~Akropash Bubble~
The next morning she goes to talk with whoever is handling Targ's manor. She finds a Face , a half-elf by the name of Tuliard watching over it. Without too much difficulty she finds an audience with him.
"Ah yes, come in! Rilka was it? I believe I've heard about you even before your exploits here. Climbing the ranks fast I heard." He smiles, offering Rilka a seat and something to drink. "So let's get to it. I heard you had some sort of idea for Targ's manor? We've been mostly holding it from other slavers and searching it for anything of value or interest, but so far the job has been boring on both ends. What was your proposal?"
As Bjorkus is having lunch he is approached by an Aestheric who says Krokar has no news of the desert elves for now.
Bjorkus goes around and asks some questions about Yix, but finds the catfolk elusive. Eventually he talks to a tall half-orc who says he expects Yix back at the end of the week. When pressed for answers the half-orc shakes his head and stays silent. He does say he'll pass on a message though.
In the morning Toramin is in the middle of a hearty breakfast when he notcies his favorite ratfolk slip in. Ninnec waves at Toramin from across the room, then makes his way over and gets a plate of food. After some pleasantries he pulls out a scroll of parchment with a list of names and some details.
Sinafo Sandtongue
Male Halfling Ranger
A vigilante who fought against Targ and Acera at the height of their power through stealth and subterfuge. Has many years of experience leading groups of people and knows the city and landscape very well. Definitely has freedom as a priority.
Baruk Irdania
Male Tiefling Rogue
Aristocrat who was constantly lobbying for law changes with the whitecloaks. Believes their practices to be too violent and unforgiving and wanted to change the way the justice system worked. Very good at knowing things and getting things done, a proactive person.
Caladrel Fauntess
Male Elven Sorcerer
Another aristocrat. Gave the "slaves" under him a wage and houses, basically treated them as employees. Has used much of his political power to try and raise slave rights. An excellent talker and good diplomat.
Samsan Bethreal
Male Suli Cavalier
Years ago he was one of the warlords for Targ before revolting against the tyrant. He failed and was forced into hiding, but upon word of another rebellion he came out to help with the fighting. A very "do it yourself" kind of guy who treats all as equals.
Rusilka Bolcán Gloine
Female Dwarven Warpriest
Separated from her dwarf brother and sisters during a mission to scout Yenrick for natural mines, she has since learned to flourish in this land. Helped the masked healers establish many of their churches and got them integrated into the city.
In the morning he's eating breakfast when a messenger drops off a letter for him.
Gabriel,
I know you expressed interest in helping
train the citizens of Akrpash. If you want
to help in that directly, we're beginning
free lessons today for rudimentary basics
of fighting. You don't need to be an expert
to help, and you're more than qualified
to teach them the basics of what they need
to know. If you want to get involved feel
free to stop by the Colosseum as soon as
you're ready.
Krokar
After asking some questions Gabriel learns that many of the tunnels running underneath the city were collapsed in the fighting. There is still a multitude of them outside the city, but it would require a great deal of dangerous tunneling to reestablish the underground region of Akropash.
Toramin trades the draft of the constitution he was working on for the list of names. He values Ninnec's opinion more than the ratfolk might know. He reads the list of names repeatedly, pondering each one. The stone lord doesn't fail to notice that none of the prospective leaders are human. Too long have the human leadership of this city been pursuing racist programs. It seems Ninnec is of a similar opinion.
Rusilka, feels like Ninnec is testing me for bias -- both religious and racial. I would like to get to know this woman better -- she seems like a good person to contact about helping build sustainable infrastructure in this city -- I think she may be too divisive figure to lead.
Toramin almost immediately dismisses Samsan. Too much baggage. Akropash does not need more of the old. Nor does the city need someone who would do things by himself at the expense of building coalitions.
The next three names were harder to dismiss. The two aristocrats gave him pause. They knew how to rule, but did they represent the old regime too much? Caladrel might have been a kind master, but would the people see him as a master still? His political skills made him a very attractive candidate. As did the skills of Baruk. Is there a higher compliment on could receive than acknowledgement of hyper-competence? Toramin wanted more information about these two. That would mean speaking to Heff.
Sinafo on paper seemed the best to take up the mantle of "Ares." A leader, with appropriate ideological sentiments, trained in a harsh crucible, and from a sympathetic background -- yet could he transition from revolutionary to establishment?
Toramin waits for Ninnec to finish reading before he begins to speak.
"Ninnec, I have so many questions. Who do you think would make for the best leader? Do you think these candidates could survive the chaos of the birth of a new state? Who would the people rally around? Also, what do you think of the constitution?"
After listening to Ninnec's replies. "Let us go speak to my superiors. If any of this is to go forward, then we will need their backing."
"Sinafo fought for the freedom of slaves even when it wasn't a realistic goal. He would have rather died free than live a slave. He knows how to lead people, although he may need help with some of the more political aspects. He's a bit of a free spirit though, and I see the potential for disorder with him."
"Baruk is easily the most knowledgeable of the five. He acts swiftly and decisively and would make a good arbiter. Would probably excel the most at raising the economy. He can be a little detached at times though."
"Caladrel would be the best diplomat and talker. No doubt he would be the most influential for dealing with other nations. He sees problems at their root, what's truly causing them. However he's a bit for the high life, not spending much time doing hard work or studying himself."
"Samsan is an unorthodox choice, but he's a good pick because he would be the best for handling the unruly people of Akropash. The gangs and powerful slavers will still be problems after you leave, and he's the best equipped to handle them. He can be a little passionate at times, but he knows when he needs to ask for help."
"Rusilka has a clear motivation to help the people since she's the main reason the masked healers are inside the city. The best choice for changing the culture of Akropash the fastest. But she's not overly patient, forcing certain matters if they're moving too slow for her liking."
Ninnec spends a few minutes reading the constitution, going over it three times before responding. "It's a very good framework, captures good ideals. But there will need to be more on specifics for laws and the such, which is more tedious than anything."
How relaxing to sit back and tell stories for a while.
Dalton sipped his drink - potent as it was - and sampled the foodstuffs while he listened. He learned quite a bit from Toarmin's story, got a better feel for Bjorkus through his past, and had a few good laughs with Rilka's. As Toramin brought up his name, the wizard drained his first glass and accepted the nudge into the spotlight briefly.
"I can't say I've got anything as sticky as Rilka's or storied as Toramin's, but I've got a tale or two nonetheless. Back when I was a small lad - yes, even in the waist - the nobility had me work the hedges from time to time. I wasn't the tallest, and the damned things grew higher than me, but within an arm's reach of the head. I was to keep them trimmed all the way through. It was a job that would take from dawn to dusk. "
"The lordling at the time had them planted so they made a maze of sorts with a pond in the center. They called it a maze for a reason. I got lost in the dead-ends and accidentally backtracked my steps to the front many a time. Enough where dusk came and I wasn't done: I hadn't found the pond yet. I don't have the deep sight like you dwarves, so the twilight was my cue to head back to the quarters. But in the middle of that labyrinth, it was a bit difficult! Twilight turned into dusk, then dusk into night. As luck would have it, clouds were aplenty, so it was a moonless night."
"I got upset with things, threw the blade down and started to sob about, walking into the plants and trying to feel my way through. This had to go on for hours, but it felt more like an eternity. After a while, I gave up and laid down."
"The next morning, sun high in the sky, one of the groundsmen finds me asleep at the front of the maze; right at the end, I'd escaped it in the dark but couldn't see to know! Since I didn't have the blade on me and the job was unfinished, he scolded me good and took me back to one of the richies. I got plenty a thrashing with a switch that day!"
He knew his story was not as glorious as some of the others, but he thought the dendrophobic dwarves might appreciate a story with scary plants. Dalton ordered another drink but made no effort to keep up with Toramin. Had it been only Bjorkus, maybe, but he knew better than to play those games with a dwarf.
Later in the day, he sought out Ninnec. Perhaps literally, the two had business to discuss.
"I can't thank you enough for your help with the ... adjustments in the city, Ninnec. Things will surely start taking a turn for the better now."
Heff laughs, banging his hand on the table. "Oh, and when you just grabbed the thing by the tail and whipped it into the ship! Oh man, I nearly fell off my carpet!" He chuckles, wiping a tear from his eye as he sees the two walk in. "Hey, if it isn't my favorite dwarf! And...Ninnec, correct? I've heard good things about you, keep up the good work."
Krokar lets his own chuckles subside, taking a drink from his mug. "Good to see you again Toramin. Please, sit. Something to drink?" He gets Toramin and Ninnec something to drink (Ninnec timidly asks for a water) before sitting down. Then he puts a hand to his ear and speaks into it, and a moment later Älia appears with a whoosh. She gives Toramin a nod of acknowledgement, then slowly sits down.
"So, what did you want to talk about?" Krokar asks, sipping at his drink.
At this point Ninnec looks entirely terrified and intimidated at the sudden meeting with three very powerful people. He appears to be shrinking by the second.
Dalton finds the young noblewoman sitting in a fancy restaurant in a nice dress. She's surrounded by half a dozen aristocrats who are picking away at their food and talking about the latest play that the theater is putting on. Dalton can't help to notice that Ella looks a little bored with the conversation.
Later Dalton finds Ninnec, sitting over some papers with a candle. He jumps a little at Dalton's entrance. "Oh, sorry Dalton. I've just been a little on edge. I had a meeting today with some...intimidating people." He smiles at the thanks. "I appreciate that, it means a lot to me. That's all I've really wanted to do with my life, is to make Akropash a better place." He sits for a moment then his eyes widen and he stands. "Oh, would you like something to drink? Please, have a seat. Was there something else you wanted to talk about?"
~The Grand Tour Day 15~
Coralla groans and rolls her eyes at Dalton's story. "By the gods that's unfair. Although to tell you I didn't think you were of the working class." She smiles and nudges Dalton, snugly wrapped in her extra layer of fur, courtesy of Bjorkus.
"I'm afraid my story will be in the same vein as Dalton's. When I just started working at the bathhouse, I didn't really know how the baths worked. It's amazing how the underground tunneling system is set up to draw water, but it all seemed like magic to me. I was just told what to turn and what to put where and everything else fell into place. I didn't ask questions, wasn't a slave's place to do so."
"Anyways, so one day we have this really old elf by the name of Seimah come in. He's a really high up noble and had the entire deluxe package ordered for him, well except for the, uh...company with a woman afterwards. But other than that he basically ordered everything, so between that and his ranking the missus was very excited and nervous to have him. She had us running around making sure everything was absolutely perfect for him, she wanted to get him as a return customer for the business and the publicity."
"Well I was in charge of bringing the food to him and his friends, so I had a pretty simple job. I would just bring platters of food out, smile nicely, and bring back any empty platters. I was still pretty new at the time so they didn't want me doing anything important. And I was fine with that, I had nearly chewed my fingernails to the bone about the whole situation anyways. Well about half an hour into his bath, Seimah said something about an odd smell. He had ordered a rare dish made from camel intestines and snake venom, and according to the cook it was a complete mess to make and gave off a rancid odor."
"The missus heard the complain and immediately told me to gather up whatever was making the smell and dump it out." She puckers her nose. "Oh, that was the most rancid smell I've ever encountered. But I close-pinned my nose and gathered all the slime up in a bucket and took it outside, when I realized I didn't know where to dump it! I couldn't dump it in the drinking water obviously, but I didn't just want to dump it on the ground-it would smell for days in the heat. But there was this trapdoor in the back with running water in it that I always assumed was just carrying dirty water out of the city. So I opened it up and dumped the whole bucket in there!"
She laughs, reminiscing. "Less than a minute later screams erupt from the bathhouse and everybody starts running out, Seimah being carried by one of his bodyguards. I go in to see what's happening, and the bath is full of the slime. It turns out that little tunnel was how we got our bathwater!" She laughs hard, cheeks rosy from all the drinks.
~Day 15, The Grand Tour~
With each story Toramin drains a mug, pounding the tankard on the table in the traditional drunken story telling fashion. It sounds quite impressive when there are several hundred people doing it.
The stories that Dalton and Rilka told did not reflect Toramin's life experiences as a member of a central family, but dwarf culture valued labor and hard work quite highly. Stories of industrious miners and inventive brewers permeated the culture.
"Did anyone link the mess to you, Coralla?"
Toramin listens to Ninnec's council with open ears and decides to withhold judgment on the candidates whom he had previously dismissed. Ninnec's praise meant a great deal to him. "Yes, the legal specifics will need to be hashed out, though I'm glad you see the importance of their underpinnings."
**********
"Yes, if you please, sir, I will have a glass of what you and Heff are sharing."
Toramin understood but did not share Ninnec's trepidation. These three were more powerful and more highly ranked than he, thus worthy of respect, but he had been dealing with more powerful and higher ranked people his entire life. He possessed more experience in the halls of power than he did on the battlefield.
Take heart, Ninnec," Toramin whispers as to not embarrass the ratfolk. "A good idea is a good idea whether it is voiced by a prince or a peasant. Take heart, and be confident in your own wisdom."
With that, he turns to address the assembled councilors, bowing to Alia as one would to an honored elder.
"Councilors, this is Ninnec -- late a guide of Akropash and more recently trusted friend and ally. During our mission here Ninnec proved his value and his loyalty several times over. Without his contributions this revolution may never have been as successful as it was. Though he may aver otherwise, his heart is as courageous as his wits are keen. For it is only when one acknowledges and masters one's fears that one can truly be brave.
Ninnec, these people are several of the leaders of my organization: Krokar, Heff, and Alia. We need their support to see your city through its rebirth.
Now that we have our introductions, I turn to the matter for which I requested this meeting. Akropash is experiencing a crisis of authority. A crisis precipitated by our involvement in the city. I believe that our organization has neither the capacity nor the moral duty to rule Akropash. Its sovereignty rests in those who call it home. However, we have both the capacity and moral duty to resolve the crisis of authority, founding a more just Akropash."
Pausing briefly, Toramin hands each of the councilors both a draft of his proposed constitution and a copy of Ninnec's short list. The dwarf also wanted to give his audience time to reflect on his previous statement. This is not his first time playing the statesman.
"These documents I have just given you contain names of people Ninnec believes have the skill and disposition to assume leadership roles within the new city-state. Not all can be a ruler, but each person on this list should be of use. It also contains a draft of a constitution that I have devised. I request that you consider these names and this constitution. I humbly ask that you take the time and expend the resources necessary to leave Akropash a strong and vibrant state. If these documents find favor with you, I also ask that you use our skills where they would best serve the interests of this city."
Between making appearances at the skirmishes still popping up throughout Akropash, Bjorkus stops at safe houses and supply caches, getting commitments for food and drink for the upcoming celebration. Being a pirate he knew how to party but things were simpler when he just had to provide for his own crew. He was organizing a celebration for an entire city-state (or at least a large chunk of it) this time which made for some new challenges. The actual planning wasn’t the problem, the bull knew what every good party needed (women and booze: top priority), and he wasn’t having a hard time getting what he needed. The struggle was with the damned arithmetic. If we’re expecting 400 people and they each drink one-third of a cask… The numbers made the bull’s head spin and he quickly finds himself wishing he had Rilka or Dalton to help.
***
Bjorkus roars with laughter at Dalton’s tale, not in mockery but as a friend reminiscing with another over the past. He claps the older pudgy elf on the shoulder (a bit harder than might be comfortable) and takes another draw from his tankard.
”I never knew you were a servant. With your love of gems and gilded things I woulda thought you were a merchant your whole life.”
Coralla’s story sets the bull off again, aided no doubt by the comfortable buzz from the strong dwarven ale he was enjoying.
”I’ve met Seimah! I can just imagine that old sod covered in rottin’ fish guts. Girl, I woulda paid to see that!”
~The Grand Tour Day 15~
Coralla laughs. "You still found me working there, didn't you?"
Ninnec nods, relaxing a bit.
Krokar listens to Toramin's words for Ninnec. "Well met little one."
Älia gives a small nod.
Heff also nods and sips at his drink, looking expectantly as if he already knew this.
Älia speaks up as Toramin finishes. "You are correct. We have no intent on ruling Akropash, even if we desired so. You have a good understanding of our long term goals here."
The three take a look at the constitution and the list for a moment, and once seeing the volume of information Krokar grunts and looks up. "Excuse us while we talk about this privately for a minute."
~~~
Ten minutes later Heff waves Toramin and Ninnec back into the command tent. Heff stands up and spreads his hands on the table. "Ninnec, you have my respect. We were already contemplating three of these people for leadership positions, and you show great insight and initiative in identifying the abilities of all five of these people."
"We intend to put each one of them into a position of power, but one needs to be chosen to rule. We have listed them in our current preference, but we intend to do more research and a few tests before making a final decision. Especially since we have two new people to consider. Ninnec, we would like your assistance in this matter personally." Ninnec squeaks in surprise, but hastily nods and mumbles that he would be honored to help.
"As far as your constitution goes, it is very rudimentary but it captures most of the important ideals we hope to instill in Yenrick. There will be much legal necessities added to it, but it provides an excellent jumping off point for our legal workers and scribes to start working on." He rolls his eyes. "You know, politics and all that fun stuff."
There's a beat of silence and Krokar stands. "Thank you for your guidance Älia, we don't want to hold you any longer so feel free to get back to it." Älia thanks Krokar, and with another whoosh disappears.
Krokar turns to Toramin and Ninnec. "Ninnec, will you excuse us for a moment?" Ninnec gives a quick bow and scampers out.
"Toramin, we're all very impressed at your initiative in this matter. It shows great passion, ability, and more importantly a mindset that aligns with our overarching goals. Because of this you are being promoted to a fourth rank member in both the social and martial branches. Congratulations, you now a Bruiser and Talker. That means you are on the same authority level as Rilka, and will be making joint decisions with her with it comes to decisions for the team. However due to her greater experience and time spent with us, she still has the final say if there is a conflict."
Heff sits back down. "Also, we are considering recruiting Ninnec. He is a textbook example of what we want in our social branch." He sips at his drink. "Not that you'll be involved in this process, just thought you might like to know."
Internally, Toramin is surprised by the dual promotion. He considered himself not much of a bruiser or of a talker (their naming conventions always amused him), and being jumped from an initiate to the third tier of the secret organization seemed remarkable. Despite his surprise, the dwarf kept his face placid. Heff might be able to read the dwarf, but Toramin had no intention of making easy for the man who he did not trust. His mind wanted to race, but again, Toramin's mental discipline prevent him from considering inopportune thoughts.
He bows to Krokar and Heff.
"It is an honor to have opportunities to pursue the universal good of all peoples. Towards this end, I have been building a relationship with the masked healers. I have been keeping Alia apprised of my progress and intentions concerning our shared interest in civilizational uplift. No doubt, Heff you are already aware of these negotiations. I would like the council's blessing and authority to continue to work and negotiate with them in pursuit of uplift and sustainable development in Akropash.
As for Ninnec, he is a person of rare skill and moral fiber. I trust that he will do well for himself and this city in whatever capacity he chooses to pursue."
These words were chosen with care and diplomacy -- gratitude must be expressed and only truths spoken, even were they not exhaustive of the truth. Nothing less could be expected from a son of one of the central families. Dwarf politics where driven by consensus, and all were devoted towards the good of all dwarfs. Yet, that did not mean that there were no power struggles or contention. Indeed, the requirement for consensus and courtesy merely refined them. For a moment, Toramin wished Alia had stayed. He enjoyed working with the woman. She acted, spoke, and, as far as he could tell, thought like a Voice in the Stone. Like real leaders do. He did not know Krokar, though he valued his past support. And Heff was a snake.
Heff nods. "We'll see, but I have high hopes for him. If that's all we have some work to do. Best of luck with your ventures."
"Thank you. I do have a few more questions. Can you explain the duties and responsibilities of my new position? Also, what, if anything, has practically changed for me because of this promotion? Remember, before I walked into this tent I was an initiate, and know nothing of such matters."
Toramin is internally agog when Bjorkus revealed that he didn't know Dalton's former social station. Does he never listen to the man? Half of his insults and the majority of Master Dalton's anxieties are based on social position and wealth.
Chuckling, Toramin asks Coralla, "How did you cover it up?"
Krokar waves a hand. "Most of it just increases your authority and allows you to be involved on more dangerous missions. In times of crisis you have authority over anybody of lower rank, and you have more permissions granted and can have more help if you need it."
Coralla pauses. "You know, I really didn't. I just didn't speak up when she asked what happened."
Bjorkus knocks back the rest of his tankard, belches loudly, and signals for another. While he waits, he quickly realizes that the crowd is clamoring for another tale.
”I ‘spose I could tell another, though it might be tough with my throat so dry”, he says with a rumbling laugh.
”The life of a freebooter on the high seas isn’t all adventure and booty. There’s all kinds of other dangers like scurvy, sea monsters, and mutiny. That’s right, even the best captains got to worry ‘bout the danger of a traitorous crew. I had a mutiny on my own ship not long after the Storm was made mine”, the bull admits.
”Not all pirates are the same. Yes, we’re all in it for the freedom, the coin, and the glory but some got a bit more honor ‘bout ‘em. When I took over the Storm and her crew I’d decided that we were gunna be better than some of the others out there. The Raging Storm wasn’t gunna be known as a ship full of butchers and sadists.”
Despite being a bit inebriated it isn’t enough to keep the half-minotaur's shame over the topic from being heard in his voice.
”Now when pirates take a ship more often than not, very few of the crew are actually made to walk the plank. There’s no coin in soddin’ bloated corpses. Those with the sense to surrender are offered a chance to join the crew. Those that can’t be trusted or don’t wanna sign on are kept as prisoners and ransomed back to whatever port or tradin’ company or whatever put 'em on the seas in the first place. My first order as captain was that nobody was to be forcin’ themselves on the prisoners – ever. I heard plenty of grumblin’ from the crew but I figured it wasn't because they were doin’ it but because no pirate likes takin’ orders.”
”It wasn’t until a knife made its way into my side that I found out how serious some of that grumbin’ was”, Bjorkus says with a laugh as he turns to show off the scar.
”It was Plugg, the old captain’s boatswain. He’d stirred up a load of the deckhands and got ‘em thinkin’ that I was too soft to be captain. Besmara’s t&#+ was he wrong.”
"So I beat down the back-stabbin' sod who stuck me", Bjorkus explains while demonstrating a quick one-two maneuver. "And make it to the deck where Plugg and his turncoats are fightin' with my most loyal men. Most of the crew was stayin' out of it - that's how these things usually go. It was a soddin' bloody scrap. Plugg's men weren't lookin' to take prisoners."
"I finally spot the bastard halfway down the quarterdeck and call him out. He hesitated - the bastard was smart - but seein' me bleedin' like a stuck pig he mans up and answer's my challenge. The crew parts and we start circlin' like a couple've alphas."
The bull puts up his ham-sized fists and shuffles back and forth as he tells the tale.
"Now Plugg was a big man. He woulda been a challenge on a good day and I was gettin' dizzy from the blood I was losin'. The sod gets in a couple shots and I start seein' stars. For a moment I'm worried I might lose", he rumbles in a softer tone luring his audience to the edge of their seats. "But then I remembered that the Raging Storm was my ship; That her crew looks to me to care for 'em; And that no soddin' backstabbin' mutiny-startin' rapist is gunna take that from me!" Bjorkus roars as the story hits its climax."I dig deep and hit him hard - three shots to the ribs and one square across the jaw. Plugg goes down like a ton of bricks."
Bjorkus laughs and gives the cheers a moment to die down. "With Plugg down for the count the rest of the mutiny throws in the towel. My men put the traitors in chains and I got that soddin' hole patched up."
"It took me a couple days to figure out what to do with the bastards. Most of the crew knew Plugg. He was experienced and respected. But all that experience mattered for s#$~ then. I had to show the crew that a pirate with some honor wasn't too soft to captain a ship so I keelhauled him - dropped him overboard on the line myself. It took him hours to die and he screamed the whole time. Once he was done I cut him lose, giving what was left of him to the sharks. The rest of the traitors were branded and dropped off at the next port."
The bull sits down to take another draw from his tankard finishing it off.
"After that there was no more b!!!@in' from the crew about my orders after that."
As they left the Colosseum, Toramin reassures Ninnec. "You did excellent work, Ninnec. Thank you so much for your help."
Toramin wanted to say more to warn Ninnec about Heff, but he knew that Ninnec was very observant. The ratfolk might have recognized the tension between his friends and the spymaster.
"Ninnec, the coming few weeks and months will be a time of great change for you. I'm excited to learn all that you will accomplish. Politics can be dangerous, so be careful, my friend. My grandmother once told me that it is important remember that the allies of today might not be the allies of tomorrow; just because there are shared interests does not mean that all allies have your best interests at heart."
He looks at Toramin seriously, and after a moment of thought nods. "I'll keep that in mind..."
The halfling sweeps around her surroundings, marveling at the wealth here. [b]”It might be big enough a place for a school and hospital.”
—————
”Bruiser and Talker! Congratulations Toramin,” Rilka says offering her hand. ”I’m honored to serve with you. I think this is a wise decision,” she adds to Heff and Krokar.
~Day 15, Grand Tour~ Rilka bangs her mug in appreciation for Dalton’s and Coralla’s stories. She places it upside down, nodding to herself with a slight buzz in her head, but knowing now is a good time to stop drinking.
She listens to Bjorkus’ next story with a serious expression. Keelhaul? she thinks. At the conclusion, she taps her mug.
Ragnal Diabeoir chuckles a bit at the second story from Bjorkus, but also gives him a serious glance. "Not ta be a buzzkill, but keep in mind we don't take nicely to outlaw types 'round here. Life is hard enough in these mountains without men bein' selfish a+#@#@&!s." He waves off the conversation though, coming off as more of an informational thing than a warning.
"You know, there used to be two different little towns up here. This one which we named simply the Marble Cliff, but a few years after that another one sprang up called the Icy Pits. Of all the places to have competition, I never though this was one of them. I wasn't happy 'bout it, but I didn't say nothing. Till the Dibh Muileata in charge of it started getting lippy with me."
"He kept trying to steal my suppliers and customers instead of just increasing the prosperity of his own business. You know, tearin' me down. I didn't want ta say nothin' to him cus I didn't want to start any s!~*, but eventually I didn't have a choice. I prayed to Torag to give me strength and went out into the snow."
He starts chuckling. "Well either I'm one lucky dwarf or Torag works in mysterious ways, because two things happened that fell together perfectly. First, somebody brought in the liver of a remorhaz because they didn't know 'bout it. The liver of those creatures are like literal stinkbombs and they had to clear out the whole town until somebody could arrive who could clear out the stench."
"Next thing that happened was a bit more serious, an earthquake. Now up in the mountains earthquakes are dangerous, because not only our the buildings built in the ground, but it sets off avalanches too. Well what happened is his entire town cracked off and fell down from the cliffs. It worked perfectly since the area was evacuated so nobody was hurt, and it completely destroyed that Dibh Muileata's plans, left him with so little money that he had to go back to whatever city he came from."
Like most stories Bjorkus told, Toramin found the casual brutality . . . concerning. I wonder if he would sentence another to the same fate now, since he too has known torture.
Ragnal's story, on the other hand, elicited a smirk that he hid by drinking. Looking down one's nose on the Dibh Muileata was practically a sport in the other clans. Toramin's clan had always had cordial relations with that clan. The Trealamhgabha were the newest and smallest clan. More than a few dwarfs thought they were untraditional, if not traitors to the clans from which they splintered off. But the Trealamhgabha were useful . . . they created things necessary for modern dwarf civilizations and they were wealthy. Money talked, even amongst the dwarfs. The Dibh Muileata were also a wealthy and untraditional clan, but their trade network was essential to dwarf economy. Being necessary was not the same as being respected. The old rebels and the new were natural allies in dwarf politics.
As for the Dibh Muileata reputation which purported them to be thieves, cheats, and race traitors? Toramin knew that every clan had a few bad apples, but, in his personal experience, the Dibh Muileata were as friendly and loyal as their patron, Grundinnar. Were Toramin a Duine Gealtine would Ragnal's villain be a Trealamhgabha?
But a story-telling circle was not the place for uncharitable thoughts about new friends, so Toramin quaffs both his drinks.
Toramin starts chortling uncontrollably, looking around a bit guilty, he asks, "Are there any Duine Gealtine in the room?" When the answer is no, he continues, "I have a story I think you might enjoy Bjorkus, though my grandmother would tan my hide if she heard me repeat it."
Clearing his throat, he begins, "Earlier, I spoke of Torag's most famous children. This story is a story of Trudd. He is known as the Mighty, his divine power is that he is the paragon of male potency. Indeed, the demigod exceeds all other males in all ways but one: Trudd has a very short beard. This was not always the case. Once Trudd had the most luxurious and envy inspiring beard. This is the story of why Trudd's beard is so short.
It is also the story of origin of the misunderstandings between dwarfs and elves."
At this point Toramin snorts and lets out a few involuntary chuckles before mastering himself. He forces a more stoic mien, but anybody watching could tell that he was struggling not to smile.
"Once, long ago, the elven goddess Calistria was talking to the halfling goddess Chaldira Zuzaristan. Chaldira was waxing rhapsodic about the many virtues of Trudd, whom she had recently encountered.
'He is so handsome,' the halfling goddess sighed. 'So masculine, so muscular, -- why he is positively mascular! And, his beard, Calistria, his beard . . . truly no other man could be better.'
Calistria was less than convinced. 'I have known many men, Chaldira. Tall men. Short men. Strong men. Weak men. Gods and demons. In the end, they all measure the same in bed.'
'No, Calistria, no,' Chaldira protested. 'Those other men might measure the same, but none of those men were Trudd.'
Calistria did not take Chaldira's protests seriously. Chaldira is a small woman, Calistria thought, perhaps it takes less to satisfy her.
And yet, despite her doubts, the elven goddess' curiosity was piqued. It was no difficult task to trip Trudd into her bower. Many have passed those curtains before him and many have done likewise since.
Trudd performed quite manfully, and Calistria was satisfied. Chaldira was right, no man might have a better beard, but between her legs he was much like every other man.
The demigod was proud of his qualities and asked the goddess how she felt when they were done.
'Oh,' she yawned. 'Your skills in love they do suffice. In close embrace, I find you nice.'
'Nice!? Suffice!? Trudd bellowed. 'I am Trudd, the Mighty, no man can surpass me.'
The elven goddess smirked. 'I do not dispute your might, Trudd. No man could do better, and Chaldira was quite right, you do have an excellent beard. If one is into that sort of thing.'
Stung by her mockery, the demigod left in a rage. His heavy feet caused the earth to tremble. His sighs caused storms to rage. This is how his aunt Drannvgit found him. With her own children dead, she doted on her half-brother's youngest son.
'What ails you, Trudd?'
'Aunt, I have been stung by Calistria, she said that my love making sufficed and that my embrace was nice. I am not meant for adequacy. I'm the Mighty, no man can match my potency.'
'The problem, my brother's son, is that yours is a comparative claim, while Calistria's appetites are absolute. You would need something equally absolute to exhaust them.'
'Aunt, help me. Give me something worthy of my might.'
Trudd knew that the Debt Minder can always provide what is desired, but in his rage he forgot that nothing comes for free.
'I give nothing, not even to my favorite nephew. My motto is thus: nothing for nothing, something for something.'
'Anything, aunt, anything.'
'I will trade you something absolute for something else absolute. All know that no beard can surpass your beard. For every inch I take, an inch I will give.'
Before trading with the Debt Minder, Trudd's beard touched his toes. After their trade, he barely had stubble.
Trudd returned to Calistria and when she saw his manhood she had to have it. The elven goddess took it like she had never taken it before. For the first time, Calistria was worn out before her lover. She was more than satiated she was exhausted. She worried that her blossom might wilt, never to recover.
Mighty Trudd was not worried about a few bruised petals and would give Calistria not a moment of peace.
In despair, Calistria whispered that she wished to hide her blossom from this lusty demigod. Drannvgit's ears are keen for any deal. What agreement those two goddesses came to this tale does not relate. But we do know that Drannvgit took some of the beard she got from Trudd and wove Calistria a merkin so cunning that no man could discover the blossom beneath.
And Trudd is nothing if not a man.
Frustrated and thwarted by his own beard, Trudd left and warned his followers of the folly of trying to prove anything to an elf."
Toramin's story ends abruptly as he dissolves into laughter. Whether that the is story's end, that is where he retelling ended.
Too busy sharing a word with the admirers his tales had earned him, Bjorkus barely recognizes his host's mildly back-handed comment.
"Don't worry Ragnal, a pirate without a ship won't be raiding much."
At the conclusion of Toramin's bawdy story Bjorkus literally doubles over with laughter.
"I don't know much about the dwarven gods friend but I think I've found a kindred spirit in your Trudd!" The bull roars with tears in his eyes.
"Watch out . . . watch out for the merkin . . . ahahaha"
Once Toramin recovers a bit, he will offer to Bjorkus.
"One need not be a dwarf to propitiate a dwarf god. If you are interested, I'm sure we can find a shrine or temple to Trudd in the mountains. Maybe he will bless your manhood."
Bjorkus finishes wiping the tears from his eyes and stands up straight again.
"I'll pray harder than I ever have before", the bull rumbles with absolute sincerity.
Smirking and snickering through Toramin's tale, Dalton realized how removed from those scenarios he had become. A confirmed bachelor and likely to remain so. Not that there was anything wrong with it - he hadn't any desire to be weighed-down by responsibility to others. His mother, bless her heart, required enough care at her age. He didn't want to be stuck with righting the heat needs of someone like Coralla all the time.
"Being a seasoned transmuter does come with certain ... advantages," Dalton added with a wink. Time-bending had been a marvelously successful experiment, the quickening and slowing of those around him quite useful. Yet at the kernel of Dalton's interest in the school was the ability to make material alterations. Had Trudd studied up on a few of my incantations, he wouldn't have had the need for such a bargain.
Though Dalton was more concerned with the changing of non-living things, he did know a trick or two for shifting the status of organic subjects. Those muscle boosters for Bjorkus, Toramin, and Gabe worked well. As his skill grew, however, the wizard thought about more comprehensive changes. Why change one feature of a man instead of the whole being? Perhaps there are ways around that barrier... Even in the frozen reaches, the half-breed's mind was still hot.
Several hours pass as more people come into the inn and share a story or two. There was a sense of camaraderie that is the result of good drink, excellent food, and the promise of something new to talk about in the tiny enclave.
Toramin knew night had fallen and the blizzard was likely raging outside -- it seemed like the perfect time to tell a scary story.
"This is a story of mysteries and horror. It is not a tale for the day light hours. It is a story best told at night for there is a darkness to it. But before the darkness, let us consider some mysteries.
I have mentioned before that most dwarf god and goddesses are related. Trudd was born on this world before the gods left Dağın Kalp. Bolka, Kols, and Grundinnar were born to Folgrit before this world began. Where were they born? Magrim, Drannvgit, Torag, and Angradd are all siblings, but who are their parents?
We do not know. What we do know is that Torag crafted worlds before this world. I know this for a fact. With my own eyes I have seen stone unlike any stone from this world. I have seen temples crafted and tablets carved by dwarf hands that never lived in Erandor. We are not the first dwarves, and this is not the first world created by the gods. How many worlds has Torag created? We do not know. Why does he keep creating worlds? Opinions vary. Some say that like mortal dwarfs, Torag is constantly seeking to improve his technique. But the gods do not tell us, so we are left to speculate.
Droskar, the Dark Smith, was once a mortal dwarf who lived on a world that was old long before Erandor was wrought in the void. You have no doubt heard of mortals becoming gods. Some have touched the legendary Starstone, but there are other was mortal find apotheosis. Droskar found his through peerless skill and a burning will. Such was his genius in crafting and invention that it crossed the boundary between mortal and divine. Such was Droskar will that he survived this transition and was not consumed by it.
Before his betrayal, he was the god of invention and ambition. Originally, he cared not for good and evil only to create new things and to improve upon the old. His will that allowed him to survive drove him ceaselessly onwards to new projects. His mind devised new and fantastical devices that even the Father of Creation had not dreamed. Before his betrayal, he was a burning beacon of dwarf potential, his craft and cunning adding luster to our race.
Some say it was envy of Torag's skill that drove Droskar to his doom. I think that is too easy an answer. It is my belief that the seeds of the Dark Smith were born out of nothing more than genius untethered by prudence. Progress unbound by wisdom and consideration of the common weal can be extremely destructive.
Droskar wanted to not only invent knew things but improve upon the creations of his fellows. But there one thing Droskar could not figure out how to create: new life. It pained Droskar that dwarfs have such a low birthrate but lived in inhospitable mountains menaced by the mortal descendants of Lamashtu's divine children, the ancient giant races, and far stranger things still. He mourned the dwarf lives lost in these struggles because that was one less dwarf to create new things or enact new ambitions. Torag's dwarfs were a good start, he felt but they too were prone to mortal frailties.
Refusing to be stymied by the mere fact that he had not discovered the secret of life, the god of invention crafted the first golems. These creations pleased the god. They were stronger and more durable than the hardiest dwarf. He taught the secrets of their making to dwarf smiths who used this new invention to bolster the ranks of their armies and to help ease their backbreaking labors.
But Droskar was unsatisfied with golems. Yes, they were mighty, but they were unthinking things, who did not possess the spark of genius that Droskar prized beyond all else. The golems might be a worthy invention, but they had not accomplished Droskar's ambition: to improve upon what he felt was the Father of Creations, most ingenious invention, the dwarf race.
This is where our story takes a darker turn. Do you remember you remember the ancient dwarf stronghold we discovered beneath Kenova? Do you remember the key to its gates? That key was activated by my knowledge that dwarf souls are created by the sparks coming off Torag's hammer when he struck it against his great anvil to create the world.
Droskar had not forgotten this truth. His last and greatest invention was also his most wicked. Droskar created the Anvil of the Void. This artifact allowed him to extract the dwarf spark from living dwarves -- killing their mortal bodies -- but imbuing their souls into immortal golems. This is when Droskar's ambition outstripped his genius. Unable to create new life, the god cheated and stole the lives of others.
At first Droskar used the Anvil of the Void only on willing subjects, his most favored priests and priestesses. But Droskar was not content 'improving' only the willing. His ambition drove him to share this 'gift' widely whether the mortal dwarf willed it or no. He knew the other gods would not understand the genius of his new invention. No dwarf would ever need die again, but would conquer their enemies and subdue their lands. To prevent these new intelligent golems from crying out to the other gods for succor, Droskar turned his burning will upon them and enslaved their minds. To hide them he brought them deep into the Underdark. Enslaved to his will, their creative genius, which he had so highly valued, was snuffed out. Unable to create new things on their own, Droskar put them to work, toiling on his projects.
In those unhappy days, entire cities were lost to the Progress of Droskar. One by one they were emptied of their populations."
Toramin blows out the candles at the table -- one by one.
"The other dwarf gods were dumbfounded by these losses. Despite his cunning and his power, Droskar is not the god of secrets. Few things can long elude the eyes of the Watchful Mother where it concerns her children -- mortal or divine. Cities were filled with dead dwarfs, but Magrim, who guards the dead, said that those dwarfs were not in his keeping. So, Folgrit left her hearth and went on a long journey to find her missing children.
She searched the planes, even daring to enter Abbadon and the Abyss in her quest. She cloaked her divinity in a drab shawl that she had woven for that purpose. The fell lords and ladies of those places did not notice her passing. After wandering the planes, she wandered Erandor from top to bottom. Eventually, at long last, Folgrit found her lost children deep within the Underdark.
What she found horrified her, but cloaked by her drab shawl, Droskar saw her no more than did the demon lords. He did not know that his secret had been revealed. He did not know to flee from Torag's wrath for Folgrit called upon her husband and the Father of Creation came.
Torag cursed Droskar with a mighty curse, twisting his divinity against itself. As he had stripped others of their potential for genius so too was he stripped of his own. Torag's curse also tried to snuff Droskar's will and his divinity. But not even this great curse could destroy ambition that propelled a mortal into godhood. His ambition already stained by his crimes could not be turned to new purposes. Thus Droskar became the Dark Smith, god of cheating, toil, and slavery -- no longer welcome in the company of Torag's divine family. Droskar has lost none of his skill, but since that day he has been unable to craft anything new and unthought by another. It is said that Droskar tries to this day to some how circumvent Torag's curse and reclaim his genius."
Bjorkus cheers once Tormain's tale is told despite the story's rather darker tone. "What happened to the poor sods trapped inside those golem-shells?" he asks.
"A good question, Bjorkus, but I do not possess a good answer. Some say that they were restored to their bodies by the gods. Others say that they guard the Anvil of the Void so that it may never be used again. From time to time you hear stories of people encountering intelligent golems, but whether they were created by the Anvil of the Void or if mortals have found another way to imbue constructs with intelligence, I cannot say."
Rilka raps her mug on the tabletop in appreciation of Toarmin’s story. ”You must have told that before. That was masterful.” She takes her obsidian knife and lies it on the table. She spins it with a flick of her finger on the hilt. The candle and lamp light flashes along the black blade, which after a few seconds begins to get slower. Finally the tip comes to rest pointing directly at Rilka.
”Well, it looks like it’s my turn. Hmmm.” Her eyes wander the room for inspiration.
”Before I tell it, may I ask what your favorite constellation is? Mine is Mavuffi the Giant-slayer. I know, probably ha — uh, a good percentage of halflings would claim that. It’s not because of any of the legends. It’s really the three stars, well ‘stones’ that he launched. The red, the blue, and the final one, that star that twinkles with a variety of colors. I can imagine them whistling from his sling, streaking for the giant.”
Coralla tries to keep up with the hardier men, but by the end of Ragnal's story her cheeks are bright red and she slips out of her chair, hitting the ground. Bjorkus goes down and finds that she's fine, but she's definitely out cold for the night.
As Toramin begins his pair of stories the Frosty Mistress begins getting more and more crowded. The howls of harsh winds travel down the hallway each time the large trapdoor is opened, but it gets quickly drowned out as the underground tavern gets busier. The room gets filled to the brim and the party find themselves happy they got here early. Puddles are accumulated as frozen clothes and beards thaw out, but apparently it's a common enough problem for a gnome starts going around and cleaning up the puddles with magic.
The room is full of about 50% dwarves, 40% humans, and 10% a smattering of other races. Also it's about 95% males. The dwarven ale starts flowing heavily as four more dwarves appear from the back to help Ragnal.
Toramin's completely inappropriate interesting story goes over incredibly well with the crowd who all start banging their fists on the table with laughter. One of the dwarves shouts out and says "Hey I know your grandmommy, better buy me a round to keep my trap shut!" which is met with more laughter.
At the serious story there is much nodding and approval from the dwarves and a few of the humans, but the rest are spellbound (and a few even jump, although the room is full of pretty hardy people). Some music starts up as the tavern gets truly busy, people taking out cards and tokens and maps and various other things. It may be a harsh life full of hard work up here, but this lot takes on the motto of "Work hard, play hard".
”Now then,” Rilka says glancing around the room once more. She waves in gratitude to the musicians. ”I mention Mavuffi because sometimes when I need a little mental girding or am trying to really focus my determination, I remember the moment I saw that constellation from the top of the Gerranesu Tower. The elation, the way my soul felt open and even connected to the universe. If you haven’t felt that way before, and it’s a difficult sensation to find, I hope some day you do experience it.
“A little background. The steeple race is a halfling tradition where we climb the Gerranessu Tower.”It’s called the ‘steeple race’ because it started by climbing one of the steeples of the Shelyn temple. It moved to the Gerranessu Tower after that was built. It’s over 300 feet tall! Who could resist that?
“The race is always held on Halfling New Year, which isn’t really a New Year. More of a joke. It’s half-way through the standard year. Some halfling a long time ago thought our years should be only half of the long-legs’ year. It’s really just an excuse for a party.” Rilka shrugs.
”I don’t have to explain the dynamics of climbing to you. It takes strength, flexibility, endurance, and will. I’ve done the race five times. The second-to-last time is when I had the experience I described. No magic is allowed, except all competitors must drink a featherfall potion before starting. That’s really the only cost. The tower is brick so there are plenty of foot and handholds for climbing. No tools are allowed. Oh, and contestants go in waves for safety as well. A dozen at a time.
“So this particular race. I don’t know what happened differently if anything did. I climbed as I normally did. Sweat raining off me, a hammering heart, and aching muscles. All the same. Breathing hard, the music of the wind whipping around the tower, the roar from below as some contestants lost their grip and fell. For whatever reason, as I climbed over the lattice work on the top, I felt something intangible sweep into me or maybe blossom within. Words can’t give the feeling justice. It was beyond elation and ecstasy. As I said, I felt my soul open, connected to everything. There was this feeling of love and blissful joy. I wanted everyone to feel that way. I stood on the top of Gerranessu Tower staring at Mavuffi and cried,” Rilka pauses, smiling a the memory. She meets the eyes of her table mates, her eyes slightly watering.
”It was that one time only. The last time I did the race, I didn’t feel it. Maybe next time. I hope you can all experience something like that.”
Bjorkus chuckles and bundles Coralla up tight. "Hey Ragnal, where are those rooms? I'm gunna lay the girl down."
Ragnal motions to one of the other dwarves. "Get our guest here to a room. It's 2 gold per room per night."
"We got the coin", Bjorkus confirms before following the other dwarf with Coralla in his arms.
Toramin pounds his drink at the end of Rilka's story. He could finally feel the ale in his veins. This would be a good night. Content with the stories he told, he settles back into his seat to watch the room.
Two gold per room? Though he had no doubt about the quality of Ragnal's establishment he could only reflect that it must be good to be the only game in town.
”Two gold?!” she whispers to Toramin. ”This place will dry up my liquid assets faster than Akropash.”. She takes out two gold from her coin pouch.
”I hope they,” her eyes dart to where Bjorkus and Coralla exited, ”don’t get too fatigued. Well, her. I'm sure he has the stamina. Travel in the snow and cold will be difficult tomorrow. Speaking of which, what time do you want to depart?”
Toramin waves her gold away.
"I will settle up with Ragnal. All this will go on my tab. While you are in the mountains you are guests of the Trealamhgabha, and thus your sustenance and lodgings are my responsibility. We should leave early to make the most of the daylight hours."
Ragnal gives an approving nod to Toramin. "You honor your clan Trealamhgabha." He strokes his beard. "How about 20 gold, and that will cover all of you drinks, all four of your rooms, and whatever food and drink you have in the morning." Considering the amount of drinks that the party has consumed (especially Toramin and Bjorkus) it's a nice deal."[/b]
"As far as departing in the morning goes, I'd consider that a wise decision. The storm shouldn't last the night, and storms up here rarely come right after each other. Of course you'll have to wait for us to get the new snow off the door, but as long as you don't leave before sunrise you should be fine."
Toramin counts out the gold. "Thank you, Ragnal."
The young dwarf will stay up and enjoy the company until all of his friends have gone to bed. Once he believes he is assured a little privacy, he will approach Ragnal again.
"Kardeş Ragnal, ben daha önce yerden sermayeye trek değil. Bana sabah tarafından hazırlanan gezi malzemeleri var ödemek mümkün olur muydu? Ben cehalet benim misafir tehlikeye istemiyorum, ben derin yollarda onları almak için izniniz yok."
So much color in their stories. Dalton had a few tales, but they were flatter or more melancholy in comparison. He didn't desire to sour the spirits of the people here - especially after they'd had plenty spirits of their own. How much can they drink?! My word.. At that though, Dalton put his mug down - he didn't want to be a burden tomorrow.
Before he could interject, Toramin had already claimed the bill. Rarely the generous sort, Dalton felt indebted to the party for their numerous sacrifices in Akropash - they broke their backs while I was the aristocrat. Making their way easier here was something he hoped to be able to do.
Fortunately, he saw a potential way to help. "Don't worry about the snow. I know a trick or two to save your arms the trouble. It's the least I can do to contribute."
I'll also make sure to prep myself on the temperature abjurations. Can't have us freezing out there.