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Gozran 13, 4685 AR
The city of Jormurdun has, for a long time, been an epicenter of dwarven culture. At least, from the perspective of the dwarves of Jormurdun. It had been decades since any of them had any exposure to the dwarves of other Sky Citadels. Traveling from Jormurdun to...really anywhere else has become extremely dangerous in recent years, and traveling to Jormurdun nearly impossible, due to the efficiency with which the dwarves of old had hidden it.
The Citadel lay deep beneath the moors of Frostmire, encased in stone and surrounded by a labyrinthine maze of tunnels. For most of its history, it was a key part of the thriving local Kellid culture, and closely interconnected to the other dwarven Citadels. Eighty-two years ago, however, the death of Aroden somehow triggered a warp in reality in the nearby nation of Sarkoris, and hordes of demons began to spill into the Material Plane. For a year or two, Jormurdun was unaffected, but as more of the nearby nation of Sarkoris fell, the dwarves had to commit more of themselves to fighting back the demons. Legions of dwarven shieldmasters joined the Kellid witches on the surface, but it wasn't long before Sarkoris fell and the borders of the new Worldwound expanded to Jormurdun itself. The Mendevian Crusades brought more chances for glory to Jormurdun's warriors, but they could not beat the demons permanently, and the final borders of the Worldwound stabilized, on the surface, leagues past Jormurdun. The city itself is, of course, a Sky Citadel, defended by dwarfkind's very best, and walled in very well. It has for seventy-five years become more and more insular year by year. As more of the Darklands fell to the demons, though, more of the dwarves' allies became refugees and moved to Jormurdun. Two tribes of gnomes, threatened by underground menaces' movements and demonic attacks, moved into Jormurdun in these years. A few dozen duergar and a handful of svirfneblin live in the city. A smattering of other Deep creatures also call Jormurdun home - a small number of ogres, trolls, and other giants, a tribe of mongrelmen, and a group of ghouls that have promised to definitely not attack any of Jormurdun's citizens.
Because of these refugees and the lack of emigrants, Jormurdun's population has swelled in the years since its cutoff from the outside world. Its population has increased to nearly 12,000, which makes it quite crowded because an ancient underground city is very difficult to expand. Organization and bureaucracy have become both more important and more difficult to enforce.
The Jormurdun Academy for Esoteric and Arcane Knowledge has always been one of the city's crowning jewels. Experts from every field flocked to the prestigious institution century after century to teach the next generation of students in their craft, and ensure that dwarven culture is preserved for all time - both through history courses and thorough lessons in the use of the dwarven war axe, for a demon is as much threat to dwarven culture as ignorance is.
The Academy sits in the center of the Citadel, surrounded by tall, ornately carved walls and enterable through tall stone arches. Terraced in multiple levels and full of gardens of fungi and stone courtyards for studying or practice, the Academy is one of the few places where beauty was a priority for its creators. Its faculty are greatly respected in the whole of the Citadel, and its Headmaster is actually one of the recent refugees, and both respected and feared. He is a nearly two-hundred-year-old underworld dragon who was evacuated from his warren about forty years ago. Jormurdun is much safer from the demons, and provided with a hoard, large roosting areas, dozens of adoring students and all of the food he could ask for, he gladly brings his organizational skills, expertise and intelligence to the Citadel. He gained the position of Headmaster after the previous Headmistress lost her life in a mortal duel against a marilith outside of the city walls.
Rel'kaminas, as he is called, maintains much stricter extrance requirements than his predecessor and, along with the increased population of the city, has made the Academy a much more high-demand but low-supply commodity. He bestows the honor of acceptance only rarely, and often does so for random or difficult-to-decipher reasons, usually stating "Potential" as his justification. Just last month, he released a rather large list of potential applicants, current students and not, to be considered for a special internship.
All three of you were included in this list, and though none of you know each other, each of you are acquainted (at least) with one of the students who was placed on the list. His name is Bregan Mithriltongue (a surname he gave himself, as he has no family and grew up on the streets) and he was accepted into the Academy by surprise several years ago, and has been rigorously studying arcane magic theory ever since. None of you are currently students, but you see the way that he throws himself at his education, and the fulfillment that it gives him, and this is obviously part of what motivates you, as well.
Yesterday he told each of you to meet him at a local bookstore/cafe, The Coffee Stain. He wants to talk to you about the list and the internship, and he definitely wants to introduce you to each other. You're to meet him at four o'clock, three hours before the meeting with the other applicants at the Academy itself.
Kwellin appears in the Coffee Stain a good half hour early. "Oooohh, so many tomes of knowledge!" he exclaims gleefully. "I'll just skim a volume or two..." He disappears around a corner to inspect the selection of divine lore, and perhaps a book or three on sacred instruments.
A good forty minutes later, he reappears, having completely lost track of time. "Firetoads! I'm here but I'm late!" He darts this way and that, looking for Bregan, and bumping into various dwarven patrons, apologizing as he speeds about.
The Coffee Stain is a large, completely square building. Well and warmly lit with continual flame torches hued slightly yellow, it has two levels. The second is a terrace that extends from the far wall exactly halfway across the length of the square, and takes up the full width. Below the terrace, taking up a quarter of the floor room, is a bar that serves various coffees, teas, alcohols, water and a special fermented fungus drink called Squelch. All four walls are coated entirely with stone bookshelves, and the second level is divided in half (lengthwise) by another bookshelf. The books are completely without organization and are in poor repair. Most of them, rather than being texts or tomes on various scholarly topics like you'd find in a university library, are epics and stories from dwarven and gnomish history, both fictional and nonfictional.
Circular tables stand on square pedestals here and there, with three triangular seats placed by each.
The whole building is full of the soft sound of pages turning, the burble of boiling water and quiet conversation.
Exactly on time, Bregan enters through the large and ornate bronze double doors, pushing them both open with his wide and rough hands. His beard is cropped rather short (he doesn't like it swinging around out of control or dipping in reagents) and, like his rather short hair, is a shockingly bright ginger. Small rectangular spectacles rest on the end of his nose, which he constantly pushes back up. He wears the green and gray robes of a conjuror. A leather belt rests around his waist, bearing two belt pouches and a square holster for his spell-book.
He walks to a corner of the lower level, grabs a chair from an empty table, drags it to another empty table (so that there are four chairs) and sits down. He doesn't notice Kwellin, who is already there.
Rallinth comes jogging in less than a minute later. Black, short cut hair and a cropped beard hang over a lean, stony face. He stands awkwardly at the door for a moment, searching over the fairly quiet crowd before spotting his acquaintance and making his way over to the table.
"Hello Bregan. I was worried I'd be late but it looks like I'm not the last one here."
"Oop--Bregan!" Kwellin practically falls into the chair next to Rallinth. He pops up straight and gives the dwarf a wide-eyed look. "Oh, hullo, Kwellin Glimmershade, but you may call me Kwellin, and are you here to see Bregan as well? Bregan! I got lost in a book!"
The grey-skinned dwarf that stomped through the doors scanned the room with a stoney face, spied the table reserved for Conjurer Bregran and sat without a word.
A small number of Duergar refugees had ended up in Jormurdun some years ago. What to do with them had been a tightly debated political issue for some years. Integration was hard for the Grey Dwarves, not only because of thier combative natures but also because of staunch local prejudice.
Jormurdun had proved itself more progressive than most dwarven cities in its willingness to entertain the idea of Duergar integration at all. It helped that this particular group of Duergar refugees had come from a clan who had been loyal to a dragon.
The refugees that were able to integrate found it easy to transfer that sense of loyalty to the Academy Headmaster. The vast majority of the small population of Duergar had found their place in society within the Academy's halls. While gruff and quick to anger even by dwarven standards, when given a task and left to their own devices, the Grey Dwarves made very dedicated workers and soldiers.
The one at the table looked quite young but carried himself with a stoic gravitas that belied his youth.
"Oh, a duergar! See, I have grayish skin, and Mother says that is due to the duergar, although I may grow bluish in time, and that is due to the nearness of sky, and Cousin Clarinell says not to ask too many questions of duergar, for they do not like that, so, I have no questions. Except, what is your name? I am Kwellin." Kwellin tries not to bounce in his seat.
"Draegar." the grey dwarf rumbled.
"Oh! Did you know there is a linguistic theory that all words with 'dra-" or 'drae-' come from the Draconic, and that includes, possibly, 'tree', and this may be due to dragons being present at the time of the fabled World Tree, which spanned multiple worlds…erm…anyhow. Nice to meet you." Kwellin tries to sit on his hands, suddenly remembering tales of duergar anger.
Draegar only grunted in response.
There was a pause before Rallinth burst out laughing.
"Bwa ha ha ha!"
He cut himself off short though, as he noticed the mix of surprised and annoyed looks he got from other patrons in the otherwise hushed room.
Still chuckling to himself, he nodded to the newcomer.
"Well this'll be entertaining at least. One who's gruff and silent the other who's enthusiastic and talkative. Rallinth Steelriver, pleased to meet you both."
He looked back at the one who brought them all together. "Now Bregan, why don't you tell us all why you brought us here?"
Bregan smiles widely and stands up when he sees his friends approach. He opens his arms for hugs and pulls everyone in, even Draegar (who probably does not actually hug back). "So good to see you! I've missed you a lot while I've been studying." he says to each person, softly, durng the hug.
"Come, sit." he beckons, and sits at the table. "I'll order us a coffee. We have a long night ahead of us." He leaves the table for a moment to go and order a pitcher of coffee and four mugs, and returns a minute later and a silver piece lighter. "There. Now that we're all here, I wanted to talk about the Academy's internship. Rel'kaminas is a dangerous and fickle beast, but he is a brilliant Headmaster and if he wants a group for some task or other, it must be important. In my opinion, it must be one set by the government - I can't think of a reason for such secrecy and expertise for any other reason anyway."
He sits back. "Anyway, I know that you've all been invited. Don't ask me why - I don't know. No one but the Headmaster himself knows why he chooses people, and it's not likely that anyone else will find out. But...you would do well to accept the invitation, and together, we might actually be chosen."
"...you see, I know what the task is. He wants only the best of the best with him, so he wants somebody who can bring him a new innovation. He's willing to accept group submissions, and I have an idea."
Rallinth looked at the other two a grinned. "Well you sure know how to build up some suspense. Tell us what it is and your idea already."
"Oh! An internship! But I thought there were tests, and puzzles and---wait, could this task be a test? I am ready! Bregan, I don't know if I am the best, but I will give it my best. Er, we shall do our best. Our group. The Best Group you've seen, and Headmaster Rel'Kaminas as well. Nothing shall be insurmountable with our team!" Kwellin beats a quick rhythm on the table, causing the drinks to clink slightly.
Draegar said nothing. He simply nodded when informed he'd been chosen.
Bregan is practically jumping with his excitement whilst explaining the project that he ignores the coffee when it arrives, and nearly spills the mug that the server pours for him. "Yes, Rel'kaminas is going to ask each team - he's going to team us up - to come up with something entirely new. An invention. And I've got an idea that will impress not only the old dragon, but the military leaders of Jormurdun as well." he drums his fingers on the table.
"See, a lot of people know about the Worldwound and how it leads to the Abyss and how hordes of demons spill out on the daily to destroy all sentient civilization. But what not very many people know is that there are entire circles of the Abyss that aren't really made of what we'd consider to be land or sea - they're seas, all right, but of the Abyss. Some protoplasmic ooze that makes up the Abyss and that makes up all demons."
He gestures modestly with his hands while he talks, and has a matter-of-fact look on his face like a teacher. "This protoplasmic ooze isn't...quite demons, but could be. It's a lot more mindless than any whole amalgam demon creature. And it's dangerous, but it can be used to our advantage." To say this last bit, he leans in closer and softens his voice. "I think I can build something out of it. But I need some things, and I need some trusted friends who won't spill the beans, so to speak. So I came to talk to you before Rel'Kaminas' meeting to get you on board with my idea and get you to guaranteed team up with me."
He looks anxiously at each of his friends. "What do you say? Partners?"
"Isn't that stuff...evil? I mean, don't we risk corruption just by working with it? It sounds incredibly dangerous," says Kwellin. He scratches his nose. "However, we are pure of heart and are doing it for the sake of good and knowledge. If you know of precautions and a plan, I'm in." He regains some confidence and his eyes sparkle with interest.
"Yes." Draegar grunted.
"Huh, never really thought of using the stuff of Demons to fight Demons before. Not that I've ever fought one, to be sure. But alright, if you think your plan'll help the commanders here at Jormurdun, then I'm in. What do you think you need."