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Grima Skuldafn had silently observed the celebration from the isolated table of honor within his family’s meadhall of Drun-Morogh. His attention had primarily focused on his brother and the kalistocrat. However, the Harrower now spoke of the future. Perhaps, a moment had arrived for him to honor his father and divine patron. At the toast to “the strength of dwarves,” Grima stood up pushing his heavy seat across the stone in a screeching noise that he had witnessed his father use to similar effect. Those that knew Grima hoped the social leper would not embarrass the memory of his father and clan. For those that did not know the younger brother of Vigar Skuldafn, they saw a young dwarf in mourning attire covering heavy infantry full plate standing at the table of honor next to the empty chair of Vigar Skuldafn. ”Welcome guests, from far and wide,” he begins in the silence created by his chair nodding to Kal’Tos, the empress, the sand dwarf, and several other dwarves who clearly have traveled far to attend. ”We must indeed celebrate the strength of dwarves. Our numbers are few, so our greatest strength resides in our common purpose coordinating action. If our chisels are too few to shape the stone, we know directed water can. We must have the vision to know when to use water instead of individual chisels.” Grima pauses in dramatic silence and then concludes, ”The clan of Skuldafn is honored by your reverence and celebration. So says Grima, son of Hraggir, brother to Vigar, Lord of Drun-Morogh.” He holds his tankard aloft in toast and drains it. He smiles to everyone and sits quietly pulling the chair to the table. The elders of Drun-Morogh are awestruck and dumb-founded. Never before had they heard such words from Grima. At least today, they could be proud of the youngest Skuldafn.
Buy a light warhorse? Dwarves on horses? Woah, there. That's too fantastical. Buy some expensive jewelry? check A gem or some nice clothes? check
I will definitely be keeping track of encumbrance, due to the "survive in the wild" aspect of it, and lugging around a metric tonne of gear becomes detrimental. Yes, Grima's folding chair is accounted in his encumbrance. We of course must civilize the wild.
The attendant delivered the drinking horn filled with fermented honey mead and root beer when the Empress arrived. An even stranger dwarf from an even stranger land. Father, you continue to amaze me. As his guests began to converse with the empress or at least her entourage, Grima again collected Dakun's gaze while he sipped from his drinking horn. He nodded again in appreciation and returned the horn via attendant. Grima will seek him out another day. Thankfully, the empress's arrival extinguished most of the tedious brawl. Grima returned to his subtle search for the kalistocrat keeping an ear to the conversation with the empress.
Languidly sitting at the table of honor, Grima pauses subtly searching for Halsiig the kalistocrat through the brawling din to receive the newest arrival, a strange dwarf from a strange land. Grima intently listens to his blessing of oddly named gods thinking his father has strange acquaintances. With two minor flicks of his hand, Grima commands a tankard of the best ale to be taken to the newcomer with whom he locks eyes and nods in appreciation to the reverence.
Grima can't help be distracted from the food fight starting in front of him and now a giant referee. He makes no judgment about their actions thinking it normal fun for regular dwarves. However, he wonders, did the kalistocrat instigate this diversion? What happens while the hall is now distracted?" He looks around the food circus for evidence to support his suspicions.
Grima surveys the hall looking for Halsiig the kalistocrat. Where is he now after his performance? Who else does he speak with? Are they allies or potential customers? Like a soldier planning a mission, Grima looks for his target and the best terrain. Normally, Grima could move around the hall unmolested like a leper, but today even his social 'leprosy' would not shield him for those who want to express their sympathies to the Skuldafn family hoping to reach the ears of his brother. He watches the celebrants and their groups weighing the best course to potentially meet the kalistocrat or at least drop some eaves on him.
While the second mourner, Grima might not have been there. Dressed in simple mourning attire over serviceable full plate armor of heavy infantry, he did not appear as a Skuldafn prince even while sitting at the table of honor. He could be a distant cousin or nephew, certainly not the youngest son of the great Hraggir Skuldafn, unless you knew him like the dwarves of Drun-Morogh. Then he was Grima, the disappointment of Skuldafn, unskilled and untalented. Fit to stand guard and bring glory to his name only in a worthy death. His older brother Vigar focused all of the attention on himself. After 64 years within the dark shadow of his brother, Grima accepted and preferred it. But he had vision last night of his father and awoke with a strange, shifting mark on his hand. The mark usually resembled Kols' hammer but sometimes he imagined more complicated shapes. Between his vision and the finish of his father's legacy, Grima was numb. He went through the funerary motions behind his brother. No one sought his opinion, so it was just as well. He watched the mourners seek his brother's personal attention. Bending the traditions with the great power of charisma, his brother dispensed with the formalities protecting him from his fanatics. Of course, how could his great flame of leadership survive without the appreciation of followers? Then, Grima's calculating mind cleared the emotional cloud of last night and the week and started working on the performance of Halsiig Halfhammer. The throngs around his brother or even his brother's fond memories of their father who loved them very differently did not distracted him. What was this spectacle of the kalistocrat? Was it an offer or a dare? Would his brother take the bait? What was the game here?
Lucent Grima's profile is done for review. I now have 205 unread posts for me in the Gameplay board. I'll sift through and start posting ASAP. cheers
Majority of crunch is in the avatar. I haven't settled on a first level feat or gear. Appearance, Background & Personality is anemically thin but will be fleshed out when I return from vacation on Thursday. The concept is as per last PM: younger brother of Vigar Skuldafn and much weaker character whose ambition far exceeds his charisma to lead. Sort of Prince John or Richard III in many fictional accounts. I'm the last to bed and pushing my luck. cheers
Ordrud's avatar. Construction of game mechanics in progress. Concept as PMed. cheers |