Turn 58 Results Pt. 2: The Blind, See
- Location
- Edmonton
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Winning Vote: said:
Thungni's Brilliance, DC 80: 34, 13, 21
Peerless Production, DC 40: 82, 42, 67
Peerless Production, DC 40: 82, 42, 67
━<><><>< 487 A.P. ><><><>━
You look at the orb in your hand, now cool enough to touch, and quietly contemplate what it represents.
A hollow sphere of Gromril that, like your first Windsight eye, has an opening for light with the Rune of Windsight inscribed on the inside wall opposite it. Ten rhombus cut gems have been embedded around the hole of the iris like the petals of a flower and ground flush with the metal. The surface is covered in flowing knotwork, ten lines originating from the back of the sphere on the other side of where you inscribed the rune, going out in varied paths before they end up framing a jewel each.
How so small a thing could represent the defeat of such a fundamental obstacle to your craft would make you chuff in amusement were you not so intimately aware of the centuries of personal effort, let alone the millennia of institutional efforts, behind it.
You're apprehensive.
A thousand fears and a thousand dreams circle around in your head endlessly, threatening to send you down a long, long spiral of introspection if you entertained even one of them.
So you don't.
Without another moment to get lost in your worries again, you place the prosthetic into your waiting eye socket.
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"With me Hearth Guard, to Grimgal!" Karstah roars, pulping the head of a bloodletter with a swing of one of her hammers. She watches the body fall, already falling apart into a puddle of evaporating gore before a flash of blinding light, followed by a terrific screech of pain, draws her focus.
Looking away from the corpse of her foe to glance at the Shard Wyrm, deep in the Fimir lines and wreaking terrible havoc from the sounds of it. Every so often a flash of lightning slams into the earth farther up ahead as the High King slaughters his way through the Fimir leadership, other times the swooping form of Prince Malekith's mount flies low, spitting flame and death among the Fimir lines before disappearing into the clouds above. Both moments only seem to incense Grim, and make the dragon push forward harder to keep up. But unlike the High King or the elf Prince, her charge didn't have a way to get out of there if things got hairy.
The sound of whistling air and her own instincts give Karstah just enough time to raise her other hammer up to block the swinging glaive of a Fimir warrior.
Grunting, she twists her weapon around so that the greathammer's head hooks in, and she can yank the weapon out of his hands.
More wroth than anything over being unarmed, the warrior pulls out a wickedly pointed warpick and rushes her, shield raised.
Training with Dreng to wield her hammers was a painful and often sad state of affairs. Even decades into it, she still finds herself flat on her arse every nine bouts out of ten whenever she duels the Living Ancestor.
But it is paying off.
The one lesson Dreng had drilled into her head over anything else was that her weapons were still greathammers. Even when both were balanced to be carried like a one-handed war hammer, they were still the size of weapons normally built for two hands. And that meant they had the appropriately long handles that gave her the variety in reach that she could put to good use at the right moment.
Like now.
With a yell she lets her hand slide down Drakkgrund mid-swing just as Dreng taught her, adjusting the distance so that the hammer's head swings past a Fimir's raised shield and slams into his shoulder, cooking flesh and cracking bone.
The whoosh of a bolt passes by her left, slamming into the agonized Fimir's eye and through the back of his head.
Dwarf portable Bolt Hurlers, like their siegeweapon sized counterparts, were slower to reload, but packed a far greater punch. Morgrim's gift, first given to the Engineers of the North as the Endrinkuli serving her master gleefully point out to the southerners in the Drangthrong, before heading to Everpeak.
"Right in the eye Daril! Just like I told you! That's drinks on you now Wazzok!" one of her retainers yells gleefully, Daril's grumble of displeasure intelligible despite the din of battle.
Before Karstah can say anything, a new groaning roar echoes over the battlefield.
Turning to its source, she sees a great cloud of fog bulge and deform as the looming shadow from within begins to tear its way through it, more of that same low roar rippling out like a horn over the battlefield.
"To me! We head towards that cloud Hearth Guard! I've a mind to put a stop to theFimir's scheme before it can begin," she orders, adjusting her grip on Drakkgrund before raising it high, "Forward! The Ancestors witness—!"
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—you this day.
Because you have done it.
There's no grand revelation, no great chorus of voices proclaiming victory, or anything of the sort that happens when you put in the prosthetic of course.
In one moment you saw the world as you have for over one-thousand years.
Then in another, you do not.
A part of you expected a sense of wrongness, like the time you stuck on a prosthetic arm to give yourself an extra limb, but nothing of the sort manifests.
If anything, it's a bit anticlimactic, but then again reality could never hope to match the image in your mind.
You see the Winds of Magic in their totality now. You see them with a level of detail and clarity that is beyond the bright lights of your old eye. You can see them coil and suffuse everything in your workshop.
How they congregate around that which calls to their nature.
How the different strands come close, mingle and even entwine with each other without ever mixing.
How the stone resists and serves to mostly confine the currents to the space of the room, but not so much that the individual Winds can't permeate through at differing speeds.
How your Runes interact. From creating volumes of empty, clear space around themselves, deadening and stilling whatever is nearby and/or pulling the strands in to fuel themselves, the Winds seemingly losing color as they are consumed.
You begin to walk towards a nearby Rune—to go and use the Rune for the very reason you wanted to pursue this knowledge in the first place—when an idle thought runs through your mind that makes you pause mid-step.
Your old eye showed living beings as amorphous masses of light, colored by the most prominent Winds within their bodies. Most often a mostly equal mix of all eight with a slightly higher portion of Ghyran or Ghur, save for a few edge cases like Grim, Zharrok or a Wizard. All of your sources agreed however, that there was a distinction between the soul and the Winds. They were related as almost all believed that both ultimately came from the Aethyr, and the latter was a constituent part of the former, but they were emphatically not the same. From your research you also knew it was possible for a Zhufokri with sufficiently developed Windsight to read the emotions, intent, even the very souls of others with perfect clarity. Ignoring the part about how a soul appeared to a wizard was perhaps even more individually unique than the different manifestations of the seventh sense itself, you also strongly suspected that such a level of detail was most certainly in the realm of a Master Rune, and that many of the details they described were likely locked behind the same restrictions as thematic vision. At the very least you knew you couldn't even read the mood of others with your old eye like even the most middling of mages apparently could, let alone see into the depths of their soul.
But maybe your new eye could?
Even if it wasn't really what you made the Rune for, seeing any improvement would be a nice surprise.
So with that in mind, you look down at your hands, expecting little, only to blink in surprise.
You see the Winds of Magic; both from the environment and inside yourself. The energy outside moved as fast as molasses and only got slower the closer it got to you until most of it stopped good two meters away from where you stood. After that only a few stray whisps break past the invisible barrier and continue to sluggishly crawl towards you. In comparison, the Winds you see within yourself move much faster, but in a way that is slightly more orderly than the currents outside; bands of color rising from your skin temporarily before sinking back into you and disappearing from sight. Where both sources meet, you see the Winds make a brief connection before the outside is buffeted away by some invisible force.
That alone would have been more than enough to satisfy you.
But there was also something else.
Every so often there's a flash of something translucent that appears for a moment before it's obscured by your—well—you. An instinctive flex of your fingers gives you pause, and after a few more repetitions you wonder if you're hallucinating.
Was that—?
You move your hand closer to your face, and to your disquiet you see a ghostly reflection of your limb, covered in veins of gold like, move to where your mind wants it to go before it's obscured by your physical limb.
Curiosity and trepidation bloom into your mind, causing a wisp of dull grey Ulgu to flicker up from you like steam.
"What in the—"
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"—name of the Ancestors was that?" a Hearthwarden mutters.
"A damn freak of nature is what," one answers bitterly, leaning on his crutch.
"Drakk," another says grimly.
Even rendered to nothing more than offal and ground meat the corpse is large, larger than Grimgal even. In life it had the bodily proportions of a Shard Wyrm, but beyond that little else was similar. Regular, if horribly maintained, scales covered the length of its body, with patchy matted clumps that looked like hair at some point randomly scattered along its spine that became tangled in a mass of uneven, disjointed and broken horns. The most defining feature of the drakk's head though, wasn't the halo of horns nor the maw of equally mishapen and mutated teeth that was eerily reminiscent of the Fimir.
No.
It was the large, cyclopean eye.
An eye that was so full of dark magic that, even in death and after it had been destroyed, putrid black smoke wafted off the socket like the worst sort of steam and black while black, viscous blood dripped down and polluted the ground.
The Fimir had brought it out from the fog near the battle's end. Perhaps as a desperate final gambit to turn the tide, but from the way it killed its handlers as readily as it did Dawi and Elgi, was more likely a spiteful final act against them. It had crashed into their lines and tore open a ragged hole in the shield wall. An entire company of warriors, all Longbeards, had been subjected to the paralytic magic of its gaze, rendered unable to move out of the way of its flesh melting breath attack or scream as they were rendered into piles of viscera -covered armour in a puddle of caustic acid.
A further three companies of elves and dwarfs had died or been maimed from swipes of its claws and its fang-filled maw, sending bodies flying as it continued its rampage. The number of casualties was, in the grand scheme, a rather small amount of damage for something so large, but that was only because it had been challenged by something of comparable size.
Grimgal.
The eldest Shard Wyrm triplet had immediately changed course and charged at the Fimir's creation the moment it appeared, delayed only by the mass of enemy bodies she had to cut down to reach it. When they had gotten close enough, she fired a beam of light magic that had grabbed both the monster's attention and ire.
Karstah had watched it turn to face then charge at Grim in turn. Saw the two behemoths barrel past whatever unfortunate thing was standing between them as they ran headlong into each other, heard the loud thudding crush and smack of flesh and metal as almost forty meters of armoured Shard Wyrm slammed into this unique and even larger specimen of a Slave Wyrm.
And she had watched Grimgal lose that ensuing battle.
Slowly and not without taking her own pound of flesh from her enemy, but losing all the same. Blows that tore through a fully armoured Fimir noble barely scratched its iron armour, lances of purifying light that could pierce centimeters of steel and deform Gromril were shrugged off and the wounds healed over by ugly weeping scabs.
They had rushed over to intervene, both to shore up the shield wall and aid her charge.
Together with the Heard Guard, Grimgal finally managed to hold the Fimir's monster in its place and turn the tide somewhat. Even managing to blind it, tearing out its eye with her maw before it sent her thudding to the ground with a strike of its tail. Victory though, was out of their grasp.
At least until the High King and Prince Malekith arrived and slew it for good.
The ultimate cost had been three dozen injured Hearthwardens, and only one death.
Thrimbold Gorsbane, Elder of Clan Bryggeroot and one of the first inductees into the Hearth Guard, had died distracting the beast from finishing off a dozen young warriors that had bravely and foolishly charged in to aid them. Continuing to fire his crossbow and shout obscenities even as the Drakk crushed his legs with its tail and grabbed his broken body in its claw. The Living Ancestor even had the spite to laugh mockingly when it failed to crush him, unable to deform the Runed Gromril armour he wore.
It was the beast's caustic breath that finally did him in; overpowering the already overtaxed Runes that were keeping him alive, and causing his flesh to melt and fall away to reveal bone that fared only slightly longer. It had happened quickly enough that he didn't have the time to suffer at least.
Gone in less than three heartbeats.
A cold comfort.
Where once was a living Ancestor six centuries old, a great grandfather of eight and pillar of his Clan and community—
— was now nothing more than a pile of Runed Gromril equipment in a puddle of unspeakable liquids.
She had watched it happen, the blows of her hammers doing little to distract the monster.
He had died saving others, just as Lord Truthteller and so many other elderly Dwarfs did she found. Short of simple time finally doing one in, dying in such a way was one of the worthier ways for a Dwarf to die.
But it felt like—no it was, nothing more than posthoc justification, like the one her people gave every other death. Pretending the bitter taste on their tongues was ale and not the hemlock it actually was.
"My Lady," a Hearthwarden, Daril she recalls, calls to her, "the High King wants to have a word if you have the time."
She lets herself linger on Thrimbold's remains for another second before she turns away, squaring her shoulders and nodding at the Hearth Guard in thanks.
"We'd best not keep him waiting then."
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You aren't normally one to indulge in people watching when there are other things to do. It was as textbook an example of wool-gathering as you could find after all, and was solely the realm of open gossips and rumour mongers.
And like any good elder of your people, you were an inconspicuous gossip and rumour monger.
More than that, most people don't want you to look at them despite what they may otherwise think.
Getting your attention required they do something extraordinary after all.
And for most people, it was more likely than not extraordinary in the way they cocked up what should be simple and straightforward tasks.
But you'll make an exception this time.
Trying to look at your own soul is an exercise in frustration after all.
So instead you pop out of one of your many hidey-holes that criss-cross Khazagar—far away and well hidden from everyone on account of the fact that it's several meters in the air above a statue of Thungni— and settle in to look at the crowds that walk Khazagar's walls.
You believed that seeing souls with a great level of clarity was beyond your Rune, because every text you read made it clear that only wizards with the most sensitive and highly developed Windsight could manage it.
Which makes it a surprise for you to see the souls of these other Dawi with such, perhaps disappointingly mundane, clarity.
No amorphous blobs that were only vaguely the shape of a person or masses of emotions and memories. Instead you saw the souls of most of your fellow Dawi as nothing more than semi-transparent versions of themselves that walked in almost perfect lockstep with their physical bodies.
They weren't all a perfect match or equally clear of course. Several Dawis' souls looked like an older or younger version of themselves from what you could tell, those who lacked physical limbs were curious, their souls often varied between looking whole or mirroring their physical forms and lacking the same body parts, with clouds of Chamon over their prosthetics. The Runesmiths piqued your curiosity the most, though you couldn't see with enough clarity without getting caught, you noticed that they too had specks and veins of gold running through their bodies.
The memories of your discussions with Blizzardwing come unbidden.
She had described your people as stone, and Runesmiths as rocks that bore ore. And funnily enough, that lined up rather well with what you saw here.
It could be nothing more than coincidence, but when you dealt with magic that was rarely ever the case. The most workable theory you had was that the Rune conveyed the Winds of Magic through a distinctly Dwarfen lens, and that you hadn't so much as removed the individually unique nature of Windsight but moved it from the individual to the Rune itself. It was an idea that lined up well within the existing framework of Runecraft at the very least, and barring Windsight completely upheaving those theories, it was the most grounded by evidence.
If every different method of inscribing a Rune resulted in an entirely new Rune, then in reality every new variant of the Rune of Windsight would be individually unique. But at the very least these unique forms could actually be shared, unlike those of the elves or brana.
A variant of this theory was that the Rune of Windsight actually pulled from the collective metaphysical psyche of Dwarfkind to determine how it presented Magic to its user.
That though, brought up questions that quickly started to tackle with the nature of time and was best left for when you were either very bored or very drunk.
The second most likely possibility was that you simply were that good and managed to create a Rune that mimicked someone with highly developed Second Sight.
Bah.
You relegated that sort of monumental hubris to the goals and expectations you set for yourself.
Snorri Klausson will prefer his ale warm and flat before he would ever be anything but brutally, critically, honest of his own work.
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Rudil looks at the shrouds blankly. Some are whole, others are in pieces. They are the lucky ones, the ones who had left anything behind.
Sixty Hearth Guard and, at King Dorr's insistence, one hundred and twenty Ornsmotek warriors marched into the lower Deeps of the Hold to slay the thing that had been terrorizing the Hold's miners.
In a few short years they had lost forty of those warriors and ten Hearthwardens.
He knows each one, knows how they died.
How he failed them.
His first mistake was believing the enemy was a beast. The bodies found had been savaged, and the targets just outskirt operations or the occasional prospecting group never returning from an expedition.
Rudil had bid the Hearth Guard lead the search and scout the tunnels, taking a third of the Ornsmotek warriors with them while leaving the others to defend and patrol those tunnels they had vouchedsafed.
That had ended when three squads were found dead within a span of two days.
He recalled everyone, and spread out the Hearthwardens to lead groups of their younger allies.
Even now he can't tell if his foe was just adapting and finding a new opportunity or if the entire thing was intentional action.
Regardless, that was when his own men had started dying.
Daggi; dragged into the dark only to be found in pieces by the terrified Ornsmotek Dawi he was assigned to lead.
Ketil and a half dozen others, taking an axe between the shoulders despite standing back to back in a circular formation.
Dargo, killed by a granite boulder that came from a ceiling that showed no signs of structural failure and was made from Limestone.
Starki had given them the first clue as to this monster's identity at the cost of his life. Based on the arrangement of corpses, their best guess was that he had been the first target, cut in half with a single stroke, before the attacker went and picked off the others as they ran back to camp, not realizing the stubborn old goat was alive. He had likely crawled to the nearest wall and begun writing on it with his own blood before the killer came back and finished the job, cutting off his arm at the elbow and was in the middle of smudging out most of the word before backup arrived.
Had they been even a few seconds later, he was sure that there'd be nothing for him but a bloody wall and a dead friend.
Eleven Dawi had died, and all they got for it was a half smudged letter "M."
After that, Rudil had realized that keeping the Ornsmotek Dawi here would only lead to their early demise. So he had led the party back to the Hold, not foolish enough to break into two groups, and relayed his suspicions to the King before marching off with just the Hearth Guard in tow.
Many would argue that lessening their number wasn't the smart move to make. But he would argue that 80 untrained and underequipped bodies to defend would only spread out his warriors more thinly. Better that they remain tight and cohesive and better prepared against an enemy that seemed to only take opportunities to pick them off one by one. Quality over quantity.
And in hingsight, it meant he had less deaths on his conscience.
He had attempted to be more prepared, modified his plans according to his suspicions. Norgrim and the rangers were pulled back to tighter perimeters, fewer, and larger scouting parties, watch rotations randomized and the number of sentries doubled.
It only made their enemy more obvious, but no less deadly.
Storris Longnose and Blackbrows, found half a meter from each other by the sentries that were meant to relieve them, died from deep wounds to their chest that left their armour Runes drained but the plate physically untouched.
Cormak had managed to shout in alarm before a blade found itself in his gut, but his death was delayed when Rogni rushed to his aid.
The former was beheaded for the attempt, before the attacker went back and finished off Cormak..
Rudil was almost sure by that point.
But these last three had made him certain beyond doubt.
Zammin was found half embedded in the rock, his face a rictus of anger and despair, hands frozen clawing at the stone.
They had to crack open the boulder to find Thingol.
And Vikken.
They had joined the Huskarls under King Otrek together. Sworn into service in the same ceremony in fact.
Both had survived the Siege together, stuck as partners guarding the way to their Granduncle's workshop.
Then, when their Granduncle announced the formation of the Hearth Guard, the two of them had been the first to be accepted.
Only for Vikken to be slain by his own shadow.
"Rudil," Norgrim grunts out, smart enough not to pat him on the shoulder, "it's time."
He doesnt reply verbally, but Rudil does turn his head to nod at a patiently waiting Logain.
The priest of Gazul returns the gesture and steps forward, beginning the process of giving Vikken his last rites.
Normally their dead would be carried home, afforded the respect usually reserved for Nobles and Runesmiths of being entombed with their kith and kin leaving this world beneath the same stones they had entered it under.
But Rudil can't guarantee the safety of his subordinates even when they're at full battle readiness in these tunnels, let alone when several of them would be occupied carrying the dead.
Much as it galls him, dishonours him, Vikken, his cousins and friends must be buried here.
His vengeance was for the dead, but his duty was to the living.
━<><><>< Khazalid Trivia ><><><>━
Riluzkuldrakk - Lit. "Brilliantly shining skull Dragon/Monster"/ The Bright Death
Zhufokri - Lit. "Current/Torrent Craftsman"/Mage/Wizard
━<><><>< Gain ><><><>━
Snorri
- Gronti-Bay complete! Skaudardrengi Pt. 2 unlocked!
-- A facility dedicated to Monumental scale construction, not quite building, but well beyond even a Gronti.
-- -35 Favours with Kraka Drakk, new totals: (calculated below)
- Extra-Sensory Pt.1 complete! Extra-Sensory Pt. 2 unlocked!
-- The ability to see the Winds of Magic is no longer outside the grasp of your people. Everything is different now. (Information hidden by Windsight will be revealed when appropriate/asked, otherwise I'd be stuck updating information for days)
— Souls appear as translucent versions of the mortal's body with a few minor visual differences that likely reflect their self-perception.
— The Winds of Magic appear as a layer of multi-colored trails and bands superimposed over reality.
-- Rune complete! Rune of Windsight: (see New Runes/Combos)
-- Gain Trait, Windsight (see below)
-- (Hidden) Mythical Deed, The Consternation Soothed: (see below)
-- +1 Progress to The Secrets of Light Pt. 3a Utility, new totals: [Cost: (4 -1) = 3 actions]
-- +1 Progress to The Happening of Things, new totals: [Cost: (8 -3) =5 actions]
-- The Movement of Things Pt. 7 unlock condition met!
-- The Rune Metal Pt. 7 unlock condition met!
-- Master of the Odd [7/15] > [9/15]
Karstah
- +3 Progress to Drakk Rearing, new totals: [21/? actions]
-- Grimgal, length: 36.5m by 493 A.P.
— Her growth is still terrifying to behold. She'll break 40 meters sooner rather than later at the current rate of growth.
— By far the toughest of the three, and Zharrok's creation have allowed her to better use her magical talents.
-- Zharrok, length 31m by 493 A.P.
— Spines lengthening the most by proportion, and unevenly so.
— Greater dexterity than the others, likely from training.
—Has finally made his Master Work(s). Zharrok had intended to enchant it himself, but Grimgal persuaded (read bullied) him into letting her do it instead. The enchantments are not as good as Runes of course, however Menlinwen says they are well made for one who has only so recently begun their journey wielding the Aethyr.
— Zharrok (and Grimgal)'s Epic Creation of Note, Wreath of Light
---- A wreath made to be worn around the head, with the main Gromril structure obscured by the forest of upward pointed spines that Grimgal donated. The spines all glow softly with Hysh, and the largest spines, placed close to the ends, have had their tips replaced by Diamonds.
---- It increases Grimgal's ability to wield Hysh, as well as naturally collecting it.
---- +10 Bonus to casting Light Magic, further +10 Bonus to casting Illumination Spells.
— Zharrok's (and Grimgal)'s Epic Creation of Note, Mantle of Metal
---- A mantle made of gold forged into the shape of Shard Wyrm spines connected by links of Gromril chain, with the largest at the center over the wearer's chest and growing smaller the farther from the front they get.
---- +10 Bonus to Combat and casting Magic. When active, spines are hardened and take on a golden sheen while barely visible golden barrier covers the wearer's body
-- Izgrom length 31.5m by 493 A.P.
— Spines lengthening as well.
— Claws haven't grown as thickly as his siblings, thin and more ductile but still as durable.
-- The increasing dimorphism between them is notable but not a cause for concern right now.
New Runes/ Combos
- Rune of Windsight [Engineering, Prosthetic]: Must be inscribed on items with at least 10 different flawless gems. Items inscribed with this Rune always provide the user a form of visual based Windsight. Viewing the Winds of Magic as multihued threads of energy superimposed over everything in their field of vision and the souls of mortals most often as translucent versions of themselves with a few minor differences.
Retainers
- +15 Former Valkyrie Guard recruited, new totals: x25
- +8 Masons of Grungni recruited, new totals: x13
- Grungaldrin complete! (conclusion in pt. 3)
-- The Shadow Hag reveals itself after decades in hiding. Slaying 40 Ornsmotek warriors and 10 Hearth Guard by 487 A.P.
-- (revealed in Turn 58 Results Pt. 3)
--10 Former Huskarls, new totals: x28
- Expedition, The Throng is Mustered complete!
-- The Drangthrong of the High King and Prince Malekith encountered a massive example of a Slave Wyrm, one unlike any seen before. A cyclopean monstrosity that could paralyze with its gaze and melted flesh with its breath. The Hearth Guard would have been badly depleted holding it back if Grimgal had not been there.
-- (revealed in Turn 58 Results Pt. 3)
-- -1 Hearthwarden Rangers, new totals: x47
169 +23 -11 =181/240 +1 retainer action
Khazagar
- [Mid 484] The sheer number of Runesmiths has apparently done the opposite of what you expected. Contests are clogged with contestants, and stores are running empty of reagents. Good problems to have, but problems are problems! Bah. Nothing's getting done with all these dunderheads about. Still, through sheer numbers alone more Runecraft is being made, if not to the same level of efficiency as expected.
- [Early 485] Skalla Honestheart's presence has drawn several other bird-hating Runesmiths to the Hold. These Dawi, united from across any and all spectrums have deemed themselves to be wronged by the Changer, and come to learn Runes that spite it in turn.
Orders
- +1 [Tier 4] Ancient Storm Wyrm's Brain, arriving Turn 60
- +1 [Tier 4] Elder Dragon Ogre Shaggoth's Heart, arriving Turn 59
- +1 [Tier 4] Medusan Cockatrice Eye, arriving Turn 61
- +1 [Tier 4] Ancient Greedy Troll's Heart, arriving Turn 59
- +2 [Tier 4] Elder Wyrm's Blood, arriving Turn 59
-- Item Order Expedited x1 times
- [Tier 2] Slave Wrym Corpses x2 yields
-- +8 [Tier 4] Elder Wyrm's Blood, new totals: x18
- [Tier 4] Ancient Greedy Troll corpse x1 yields
-- +1 [Tier 4] Ancient Troll's Heart, new totals: x5
-- +2 [Tier 4] Ancient Troll's Blood, new totals: x6
Favour and Standing
- -60 Favours with Karak Ungor, new totals: 120
- -50 Favours with Kraka Drakk, new totals: 40
- -90 Favours with Kraka Grom, new totals: 110
- +1 Standing, with Kraka Ornsmotek, new totals: Standing 10, Favours 75
-- Standing Bonus received! Standing 10, Here be Monsters: Reduce turn timer on native Far Northern Monster orders by 1. (minimum 1)
— Ex. Trolls, Frost Wyrms, Chimaera, etc. If unsure, ask.
- +1 Standing with [Region] The Far North, new totals: Standing 10
-- Standing Bonus received! Standing 10, Paragon of the Peninsula: All [Region] Far North favour is now interchangeable. All individual Far Northern Hold favour converted to "Far North" favours.
-- [Ancestor] In the event of Snorri Klausson's death, he will be honoured as a Minor Ancestor God in the Far North, a source of pride and wisdom that all Norscan Dwarfs will remember until the ending of the world.
Trait(s) Gained/Upgraded
Snorri
- Master of the Odd [7/15] > [9/15]
- Windsight:
-- +2 to the total Specialty Modifier when researching Runes,
-- -2 total cost to all [Difficult] Research options, and
-- -1 total cost to all [Simple] Research options
- Mythical Deed, The Consternation Soothed:
-- Durin is lost but his soul, wherever it may be, shall rest easy knowing that one of the two great struggles that defined his life has been conquered.
Grimgal
- Title, Riluzkuldrakk (The Bright Death)
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EDIT:
AN: Update, Its really late. I had Rudil suffering and Karstah suffering down pat for weeks, a come down from Skarri's whirlwind decade-long romance of sorts. Understandably I think, most of the delay stemmed from trying to convey how a Dwarf would react to being able to see the Winds. I asked a lot of other QM's for their thoughts and ideas. I want to give it justice, but not just default to shock and awe. Its an entirely new way to percieve the World, so all the little details and discoveries wont come crashing into Snorri at once.I agonized a lot about how to portray souls especially, and solicited then received a lot of great ideas from people about how to do it. But the very literal and only slightly magical view of an intrinsically metaphysical concept definitely had the biggest Dwarf vibe to it, and serves as a nice core for me to add the most compelling bits and bobs of the other ideas to. After all, Dwarfs use the suffix for physical objects "-az" for abstract concepts if they're important/real enough.
Hope you like it! As always don't forget to C&C. I'm gonna post the Nov picture with Pt. 3 (which will be after the Dwarf Si chapter, sorry patrons I didn't forget you!). A long needed update I think. The Christmas picture is gonna be good too, hopefully I don't take that long to update though! :^)
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