Front of the Tavern
Ulfgar, sorry, but if you've noticed the other posts... Old Rel isn't in the Lost Pick right now. He's about to give away some booze up front on Kragg's go ahead. Let me know if you go on in to get a drink from one of his staff instead, or hang out here to talkOn his way to go in, Ulfgar realizes he's about to walk past Old Rel who is NOT in the tavern, but out front with several barrels.
Old Rel nods to Ulfgar as he comes up, barrels positioned.
Ulfgar joins the crowd in front of the tavern, stepping over to talk to Old Rel.
"With the Moot going on, business must be very good that you've have to expand to serving out of doors. Just don't think Thoda's voice is gonna carry over all this crowd and the one inside as well."
"By the by, who is the cleric, recognizing the older dwarve's religious accoutrements, and fighter? here turned barmen? Don't remember seeing them in your employ before."
He is making the jesting assumption based on the fact all three are 'working' together in front of the tavern. Should Rel fill him in on the nature of what's going on he'll be more than happy to help out in any way needed, either serving or fetching additional supplies.
Turning her attentions once more to the mage, she opines. "I would expect so. I take it then that you aren't of Goldrune?" Her brows furrow in curiosity.
Modnar laughs openly at his mistake. "My apologies. I hear mostly Draconic and Terran in the hold, so when you spoke Gnome, I presumed you were an exceptionally tall specimen of the fey folk. I really do need to get outside more.
I am indeed of Clan Goldrune -- Modnar, Conjurer of the Great Circle. I presume you caught the light show?"
Having overheard the woman's question to Dari, Modnar offers, "I have my suspicions about the purpose of the Moot." He pauses and looks to the side, as if considering how much of his thoughts to share. "Let us just say that no blade removed the beard from my chin."
Dolgrin doesn't give the impression that he approves giving free handouts to dwarves. He frowns at the procession of beggars and shaven faces coming forward to be given food and ale.
This is truly what we have become...a race of beggars. Dolgrin says rhetorically It was my pleasure Stoneheart. May your Clan be strong and your Axe stay sharp. Dolgrin intones the traditional dwarven farewell.
Dolgrin heads towards the Moot place, a stout structure known as Deephall. Finding his Uncle he bows on one knee says Uncle, I am here.
"That I did."
"Anka. Anka Stoneminder." She adds, presenting an open hand.
At Modnar's 'explanation', Anka's brows arc in curious bemusement, but she seems willing to await his discretion on a more full revelation.
Kragg lets the Tarnhammer go without a word. clearly Dolgrin did not understand that buying drinks for patrons at a bar is no different than buying food and drink for those outside. In both situations the recipients neither earned nor requested the handout. Another young dwarf that sees only what he wants to see. I had hopes for him but perhaps not all is lost. It just might take a little longer for him to gain wisdom. I have over a hundred years on him.
Kragg dismisses the Tarnhammer from thought and pays closer attention to his duties now that there is one less to help. Overhearing a dwarf talking to Old Rel Kragg turns to him. The name is Kragg Stoneheart son. I am not in Old Rel's employ but here to continue the mirth that I found inside. Be a good lad and help out will you? We could use another pair of hands to help distribute the joy our benfactor and Zuth provided.
As Kragg hands out the weak alcohol he says a small blessing on each who partakes. Thank Zuth for this small celebration and remain strong and united together.
"Ulfgar Baldeark, Dragonbone clan, well met good priest. This quarter has seen too little of good cheer for many a season now.I'll be happy to assist you in this."
Lending a hand to finish the 'soup line' Ulfgar remains quite while working. Thinking to him self first the dreams, then the Moot, and now a cleric of Zuth shows up in my path. This must be important.
"Kragg you must if you have time visit with my mother, Nalbera, and grandmother, Thraiess. Both are clerics of Zuth and Omma was around during Dammerhalls fall"
"That I did."
"Anka. Anka Stoneminder." She adds, presenting an open hand.
At Modnar's 'explanation', Anka's brows arc in curious bemusement, but she seems willing to await his discretion on a more full revelation.
Modnar shakes Anka's hand. He realizes the vague nature of his statement and grumbles at himself. "I must apologize again. I am not fond of the disapproving looks I get from our elders about my beard, and I let slip something that should wait for the Moot. If it does not arise then, I promise a full account of my -- experience."
"I noticed your cantrip -- perhaps cantrips, judging by this counter. Are you apprenticed to another of the Circle? Krarn, perhaps?"
That self-serving git seems to have a different young pupil every time I see him. Wouldn't surprise me to see him wasting every ounce of talent he came across.
Shaking her head, Anka replies. "Nae, my master was Frie, Frie Yronthews. Not of the Greater Circles."
"The...
Cleaving Circle." She adds, a trifle defensively.
In the years to come, the dwarves who were there will speak with delight of the great Moot celebration that broke out and spread throughout all of Dwarftown. They'll talk of good drink, good times, and a sense of unity that had been thought lost. Songs of old were remembered and sung, and elders lit pipes and bounced their great grandchildren on their knees to tell them of what it meant to be a dwarf in days of glory.
There were rumors that one barrel, once a year, on the anniversary of the moot, would glow with fire briefly, and then be filled with Ale. A treasure in the keeping of one Relnar Sweetore, who claimed the barrel was indeed his, but it was the blessing of that night that made it magic.
Steola found silver coins in the poor box where she expected copper, and gold where she had sworn there was only silver, but she could never figured out who had been so generous.
One old smith, who was weak and sickly, would find strength upon him, only for that night mind, and would craft not one, but THREE weapons before the morning came, the finest he'd done in a long long time. And his daughter would weep tears of disbelief and joy to see them.
But perhaps these are just exagerations, perhaps it did not quite happen as is said...
perhaps.
But what is known, what is not disputed, is that each of those dwarves summoned to the Elders eventually received the words "It is time"
And to the Deep Hall they went.
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"NOW, it is time, Lord Tarnhammer" The guards at the gate say almost apologetically to Dolgrin after delaying him far too long for his liking. Behind him, he sees others approach as well. It's clear they're being let in too.
Of all the places the dwarves built when they moved to Skeerwick, Deephall is the grandest still in Dwarven hands. Part palace, part fortress, it is an open secret that the majority of its size is actually below the surface. Each part of it is a work of art, with great slabs of polished stone as high as a dwarf and three times as wide. Many of those slabs show skillful etchings of legends and tales long past. Once one enters in past the great steel gates to go within, the legends expand in the telling. Great columns look strong enough to hold up a mountain, and yet beautiful enough to make it impossible not to lay hand to one at least once. Near the top of the great columns, rings of golden arcane fire hover, lighting the way for those without darkvision, and sending shivers of pride for the glorious effect it has on the reflective marble to all.
In normal times, there are only a handful of guards along the path to the great Chamber of Elders, but with a moot being called, that is no longer the case. Some of each High Clan's finest stand ready, some eying the champions of other High Clans as if they were rivals rather than co-guardians. The 'regular guard' have their own armor at a high shine, but keep their stern gazes locked on newcomers such as yourselves. When they realize who you are, the set themselves just a bit more at ease, some nod, and gesture down the way you need to go.
Down you descend, this time on black stairs with runes carved along the base.Until finally you come to a set of gilded double doors, behind which you can hear voices.
"Two hundred years!" Eoin Diamondheart snarled, "In less than half a life, our people have had their glory tarnished, their cultural identity diminished, and for what? Because of a few setbacks?"
"You know very well it is more than that, Eoin," Torel Dragonbone said in a calmer tone, "We have sent expeditions before, and those few that returned did so carrying their dead and speaking of royal roads lost or sealed entirely. Some too beset by orcs and other vermin for us to take back without TEN armies."
"That's no reason to give up! Don't tell me you don't want to take action at all? Not with this news! I know you Dragonbone's love humans but to live among the Clayfolk ..." Eoin sputters.
"He said no such thing," a feminine voice intrudes, sounding almost amused at the anger, "You Diamondhearts love history, he merely reminds you of it. Besides, it will be dangerous if we try this, at least, dangerous for those we send. The portents are good, at least. Are they note, Elder Stonegate?" Mysta Goldrune inquires.
Mygroth Stonegate clears his throat, "There have been rumblings among certain clerics, rumors of visions and encounters and the like. Still, the rest of you are putting so much faith in the young and untested."
"Untested? Hah, my Clan's representative has not just passed tests, he gives them, and he knows more about the old times than even some of us here I dare reckon," Eoin boasts, "I'd rather ask if this priest of your clan can keep up."
"Zuth willing," Mygroth says steadily, "He shall. And we will need an experienced head in this. To chance all on rash youths will be folly."
"Rash youth has its purpose," Mysta speaks anew, "Especially when combined with spiritual encounters that strongly indicate something MORE. Some choices are out of our hands."
"Yes, but with a little more time, a bit more training, my son will have a fighting chance to..." Torel sounds concerned.
"There IS no more time," an old voice creaks and wheezes, like bellows gone musty from dissuse. And the others stop to listen, for it is the voice of Varkal Tarnhammer, who would, if fates had been kinder, be sitting on the throne of Dammerhall, "There is no more time," He repeats, no less wheezing for the second attempt, "So many omens, so many signs... we dare not ignore the will of Ardwal. We are dying, High Elders, and not a clean death. I am old enough to realize any glory seized in my name, I'll not likely live to see, but i also hear the human tongue coming out of Dwarven children's mouths. I hear of Dwarves who forget how to fold steel, and who cannot name their own ancestors. I hear of humans out numbering us, and their leaders turning against us. Dammerhall will make us strong again. We must reclaim it. We have ten years, ten years, a smattering of time to most Dwarves. Our hosts were kind, but their children, oh gods save us, their plans are evil and we have ten years. In ten years, war comes to us... better instead, we go to it. Either we fight to reclaim Dammerhall, or we must fight to hold onto our very freedom."
"Pardon my lord," Another voice speaks up, no doubt the steward "Those summoned have arrived and been admitted as you asked."
"Let them in," Varkal Tarnhammer orders and for a second, his voice almost sounds strong again.
And the double doors open. You find yourself before the elders of the High Clans, each gazing at you in turn.
It is Mysta of Goldrun who speaks first under her hood, "Hail to you all. Some of you are said to have had unusual encounters and incidents and dreams. Speak of them and you may answer the question I see on your lips , the question 'Why am I here?'"[/B] Her smile is barely there, but it is there.
Ardwal, Holy Lord Under the Mountain, demands that we find the Dammerhall. It is a most holy quest. A Dwarf nation for Dwarves. Dolgrin says standing tall and proud.
Eyeing the shining paragon a trifle askance, Anka steps forward. "As your voices do carry, and these halls do echo," she states wryly, "I believe I now have an inkling of why I was called." Pausing, she takes a deep breath, as though steeling herself for what is to come. "Of my company, I am the only survivor not permanently maimed, nor too old for Campaign. But as our Commander-
our surviving Commander," she corrects herself, "surely already explained to you, I was in the support. We never were more than a day's march 'neath the hills. There are dozens of men present with just as much experience down there as I."
Hail to you all. Some of you are said to have had unusual encounters and incidents and dreams. Speak of them and you may answer the question I see on your lips , the question 'Why am I here?'"[/B]
Kragg moves slowly forward as if to lend credence to the comments about him from Eoin. Fully 5 paces behind the others Kragg lets his head bow down as he 'shows' his age of not keeping up with the younger and more spry dwarves. Finally coming up to the Elders Kragg goes to one knee in homage of the clan leaders, in particular Varkal Tarnhammer. He makes to rise up but struggles under the pack. Going back down to one knee again he takes his pack off and sets it on the floor. Finally with a mighty lurch he gets his leg under him and stands up albeit still hunched over.
Looking at the elders gives Mygroth a covert wink that others can't see as he rests his gaze on Mysta and gets a puzzled expression on his face. Speaking louder than necessary to continue the ruse, Huh, what did you say ma'am? I am a bit hard of hearing and couldn't quite make out what you said. Did you ask why you were here? Funny you should ask as I too want to ask that question and another with it. Is there any drink around?
Dolgrim and Ulfgar would think it strange that the priest who was able to share in so much mirth and merriment outside the tavern would now appear to move and seem older. Then again they just met him and perhaps his blessings and work have tired him.
Mygroth would know of Kragg of course and not be fooled by his actions. Clearly Kragg is playing to Eoin to see what the reaction will be when he sees the weak priest. Appearances are deceiving and it would be better not to tip one's hand too early, for Clan Stonegate knows well the value of letting others boast first and loudest.
Hannarr takes in the elders watching him. He sizes up the other 'representatives" on display with him. He listens to the young Tarnhammar talk of holy quests and the demands of gods.
When it his his turn to speak he sighs heavily. Well, I have no recent dreams or visions to speak of - I am a man of learning and have never put much stock in that sort of thing - but the very fact that I am alive and standing before you today could be taken as one I suppose. He pauses, as if embarrassed to continue. My home below the earth was lost decades ago. My father - Eoin's youngest brother, and many others were also lost that day. I was barely a stripling, unable to even lift my father's axe, yet I managed to survive that day of blood and screams and even find my way to the surface. I did not stumble all that way alone. Two brothers found me. One smiling and one stern. They led me to safety. When they left me the smiling one said "Never lose hope," and the stern said, "Wait for our summons." I have not seen their faces before or since, and believe me I have searched.
It is Mysta of Goldrun who speaks first under her hood, "Hail to you all. Some of you are said to have had unusual encounters and incidents and dreams. Speak of them and you may answer the question I see on your lips , the question 'Why am I here?'" Her smile is barely there, but it is there.
Modnar feels the eyes of the elders boring into him, and he chafes at the scorn brought on by his beardless face. He musters enough self-control to await his turn to speak, but the words flow rapidly when his time arrives.
"Professor Hannarr, my story is not one of dream or of vision. I watched a summoned elemental take on the form of a dwarf -- a dwarf! I heard it speak to me in clear Dwarven. I beheld runes I had traced in Ignan rewritten in Dwarven. What did they say, you doubtless ask? DAMMERHALL. THE ANSWER LIES IN THE DEEPS.
Moreover, this bare face before you was not shaven by choice. I believe that the Prince Beneath the Mountain deems it time for us to find the truth of our capital's ruin, and that I bear stigmata to remind us of what is at stake."
The young dwarf inhales deeply and continues. "Matriarch Mysta will be the first to admit that we are often at odds, but on this we agree. We must make our move, or all that we are may be lost."
Ulfgar follows the other into the council chambers, listening to the elders speak, then to the others speak one at a time. Arching an eye at the charade that Kragg passes off; letting off a low whistle at Modnar's accounting of the elemental and his beard loss. He has ever been one to listen more than he speaks - which has served him well as a ranger in the wild lands.
"Lady Mysta of Goldrune Clan you asked for us to tell what brings us here. So be it, three weeks ago, I started having a dream. Not a one time event but one that has repeated itself in one variation or another for every night since. Most nights I see this hammer" he retrieves his hammer and lays it on the council table. Moving slow enough that the chamber guards do not take action "But it is laying on an ebony anvil wreathed in silver flames. While that could be a coincidence and dismissed that is not the only thing. The jewel - a fire jewel divinely embedded in this hammer; while these clans still lived and breathed in Dammerhall - has been rejoined with it on the anvil."
"At other time the dream is only of the fire jewel itself, surrounded by a purple black darkness. I have lived and breathed outside and under the ground in my work as a ranger. This was not a natural darkness. From the tales my Omma Thraiess has passed down, when the city of Dammerhall fell it burned with a black flame. I believe the two are related, whatever felled the old city still has the fire jewel."
"The jewel was given to my clan ages ago by Zuth, Ardwal's brother. I believe he is pointing us back to it. While the jewel was a part of our clan the dwarven city of Dammerhall prospered. And we protected the hinterlands there as we do now for this town."
"Without a dwarven city for our clan to protect, I don't feel that Zuth would have pointed us this direction if there wasn't a good reason for it. From Dolgrin's and Modnar's comments, I believe they feel that Ardwal is pointing dwarves in this direction as well. To restore Dammerhall, and restore the dwarven nation to independence."
"Father, you say that with a little more time, we might be better trained. This could be true; but at the same time we do not know that which we will face, so how should we train?..... If the gods feel we have trained enough, to step forward from their rest and point us in the direction we should go; who are we to argue? "
Ardwal, Holy Lord Under the Mountain, demands that we find the Dammerhall. It is a most holy quest. A Dwarf nation for Dwarves. Dolgrin says standing tall and proud.
Varkal Tarnhammer looks at Dolgrin with weary yet proud eyes. Perhaps he sees something of his old self in the young dwarf. Eoin Diamondheart nods his head fiercely at the young paladin's simple declaration. Torel strokes his beard thoughtfully.
Mysta Goldrune says, "A firm belief, and perhaps true. What we seek are signs, from gods and chance, that now is indeed the time. Belief alone will not compell this council, else Eoin here would have us charge in mass right now, no doubt."
Eoin snorts at her, "He is a paladin of Ardwal AND of the blood royal. I would no sooner doubt his word than my own."
"I doubt not his word, Eoin, I merely wonder how he was told by his god and what more we can do to make sure this action is the wise one." The says.
Eyeing the shining paragon a trifle askance, Anka steps forward. "As your voices do carry, and these halls do echo," she states wryly, "I believe I now have an inkling of why I was called." Pausing, she takes a deep breath, as though steeling herself for what is to come. "Of my company, I am the only survivor not permanently maimed, nor too old for Campaign. But as our Commander-
our surviving Commander," she corrects herself, "surely already explained to you, I was in the support. We never were more than a day's march 'neath the hills. There are dozens of men present with just as much experience down there as I."
Mysta seems amused by Anka's touch of sass, and nods as that fire resolves into steelier tones.
Eoin sounds doubtful, "A dwarf who seemingly works to deny her chance at glory? What are we to call that?"
"Prudence," Mysta answers, "The Stoneminders may not be a high clan, but there is no shame on them. Besides, a woman's counsel and skill is needed on deep dark roads, and she'll provide it. Too often you men seek glory leaving a woman for the clean up."
Torel says to that, "My wife would agree with you, but we both know this Stoneminder's expedition may have brought us the chance we neeed, they just didn't know it."
"Aye,"Mygroth rumbles, "I am not one for believing in luck, not when the gods cry so loudly in other areas."
That sounds a bit cryptic.
Kragg moves slowly forward as if to lend credence to the comments about him from Eoin. Fully 5 paces behind the others Kragg lets his head bow down as he 'shows' his age of not keeping up with the younger and more spry dwarves. Finally coming up to the Elders Kragg goes to one knee in homage of the clan leaders, in particular Varkal Tarnhammer. He makes to rise up but struggles under the pack. Going back down to one knee again he takes his pack off and sets it on the floor. Finally with a mighty lurch he gets his leg under him and stands up albeit still hunched over.
Looking at the elders gives Mygroth a covert wink that others can't see as he rests his gaze on Mysta and gets a puzzled expression on his face. Speaking louder than necessary to continue the ruse, Huh, what did you say ma'am? I am a bit hard of hearing and couldn't quite make out what you said. Did you ask why you were here? Funny you should ask as I too want to ask that question and another with it. Is there any drink around?
At that, Eoin, the most animated of them, rests his face into his gauntleted palm and mutters.
Mygroth Stonegate clears his throat, "She meant it as a way to explain how you yourself might know the reason you'd been summoned to the moot when so many others are outside denied. She wants to know if any signs or portents have come to you, kinsman, from Zuth that show his divine wish to move to reclaim Dammerhall. As for drink," He motions to the Steward who nods, and brings a frosty mug to you. As these are the high elders, this is the good stuff.
When it his his turn to speak he sighs heavily. Well, I have no recent dreams or visions to speak of - I am a man of learning and have never put much stock in that sort of thing - but the very fact that I am alive and standing before you today could be taken as one I suppose. He pauses, as if embarrassed to continue. My home below the earth was lost decades ago. My father - Eoin's youngest brother, and many others were also lost that day. I was barely a stripling, unable to even lift my father's axe, yet I managed to survive that day of blood and screams and even find my way to the surface. I did not stumble all that way alone. Two brothers found me. One smiling and one stern. They led me to safety. When they left me the smiling one said "Never lose hope," and the stern said, "Wait for our summons." I have not seen their faces before or since, and believe me I have searched.
[B]"Details, as we needed," Mysta nods, and looks to the others "It fits the omen."
"I told you a Diamondheart would be involved," Eoin almost crows, "One of ours is always involved."
Torel Dragonbone, to his credit, does not roll his eyes at Eion, but he does say, "It seems each high clan is involved...and more."
Ulfgar follows the other into the council chambers, listening to the elders speak, then to the others speak one at a time. Arching an eye at the charade that Kragg passes off; letting off a low whistle at Modnar's accounting of the elemental and his beard loss. He has ever been one to listen more than he speaks - which has served him well as a ranger in the wild lands.
"Lady Mysta of Goldrune Clan you asked for us to tell what brings us here. So be it, three weeks ago, I started having a dream. Not a one time event but one that has repeated itself in one variation or another for every night since. Most nights I see this hammer" he retrieves his hammer and lays it on the council table. Moving slow enough that the chamber guards do not take action "But it is laying on an ebony anvil wreathed in silver flames. While that could be a coincidence and dismissed that is not the only thing. The jewel - a fire jewel divinely embedded in this hammer; while these clans still lived and breathed in Dammerhall - has been rejoined with it on the anvil."
"At other time the dream is only of the fire jewel itself, surrounded by a purple black darkness. I have lived and breathed outside and under the ground in my work as a ranger. This was not a natural darkness. From the tales my Omma Thraiess has passed down, when the city of Dammerhall fell it burned with a black flame. I believe the two are related, whatever felled the old city still has the fire jewel."
"The jewel was given to my clan ages ago by Zuth, Ardwal's brother. I believe he is pointing us back to it. While the jewel was a part of our clan the dwarven city of Dammerhall prospered. And we protected the hinterlands there as we do now for this town."
"Without a dwarven city for our clan to protect, I don't feel that Zuth would have pointed us this direction if there wasn't a good reason for it. From Dolgrin's and Modnar's comments, I believe they feel that Ardwal is pointing dwarves in this direction as well. To restore Dammerhall, and restore the dwarven nation to independence."
"Father, you say that with a little more time, we might be better trained. This could be true; but at the same time we do not know that which we will face, so how should we train?..... If the gods feel we have trained enough, to step forward from their rest and point us in the direction we should go; who are we to argue? "
"So this," Lord Stonegate says, "This is why you changed your mind, eh Dragonbone?"
"My son is a man now," Torel answers, a touch irritated, though whether it is at his fellow elders, or at his son for having the nerve to grow up, it's hard to say, "We do not ignore honorable men when they speak, even if I value his life a thousand times any gem."
Varkal's voice again echoes across the chamber, "Oh sons and daughters of the stone, it is indeed time. In addition, Omens, portents, and even a map, a map to a lost hope. Combine this with the news of the plot some work against us, and it is PAST time. Is there dispute? "
There is none from the council, but Mysta declares, "There is not from us, Lord. But those summoned no doubt have questions."
perception to hear what Eoin mumbles
Kragg smiles at his clan lord and nods his head in understanding. Thank you for the fine drink my lord. It helps to loosen old bones and joints indeed. Why I feel younger already just imbibing this draught. now as to answer the question as to why I am here. His divine being, Zuth told me. Granted it was well over a hundred years ago when this was first told to me and wasn't as detailed as Master Ulfgar's version. No it was quite simple really. Zuth called me and talked to me. I listened and have followed him ever since. He said there would come a time when I was needed and that only I could fulfill the job he needed done. I thought that task I would have long ago been able to complete. It is now thought that he has need of me. Kragg then takes another long draught to quench his thirst from such a long speech.
"A map? And news of a plot? We seem to have the omens and portents covered among ourselves for the time being but what of these?"
Ulfgar will look to the steward in hopes of another of the frosty mugs being forthcoming...
We have all had the visions, seen the omens and witnessed the need for this. We must reclaim Dammerhall. This was told to me, not three years hence by Ysolmir herself. I saw the Mithril Warrior, she spoke to me and told me there must be a King Under the Mountain! Dolgrin continues
"We need a home." Anka states flatly. "Perhaps Ardwal and Zuth and Ysolmir and all the other gods sent visions, perhaps they did not. We need a home." Glaring directly into each Elder's eyes in turn, Anka continues. "You said it yourselves, we're dying by seasons up here. Open sky is no place for our people. We need a home."
Sighing, defeated, resolute, she nods. "If this will set us to a home once more, I'm for it."
Hannarr listens to Ulfgar, then echoes his concerns. Yes, it sounds as if you would set us upon a quest, but all other expeditions to retake Dammarhall have ended in failure. What have you found that makes this different?
At Hannar's words a look of exasperation crosses Anka's features, quickly followed by a nod of agreement.
As Modnar sees stewards dispersing flagons to the other attendees, his stomach reminds him that he passed on a meal prior to the Moot. However, his mind wrenches his focus to the new information revealed by the elders.
"Indeed I do have questions, Matriarch -- as you no doubt presumed." A bit of a smile crosses Modnar's lips as his eyes meet his clan elder's.
"A plot, against us? Is this the ten years Lord Varkal mentioned? A war to come? By the Powers . . .
"I would also know more of Anka's expedition. Did the clans mount a journey into the Realms Below recently? How deep did we delve, and what did we discover?"
perception to hear what Eoin mumbles d20+4
Each of you explains to the Elders what you have seen, heard, experienced, and more. As the Steward fills your mugs and cups (If you so wish), you make your cases and your pleas, and yes, you have questions...
"A map? And news of a plot? We seem to have the omens and portents covered among ourselves for the time being but what of these?"
Hannarr listens to Ulfgar, then echoes his concerns. Yes, it sounds as if you would set us upon a quest, but all other expeditions to retake Dammarhall have ended in failure. What have you found that makes this different?
As Modnar sees stewards dispersing flagons to the other attendees, his stomach reminds him that he passed on a meal prior to the Moot. However, his mind wrenches his focus to the new information revealed by the elders.
"Indeed I do have questions, Matriarch -- as you no doubt presumed." A bit of a smile crosses Modnar's lips as his eyes meet his clan elder's.
"A plot, against us? Is this the ten years Lord Varkal mentioned? A war to come? By the Powers . . .
"I would also know more of Anka's expedition. Did the clans mount a journey into the Realms Below recently? How deep did we delve, and what did we discover?"
"What you are about to see, and hear, is not for idle conversation. It is to be discussed among yourselves and with those here only, is that understood?" Varkal Tarnhammer's rasping voice still manages a note of command, "Certainly not within this city at any rate."
"Tell them," Varkal says to the other elders, "Show them."
Mystra reaches into the folds of her robe and pulls forth a scroll. Yet despite her Clan's reputation for the arcane, there is nothing magic about it. It is a map, a gnomish map, "This was found during Anka's expedition, though none of them knew at the time its value. It was filthy you see, certain magics were used to clean it, and certain alchemical treatments had to be used to bring the dye alive again."
Eoin eagerly explains further, "Yes, in the times of the great empire of Dammerhall, it traded with the surface. Humans and the like... but there was also trade below. This map is not dwarven make, but it does mention an old if minor trading partner of Dammerhall, a town of svirfneblin dubbed Fausturvalt. If the old trading path they used to use still exists, then we have another path, a 'long way' to Dammerhall."
Mygroth Stonegate gives grim warning, "Were things ordinary, we'd be cautious about sending yet another expedition into danger on such a slim finding no matter how hopeful. Yet between the gods and the news..." The elder shrugs.
Torel sighs, "We must tell them of that as well. A human highly placed in their city guard discovered what the government he served plans for us. You may have noticed it is not just dwarves that do not thrive in Skeerwick? Their own population grows poorer, hungrier, and those in the golden district begin to fear an uprising. More and more, those in power seek to divert blame upon US, the dwarves in their city. The plan is to continue to defame us, to tax us more and more, and then when we are the poorest of the poor..." Torel Dragonbone winces. His clan is known for being more open towards other races, and he has many human friends, "They plan to frame us, and either drive us from the city, or better... sell us to the Empire of Kalash as slaves. Their own charter forbids any human to be made a slave, no matter how poor, but the word is 'human' and the aristocrats of Skeerwick have seized on that."
Mygroth lets that sink in for a moment, and then resumes, "The plan is a long term one, by human standards. Ten years. We'd not believe it if our own agents had not confirmed what our human ally in the guard told us. Alas, the proof would not be enough to sway the people. It maybe we shall have to gather our own forces and rebel when the ten years runs out, but better still to be long gone, and in a seat of power of our own where we can, if we must, repay all debts."
"Dammerhall," Varkal says, his eyes dancing along the stonewalls as if he could see below them and through miles to find it again.
"So you see, war is coming to our people," Eoin states flatly, "I would love to 'repay' some debts, as Stonegate says, but better to fight to claim our heritage than to struggle here like rats in a burning house. So, we send the expedition, the ones the gods seem to favor, and pray for your skill and good fortune."
Torel reminds his peers, "Remember, it was a human who warned us of this! And many ARE our friends. Do not blame them for their masters' treachery."
"No doubt some of you are wondering why we don't send a small army instead of your group," Mysta says to you before further debate about humans being more good than bad or bad than good erupts "But the trails below maybe slim, supplies for an army would be hard to muster, and... if they move up the time table, we will need the majority of our warriors here."
Varkal Tarnhammer's head bobs, and at first you think he may have nodded off to sleep, but no, he merely agrees, "All our hopes rest on you. Decline if you wish, the gods favor you I think, but then, those the gods have favored still die before their time now and then. Know the danger, and make your choice."
To this Dwarf there is no choice! Dolgrin booms from where he sits No human will chain us, this place rots us from the inside. A High King will reign Under the Mountain.
"Aye, for me as well. There is no choice. Dammerhall must be found and restored - as a dwarven nation - to its former glory."
Ulfgar pauses to take a sip from his flagon, before continuing...
"You have had discussions about this expedition it would appear, and while it has been proven that small groups can enter where an army cannot. Surely there will be more than just the five of us. Can you explain a little more of your plans?"
Ticking off on his fingers as he tries to sort out the questions as they come to mind.
"Who else will be traveling with us?"
"Do we know where this Faustervalt is? And how to get to it?"
"There will be many unknowns in an expedition such as this; what known, that we'll encounter?"
He will sit back down and finish his flagon.
"A larger team requires more support. More support requires more time and other resources, both to prepare and to maintain." Anka rebuts, before any of the elders are able. Glancing apologetically at them, she forges on. "The Svirfneblin are nearly our only friends below. Effectively everything else down there hates or has 'uses' for us. Most such creatures are not as may be encountered here in the sun-lit lands. Enormous fish which walk, or at least , on land; creatures which seem a part of the walls, ceiling or floor until they attack...
things which should not be."
"Essentially, Nightmares made flesh." She finishes offhandedly.
A larger team requires more support. More support requires more time and other resources, both to prepare and to maintain.
Ulfgar listens to Anka's statement without apparent offense.
"Well spoken from one who was in support of previous expeditions. Yet, to blindly walk in with the explanation, everything wants to kill you; is NOT what has kept me alive working the hinterlands, clearing them of the fell creatures that live there. Knowledge is life, whether above or below the ground. I typically do have that opinion though of whatever I may face, when I go out." He finishes with a smile.
Modnar's hand moves as if to stroke his beard, but stops before reaching the proper height and clenches into a fist instead.
"Long had I guessed that the human mages' guild saw Clan Goldrune as little more than magic toy makers, but this goes beyond my grimmest conjectures. Sold to the Kalashites . . . that is a fate worse than annihilation.
"I stand with Dolgrin on this; no choice remains before us. I would sooner be slain trying to forge a new dwarven realm than go quietly into the mists of history. I welcome your knowledge and skills on the journey before us, Anka. 'Twill be good to have another practitioner of the Art in the depths."
"Oh gods, addled, deaf and old? Truly, Zuth has a sense of humor, but I'm not laughing. Our future is at stake. If only I could send all Diamondhearts, we'd have a better chance then"
Kragg smiles as he catches what Eoin was mumbling. Clearing is throat he comments quietly in stark contrast to his earlier actions. Yes, Eion, Zuth does have a sense of humor. And as you can tell now I am neither addled nor deaf but I may be considered old to some. Appearances can be deceiving and nothing should be taken at face value in times like these. Take for instance this map that you speak of. What verification do we have that it is authentic? Maps can be forged and plots hatched in the open to throw suspicion on others. From what you have stated I believe that some of the humans do see us as little more than cattle to sell. My question though is humans are a short lived race by comparison. Are those with such sentiments going to be in power in 10 years? Regardless we must make plans for ourselves as dwarves but it is something to consider.
I say these things not to try and escape from a duty to go with this group, indeed I have had this call for a century I believe, but to understand better the clime around us. O the other hand if Mygroth wishes my presence to main on the surface I will listen to what my clan lord dictates. I am Zuth's servant and yours as well. Hopefully the two are the same in this venture.
Hannar jumps at the chance to get back into the field. A Svirfneblin village would take him deeper than any of his own expeditions ever had, and was his best chance of finding some clue to his long lost kin. He tried to keep his exuberance to himself however, and listened quietly to the others debate in order to better understand the situation and those he may be travelling with. When the greybeard priest Kragg spoke questioned the long term commitment of humans, he spoke up. Don't underestimate the humans' capacity to institutionalize an idea, Kragg. They can be every bit as stodgy, mouldering and inflexible as we can, and have an uncanny ability to pass hatred and prejudice on to the next generation. Ten years may be a long to a human, but it is a blink of an eye to a human institution.
The Elders Diamondheart and Tarnhammer seem pleased by Dolgrin's enthusiasm.
At Ulfgar and Anka's exchange, Mysta speaks up, "It is much as she says, much lore is lost of the creatures below, but the monsters will be very different from what you've seen in your young life. And the deep gnomes are indeed the only race that we know of that favored us at all. The flayers of minds, the demon worshiping dark elves, and even our lost cousins, the Duergar... any of them would slay or enslave."
Mygroth adds, "And it is you, just you, a small group indeed, but light, capable of squeezing through tunnels that beasts of burden could not, and armies certainly could not. The map shows the way, or it did. It maybe this find will prove fruitless, let us pray it does not."
Modnar's firm insistence that it is better to go below and face doom there fighting than to wait for it on the surface receives some nods, a few faces grimmer than others. It's clear the Elder Dragonbone is troubled by the thought of human treachery more even than some of the others.
Eoin Diamondheart has the decency to look chagrined as Kragg lets on he is no dullard. But at the mention of verification, he shakes his head"Say what you want of the Goldrunes, but they know their alchemy, and my clan has some of the finest historians remaining to dwarf kind. If it's a ruse, it is an incredibly elaborate one."
At Kragg and Hannar's chatter about the nature of humans and human institutions, Lord Dragonbone says, "I fear Hannar is right, the powers that be shift slower than the humans themselves, and they can be implacable enemies to have. I shall try to find more allies among the humans in the next decade who might yet undo these plans, but it is too much to gamble on alone."
Lord Stonegate nods to Kragg, "Go, Kragg. You are no ancient, despite your act, and young enough to have fresh ideas, yet you are old enough to add a bit of seasoning to this stew of youth. Ardwal wills it, and Zuth, who you serve, seems to be with his brother as one on the need to reclaim Dammerhall. Who are we to delay the will of our gods? Dwarves on holy paths, such as young Dolgrin and yourself will be needed down there should the gods send more omens or portents."
"It is decided, then," High Lord Tarnhammer says in a pleased rasp, "You have doubts, that's wise, but you all seem willing to go. You will leave in three days, time enough to gather what gear you may. Remember you are to keep these secrets close to yourselves."
At the elder's clear dismissal, Anka bows, backing away with appropriate, if inexperienced, obsequiousness. Finally, she rises, turning for the exit & with some slight reluctance, the stairs to the streets above. As she climbs, her shoulders square & her steps become more resolute.
At least it will be good to surround myself with living stone once more.
Kragg nods at Eion's words in agreement I do not doubt your clan's skill master Eion. I just want to make sure that we are not rushing into anything and that we do our do diligence. I trust your verification of the map. Likewise I trust your reports of the state of the human politics.
How long of a trip is it to get to the entrance below? Are we getting an escort at all there? Also as it sounds like we are unable to bring anyone or any animal with us, do we have any funds to make purchases at this time. I am most concerned about food for the trip. We do not know how long we shall be gone or what we will run into. Would it be possible to get a handy haversack or a small bag of holding to store our food in. That should give us plenty to see us far into the tunnel system.
Kragg looks at the group gathered and muses aloud. Three days till we leave. In some ways that is not a lot of time yet not long enough either. For myself I have nothing that I need to finish at this time except to pray and ask for guidance from Zuth.
Ulfgar follows the exchange between both Anka and Kragg with the Elders. This will be a much longer trip than he is typically used to. He'll look to both of their counsels for expectations and things not normally thought about on a short trip
"Three days, agreed that is not much time at all but also more than enough time I think. Short of finishing some business with Dari and speaking to my father later tonight." I want to know who reported the human plan. The watch captain or Eric is not involved I hope
He will bow to each of the Elders in turn, before leaving the moot to begin putting his affairs in order.
Modnar seems surprised by the rapidity of the elders' decision. I was expecting to have to argue my case much further than this. Perhaps my debates with the Circle are not indicative of how all clans operate.
Feeling the Matriarch's gaze rest upon him, he snaps himself out of contemplation. "I shall do my best to honor the legacy of Clan Goldrune on this mission, elders." Modnar bows deeply to the assembly before making his exit.
I will need to catch up with the Stoneminder lass. She may have some suggestions on necessary preparations.
Dolgrin seems pleased that the Elders support the idea of a expedition into Azathyr.
Who will organize such a trip? I nominate the Clan Stoneminder representative, since she has experience with such things. Who will fund the expedition? I nominate the Tarnhammer Clan. Uncle will you see what can be done?
How long of a trip is it to get to the entrance below? Are we getting an escort at all there? Also as it sounds like we are unable to bring anyone or any animal with us, do we have any funds to make purchases at this time. I am most concerned about food for the trip. We do not know how long we shall be gone or what we will run into. Would it be possible to get a handy haversack or a small bag of holding to store our food in. That should give us plenty to see us far into the tunnel system.
It is the steward who answers,"Not long, a week's journey by road, then another week off road. We've hired a human caravan to take you the first week, the rest will be on foot. We'd hoped between Ulfgar and Anka's skills you could a map and have no need of further escort. As for magic bags, there's none in the treasury and there won't be time for Goldrune enchanters to make a new one. We can arrange for a high quality backpack to be stuffed with one. IF you truly need a porter to go into danger with you, one can be arranged but he'd not be a warrior or the like and how useful he would be would be questionable."
Those who bow and exit get respectful nods
Who will organize such a trip? I nominate the Clan Stoneminder representative, since she has experience with such things. Who will fund the expedition? I nominate the Tarnhammer Clan. Uncle will you see what can be done?
There is one more nod
Kragg graciously accepts the offer of the MW backpack full of food for the trip. This will bring us quite a ways into the trip after we leave the caravan. Thank you for the generosity. With these supplies and the backpack we should be able to carry everything ourselves so that we may travel quickly in the small numbers you suggest. I would think that we will do well enough on our own that we should not need a porter at this time.
Kragg bows and makes to step back before slowly turning around again to face the clan leaders. Mumbling to himself you those closest can hear tat he is trying to work up the courage for a final request. taking a big breathe he steadies himself and looks up at the council before him. If I may be so bold, I have one last request from each of you. Even though I have dedicated myself to his cause for a century I am stillable to channel only the most basic of his powers. There may come a time when Zuth favors me more with additional blessings from him. It is said that those he has shown much favor to are able to commune with people at great distances. Likewise it has been said thatone can look down on another from afar. I have heard that this is more easily performed if the one trying to see a person has something that belonged to that individual. I ask then that if there is something of each of yours that I may keep with me so that at some point I may be able to contact you if Zuth allows.
Kragg stands stone faced waiting for the reaction from the council at what some might think is impertinence. Regardless the request was now voiced and Kragg could do nothing but wait for the answer.
At Kragg's request, eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Mygroth Stonegate acts first, taking from one finger a brass ring with the clan symbol upon it. It is quite plan compared to some of the other jewelry he wears. He hands it to Kragg, "A prize I won as a lad. I've worn it for... a long time, off and on, to remind myself that it was not gold that made our clan great."
Mysta shakes her head, "It matters not, I am protected from such scrying normally, so it would do you little good. If you wish to leave me something of yours. so I might be able to scry on you in the future, I would accept it."
Eoin Diamondheart also forgoes, "No offense to you, priest. But I have no item on me that I wish to part with or that would serve you well. Diamondheart treasures are for my kin."
Dragonbone laughs at something, "My son is by your side. If he doesn't provide a link to his mother and I, nothing else in this world will."
Varkal Tarnhammer looks thoughtful, then motions to the steward, "Shears, and a small bag." Surprised, the steward nevertheless moves quickly to fetch. When Varkal is handed them, he clips off a small part of his beard, causing surprised expressions from the other clan leaders. He places the precious hairs into the bag and has it tied off. Rather than give them to Kragg, however, he turns to Dolgrin and offers it to him, "Any in this party are welcome to contact me by magic divine or arcane, or scry upon me though they may find the viewing dull. But you, blood of my blood, are the one I charge with holding it, for I have another request involving it. Should you find Dammerhall....WHEN you find it, lay this bag and its contents at the throne if it still stands, or at the resting place of the great Tarnhammer Crypt where the high kings of the past lay. That way, even if I do not live to make the journey myself, at least a part of me will be .... home." While his voice is soft and weak, there is strength to his old eyes as he holds out the bag to Dolgrin.
Ulfgar swings back by the forge on the way home. "Dari, think you can finish up the dagger in two days?"
He appears to be deep in thought and somewhat troubled as he waits.
Following his departure from the Moot, Modnar scans the surroundings of Deephall for his soon-to-be traveling companions. He sees Anka and makes his way hastily to her. By the time he reaches her, his face is somewhat flushed; it would seem jogging is not something the young wizard has had much call to do.
"Could I trouble you for a moment, Anka? I was curious if you had any insight on what supplies might be useful for our journey into the depths. You have evidently been on at least one expedition to the Realms Below, while I must confess that my life has been largely one of theory, with precious little 'field experience,' as it were."
Dolgrin kneels before his Uncle and accepts the bag. My father could not see the Dammerhall, but on my honor you will see the Dammerhall Uncle.
Ulfgar swings back by the forge on the way home. "Dari, think you can finish up the dagger in two days?"
He appears to be deep in thought and somewhat troubled as he waits.
While the celebration has spilled into the streets, Dari is still at her forge, and so too is her father. She's all smiles as he works on one of the anvils when she hears your request, "Easily, friend. Easily. I'll have it for you within a half day. Look at that, he just got up working. Ain't that grand?"
----------
Dolgrin kneels before his Uncle and accepts the bag. My father could not see the Dammerhall, but on my honor you will see the Dammerhall Uncle.
"Do not promise what time holds, nephew," He wheezes, "but I will thank you for trying. I know you will do the Tarnhammer's proud"
Kragg did not know what to expect or the reaction he would receive from his request from those not of his clan. That Mygroth would be the first to answer and positively Kragg was hoping for, came to pass. The others though, Kragg steadied himself.
He was surprised at Mysta and that she would be so warded on a continual basis. I did not know that you were so protected. It is good to hear that should the humans seek to mobilize against the dwarves precautions are available. Thinking about her return request Kragg slowly draws the heavy tankard from his hip. Ever since Zuth touched me I had no need for holy symbols to channel his power. Yet in its stead I have carried two items with me at all times. The first is a flask with his symbol on it. The second is this tankard. I have carried it with me for a hundred years. I offer it up to you now in the hopes that it will suffice. As he hands it to her he channels the power of Zuth to fill it up. It is not strong by any standard to a dwarf but may it always remain filled for you.
Responding to Eoin Kragg bows his heada nd gives a short response, Understood. No offense taken.
Hoping the laugh is not misconstrued Kragg smiles in return. I shall try and prevent any harm from reaching so that I may have that connection to you should I need it. Although I must confess that the brashness of youth in this group may make that task more difficult for me.
Kragg is speechless though as Varkal talks and clips off a portion of his own beard. Even he did not expect something so bold and profound. As the hairs are given to Dolgrin Kragg just hangs his head at the honor of the request being filled. Thank you Lord Tarnhammer. You bless us all.
"Easily, friend. Easily. I'll have it for you within a half day. Look at that, he just got up working. Ain't that grand?"
"That will be perfect Dari. Uncle it is good to see you up and about." Ulfgar will wander over to see what his uncle is working on....
Hannarr files out of the hall with the rest. He had always been uneasy with religion and overt displays of faith. He had spent much of his adult life denying any divine involvement in the strange manner of his childhood escape. If the Brothers could intervene to save his life, why had they not stepped in to stop the attack that put it in peril in the first place? Why allow their chosen people to suffer so since the fall of Dammarhall?
As such, he shied away from the Tarnhammar, Dolgrin, so sure of his purpose, and even the jovial Kragg, who seemed to put more faith in his drink than in his own experience, and instead steered himself to where Anka and Modnar chatted. Pardon the intrusion, but I too would hear of your previous delves, Anka, particularly your most recent.
Afterwards, on the streets of Dwarftown, Hannarr maneuvers deftly throw the celebrating crowd, his mind spinning with lists of provisions he needed, the letter requesting a sabbatical he would have to forward to the faculty and a thousand other details he needed to attend to before they departed. So engrossed was he that he almost forgot his promise to meet with Steolla. Ah right, oh bother, where was I supposed to meet her now?