was always a lesson, a critique, and a goal. Personal to them, and them alone."

"And of your own experience with Valaya?"

"I remember the feeling of a hearthfire on my skin, and my stomach being full, a light so bright that banished the darkness yet did not blind me. I recall hearing Valaya speak to me, she gave me her favour and something…else I won't share. I also recall she seemed rather upset? Hmm. Annoyed? Ayem that fits better. She was annoyed, but not at me. I'm not sure why though."

You suppress the instinctive wince you feel coming, with a quick nod.

Next offering to Her will have to be something special you think idly.

"And Grimnir?"

Karstah doesn't pause.

"Always the same message from what the others say," she answers, void going oddly grim.

You turn your head back at her change in tone.

"Armour breaks, Flesh fails, but Will endures.'' She repeats verbatim.

An Ancestor stands before your broken body, a tablet bearing the Rune He carved into it with an Axe's edge in His mighty hands.

Fight and live well Snorri son of Klaus…


"and die for something even better than that," you finish quietly enough that Karstah cannot hear.

You turn your head away from your heir and back to the tunnel.

"I'm not sure how their gift will make itself known, but I suppose we'll find out when we reach the next Trial," you murmur.

You don't feel all that different to be honest, flexing your hand again, let alone blessed.

But you do not doubt that its the truth.

The Ancestor gave His word, and that was that.

You notice the tunnel beginning to widen and the familiar teal glow of Runecraft bathing the surrounding rock, and pick up the pace accordingly.

Time for the next trial.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

From what you can see on this side of the doorway the room the Trial of Vision is just like the others before it; complete with bare stone walls and hexagonal basalt pillars running the length of the entire room.

A quick glance behind you confirms that everyone else is looking at you expectantly.

You turn back and sigh, gingerly stepping into the chamber with your eyes on the lookout for whatever's about to face you.

The moment you step past the threshold a feeling of oddness erupts from your gut.

Like Someone is watching you.

You turn around and see nothing but bare stone behind you. The feeling of being watched is stifling, but you suppress the instinctive desire to look around, and instead you force yourself to keep walking deeper into the Chamber.

Ahead of you the end of the room transforms, stone shifting and moving to reveal alcoves where three objects rest. Cautiously, you step closer to get a better look, your Windsight eye glowing to wakefulness as you examine each one.

Again it is three figures of Dwarfs, though this time they are no larger than your hand.

A child. A young plaitling no more than ten years old. Her hair is braided into two short pigtails that poke out behind her head. A doll is held tenderly in her hands, her head turned to regard something with open curiosity. Child

A Lorekeeper stands in the middle alcove. A fullbeard going by the length of his facial hair, he wears practical if richly decorated robes and a pair of spectacles. Books, scrolls and tomes can be seen bursting from the satchels slung over his shoulders. Fullbeard.

And lastly is an Elder, his back bent forward, his skin wrinkled like a molerat's and knees hobbled by age. His clothes are rich but well-worn, with patches on the fabric to match the scars on his skin. His lengthy beard is wrapped around his waist, while he uses a cane to hold himself upright. Elder.

While you continue to examine the figures, that same feeling from before returns. This time it comes from behind you, a primal feeling in your mind telling you something important is close, and you instinctively turn around just in time to see it happen.

The stone shifts, changing from solid to what looks like a liquid before three empty alcoves rise up from it like shoots of grass. Carved in Aldrhun atop each one is a question, and your mind quickly understands what this test seems to be demanding of you.

Who sees clearest?
[ ] [Clearest:] Child
[ ] [Clearest:] Fullbeard
[ ] [Clearest:] Elder

Who sees farthest?
[ ] [Farthest:] Child
[ ] [Farthest:] Fullbeard
[ ] [Farthest:] Elder

Who sees the most?
[ ] [Most:] Child
[ ] [Most:] Fullbeard
[ ] [Most:] Elder

━<><><><==><><><>━
Remember to vote by plan. There will be a three-hour long moratorium for discussion.

AN: Not much here I think. Hopefully the May commission(s!) will make up for it? Hope you enjoy the bits that are here though. Also yes, Valaya is a bit peeved. As always, don't forget to C&C. :^)
 
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The Enduring War Rune Pt. 7, Trial of Vision
Winning Vote: said:
[X] Plan Child Sees the Clearest, Fullbeard Sees the Farthest, Elder Sees the Most
-[X] [Clearest:] Child
-[X] [Farthest:] Fullbeard
-[X] [Most:] Elder

━<><><>< 472 A.P. ><><><>━​

You grab the figure of the child, marvelling its craftsmanship while turning it in your hand to examine it for some hint or sign of what to do out of obligation.

The feeling of eyes on you intensifies.

To no one's surprise you find nothing, and with a sigh you turn your gaze back at the empty alcoves. There are too many ways for you to read these words to easily pick out a definitively correct answer. Was clearest, for instance, in terms of a Dwarf unburdened by bias or preconception? Or was it in the sense that one saw the path forward? You could make that latter argument for the farthest as well truth be told, and the same sort of problem arose when figuring out what Thungni meant by "most," too.

Ambiguity, the fence-sitter's draught. Bah!

With a grumble in your throat and the realization that any answer you give has equal chance of being right as the other, you follow your gut and plant the figure on the leftmost alcove.

That leaves you with two, you think as you turn back to the remaining figures.

Taking one in each hand, you futilely switch your gaze between the two of them for a moment more before shaking your head.

"I don't understand a damn thing about this one," you mutter grumpily.

Turning back towards the empty alcoves, you place the figure of the Elder under "most," and the Fullbeard under "Farthest," before stepping back until your back meets the wall.

The feeling of eyes on you is inescapable and cannot be ignored anymore, having grown from a feeling in the back of your mind to an all encompassing presence that's more reminiscent of a wazzok who's so close you can feel their beard bump against you.

You feel the frown on your face deepen as you quietly wait.

What now?

Then the girl doll's eyes glow luminous white and it hits you like a hammer blow to the dongliz.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

A child boldly, but quietly, marches towards her goal, ignorant of the danger of the world beyond the safety of stone. Her pigtails bouncing with each step she takes down the tunnel.

Light, enchanting, glittering light, shines at the end of the tunnel she walks. It is brilliant and more enticing than her mother's cooking. Everytime she looks in its direction it shimmers like gold to her. The light of boundless opportunity, not that a child's mind would see it as such. She knows only it is warm, it is inviting, and it feels good to be near like a fire after a long day spent wandering the mountainside with her parents and brothers.

The pitter patter of her steps echoes down the long, cold, corridor.

She should not be here.

But not even the threat of her father's gentle grumbling can dissuade her tonight. Now is the time for bravery and daring!

She walks for, what feels to a child not even a decade old at least, an age and an eternity. Each step getting her closer and closer to the light until she is but a handspan and a half away from touching the brilliant
glow coming from the door.

A huff of surprise escapes her lips as she feels her body be lifted up and upwards until she stands face to face with the brilliance. Yet, she can only enjoy the sight for a moment before she is turned fully around to come face to face with a quirked brow and a bushy beard doing its best not to break out in a smile.

"What are you doing my heart?"

The light, she says, I wanted to see it, you say.

"Not yet, my heart. When your plaits are long enough to reach your back and your eyes reach my shoulders mayhaps." Her father says softly, tousling your hair.

You look down in disappointment, it's so nice and warm, she whispers sadly. Can't I touch it please?

Her father looks at her consideringly, then he makes a show of looking behind him for someone they both know isn't there. The act makes you chortle.

"If Grandmother asks, you'll need to tell her the truth. And you know she will make you help her grind flour again don't you? Are you willing to risk it?" he whispers conspiringly, eyes glinting with mischief.

You nod vigorously. The light, the light is worth the sneezing and aching arms you think. A fair trade as any to a mind so young.

Her father smiles indulgently at you, then shakes his head in exasperation.

"Ah you'll be the death of me. Fine Snorri, you may touch the—"


━<><><><==><><><>━​

You gasp as reality asserts itself, holding yourself upright with a hand against the wall.

You are Snorri. Snorri, whose father is Klaus. Not her, not that mysterious child whose father's smile melds and shifts between your own da's face and the man in the vision.

You take a breath, then pale as the middle figure's eyes glow a familiar shade of white.

It is all you can do to steel yourself before you feel your mind get dragged under again.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

Cold.

Winter has come to the mountains.

But bitter chill and cutting wind will not stop you from braving these slopes.

Bellies need filling, and the mountain provides.

Though the blizzard is fierce you've a keen eye and those peepers spot what you've spent the better part of a tenday outside looking for.

A Mammoth.

Bigger than the hall your father and uncle hewed out of the virgin stone by half, its great furry bulk pushes through snow drifts like the ones you had to walk around for fear of sinking without a hint of effort.

A beast that big, you think, can feed you all for a long long while.

Meals like that mean you don't have to go out for a long time. Means time for you to spend on your own projects. A dozen on dozen designs fly through his mind, faster than you can read, but that he can recall with perfect clarity. Ways to improve the life of the common Dwarf, a dozen designs inspired by his boredom and distaste for wastefulness.

But that's thinking for later.

You reach a hand into the pouch dangling from your belt, cursing quietly to yourself as you clumsily fiddle with the round seeds with cold, slow fingers.

Eventually though you do manage to pull a seed out, and with well practiced ease put it into the sling's pouch and begin the laborious process of building the momentum needed to make its impact lethal to a beast as mighty as a mammoth.

There has to be a way to store this power his mind wonders even while his body goes through the motions, a better, more reliable method.

The man puts the thought aside as he aims at the mammoth, calculations for a dozen different things being run through in a couple of idle thoughts before he lets the seed fly, screaming through the air as it careens towards its target.

Bah, he can think after filling his belly, watching the mammoth fall with a loud thud that sends a cloud of displaced snow flying high into the air.

How will he get this home you think, before a roiling wave of heat travels up his neck and flushes his cheeks.

Right.


━<><><><==><><><>━​

You come to with a pounding headache, opening your eyes to blearily see the bare stone of the cavern roof looking down at you.

"Ach my kruting head," you murmur.

That was unpleasant, incredibly so. Even as you attempt to recall what you saw the images and memories flow out of your mind like sand through the holes in a colander, leaving only vague impressions and throbbing agony in its wake.

You force yourself into an upright position then blink as you feel something wet land on your lip, and a quick taste with the tongue confirms that your nose is bleeding as well.

Lovely.

Just as you move to activate Barak Azamar, the final figure activates and for the brief moment of consciousness before you are dragged away from your body you feel an inescapable, all consuming heat wash over you.

━<><><><==><><><>━​

He pops his back, holding back a groan as he fixes his posture and keeps the aches at bay.

Aches are an ever present companion to him these days.

From Aches of the body,

The stiff pop of arthritic joints, the stiffness of once-deft fingers, the malaise of
tiredness that suffuses his waking moments, only just kept at bay. Wounds from a long and struggle-filled life that throb and whisper when the temperature is too cold or too hot. The milky-eyed and bow-backed old man that he has become a far cry from the vim and vigour of his youth.

To Aches of the mind

Problems that had grown so complicated and intricate that they seemed insurmountable. The burden of responsibility reaching equilibrium with and now slowly overcoming his Will. Old challenges, once taken out of the youthful belief that they would one day be solved, only to bitterly realize in his twilight that they shall never be.

And Aches of the soul.

The sound of the burial vault opening and closing so often that they blend together. The sight of the Shrouds, so many shrouds, like an endless train of death. His Wives, his Children, his Grandchildren, and their own children and theirs and so on and so forth, taken by time or ill fate all while he remained. Immovable, too stubborn to lay down and die properly, and little else.

Yet.

Yet you persist.

For every ache, there is a boon.

Experience to the body.

The frantic pace and jittery extremity of youth replaced by the self imposed grace and efficiency that his body can maintain. Muscles so used to his labours that the great struggles of his youth are but rote memorization, no more difficult than breathing.

Wisdom to the mind.

'Knowing is in the doing, and I have done a great many things' your father once said. The experience borne from a thousand on thousand moments replaces the uncertainty and experimentation of youth. He cannot see, but now he does not need to. His work, though unfinished, has grown beyond you. Like a Hold is never truly completed, you realize now that some things find worth in their continuance and improvement.

And Balms to the soul.

For every burial, a birth. For every story that ends, another begins. He has seen so many, and to his joy each and everyone is different from the last in their own myriad ways. To see the passage of wisdom down the ages, witness to the growth of your loved ones and the struggles they overcome. Time is as much a gift as it is a curse. Foolishness, you find comes part and parcel with wisdom, bravery and cowardice. The former leads to the latter. One cannot truly learn without first failing.

Yes, you have a great many aches, and even in remembering the good you want nothing more than to put down the burden, but today is not the time to depart.

Not yet.

One final
work to be done.

You close your eyes and imagine.

~~???~` gifts to leave behind, each their ow̴̜̦͂̎n̸͔̉͝ ̷͎͠š̷̳̯̿ḙ̸̪̌̆r̵̪̰̈ĭ̶̝̟̀è̴̤͈̄s̴͈̹͠ ̸̲̥̈́̔ó̷͉͒f̷̹͌̃ ̴̛̱̈t̴̺͊r̸̗̤̓i̴̫͎̿a̸͉̯̓ḷ̶̡̽̐s̷̹̗̅͝.̸̞̝͛͝ ̷̖̭̒Ṛ̴̥̰̀̆̀͛̒̈́̇͠͠l̷̮̙̺̺̫̑̒͂̅̈́͐n̵̦͉̥̦̽͛̽̂̐̀͌̓̽͊̕̕͝-̸̛̱͙̮͇͇̞͎̝͍̲̹͎̘̪̈́͊̉̌̆̇͆̆̈́̐̔̊̔͊ụ̴̪̦̯̪͍̼̥͎̄̏͐͜͝-̴̦̿̂̉̆̏̚͝?̴̨̧̩̟͈̦̠̭͙̫̰̱̿͑͋͐̈́̊͌̆̋͠͝_̶̨̛̟͇̮̞̯̻̻͚͆̂̏̋̾̾̋͛̊̇̈́͜ͅͅ?̴̨͚̲̟̥͔͇̲͍͚͋̔̑͋͜͠ͅ ̸̨̡͚͙̭̦̹͕͚̗͕̩̽͌͗̉̑̈́͌̊̓̄̓̿s̷̡̢̙̗̣̮̝͖̜̭͝?̸̢͈͍̫̮̙̠̘̺̮̲̳̳̥̀̀͑͑̍̇̓̆͝?̷̧̡͎̞̮̘̠͉͍̈͒̒̿̓͋̕͝͝͝ͅ~̴̩͑ĩ̷̛͎̩̲̠̙̮̺͋̈́̓̈͑̑s̶̡̳̟̮̎̐̃͋̈́͆͑̍̚̚i̵͕̋̑͌̈́̿̍̈̍̓̚͜-̷̖͕̰̱͖̊̅́̆́?̸͔̄͒̔͑̔̑̑̕͝n̷̡̫͉̳̲͎͙̻̣̩̦̰̒͛.̸̨͚̱͚̞̺̼̗̦̖̪̳̦͍̙̽͘ ̸̯̱͎̣̪̟͔͈̀̄̉̔͂̑̏́͆̌̇̆͝͠ͅḽ̸͚̱̗̘͈̮̐̿͠ị̴̜̗̬̥̜̣̬̙̠̯̻̼̳̅̋̌̈́͂̈́͐̊̊͐̕͝͠͠l̴̼̪̖͇͔͇̜̙̰̱̃̏̋͛ņ̸̱̻̥̗̭̩̠̹̖̹̩̾̒̅̔̉̇̏̐́̈̇̍̚͝e̶̠͇̣̻̭̭̬͚̳̣̜̥͗͜ͅ ̸͚̣̖̺̝̲͕̏̓̒̀͗̀̔͐̚͘̕j̶͓͓͐͊̊͊̔̓̚͘͝b̸̧̄̀͋̋̊̒~̶̨̩͔̙̱̮̞̔̓͆͒͑̎̈́͘̚ͅ~̵̧̢̧̡͇̫͖̝̠͋͑͊̈́̀͆͌̽ͅ?̴̧̲̘͉͍̥͚̯̟͉̍̉~̶̡̧̨̨̙̭͓̣̯͎̣̭̞̓̾̋̂́̽̈̍̃͑̚ͅĺ̴͙̯̱͙̼̪̯̖̭̭̮̳͈̗̦̀̂̑̀̀̇̎̈́̿̂̈i̵̛̦̦̖̭̰̞̐͂̀ͅh̸͚̹̰̤̺͔̭͎̠̳͇͚̣̯̎ ̷̣̟͔̳͔̣͓̩̄͂̾̏͌̓́̈́̈͘c̸̨̡̞̼̟̭̣͗̄̔̃̀ļ̷̯̯̠̖̗̝̘̤̭͒̏̉͒̆̂̚n̵͔͇̰̾̀̾̆̅̇?̵̨̧̣̖̞̺͕͕͙̑̏̒̈́̋̇̄́~̵͉͍̝͙̞̮͈̱̟͈̽̈́͒̂̆̓̕ŗ̸̨̛̛̥̫͍͚͈̯̜͚̯͚́̐̀̀̈͆̏̈̀̓͠ͅe̴̤̥̞̺͛c̸̛͉̞̲͕̘͕͉̫͖̜͋̍̈́ͅl̵̲̅̃́̔̂̿̂̎͝

Return to yourself Klaus' Son. Lest ye be unmade.
Ţ̴̧̳̝̻̠͉͙̱̩̺̊̊̽͒̌̈́͗̌̀͐͊͛͘̚ḥ̸̳̺̦̜͇̤̗̠̟͖̃̉ě̸̖̙̠̥̦̲̯̜̗͙͕̈́̆̄̇́̅͘͜ ̵̛̩̜̯͈̥̼̟͍̪͈̐̐̏̐̈́͑̀̔́̕̚r̶̨͇͇̖̣̠̜͇̖̭̬̫̅̈́̇̋̔͜ȗ̵̧̫̋̑̑̽͆̄ṋ̸̠̖̭̫̺͓̥̳̪̰̏͌̽͛̾͗͝ē̴̩͔͗̈́͑͂̏̈́̒͂̿̏̀̆̈́̕s̷̡̖̰̟͕̝̠̪̙͔͚̤̠̭͐̓̉̀̃̉͛̾̐͌̈́̚͝ ̶̙͚͙͇̘͚͚͓͊̄̄̔̎̇̕g̴̢͈͈̘̥̮̭͔̜̓̓̈͂̑ḽ̴̙̜̞̒́̐̓͛͗o̶̢̡̧̢̺̟̫̣̬̩̖̳̺̽͑̐̅͛̾͋̄̓̾̏ͅẅ̵̧̩̘̦̜͉́̈́́̋͌̓̏̈.̴̧̧̛̟̗͉̲̗̬͕̝̲̯̘̤͆̅̄̊̍͜ ̶̩͓͔͛̏͗̓͘T̴̝͔͙̞̻̟̰̯͌̋̽́͂̓̅̈͑͂̔̂̚h̷̡͚̟͔͙̗̥̠̤̞͛̀̉͌̋̈́̕ͅͅe̵̡͓͚̞͎͓̻̯̥̜̽̅̓̒̒͜͜͝ ̶̰̗̮͈̟̰̟̬͎͇͎̙̈́̇̀̉̈́̓́͂͑̇̀͘͜ͅR̸̫̖̻͔̮̄̈̈́̇̈́̆̈́̊̈́͛̌̏ų̸̡̛̬̘̰͙̺͚̔̀̅̆̽̀̄̚̚ṉ̷̨͚̰͈̜̹̩̳͔͑̎̋̽͊́̐̑̑̍̓̈́͘͝͠ḕ̶͇̠͍̍̃͌͑̓́́̇̕s̶̳͙͔̬̠̖͎͔̔ ̵̰͔̯̝̘͒́̂̂͂̽̿̇̋̉́ͅḠ̶̨̧̡̪̯̫͈̠͘l̸͈̼̥̜͍̦͕̦͓̣̯̬̳͑̓̍͆̽͐̐̆̈́̆͘͝o̷̳̻̬̻̼͌̒̊́͌̔͒w̸̛̤͇̻̜̖̥̱̻̹̳͂̽͆̂̑̇͗͒̚͜͝.̸̢͔̹͇̣̹̯̠̘̆̐̊̈́͋̅̚̕ ̵͙̍T̵͖̃̈́͗́̐͛͂͌Ḧ̶̨̻̹͉͔̙̼̑̎̄̈́͗͝͝E̴̡̞͕͛̈́̊̓̈́͐͊̕͝ ̶̨̡̡̡̩͔͎̆̉̐̆͛͐̑̊̈́͊͘͜͝Ŕ̵̡̠̜͔̜̤̥̫̝̬͍Ũ̶̜̯̈́̔́̃̾̑̎͆͊̕̚͘N̸̜̭̅̈́̈́̉̇̒͂͆́͛́̓̓͘͝ͅĘ̶̛̯̮͍̮̊̄̉̀̿̏͐́̌́̕͘͜͝Š̶̪̞̰̳̩͐̓̋͆̊̈́́͐̈ ̵̧̮̘͓̤̼͚͔̖̤̺̰̻͇̰̿̀̎́̾͌͆Ǵ̷̨͔̰̪̿̒̽Ļ̸͉̮̤̈̈́͋͑̅̂̕Ỏ̵̘̠͛̈́͗̓̈́̕̕W̴̡̨̧̧̥̟̫̣̬̋͆̽͗̚͜ͅ.̶̞͕̲̟͊ ̵̛͍̑̓̑̈́̋̌̒̓̎̑N̴̢̫̺̥̣̤̺͉̳̞͙̣͌̑͛͆̈́͂̓̓͊̐̈́͂̎̄̋̕̚D̷̢̧̼̙̰̜͕̩̮̖͚̗͓̖͎̝̙̿̎̓͆͘̕ ̵̢̧̜̟̠̾̎̈́́̆͑̇͐͝G̴̨̧̳̼̺͕̝͈̈́͌L̴̖͓̀͆̋͋͋͂͌̌͜O̴̧̡̨̡̡̠͇̲̜͔͚̳̠̻̮͍̮͊̈́̈͝ͅẄ̸̢́̾̿̊͗̓͐̌̏̐̓͋̓̃ ̴̨̛̱͖̩͔̹͓̣͎͙̰̮͍͉͙̞͎͒͆́̂͊͆͌͆̅̀͆͜͠͝A̶̡͙̣̝̘͕̮̬̝͚̥̟͋͜ͅN̴̢̦̱̰̣̾̿̾͛̏͑̒͗͑̽̿̅̄̃͊͝ͅD̸̡̢̢̞͈̱̯̹̳̩̩̒̓̾̚͝ ̷͇̺̭̲͖̠̖̗͇̉̀̌̓́͌͛͋̑̈́̄̀̊͐͛̈́͝G̷̛͇͈̠͖̖̥̉̈̄́̔̿͌̓̄̇̋̇̿̽̚͠ͅL̶̛̝̱͎̠͉̰̙̉̈̊̽́̔̓̋̈́̇̈́́̋͐̈̋Ô̷̧̢̧̖̗̣̞̮͔͕̩̻͈̖̺͓̹̇͠W̵͔̼̍̾̒́͛̍̿̑͝͠ ̶̧̦̦̼̪̙̖̪͂̔̀̑Ä̴́̏̃̏̄͑͆̀̇́̀͗̃͝ͅN̷̹̞͓͇͔̬̬̻̜̯̼̥̫̯̳̈́̈́̅̃̇̉̋̄̓̍́̄͆͑̕͝D̷̨̡̛̹̱̹̮̠̝̭͓̮̻̟̝̘̔͊̋͌̋͂̄̈͗̈́̾̿̄͗̚͜͝ ̸͍̖̯̝͙̯̞͍̣̂̀̈̍̔̐̎́̒̇̎̀̽̕͜G̷̛̱̝̺̏̈́̈̃̇̌̚͝L̷͓̪̝̣̺̰̖͍̟̰͕̘͖͐̀͑̉̎͛̋͋̉̏̄̚̚Ǫ̵̡̨̛̩͖̜͇̯͔̬̝̻͇̟̮̪͈̍̃̂̅͛͠W̵̧̯̞͖̱̣̖͓͙̱͎̲̮̉̒̐̅͌̓̿͋̓͊̔̕̕͠Ả̸̢̢̧̛͍̹̯̖̺̱̙͇͕̖̰̰͑̒͌͘̚͝NDA̴̪͈̬̟͎͍͑̈́́̄̀̈́̏͊͋̄͐̃̈́̚͝ͅṆ̵̢̡̨̢̟̣̹̺̻̬͚̫̮̽̍̊͂̄͂́́͋̅̋̀́̌̆̔̅͘͜D̸̢̡̟͚̯̗̹̼̤̘͚̘͎̤̼͇̖̰͎́̏͐͗̈́̑̄͒̐̂̇̃̽͘̕͝͝͝ ̴̛̟̥̗̱͕̳̳̮̠̠̘̟͔̃̋̊̿͐̄̈́̈́̔̓̕͝͝͝͝ͅͅĠ̴̨̢̛͈̩̞̟̻̖̩̪̟̱̲͔̙̥̝̔̇̋̎͛͛͐͆̀̍̈́̇̈́̑̅̔̆͝͠L̸̡̧̢͓̟̝̬̗̞̞͕̜͍͈̻̞͚̭̹͉͔͂ͅǪ̷̡̡̘̲̰̞͖̹͎͉̖̰̮͕͔̫͔̼͈͇͚̟̝͚̻̅̉̆̒́̂́͆͋̎̔̇̆̿̓̈́́͐͒͐͒̐̎̔͘͝W̶̫̭̘̦̹͉͇̬̖͈̩͚̲̹̦̥̲̭͗͐̓̔͌̿̍̿̑̅̅̍̿̚̚͝ ̸̡̰̝͖̯͚͔͔̯̓́̈͝͝A̵̡̢̧͕̦̭͔̬͚̞͙̲̦̬͚̱͊͊͒̔̔̀́͒̆̈́̿̇́͊͘͝ͅͅͅN̴̤͚̙̙̬̺͑̉̎̇̇͌́̉ͅD̶̨̖͙͍̞̣̼̻̪̓̂̆̎͊́̎̔͂́̇͝͝͝͝ ̶̬̬̥̟̱̦͖̗̮̰̫̼̱͓̯̤͕̄͐͗ͅĞ̵̢̛͖̟̖̫͍̜͈̥̹̱̖̩̖̰͚͇͚̫̳̳͇̯̣͆͛̓̿̕̕ͅL̴̨̳͙̥͇̙̪̲̼̪̩̫̗̝̦̫̾̄́͛͐̐̑̊̈́͌̓͗͌̈̇̎̌̆ͅỚ̸̢̨̜̮͇̖̬͈͖̫̙̻̱͍̗̼̣̄̌͋̌̉̉̓͜͜ͅẄ̵̢̝̻̥͚̥̬̰̘̪́̈́͑̌̒̆́͝ ̶̫͎̗̠͒͐̽͐̐̆̈̃̚A̴̩̠̳̟̳̲̱̼̺̖̟̠̥̫̪̰͓̎͐̀̒͑͌̅̋̅̔͗̏͂̄́̔͐̓̌̆̕͘͘͘͘N̸̛̛͓̜͔͖̦̖̠̹̘̥̟͕̬̤͚͖͗̀̿͐̀͐͐̊͗̉́̈́̐͂͘̚͜͝͠͝ͅD̶̰̪͔̤̩͙͇̘̤̻̳͕͎̞̺͙̑ ̴̨̛͍͈̘̖̘̻̼͖̗̩͇͙̭̝͓̳̉͛̽Ĝ̸͈͍̳̣̻̹̟͔̩̟̈́̓̒̿̈́̋̇͋̎̏̂̏̉͐̆͝L̷̡̡̢̙̤͇̠̗̩̤̯͖̝͍̗͚̘͉̹̜̲̥̟̗͖̗̂͂̔͐͂̈̇͆̀̀̄̓̔̆̾̔̍͆͂̃͜͝͠ͅŎ̶̢̭̬͖̮̭̔͌́̀̉̅͌͆̽͋́̂͑̍̌̅̽̈́͒͘͘͠͝͝͝͠W̶̢̛̜̩͇̻̓̉̎̃̓͌̀̈́̓̆̄̊̀̕͜͠À̵̢̢͕̪̹̞̙͔̳̺̭̥̞̣̠̩̭̮̯̭̫̟̐͛̑̊̃͊̈́̎̂̇̇̔̍̋͌͌͛̈́́̏̕̕̕͠͝͝Ṅ̴̴̵̷̴̴̸̵̵̵̶̸̵̴̵̶̵̶̵̴̴̶̸̸̵̷̶̶̸̴̷̶̸̸̸̸̶̵̸̵̵̴̸̵̸̷̸̵̨͔̩͓̼̻͓̘̙̳̰͎̤̻̱̱̪̬͐͗̿̈͆̋̂͆̉͑̀̊̅̇͋̿͗̾̕̕̕͜͜͠͠ͅD̶̵̷̷̵̷̸̶̸̸̴̶̶̵̷̴̵̸̴̶̘̖͈̩̺̆̌̏́̔̿̏̄͌̽̚̕G̴̷̵̵̸̵̸̸̸̴̷̸̴̴̶̶̶̷̵̶̸̷̴̸̸̸̷͚̽̉̄̈́̋̈̌̇͐̌̾̀̾̓̿̐͒̊̒͘͠͠͠L̵̵̸̵̷̵̷̵̷̷̶̷̷̶̵̵̴̷̸̵̷̸̶̴̴̵̴̴̶̵̶̸̵̶̵̸̡̡̢̨̨̤̜̜̩̙̯̬̝̯͓̳̹͖̻͖̤̜͋́̏̓̽̅̐̉͝͝ͅO̴̷̴̸̴̵̵̸̸̷̴̵̷̵̷̶̶̶̴̴̸̶̷̸̵̷̵̸̷̵̷̶̷̵̵̵̶̷̸̴̸̦̗̯̭͔̜͔̤̩͍̜͚̯̹̟̭̝̩͒̈̍͑̏͛̄̇͐́̋̂̀̒̉̈́̐̈́͠͝Ẅ̵̵̸̷̴̶̶̵̶̸̶̴̸̶̷̸̴̵̴̨̛̩͕̲͙͖̘̮͙́͗̀̌̕̚A̷̷̷̶̴̷̴̷̵̶̴̷̸̵̴̵̵̷̵̵̸̴̴̵̸̵̸̴̵̶̶̸̷̶̸̛̮̮̣̭̗͕̫͈̝̯̩͂̓̉́͐̅́̎́͌̑̇́͋̑̀̊͝͝͠N̷̵̶̵̷̸̴̵̴̶̷̶̵̵̶̸̶̷̸̶̴̶̷̸̴̴̵͈͍̦̜͖̻͎͓̤͓̪̞̖̜̭͈̤̙̖͊̌̃̆͜D̸̶̴̴̷̶̸̸̸̶̞̪͙̳̬́̓G̸̶̷̶̵̷̴̷̴̶̶̵̸̶̸̶̷̸̵̶̸̶̷̸̶̴̷̵̴̴̷̴̦̯̗̠͉͎͇͓̺̠͌̅̾̉̋̇̈́̐͆͂̈́̆̌͂̕̚͜͝ͅL̴̸̵̵̶̸̶̸̵̸̸̸̸̴̸̴̵̴̵̶̸̶̴̶̷̷̸̷̢̢̧̛̠̙̭̞͈͍͔̈́̍̓̿̈̎̈̂̎͊̆͂̚͠O̴̶̵̴̴̶̶̵̴̴̶̷̷̶̴̷̷̷̦͔̙͚͙̳͓̜̗̭̍͂̀͘ͅẀ̸̵̴̵̴̷̶̶̶̶̸̷̴̴̷̷̵̷̴̷̶̷̴̷̵̴̴̷̸̴̸̶̨̛̫͉̱̟̫̤͎̖́̊͆͛͆͑̓̇͒͐͌́̓̈́̐͠͝͝A̵̴̵̶̵̴̶̴̶̷̴̶̷̶̸̵̶̴̷̵̸̸̵̢̫͈͔̥̎͗͌̈́̄͂̀́̓̐̽̽́͊ͅN̴̸̶̶̵̵̸̸̴̶̸̸̶̶̵̶̵̸̨͔͈̟̐́̈̈̓̋̂͒͗͛̾D̸̴̴̵̸̶̷̸̸̸̷̴̴̵̵̷̸̵̴̶̵̷̶̴̴̵̶̶̷̶̵̵̼̟̤̩̰̙͎̳̩̭̙͋̂͌́͂́̀͛͑̀̂̽̏́̓̈͜͝G̷̷̴̶̸̵̴̵̶̶̶̶̷̸̶̶̷̸̵̸̴̷̴̶̸̴̶̸̸̴̶̷̸̵̸̨̡̢̼͇͚͍̦͇̼̖̩̯̹̠̺̘̝͖͓͇͍̯̃̋̂̿͆́̾̓̾Ļ̶̷̷̴̵̵̴̴̴̸̵̵̶̵̷̸̵̸̵̶̷̴̶̸̷̷̶̷̴̸̵̷̶̷̶̶̸̴̴̷̷̡̡͖͍̥͈̼̜͚̼͙̞̥̟̬̬͉̹̯̯͔͓͉͓͙̮̎̄̃̇̆̓͆͌̄͑͝Õ̴̶̷̶̶̵̵̷̴̸̷̷̷̶̷̶̷̸̸̷̵̶̴̷̶̴̸̸̶̷̵̸̶̶̸̶̴̴̵̵̡̡̨̢̢̰͙̹̞͍̫̮̝͙̯̝̞̪̘̞̮̦̦͗̐̿͒̈́͒̆̒̂̕͜͜͜W̸̸̴̸̵̸̶̸̸̶̸̴̵̷̷̴̶̶̷̷̷̵̶̸̵̶̴̶̵̶̶̵̷̴̨̛̛̻͔̑͗̈́͑̄̇͆̄́̃́͒̾̔̆̅̃̓̔̓̚̚͝͠͝ͅS̵̸̵̸̸̴̸̷̸̷̴̶̴̷̷̷̶̴̶̵̷̷̵̸̴̶̵͉̻͎̻̦͔̥͕̻̝̥̱͕͛̈́́͗͋̽̈́̾̓͜ͅO̸̴̶̷̸̴̶̷̶̴̶̵̷̸̸̡̡̝̙̮͎̜̬̫̼͋ͅB̷̸̴̷̸̴̴̷̷̸̴̶̷̶̵̵̷͙̠̆̍̅̓̽͊́͑̆́͠͠R̵̵̶̷̵̸̵̷̷̵̴̸̴̷̴̴̴̶̴̷̷̶̶̴̶̵̸̷̴̶̶̨̢̯͚͓̲̤͖̫̝̦̺̦͇͓̭̯͇͑͛̓̐̔̈́̕͜ͅͅĮ̶̵̸̷̷̵̸̶̴̵̵̵̸̴̴̵̵̷̷̴̵̵̸̸̴̴̸̵̸̷̶̸̷̸̷̷̸̷̶̸̵̩̠̱͉͕̠͔͕͕̬͓̥̼̞͇̙͈̲̥̐̅͒͆̈́̂͛̋͛̌̿̐̀̀͝͝͝ͅĢ̸̶̷̶̷̵̶̸̸̸̵̷̷̷̴̸̵̶̴̶̸̶̷̸̴̵̸̸̶̴̴̶̸̸̷̵̸̶̵̴̢̢̤͎̦̜̠̲͍͍̦͚̝̮͍̱̂̌͒̔̈́̐͑̒̀̑́͊̈́̉̾͋̚͠͝͠H̶̸̷̷̵̵̷̴̷̶̵̸̷̶̵̸̴̸̷̷̵̸̴̴̷̶̶̵̸̴̶̷̸̴̴̵̨̠͚͕̫̟̐́̋̅̅͆͗́̈́̈́̋̇̅̇͗̋̐̃̌̑̄̈́̈͂̒̃͝T̵̷̸̶̶̴̷̴̷̶̶̴̸̵̵̷̸̶̴̴̴̡̢̳̠̖̙̤̣̱͈̟̙͎̽̐͝ͅͅL̵̶̴̷̵̴̶̵̸̷̷̷̴̷̶̵̴̴̷̷̵̶̶̷̶̶̴̵̶̡̯͖̰͍͙̦̤̰̩̊̋̑̀̏͐̐́̀̀̓͜͜͝͠͝Y̷̵̷̶̶̸̸̸̶̶̴̸̶̷̶̶̴̸̴̴̶̵̵̵̷̶̴̷̵̸̴̷̶̵̴̵̷̴̶̶̶̵̵̴̷̵̸̡̛̘̦̪̣̪̩̰̖͚̝̬͖̬̯̞̭͙͈͔̻̝̐̌̏̀̽̾̈̊̉͊̑͂̅͛̌̄̔͜͝͝ͅ
Mine Uncle's Gift can only do so much.

━<><><><==><><><>━​
You awaken to see your heir's worried face staring down at you though everything is red and hazy.

She says something, but you hear none of it.

You realize you feel rather tired.

Nothing a quick nap won't fix of course.

Just a nap though, there's work to be done after all.

You close your eyes and dream of glittering lights and warmth on your skin.

━<><><>< Khazalid Trivia ><><><>━​

Dongliz - The parts of a Dwarf's body that are impossible to scratch

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No Vote, next Trial is like Cleaving thankfully for you.
AN: Heres a doot. Hope you enjoy since I know not everyone's a fan of Zalgo. As always don't forget to C&C. :^)
 
The Enduring War Rune Pt. 8, Trial of Light:
━<><><>< 472 A.P. ><><><>━​

Awareness comes to you slowly, and with every second you grow increasingly aware of the pain you feel in your head.

"What happened Karstah?" you slur out.

"That's what I wanted to ask you, Master. You passed through the threshold, stood there for five minutes then you started bleeding from your nose and eyes before falling over like a drunk who's drunk twelve cups too many," your heir answers.

"I see," you groan out, waving away a few worried hands as you sit upright.

Taking a moment to let your thoughts settle, you look around to see the concerned faces of your party, and scoff to hide your embarrassment.

"Nothing to be concerned about," you repeat, patting your chestplate, "A bit of bleeding is nothing that Barak Azamar can't fix."

"Master…" Karstah begins, looking at you with greater concern than before, "Barak Azamar is already active."

You blink, then look down to see that you've somehow failed to notice the familiar teal glow of the Runes at work.

"So it is," you mutter, looking down in muted astonishment.

That's not good.

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"So you were subjected to visions each time you put down one of those figures?" Karstah asks, looking at the items in question apprehensively.

"Not visions no," you clarify, "I have a greater than sneaking suspicion that those images had a far more real past than a simple illusion Thungni conjured from thin air."

Your heir looks at you questioningly before the implication sets in and her look becomes pensive.

"You mean you were experiencing actual memories?"

"Aye. Or at least they were illusions so real that I had to detangle my own past from whatever it is that got stuck into my head."

The two of you lapse into silence, both lost in the possibilities that such an idea presents.

It had always been something you only thought hypothetically possible when you were exploring the uses and implications of the structures behind the Rune of Brotherhood, but if Thungni had indeed let you see, nai relive, the memories of others…

…Well it didn't take a particularly clever fellow to realize how much could be preserved if a Dawi's memories didn't necessarily have to die with them.

They could be held, perhaps indefinitely, until such a time that someone worthy be found. So many secrets, so much wisdom need not be lost forever anymore, but rather, for a comparatively short amount of time.

You'll casually sidestep the entire madhouse that is actually deciding if someone was worthy of knowledge when the holder of said knowledge was dead and leave it for another day.

Don't even know how to do it, so there's no point crossing that rickety bridge over a bed of spikes just yet.

Looking back, you really have to wonder if half of this entire experience's purpose was just for Thungni to prod or introduce the test-taker to some of his own breakthroughs without making it too easy. Breaking the Rule of Three, spatial manipulation, multiple Gronti being controlled by possibly a single Rune, and wielding enough power to either lock down or gutter out your armour's freakishly persistent supply of energy. The same equipment that has, without hyperbole, allowed you to not only survive against, but contend with the Greater Servants of the dark powers. Armour that, until now, you had not found anything that could overcome its abilities.

And here Thungni is, casually doing what those myriad foes could not and reminding you there is always more of the mountain to scale.

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It takes a bit of grumbling and glaring, but everyone eventually backs down after they see the steady drip of blood from your nose fade as Barak Azamar finally heals the worst of the damage and soon after you're all on your way to the next chamber.

When you reach the next Trial you come to a chamber that is the complete opposite of what its name would imply.

The only illumination you saw was that of the Rune carved above the doorway, its light softly glowing against the ever-present gloom that seems to cling to everything inside. Standing where light and shadow meet are, as is the trend, three plinths with three artefacts on them.

There's a twist in your gut, a feeling telling you to try something.

Activating your Windsight eye showed a room that had been covered with the grey glow of Ulgu as whatever Rune at play here went about its business. With your normal eye, you look at the other end of the room and note that there's a correlation between the amount of Ulgu you see and the darkness you're staring at.

Something in the back of your head tells you to look in a certain direction, and heeding it you move your gaze there and blink a few times at what you see.

As you keep staring you realize that there's an odd little disturbance in the Ulgu; where the silver glow is displaced by seemingly empty space in a few places in the room. Notably, you spot it around one of the artefacts if you focus your eye on it, but if you keep focus on the room you realize that those little disturbances actually aren't random. Rather, they form something of a very faint trail that then comes together before heading deeper into the shadows towards something you think is at the other end of the room.

Strange, you think.

"Hmph," you murmur, making up your mind even as Karstah and your Hearthguard stand around talking and thinking.

Without another word to the others or even a glance at what exactly was sitting on those plinths you begin walking into the darkness, following the odd emptiness while you keep your hands outward to grasp for any obstacles or walls that may be in your way. It takes perhaps two minutes of blindly scrambling in the dark following that trail, but true to your expectations your hand does end up pressing against a wall. You begin following the trail while keeping in contact with the wall, glancing between the trail and fruitlessly into the shadows to see, or more accurately feel, if anything of note will pop up as you continue along.

You feel a change in the wall texture at a point where the emptiness in the Ulgu coalesces, but before you can try and figure out what's going on there's a sudden a flash of light and the immediate onset of vertigo and you feel yourself being physically moved by some unseen force.

Fighting off the sense of disorientation that threatens to overtake you, you keep your hand on the wall and begin glancing around in the dark with your Windsight eye active to try and get your bearings. It takes a moment to find the trail, but based on its new position relative to you, you reckon that you're at a point somewhere to the right of where you were originally. Keeping your eye on the thread, you push forward and keep walking through the dark. Each time that you come across some split in the path simply following the nearby wall that will keep you closest to the trail as it ducks and weaves out of your line of sight. More than once forcing you to backtrack to some earlier point before reaching the right path.

You doubt Thungni intended for you to use the trail as your guide, or that he even knew of its existence either you suppose, but you'll take advantage of it all the same.

You're moved seven more times, following and watching the trail as it gathers more and more motes of emptiness together between each jump. The void in the Ulgu has grown in size and coherency like streams coming together to form a river until it makes a Dwarf sized serpent that eventually leads to what can only be the final chamber of the Trial.

The small room you walk into lacks the same cloying darkness that's been your companion for the past half hour, and consequently reveals a button on a plinth for you to press. You look around the room and scratch your head in thought as you fail to spot where exactly the Deep Magic is being fed into, and you spend far more time than you're willing to admit futilely trying to find out before glumly pressing down on the stone plate.

The now familiar sense of movement grips you, and you find yourself back in the original Trial chamber, this time perfectly visible, with your heir and retainers looking at you in abject confusion.

You give them all a cursory glance, noting the confused glances and quick pat downs a few of your retainers are giving themselves. Karstah looking down at her hands in confusion as if she had lost something she was holding on to.

"Bah!" you grunt out, grabbing all of their attention, "What are you all waiting for? Time to keep moving!"

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"Are you sure you're alright Master?" Karstah insists, looking at you worriedly.

You sniff imperiously.

Honestly!

"Why wouldn't I be lass?" you reply casually, keeping your eyes on the tunnel.

"It isn't like you to just…walk off like that without explaining what you're doing, or in the way you did it either. Thoroughness is usually your hallmark," she explains tentatively.

You slow your pace just a smidge, considering her words and your actions in the chamber.

Your immediate response was to dismiss the concern outright, but you know Karstah wouldn't bring this up without good cause. So you hold your tongue and you attempt to have an honest recollection of your actions prior. And as you run the events over in your mind a frown slowly crawls its way onto your face. How had you known to trust the trail, and how had you been so sure it would actually be the right answer? At least without the usual amount of thought behind it.

"I have no satisfactory way to explain my behaviour Karstah, and that in itself is troubling I'll give you. I just felt sure, felt it right down to the roots of my beard even, to look to a certain spot, and lo and behold I found exactly what to look for." You explain, a smidge of frustration leaking out.

Karstah takes a while to reply, but when she does there's still a great deal of confusion laced in her voice.

"How exactly did you know it was right though?" Karstah continues, asking the very question now plaguing your mind. "Could it be that your head wound was worse than we realized?"

"Doubtful," you answer, though admittedly you were only half convinced yourself.

"I suppose tha—is the temperature rising?" Karstah says suddenly, eyes narrowing as she stares ahead.

You blink and curiously touch your hand against the tunnel wall, noting how the stone is now rather warm to the touch, as if it had been baking in the sun for a while.

"Seems to be the case. Fire was next, wasn't it?" you murmur curiously.

Karstah nods.

A sigh leaves your lips.

"Let's find out then."

You don't say anything else, something in your gut telling you not to thumb your nose at fate by saying something foolish.

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The exterior of the Trial Chamber looks like an explosion has gone off inside it. Soot marks like grasping claws reaching out from the doorway like a star, the eggy smell of brimstone emanating from rolling clouds of fog billowing out from within, and a dull glow bathing everything in orange light.

All of you had begun exchanging grim looks when the heat had incrementally increased to a sweltering temperature more akin to a forge, and those glances had only grown grimmer when the first whiffs of coal and brimstone began hitting your collective nostrils.

Now here you stand at the precipice and your gut is roiling like you've eaten a bit of undercooked Troll; the feeling of danger has only grown the closer you've gotten to this place and it now reaches a terrible peak.

You offer Karstah a firm nod and press on, walking through the doorway to behold what awaits past the sulphurous fog.

It takes some effort not to curse your hubris when you break past the fog to behold what lay within.

A Dragon slumbers in front of you, It's great bulk large enough to obscure the rest of the room behind it.

Not a real, living breathing Wyrm thank the Ancestors, but a facsimile of one. And while its design was clearly meant to mimic the body of the Drakk, it is both small and purposefully artificial looking enough to tell apart from the real thing.

You snort at the thought.

As if the past few constructs you've faced before this point have been bog standard affairs. For all you know Thungni could have packed in the destructive power of an Elder Wyrm into that thing.

Even as you let these thoughts run through your mind, you notice the thing immediately reacting to your presence. Slovenly, as if waking from a long and restful nap, raising its head from the ground to regard you with its gimlet eyes. The act revealing the Master Rune carved proudly on its chest and bathing the room in its harsh glare. Behind you the footsteps of your retainers and heir can be heard, coming closer as they also brave the entrance to reach you.

You hear Karstah step up just beside you, and out of the corner of your eye see her tense as she also catches sight of Thungni's creation. Behind you the quiet utterance of curses from your retinue rings loudly in the absolute silence of this place, of this moment.

The Gronti-Duraz gets up on all fours, rising until the long swooping horns on its head just barely brush up against the ceiling. Its head swivels around, somehow managing to relay an air of imperious arrogance as it regards you all before it finally moves. Walking to the side, you are all hit by a terrifying wave of heat and orange light as the construct no longer obstructs the end of the Trial chamber from you, revealing an absolutely gargantuan forge on the other side. With an instinctive grace that belies its obviously fabricated appearance, it turns away from you and begins walking further into the chamber, but not before giving you a look that strongly implies you follow.

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You all cautiously follow the golem as it continues to the other end of the chamber, feeling the heat grow to a level that you know any living being could not survive without some form of magical protection. By the time you actually reach the forge the air is just a hair's breadth shy of being unbreathable, everything you see has a hazy quality to it, and the dull orange glow is almost blinding. Your retainers have all had to stop several dozen meters behind you, the Runes protecting their armour no longer capable of letting them safely push forward beyond this point. Only you and your heir are able to stand before the forge, Barak Azamar and your cloak being built to let you survive far more terrible temperatures than this, and Karstah's own set of necklaces and charms keeping her safe through sheer weight of numbers if nothing else.

The Dragon, which at this point has been staring at the Forge from the moment it reached it, finally turns its head to look at you both as you approach.

With a great sweeping gesture of its wing, kicking up a wave of embers and superheated air, it all but demands you look into the forge proper. Despite your misgivings, the two of you move forward to see what exactly the Gronti is gesturing at. All the while the feeling of being watched only grows.

There, sitting in a bed of white hot coals is a bar of metal. The metal that is the same familiar Silver from the other Trial, from the first time you stumbled walked into the Dragon's Hoard over five centuries ago.

You release the breath you had no idea you were holding by that point.

The two of you look back at the Dragon, unsure of what the construct is demanding of you.

With a mechanical click its jaw swings open and the Gronti-Duraz speaks to you both in a voice that is damningly familiar.

It is the voice of the Ancestor, of Thungni Himself that leaves this thing's mouth.

"Feed the flame."

[ ] [Fuel] Write-in: 1 Word Limit. Pick something.
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There will be a three-hour long moratorium for discussion.

AN: Sorry for the delay! Was sick. Hope you enjoy and don't forget to C&C. :^)
 
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The Enduring War Rune Pt. 9, Trial of Fire:
Winning Vote: said:
━<><><>< 472 A.P. ><><><>━​

Feed the flame.

You're not quite sure what possesses you to do so, but you walk up to the forge until you stand so close that the flames nip at you, and lay your palm face up on its edge. Though you are immune to most forms of pain under the effects of Barak Azamar, the heat that radiates from the forge still affects you. Most notably is the way your transformed limb literally begins to glow orange, like superheated rock, the longer you keep it on the forge. Mhorni, meanwhile, has not stood idle, following your unconscious desires by walking up beside you where it grows then breaks off a large pointed shard of granite-hard rock.

Then, without a hint of warning or fanfare, Mhorni holds the shard above your still splayed out hand and hammers it through the stoney flesh of your hand, causing a spurt of blood to erupt from the wound.
Severe arterial injury detected. Writs ong through set demand interference.
Ignoring Karstah's noise of confusion you lift your hand and aim it at the ingot in the forge, showering it in an arterial spray of molten blood and causing your heir to shout in alarm.
Anomalous ability detected. Deliberating.
Even as your literal lifeblood gushes out of you, your eyes never leave the ingot. You vainly attempt to see with your Windsight Eye, but nothing of note can be made out as the molten blood lands and sizzles away into nothingness.
Contender Regeneration: exceed expected parameters.
The ingot displays no new colours, an utterly blank core surrounded by a cloud of Aqshy and Chamon not unlike what you get when looking at Adamant, but you have a more than sneaking suspicion that it wasn't for the same reasons.
Deliberation complete. Intervention: Not required.
"Sacrifice." the Dragon announces with the voice of your Ancestor, "So the path is chosen."

You grunt out in surprise when the Gronti reaches out with a clawed talon and holds your arm steady with a gentleness that definitely belies the monstrous strength you imagine it possesses.
Inefficiency within acceptable bounds. Response retrieved: Fut.
"Commit. Until it is done." it demands, head turning to look at the ingot, utterly ignoring you.
Progress range: 2.2 - 3%
"Get comfortable lass," you say, turning your head to see a thoroughly distressed Karstah, "It seems we'll be here a while."

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Ylva is conversing with Sigrun when her sister in arms raises a hand and shushes her.

"Listen," she murmurs, brows furrowing in concentration.

Ylva follows along, straining her ears in the direction that Sigrun was aimed towards.

There is a rhythmic pounding, barely louder than the background noise of their camp, in the distance.

Ylva wastes no time and looks to her sister in arms.

"Move the wounded closer to the cavern entrance and form up a defensive perimeter." she orders calmly, hand moving to rest on top of the axe dangling from her belt.

"Aye Fire Keeper," Sigrun nods briskly before marching off.

Ylva does not pay her fellow Hearthwarden any further mind, her attention now split between the increasingly loud thumping heading towards them and planning out their response to whatever the source of it could be.

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Alright.

With the benefit of hindsight, you can grudgingly admit that using your blood probably wasn't the best decision you made.

It's been close to fifteen minutes now, and apparently you apparently still haven't given enough blood to satisfy the requirements of the Trial. So much so that you had sent Karstah away to let your retainers know to settle down until this was done.

Speaking of, you're thankful that one of the few silver linings is that you've been standing here like a moron long enough now that Karstah's shock had worn off.

Though you can't say that the morbid curiosity that's replaced it is that much better either you grouse, a slight frown forming on your face.

The sound of oncoming footsteps grabs your attention, and you turn your head to see Karstah heading towards you.

"Took you a while there lass. Are my retainers so lost that you had to explain something as simple as 'Master Snorri may be stuck here a while, have a sit down,' more than once?" you ask jokingly.

"No Master, that part went by quickly. I just had to have a discussion that ran longer than I thought it would." she apologizes with a short bow.

You quirk a brow at her.

"I see."

Knowing better than to press given her tone, you merely turn your head back to stare at the ingot, letting the conversation lapse into silence as Karstah moves to stand on the side of you opposite Mhorni.

"If you would humour my curiosity Master," Karstah broaches quietly, or as quietly as she can manage trying to be heard over the roar of the flames, "I had a few moments to spare pondering over your decision, and I'm left wondering. Is it something to do with that project?"

"It may," you concede gruffly, eyes not turning away from the Ingot, "But what do you make of it my girl?"

She hums in thought.

"You already said your eye wasn't able to show you anything sadly, but I'm more surprised that it's even a valid answer for this Trial. Runesmith blood has, historically, not led to any useful ends as a reagent at any quantity." she mulls over.

"That never discounted its use in other ways Karstah," you remind her, "Runesmiths simply never had to care about those other uses. Perhaps this is Thungni's way of telling us to keep our minds open."

Even if you haven't been actively pursuing it, Akazit is never far from your mind these days. Not when it seems more and more likely to be the key to the ambition of Runesmiths everywhere. Breaking the Rule of Three, and all it may require was the bar greedily drinking up all the blood you've been spraying at it this entire time.

A burst of movement to your side makes you turn your head, only to then blink when you see its Mhorni extending another shard of stone in its hand to you expectantly. You realize with some embarrassment that your creation was reacting to your own subconscious impatience, and you take the time to mentally dismiss the order and send him back to standing at ease beside you.

You are a Runelord, and you have waited far longer for things that were far less important than this.

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Fire is your birthright.

Menlinwen The Teacher's voice echoed in his mind, speaking a line from a poem of the Winged Ones of Caledor, as he hammered away at the Metal on his Anvil. He wields the Ruby Wind, Aqshy, and feeds the flames of his forge in preparation for the next heat.

Birthright.

That word had rung as little more than hollow pleasantries to him. The ability to wield the Ruby Fire was his from birth aye, just as the Gold and Diamond were his sister's, but he knew he was not predestined to wield it. To underestimate the Ruby Wind was folly, for Fire was mighty. A foe to be challenged, to overcome and wield with Will and Wisdom.

But above all else Fire was a tool, his tool.

One he was borne capable of grasping, has spent decades living alongside, and in these recent years one he has begun learning, mastering, and bending to his will as a Runesmith who Shapes Metal and Wind hones their own talent. Ability was not talent, as Karstah the Caretaker said, it was privilege, chance and greatest opportunity and with it was the Duty to master it.

Zharrok raises the half formed tool to his left eye and examines it, watching the Winds within as intensely as he examines both its physical shape and glow of the metal.

It progresses well, he thinks.

He exhales a cloud of smoke in satisfaction, the acrid scent of sulfur and the noxious poison of his body set alight by his Fire filling his lair, and buries it in the coals of his forge. This would be a greater work than the last, a sure sign of his improvement. While he waits for the metal to heat, keeping an eye on it at all times, his attention splits to examine the tools hanging from the belt around his neck.

"Punch, I require the punch. This one? No, too wide. Where is the punch…" he murmurs, scanning the mass of tools, sifting through them with his free hand, until he finds the correct piece of metal amidst the mass of steel and bronze.

Growling in satisfaction, he plucks it from his neck and turns his full attention to the forge.

Fire is your birthright.

He snorts.

Not even birth was a right. All life is struggle, all joy is hard won, all talent learned, and all one cares for must be defended with claw, fang and flame.

Zharrok pulls the piece out of the forge with his claws, places it on the anvil, and begins hammering once more.

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Another hour of casually bleeding passes, long enough that had you not been wearing Barak Azamar you probably would have begun feeling sore from holding this pose. Long enough that Karstah had wandered off to sit against a wall and somehow actually fallen asleep. The mental if not physical exhaustion was strong enough that she managed to nod off despite the heat and general discomfort of where she was.

You saw no harm in leaving her to her rest, who knew when you'd get any in the rest of these Trials after all?
Progress range: 99.5%
"Completion nears. Be prepared." the Dragon announces suddenly, the rumbling voice of your forefather travelling down the length of the chamber to where your retainers were no doubt

But it seems the time for rest is over.

"Karstah, wake up," you grumble out loudly, sending a mental note to your shadow and bemusedly watching as it walks over to nudge her awake from the corner of your eye.

She comes to slowly, blubbering and muttering in confusion as wakefulness fully takes hold, but she eventually rouses herself fully. Bleary eyed and face tinted red with embarrassment as she realizes what's happened, Karstah begins muttering to herself.

"When did I fall asleep?"

You snort.

"Maybe forty-five minutes ago. The better question is how you managed it here of all places," you grumble, lightly chiding with feigned anger, "But enough of that. Come here and get a good look, The Dragon tells me we're near the end of it now."

After the construct's proclamation you dare not look away from the ingot now, but you can hear your heir scramble to her feet and jog over to stand beside you easily enough despite the roar of the flames.

Despite the Dragon's words, the ingot looks no different to either your natural or artificial eyes, but you have no reason to believe it would lie about it either. So you continue to watch as your blood is poured and eaten by the bar as it has done for over an hour now. In the back of your mind you wonder just how much blood you've actually poured into it, certainly it was somewhere in the realm of more than four bodies' worth. These weren't the ideal conditions to measure and find out the exact volume of your lifeblood needed to feed a magical bar of metal after all.

Then, you hear it.
Rhun zhufen.
A growing roar that begins quietly, but rapidly grows until a thousand voices chanting in unison can be heard all around you. A rhythmic thunder that rattles your bones and easily overcomes the blazing roar of the forge, a sound, a feeling, that you quietly realize you have felt before, but never experienced isolated from the action that causes it.
Duruk angrungnaz
"Master…" your heir mutters, astounded, "this is— I— Can you feel this?"
Skaud afhunken
"Aye lass, aye I do," you confirm, equally stunned.
Ghal angrungnaz
It feels as if you are creating a Rune.
Skaurit en skaud a Grungni
You watch the bar, not even daring to blink for fear of missing anything that may be happening. The roar of the choir reverberates within your very soul.
Azgal-a-Azamar
Witness! The Dragon roars, rising above the deafening cacophony, glittering motes float in the corner of your eyes.
Bingrungnaz Utkhazi
Witness! the voice of Thungni demands.
Zagaz un Gnolkronar
Witness! Seven throats thunder as the bar begins to shimmer with enough light to outshine the sun.
Makazi Okrul
You demand your eyes remain open, even as everything goes white and you feel a blastwave of superheated air strike you.

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"—ord Klausson! Can you hear me?" a distant voice says.

Groaning, you blearily open your eyes to see the concerned visage of one your Hearthwardens. Their face going slack with relief as they notice your movement.

"Blink if you can hear me, my Lord." they ask with growing clarity.

You slowly comply, earning a sigh of relief for your efforts. A voice inside you screams to get up, and you hastily attempt to comply; trying to force yourself upright with unsteady arms before several pairs of hands move to stabilize you.

"What happened this time?" you slur out as memories of what just happened begin coming back to you, "Karstah…where is Karstah? What happened to my heir?"

"She's unconscious but stable, my Lord. An Ancestors' damned miracle none of you got hit by shrapnel when that forge exploded, but it didn't save you from getting flung into a wall." The Hearth Guard, Kemli your mind helpfully supplies, reports while pointing a finger towards the prone form of your heir, with several Hearthwardens and Dreng fussing over her.

"No injuries?"

"Maybe a concussion, but Srelda didn't feel any bumps or bruises when she checked the young Lady's skull. We won't know for sure till she wakes up."

You nod, though it comes out as more of an uncontrolled slump than anything, and lean against the wall.

"There was…a bar. Where is it? And where's that damn Dragon?" you ask, still blinking stars out of your eyes.

"Not a damn clue my Lord. We were just waiting here like you ordered when suddenly 'boom!' the whole cavern shudders harder than a beardling during Dunkin. We rush over and we stumble on you and the young Lady crashed against the wall with a pile of rubble where that there forge used to be. But no sign of that Gronti-Duraz at all."

"Search the rubble with whoever isn't occupied right now," you order quietly, "There should be an ingot there. There must be."

Kemli nods, and begins relaying your orders to the others.

You let out a sigh and turn your head towards Karstah.

Ancestors below that's twice now.

━<><><>< Khazalid Trivia ><><><>━​

Dunkin - Annual bath traditionally taken whether needed or not.
Ong - One
Fut - Four
Set - Seven
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The next Trial is also a gimme. Praise Gazul.
 
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