I'm gonna give good Veekie's thing a try:
Stirland's Council met primarily in a dedicated room in Eagle Castle, and the Expedition's Council of War met wherever was convenient at the time. The Council of Karak Eight Peaks, it seems, is going to work differently. 'Walking distance' means different things to different people, and apparently to Dwarves it means they see no reason not to drag the entire Council from place to place within the Karak for everyone to show off the results of their labour. Between the distances and the sheer number of stairs involved, you're glad you're in shape and doubly glad that if necessary, you can rely on Ulgu to shield you from fatigue.
Huh, you'd think with short legs they'd want to make best use of their time...but on the other hand, they have a bit of a thing for dramatics, especially when it comes to achievements.
Princess Edda's efforts are visible in a stable carved into the side of Karag Nar, where an assortment of donkeys, mules, oxen and pack-horses munch their way through the grasses the Halflings have cleared out of what are to be their fields, which is also spreading throughout the nearby peaks and valleys. Dwarves were not the greatest of overland traders, and most would greatly prefer to go by steamship or limit themselves to what could be carried in backpacks than trust in a draft animal and a wooden wagon. For now, Karak Eight Peaks did not have that luxury, and though some sort of oversized powered minecart through the Underway from Ulrikadrin to Death Pass was discussed as a possible solution, the cost would apparently be ruinous. So Princess Edda instead fell back upon meeting every trader who had been commissioned to bring supplies from Barak Varr and offered them an additional payment to leave their cart and pack animal behind and return on foot. King Belegar orders the construction of a similar stable in Ulrikadrin so that supplies could be transported at least part of the way, with the prospering Ulricans to build wagons out of some of their timber.
Huh, I wonder if this is Belegar's influence, to have someone cited as emphasizing traditional Dwarven guilds to be starting off on trade.
This leads naturally into Prince Kazrik's trip to Barak Varr, which by the sound of it has been quite a success. Karak Azul has been effectively cut off from the world for all of living memory, and though Karak Azul is both famed and named for the iron mines, gold and gemstones have been accumulating for generations. A significant fraction of that wealth has hit the unsuspecting Barak Varr like a tidal wave, and many sellers of weapons, firearms, luxury goods, exotic materials, and countless other items Karak Azul couldn't produce for itself found themselves utterly bereft of goods and awash in gold and jewels. This generated a great deal of goodwill, and Prince Kazrik was able to make it clear that it was only the continued existence of Karak Eight Peaks that made this and all future trade possible. If there was any discontent in Barak Varr at the continued cost of supplying Eight Peaks, it has been well and truly obliterated. King Belegar considers the matter settled and points Prince Kazrik towards Ulrikadrin, to get a feeling for how permanent the settlement is likely to be and familiarize himself with the manling knights who ruled it.
Huh...yeah, cut off like that they'd really be accumulating unspent and unused natural resources. Of course, they could have used them to decorate the place and build, but...I guess they were holding out in typical Dwarven stubbornness to one day put it towards the trade of the Karaz Ankor once more.
Still, looks like Belegar has followed through on what he used to get Barak Var's support.
A short walk then takes the council to the southwestern portion of the Eastern Valley, where a stone wall twice your height has been erected along the base of Kvinn-Wyr, with towers thrice that a ways back. "Unmortared," Dreng comments. "The idea isn't to stop the trolls, but to slow them down and have them make a lot of noise getting through. Each tower has bolt throwers and a bell. The bolt throwers kill the troll, the bell calls for reinforcements if they can't."
Simple, but reasonably clever.
"Some. Built the wall in stages with all the bolt throwers nearby, because the sound of construction kept attracting them. Now that it's built and they can't see over it, most who wander out just wander back in. Far as I can tell, the ones who end up attacking the wall are just the ones who can't find their way back into the mountain."
"How do the towers do, then?"
"They can't knock them over, but they seem to think they can because they could push through the walls, so they usually spend a lot of time trying. Each tower has murder holes that can be opened to fire down on them and closed if it starts to vomit. The bolt throwers can't fire straight down, so I've had to divert handguns from the Underway."
I suppose they're immune to their own vomit...maybe? I mean, technically trolls can use their vomit against enemy trolls...
Karag Lhune is the focus of the remaining Councillors, and King Belegar decides to start from the top. When last you saw them, the hangars were enormous empty spaces; now they've been filled in, and you stand in one of the compartments, with a freshly-polished gyrocopter in the middle and a canvas barrier over the opening, rippling in the wind. "Honeycomb pattern," Prince Gotri says. "Currently six by four, but that can be expanded effectively infinitely, or until we run out of mountain. Currently we've just got curtains, but we can put in hinged stone gates. There's firing platforms above and below each bay, and each could hold a bolt thrower or an organ gun or even just a squad of Thunderers, though of course we've got none of the above right now because all the things that go 'bang' are on the defensive lines."
"Different design to Karaz-a-Karak," King Belegar says.
"Because the primary purpose of the Karaz-a-Karak Aircorp is to project power. If you're sending a half-dozen squadrons six hours away to Karak Wherever, doesn't matter if you're only putting ten in the sky at once, so you can keep all your 'copters tucked away safe when they're not in use. Here, the enemies are inside our doorstep, so every 'copter needs to be able to launch as soon as the horn blows. Coke and powder bunkers are deeper inside, only enough for a single refuel/reload kept in each bay."
Sounds reasonable enough. I can just imagine the hangars, and it's a beautiful image fitting of Warhammer Fantasy.
"Far from," is the instant and heartfelt response. "Apart from the lack of defences. There's basic repair facilities in each bay, but if any of them need more than a few screws tightened it means I gotta lug my toolbox over. We need a single engineering bay deeper in the mountain for serious repairs or major overhauls, but that means either ramps or an elevator. Could really use the main Lhune elevator too, to keep from having each sack of powder or crate of parts carried by hand all the way up from the Underway."
"The elevator will have to wait - blasted mushrooms run amok, damn near entirely clogging it in places. Build your engineering bay."
Hmm, wonder if we might be able to help with that? A pesticide of some sort?
The next step down adjoins the Hall of Oaths. The Karak Eight Peaks of the past recorded the name of all who fell in defence of the Karak, but King Belegar intended to do one better and inter their physical remains in a proper tomb. The Council stands in a room yet to be put to use, as Dwarven custom dictates that a Tomb was to be sealed, ideally permanently, after the dead were lain to rest. "I've taken additional acolytes from Clan Hazkal," Gunnars says, "but the masons are working ahead, since the stone is going to reinforce the defensive lines. We've mostly finished with the Dwarven remains, and the Halflings are taking care of their own, but the human fallen are trickier. I know enough of Morrite rites to put them to rest under their own God, but it is time-consuming to perform each individually, and I do not know any way to perform this more efficiently."
Of course, only respectful silence meets Gunnars' grim report, but you have to bite your tongue. The earliest chapters of the Liber Mortis spent quite a lot of time and ink grappling with this very question, but of course you can't really cite the Liber bloody Mortis as your source. Perhaps, you realize, your service in Stirland and within Sylvania could be cited as the source of your knowledge - but by the time you come up with this explanation, the group has begun to move on. So you make a note to give the matter more thought later and prepare your own report as the group enters the Chiselwards, and the Hammerers that had been unobtrusively shadowing the group instead flank it as you reach what they believe to be unfriendly territory.
Well, isn't this incredibly convenient for us? We can expand on that knowledge with the books we're getting, and we're desiring to work with him anyway.
Just past the guard post, one of the We had been waiting, and it steps into the light obligingly. "They're unrelated to the Forest Spiders the Goblins make use of," you say as the party peers doubtfully at the creature. "As far as I can tell, their species is part of the ecosystem of the Skaven Under-Empire. Their venom is a paralytic, and any Skaven or greenskin they capture is taken back to their hive to feed the other castes - the web-weavers and the egg-layers. They like to have a properly-established nest-"
"Like to?" Prince Kazrik interrupts doubtfully.
"Yes, each individual hunter is about equivalent to a big cat in intelligence, and the web-weavers and egg-layers would be helpless on their own. But collectively, they form a single rather intelligent mind, capable of abstract thought and complex decision-making. They seemed rather shocked to discover that any being outside their species was capable of it, and combined with the formidable defences the Dwarves have demonstrated, they're open to an alliance."
"Are you telling me you've negotiated an alliance with spiders?" King Belegar asks wearily, his eyes returning the unnerving multi-directional stare of the hunter-We.
"Well, if you just want to get rid of them, if you cleared a way into the Underway they'd be happy to take it and get back to preying on Skaven or greenskins. But I think that would be a wasted opportunity. They switched from Skaven to greenskins because the Skaven would respond in force after they lost too many clanrats to the spiders, and while the greenskins are trickier prey they don't react with guns and flamethrowers. So we could just point them at one or the other and call it a day, but if we guaranteed a safe defensive position, the Skaven would not be able to find the nest and would suffer effectively permanent attrition."
"They had me at the part where they eat Skaven," Prince Gotri says.
"They can't have the Chiselwards," Princess Edda says. "There's no other place in Karag Lhune that could fit us, excavating would take too long, and we'd have to evict the Undumgi from Karag Nar if we went there instead."
"She's right, we can't have them next door to our sleeping quarters," King Belegar says. "If you can figure out a communication that works after your Gorzhufokri leave and find them a place behind our defences that doesn't let them crawl into anyone's beds if they're of a mind, they can stay. Otherwise, point them into the Underway with a hearty goodbye."
Yeah, it was a REALLY good idea to NOT suggest that they be pulled straight on into the community.
Now that they know what they're looking at, the Council is leaning in with fascination, and circling it to get a better view. You let their conversation continue for a while as Dreng sends for his cartographer, and then you interrupt casually. "Oh, and while I was down there, I reclaimed this."
You picking up a Dwarven sense of dramatics, Mathilde?
You spent quite some time cutting free the Skaven leather and washing off the worst of the blood and stains, but there's still a fair bit keeping the gromril from shining. On top of that, jagged rents showed where some Skaven had gradually worked away at what had once been a single piece to cut it in two, so it could be crudely strapped to some Skaven champion. Nevertheless, all eyes are instantly locked on the gromril breastplate.
You had warned him ahead of time, as well as making your recommendation as to the use it could be put to, and King Belegar is not frozen in shock like the others. He leans forward, picking up the craftsmanship as carefully as if it were the most fragile crystal instead of one of the hardest known substances in existence. Turning it over in his hands, he runs calloused fingertips over the runes engraved in the inside, near the neck.
[Rolling...]
"Zhufbar," he finally says.
Prince Gotri picks up the other piece and examines it with care. "Ironbreaker," he concludes. "Expeditionary rather than Hold defence. Old design. About the year 4000, give or take." You mentally convert it to the Imperial calendar in your head; that would make it about fourteen centuries old.
King Belegar stares at the breastplate, his mind working. "A heavy loss," he says slowly.
Prince Gotri shrugs. "Gromril's gromril, of course, but Expeditionary. Property of the Crown, distributed as needed for specific mine-and-dash jobs. Mangled by rats and an outmoded design besides. We'd not say no if you're feeling generous, but it'd be worth no more there than it is here."
"Then," King Belegar says, "I believe we can find a suitable use for it."
Very lucky, that it was of a hold to which is not against us (even if that was a list of two) but also one we had a Councilor of, and a fairly open one at that. A traditionalist would not have acted with such blase (you know...for gromril that belonged to one of their hold)
Deep in the heart of Karag Lhune, Kragg grimaced at the Rune he had just struck. A shoddy job, it would barely last a century or two before beginning to fade. He resisted the urge to throw it back into the crucible; this was only needed for a single task, and in these dire times such shortcomings had to be accepted. He threw the amulet at the beardling that was sadly necessary for the task at hand, and the youngster stammered thanks that he utterly ignored.
Why do I have the feeling what he just tossed aside is still enough for whole kingdoms to go to war for?
Any unprotected Dwarf would risk passing out in the heat the white-hot furnace was giving off, and it still wasn't quite hot enough for the task at hand. Smelting gromril was hard enough; purifying it all the way to glimril was lost, and even getting it to a state that it could hold the most powerful of runes was beyond just about any Dwarf born to this benighted time. Lucky for the Karaz Ankor that Kragg still remained.
Purified, huh. Of impurities? Physical or metaphysical I wonder...?
As the Grandmaster of the Karak Azul Guild of Blacksmiths shovelled more fuel into the rune-enhanced fire under the protection of the newly-made amulet, Kragg grimaced once more, this time in distaste at the mold. Molding! A proper Dwarf worked with hammer and molten metal, and if it took decades and wore out hammers by the score, then so be it. And the shape, too.
Wait...they're working together? Wow...well, sort of. I got the feeling collaboration was impossible?
