The glow of the pipe brought Garlus's mind to the Smith himself. He still wasn't sure, even after, about Smith. It was said, that the great Dragon Inferno had taken the shape of this Smith, But Garlus wasn't too sure about that. He'd headed out the way of the logging town with an elf named Laque to look in on what had been this man's Smiths home. Little was found, other than some sort of cultists who brought fire beings into the Marches, possibly through the use of gems. Otherwise, the place was burned out and abandoned...though there appeared to be some sort of conflict or war between the Cultists of this Inferno and other Cultists of Mask. Garlus wasn't sure why, again, many of the pieces alluded him even after the whole thing was said and done. It was later that a semblance of a plan was formed to capture this Smith. The Dean allowed the Spellmage Bellweather to pose as Ashton to confront Smith in the logging town, as apparently there was some sort of strife between Ashton and Inferno. Again, Garlus had never been told the exact why of it...but he found himself going out to the logging town again.
A couple of elves came with him...Berendil for one...as well as a human holy warrior named Alyra, and the Backstabber Human named Gill. He knew little of any of them at the time, though he was familiar with Gill Blake. THe man had run a blade into his back while he carried a body away and into a temple for safekeeping...apparently he had disturbed some sort of ceremony, though he had little idea of it at the time, as the ceremony was started, and finished, right near to where he was skinning a bear...one that he recently killed. The man didn't take Garlus's act of kindness, calling him all sorts of names including defiler, body robber, theif....even though nothing was taken from the body. A bear near High Hold was bad enough, they didn't need wolves too. The man Gill followed after Garlus and the others to the logging town, whereupon they found the meeting had already taken place between Bellweather and Smith...as Bellweather was nowhere to be seen...except for a trail of blood. The elf Berendil made good in tracking the trail to a cave nearby, whereupon they found the Spellmage Bellweather unconcious, but alive. The elves made tracks back to the logging town with Bellweather, while the Backstabber and the woman warrior continued into the cavern. Garlus had been here before, to help Ashton gain some belly of a beatle for one of the Dean's assignments...but he had failed to see what was about to reveal itself.
The Shine of Blade and Stone
Re: The Shine of Blade and Stone
Zyrus Meynolt: [Party] For the record, if this somehow blows up in our faces and I die, I want a raiseSwift wrote: Permadeath is only permadeath when the PCs wallet is empty.
<Castano>: danielnm - can you blame them?
<danielmn>: Yes,
<danielmn>: Easily.
"And in this twilight....our choices seal our fate"
Re: The Shine of Blade and Stone
The smoke rose in the evening sky, thick and heavy. He marched up the Pass, in the opposite direction of the running, ash covered soldier. Ironic...the place which had once been the home of Smith was now burning to the ground. For all the rothes under, Garlus could not understand why humans insisted on building their domaciles from wood. The quickness of such building did in no way outweigh the potential of complete loss by fire, or great wind, or flood. Smith....
THey had found him, deep in that cave, beyond a false wall he had missed when he visited with Ashton. Gill and Alyra followed in his steps after he cleared the rubble from the entrance. It was not long before they were fired upon, as a mage turned clear to the eye in retreat. The three followed close on his heels, barrelling into a room of chanting. Garlus couldn't recognize the language, but he did recognize Smith, bound in the center of the room. The chanters quickly turned on them, flickering blades and spells flying. It was always in these moments that time slowed, and his actions were directed by something other than himself...years of training and battle. No thought was necessary, just movement. Moments, years later, the Dean's voice boomed in his ears "GET OUT NOW!" Throwing shackles on the still bound raving lunatic who was once Smith, he shoved the man to Alyra. In dwarven, he spake "Use the sigil, take him out of here!" Moments later, Alyra vanished, holding a rune the university had given them...but Smith remained. The rune would only take one person...Garlus had been afraid of that. Gill ran madly, the wild whites of his eyes rolling like a horse caught in a frenzy as the ceiling began to rain down upon them...the whole cavern collapsing under the weight of something above. "Naught aht ay!" Gill was proceeding back the way they had come, Garlus knew they would never make it out that way alive. Pushing Smith forward he exited the cavern from the only other passageway available, praying that the way would hold long enough. Smith cackled madly, screaming at the top of his lungs as the three exited just when the roof collapsed. The three ran as fast as they could into the trees, only to hear the rythmic beat behind them. Looking over his shoulder, Garlus saw the stretched shadow....and traced it to the biggest creature he'd ever seen. It's wings beat in the air as it landed upon the ground above the cavern, tearing into the earth with a mighty roar. Garlus stumbled, and then ran faster, practically dragging Smith behind him. As the beast searched for them, Garlus froze, gagging the madman. It was to no avail, the dragons head slowly turned, laying it's eye on Garlus and Smith. Gill was many yards away, on his belly and trembling in death fear. It was only then that Garlus relaxed... The moonlight glinted off silver, not red, scales. Dez.
The dragon took the raving Smith back to the city, where, as he understood it, Smith later escaped through the help of Bellweather, a secret follower of Mask. Blake, he found on the road a moon or two after....on this very Pass. Dead, riddled with bite marks, huge chunks of flesh missing. Undead.
He made his way into the valley...no Duergar this eve. The first crane was already set upon the plateau, posed to raise the boulders that would be used to start the construction. Indeed...what on earth were humans thinking, using wood to build.....
THey had found him, deep in that cave, beyond a false wall he had missed when he visited with Ashton. Gill and Alyra followed in his steps after he cleared the rubble from the entrance. It was not long before they were fired upon, as a mage turned clear to the eye in retreat. The three followed close on his heels, barrelling into a room of chanting. Garlus couldn't recognize the language, but he did recognize Smith, bound in the center of the room. The chanters quickly turned on them, flickering blades and spells flying. It was always in these moments that time slowed, and his actions were directed by something other than himself...years of training and battle. No thought was necessary, just movement. Moments, years later, the Dean's voice boomed in his ears "GET OUT NOW!" Throwing shackles on the still bound raving lunatic who was once Smith, he shoved the man to Alyra. In dwarven, he spake "Use the sigil, take him out of here!" Moments later, Alyra vanished, holding a rune the university had given them...but Smith remained. The rune would only take one person...Garlus had been afraid of that. Gill ran madly, the wild whites of his eyes rolling like a horse caught in a frenzy as the ceiling began to rain down upon them...the whole cavern collapsing under the weight of something above. "Naught aht ay!" Gill was proceeding back the way they had come, Garlus knew they would never make it out that way alive. Pushing Smith forward he exited the cavern from the only other passageway available, praying that the way would hold long enough. Smith cackled madly, screaming at the top of his lungs as the three exited just when the roof collapsed. The three ran as fast as they could into the trees, only to hear the rythmic beat behind them. Looking over his shoulder, Garlus saw the stretched shadow....and traced it to the biggest creature he'd ever seen. It's wings beat in the air as it landed upon the ground above the cavern, tearing into the earth with a mighty roar. Garlus stumbled, and then ran faster, practically dragging Smith behind him. As the beast searched for them, Garlus froze, gagging the madman. It was to no avail, the dragons head slowly turned, laying it's eye on Garlus and Smith. Gill was many yards away, on his belly and trembling in death fear. It was only then that Garlus relaxed... The moonlight glinted off silver, not red, scales. Dez.
The dragon took the raving Smith back to the city, where, as he understood it, Smith later escaped through the help of Bellweather, a secret follower of Mask. Blake, he found on the road a moon or two after....on this very Pass. Dead, riddled with bite marks, huge chunks of flesh missing. Undead.
He made his way into the valley...no Duergar this eve. The first crane was already set upon the plateau, posed to raise the boulders that would be used to start the construction. Indeed...what on earth were humans thinking, using wood to build.....
Zyrus Meynolt: [Party] For the record, if this somehow blows up in our faces and I die, I want a raiseSwift wrote: Permadeath is only permadeath when the PCs wallet is empty.
<Castano>: danielnm - can you blame them?
<danielmn>: Yes,
<danielmn>: Easily.
"And in this twilight....our choices seal our fate"
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Blindhamsterman
- Haste Bear
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- Joined: Fri Jun 04, 2004 11:13 am
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Re: The Shine of Blade and Stone
good read 
Re: The Shine of Blade and Stone
Moving south from High Horn in the direction of Skull Crag, Blearn quietly picked his way through the snowcovered ground. The heights afforded a crisp, clean smell to the air, the hint of pine and cedar wafting up from the lower vales. It had been many moons since the Volamtar had crossed these paths, but they were paths he knew well, etched into his mind from childhood as surely as the Smiths etch scrollwork into steel. His breath came out in light clouds, but Blearn had never minded the cold...for those that made their abodes this high up, it was a mere fact of life...moreso for him.
He wound his way down and into the Vale of the spear, where a generation before the Clans of the small Hold of Dagarun had pitched war with a large force of orc retreating from their army that had been shattered upon the shield of Cormyr and the famous Purple Dragon Legions. Hammer and Anvil, though the Dragons did not know it. Two thousand Dragons making wild chase at breakneck speed to catch up with the smaller band of five hundred orckin....ending in the enclosed vale. The timing was of the Luckmaiden herself....the Dragons had caught up with the orckin right at the entrance to the vale and had driven them in....where those of Dagarun had lain in wait. They had watched for days, Blearn's own father bringing the news of the movements. Luck perhaps...or just providence. The orc in their flurry of flight drove upon one another...flying into the spiked pits prepared in haste by those of Dagarun...tumbling on one another and pushing on each other in turn like a herd of wild rothe. Those that escaped the pits were quickly singled out and picked off from the cliffs above, the bolts raining down on any fortunate...or unfortunate, in this case, to have escaped a death in the pits.
The vale of teeth, it was named by the Dragons...who never even had the chance to raise an arrow. But to those of Dagarun, it become known as the Vale of Dumathoin's Spears. Blearn trampsed over the ground...over the deathbed of orcs now fifty years gone...the other good thing about pits....they make excellent graves as well. One sharp retort of a drum signaled his approaching....of coarse, he probably could have slipped in unseen by any of the guard, but he did not wish to insult them in such a way. He entered the cavern with his tightly bound bundle, to the life so well known to all dwarves. The Hold of Dagarun...his home. He looked forward to a long bath in the heated pools, perhaps with Derlimma, but first, he had business. He removed the small satchel from his pack, and proceeded toward Clan Ironbeards quarters.
He wound his way down and into the Vale of the spear, where a generation before the Clans of the small Hold of Dagarun had pitched war with a large force of orc retreating from their army that had been shattered upon the shield of Cormyr and the famous Purple Dragon Legions. Hammer and Anvil, though the Dragons did not know it. Two thousand Dragons making wild chase at breakneck speed to catch up with the smaller band of five hundred orckin....ending in the enclosed vale. The timing was of the Luckmaiden herself....the Dragons had caught up with the orckin right at the entrance to the vale and had driven them in....where those of Dagarun had lain in wait. They had watched for days, Blearn's own father bringing the news of the movements. Luck perhaps...or just providence. The orc in their flurry of flight drove upon one another...flying into the spiked pits prepared in haste by those of Dagarun...tumbling on one another and pushing on each other in turn like a herd of wild rothe. Those that escaped the pits were quickly singled out and picked off from the cliffs above, the bolts raining down on any fortunate...or unfortunate, in this case, to have escaped a death in the pits.
The vale of teeth, it was named by the Dragons...who never even had the chance to raise an arrow. But to those of Dagarun, it become known as the Vale of Dumathoin's Spears. Blearn trampsed over the ground...over the deathbed of orcs now fifty years gone...the other good thing about pits....they make excellent graves as well. One sharp retort of a drum signaled his approaching....of coarse, he probably could have slipped in unseen by any of the guard, but he did not wish to insult them in such a way. He entered the cavern with his tightly bound bundle, to the life so well known to all dwarves. The Hold of Dagarun...his home. He looked forward to a long bath in the heated pools, perhaps with Derlimma, but first, he had business. He removed the small satchel from his pack, and proceeded toward Clan Ironbeards quarters.
Zyrus Meynolt: [Party] For the record, if this somehow blows up in our faces and I die, I want a raiseSwift wrote: Permadeath is only permadeath when the PCs wallet is empty.
<Castano>: danielnm - can you blame them?
<danielmn>: Yes,
<danielmn>: Easily.
"And in this twilight....our choices seal our fate"
Re: The Shine of Blade and Stone
The festhall was ablaze and buzzing with the sound of conversation. Kin of all walks sat and spoke of the recent days in between mouthfulls of rothe, stew and ale. Attacks under, attacks over...
The smiths talked of the new material they had been provided, the husks of Umberhulks from the deep recesses of the Underdeep that had surfaced. Many talked quickly about experiments in the forge with the material, though few could really provide any positive comments on the headway of working with it.
The Stout guard commented on the underpasses, of the strange sounds heard at all hours within the dark caverns under Felbarr. Some talk of illithid could be heard, and of flying fire beasts. Still other whispers came of some ancient daemon unleashed into Faerun by a human mage.
Garlus could feel eyes from all over the room on him. He sat, alone and solitary, breaking fast before heading out and under to the Eye. Many of the whispers, he did not doubt revolved around himself and those he shared company with...The Kaxanar Finellen, the almost ghostly silent Glaustigan, the twin mages Kevorn and Kasil, the newly arrived Talhund Mordak, and of coarse Samman Alyra. Garlus held his head lower as he ate...though most in the room did not know why, it was evident Garlus of Clan Ironbeard bore shame.
There was a breif hushing as another kin approached his table, and sat directly opposite of Garlus. Durnan Hammerhand, Master of the Forges of Felbarr, his beard long, grey and well thought of by all, slowly sat onto the bench, his broad, well muscled frame making the bench groan in protest. The hush abated, as conversations around the room started again.
Durnan sat for a moment, dipping bread into his stew, before speaking in the stonetongue.
Fingar tells me you have given over your tools to him.
Garlus paused in his eating, then nodded slowly resuming to eat the large portion of rothe.
Durnen nodded slowly, biting into the flaky crust, now slightly drenched in the juices of the mushrooms of the stew.
And why is this?
Garlus paused again, then slowly met Durnen's gaze.
I am not worthy to create with my hands.
Durnen snorted at that.
Your a damn fool, given your talent, to be tossing it aside like some broken axehead.
Garlus frowned.
You heard Warcrowns speach. I am to blame for nonkin wearing our work. My craft was worn into battle that caused the death of eighty of our kin.
Durnen grunted.
You are not responsible for their actions, boy. And I say boy, because it is what you are acting like.
Garlus's eyes narrowed slightly.
I was asked by them what to do. I gave them words which I had hoped would help them make the right choice. Those words were ignored. I gave them the choice, when I should not have.
Durnen frowned slightly.
Still it is their actions. You can't be holding yourself responsible.
Garlus looked to his stew.
I can and do. I trusted them to choose a wise coarse...the elves most of all. The humans are known for their rash decisions...but I thought the elves would at least think their actions through to the end result. I thought that is what their kind do. I misjudged, and that is my own error. Just as I misjudged whom I forged for.
Durnen shook his head.
We all make mistakes, boy. You have slag in the ore, you start anew, you do not give up. You think you honor those eighty by giving up what you do best? Or Dumathoin?
Garlus growled.
Do not speak to me of Dumathoin, Master Hammerhand. I am well aware of my decision and the effects. I am aware Dumathoin frowns. But this....is necessarry. My actions..and inactions, weather directly or indirectly, caused the death of eighty men I served with. Do not speak to me of the dead, I know each face well. They are forever in my mind and heart. I failed them. I paid for the Eye. I helped build it. I am in most ways in charge of it. And I was not there when it fell. If I had been, perhaps less would have died....if not, I would at least have had the honor to die beside MY men.
Durnen watched Garlus for a long moment.
You pay a heavy price for the actions of others.
Garlus went back to eating.
No one else will, my friend.
The smiths talked of the new material they had been provided, the husks of Umberhulks from the deep recesses of the Underdeep that had surfaced. Many talked quickly about experiments in the forge with the material, though few could really provide any positive comments on the headway of working with it.
The Stout guard commented on the underpasses, of the strange sounds heard at all hours within the dark caverns under Felbarr. Some talk of illithid could be heard, and of flying fire beasts. Still other whispers came of some ancient daemon unleashed into Faerun by a human mage.
Garlus could feel eyes from all over the room on him. He sat, alone and solitary, breaking fast before heading out and under to the Eye. Many of the whispers, he did not doubt revolved around himself and those he shared company with...The Kaxanar Finellen, the almost ghostly silent Glaustigan, the twin mages Kevorn and Kasil, the newly arrived Talhund Mordak, and of coarse Samman Alyra. Garlus held his head lower as he ate...though most in the room did not know why, it was evident Garlus of Clan Ironbeard bore shame.
There was a breif hushing as another kin approached his table, and sat directly opposite of Garlus. Durnan Hammerhand, Master of the Forges of Felbarr, his beard long, grey and well thought of by all, slowly sat onto the bench, his broad, well muscled frame making the bench groan in protest. The hush abated, as conversations around the room started again.
Durnan sat for a moment, dipping bread into his stew, before speaking in the stonetongue.
Fingar tells me you have given over your tools to him.
Garlus paused in his eating, then nodded slowly resuming to eat the large portion of rothe.
Durnen nodded slowly, biting into the flaky crust, now slightly drenched in the juices of the mushrooms of the stew.
And why is this?
Garlus paused again, then slowly met Durnen's gaze.
I am not worthy to create with my hands.
Durnen snorted at that.
Your a damn fool, given your talent, to be tossing it aside like some broken axehead.
Garlus frowned.
You heard Warcrowns speach. I am to blame for nonkin wearing our work. My craft was worn into battle that caused the death of eighty of our kin.
Durnen grunted.
You are not responsible for their actions, boy. And I say boy, because it is what you are acting like.
Garlus's eyes narrowed slightly.
I was asked by them what to do. I gave them words which I had hoped would help them make the right choice. Those words were ignored. I gave them the choice, when I should not have.
Durnen frowned slightly.
Still it is their actions. You can't be holding yourself responsible.
Garlus looked to his stew.
I can and do. I trusted them to choose a wise coarse...the elves most of all. The humans are known for their rash decisions...but I thought the elves would at least think their actions through to the end result. I thought that is what their kind do. I misjudged, and that is my own error. Just as I misjudged whom I forged for.
Durnen shook his head.
We all make mistakes, boy. You have slag in the ore, you start anew, you do not give up. You think you honor those eighty by giving up what you do best? Or Dumathoin?
Garlus growled.
Do not speak to me of Dumathoin, Master Hammerhand. I am well aware of my decision and the effects. I am aware Dumathoin frowns. But this....is necessarry. My actions..and inactions, weather directly or indirectly, caused the death of eighty men I served with. Do not speak to me of the dead, I know each face well. They are forever in my mind and heart. I failed them. I paid for the Eye. I helped build it. I am in most ways in charge of it. And I was not there when it fell. If I had been, perhaps less would have died....if not, I would at least have had the honor to die beside MY men.
Durnen watched Garlus for a long moment.
You pay a heavy price for the actions of others.
Garlus went back to eating.
No one else will, my friend.
Zyrus Meynolt: [Party] For the record, if this somehow blows up in our faces and I die, I want a raiseSwift wrote: Permadeath is only permadeath when the PCs wallet is empty.
<Castano>: danielnm - can you blame them?
<danielmn>: Yes,
<danielmn>: Easily.
"And in this twilight....our choices seal our fate"
Re: The Shine of Blade and Stone
Not long after the round shimmering pool of light had appeared, the drums of Dagarun thumped heavily in the night. The bright glow of the round glimmering portal shown into the Vale of Dumathoins Spears as Clanwarden Tagan and his men took up a defensive stance in the entrance to the Halls of Dagarun. Half of the dwarves had not had time to entrench themselves within their armours...the magics of the portal had caught them unaware. Tagan himself stood forward from the others, still griping the leg of foul he had been busily working on before the drums rattle shook his sense of urgency. "No wavering men. Bows to the ready." Behind him, a solid line of tower shields glinted in the light of the portal, and behind those a line of bowmen, bolts all aimed at the threat. Murmers between the men ceased as a figure slowly emerged from the light, followed seconds after by a taller figure. Tagan tossed the leg aside and gripped his axe in both hands as the figures stood a moment, then slowly approached. Tagan's narrowed eyes immediately widened in recognition as the first figure removed the helmet on it's head. "Stand down men...it's the wayward Ironbeard." Three of the dwarves in the line stepped forward slowly past Tagan.
Garlus watched the dwarves at the entrance a long moment, their shields forming a wall in the small cavern entrance. Loaded crossbows would be behind those he knew. He had hoped the traveling magics would be further away from the Hold so as not to alarm his kin. He whispered quietly to Alyra, "Stand still. Show no fear, and follow my movements." Alyra merely nodded in reply. A call came.. "Stand down men...it's the wayward Ironbeard." Garlus spake quietly again. "That would be Tagan. A kin not to be trifled with. He has little humor and even less acceptance of non-kin." Three dwarves approached slowly from the ranks behind Tagan. The middle dwarf spake upon approach. "Garlus, we see you." Garlus replied. "Allanthc, Patrim, Lucet, I see you." Patrim, the larger of the three, strode forward with his arm out, eyeing Alyra the whole way. "Welcome home brother." Garlus slowly grinned, clasping the arm tightly. "It is good to see you, my brothers." Lucet grumbled in a low monotone voice "You could have come by less interrupting means...Allanthc is the one to make grand entrances." Allanthc grinned widely at the comment. Patrim spake again. "Who is this longlegger you bring. You have not married a tall one and become Skartem, have you?" Garlus grunted in response. "This is Alyra Ashedown, Follower of the human god Lathander, Knight Protector of the Emerald of the North bestowed by Alustrial of the Emerald, Personal Samman as well as Samman of Felbarr bestowed by King Emerus Warcrown. Alyra, these are my brothers." The three frowned slightly. "And you vouch for this Samman? This is not Felbarr." Garlus grunted again. "Need you ask?" Patrim nodded, then turned to look back to the entrance. "Very well. I will let Drogan know that we have nonkin in our midst." Garlus cleared his throat. "Tell him I have reason to seek the Clanright." Patrim turned back wide eyed. "What? You intend to marry this one after all?" Garlus spat on the ground. "No Patrim. I intend to make her your sister." All three dwarves were wide-eyed. Allanthc blurted out "You can't be serious."
Garlus watched the dwarves at the entrance a long moment, their shields forming a wall in the small cavern entrance. Loaded crossbows would be behind those he knew. He had hoped the traveling magics would be further away from the Hold so as not to alarm his kin. He whispered quietly to Alyra, "Stand still. Show no fear, and follow my movements." Alyra merely nodded in reply. A call came.. "Stand down men...it's the wayward Ironbeard." Garlus spake quietly again. "That would be Tagan. A kin not to be trifled with. He has little humor and even less acceptance of non-kin." Three dwarves approached slowly from the ranks behind Tagan. The middle dwarf spake upon approach. "Garlus, we see you." Garlus replied. "Allanthc, Patrim, Lucet, I see you." Patrim, the larger of the three, strode forward with his arm out, eyeing Alyra the whole way. "Welcome home brother." Garlus slowly grinned, clasping the arm tightly. "It is good to see you, my brothers." Lucet grumbled in a low monotone voice "You could have come by less interrupting means...Allanthc is the one to make grand entrances." Allanthc grinned widely at the comment. Patrim spake again. "Who is this longlegger you bring. You have not married a tall one and become Skartem, have you?" Garlus grunted in response. "This is Alyra Ashedown, Follower of the human god Lathander, Knight Protector of the Emerald of the North bestowed by Alustrial of the Emerald, Personal Samman as well as Samman of Felbarr bestowed by King Emerus Warcrown. Alyra, these are my brothers." The three frowned slightly. "And you vouch for this Samman? This is not Felbarr." Garlus grunted again. "Need you ask?" Patrim nodded, then turned to look back to the entrance. "Very well. I will let Drogan know that we have nonkin in our midst." Garlus cleared his throat. "Tell him I have reason to seek the Clanright." Patrim turned back wide eyed. "What? You intend to marry this one after all?" Garlus spat on the ground. "No Patrim. I intend to make her your sister." All three dwarves were wide-eyed. Allanthc blurted out "You can't be serious."
Zyrus Meynolt: [Party] For the record, if this somehow blows up in our faces and I die, I want a raiseSwift wrote: Permadeath is only permadeath when the PCs wallet is empty.
<Castano>: danielnm - can you blame them?
<danielmn>: Yes,
<danielmn>: Easily.
"And in this twilight....our choices seal our fate"
Re: The Shine of Blade and Stone
The procession made its way into the tunnels of Dagarun. The shadows of the few torches present danced as coals in the furnace against the high ceilings of the great tunnel, more than ten times the height of kinfolk. It is written that before the Four Clans had claimed Dagarun that it had been the home of some dragon-kin, though the truth of this was unknown. Images floated through the mind of Garlus, for he had seen the truth of the Clanhold. He had seen much when his body had been ripped from this time and sent backwards into the depths of Occidian. He had seen the branches of the tree, as dwarves seperated from the Great Throne and clan names were taken. The air became moist as they proceeded further into the bowls of the mountain, small glowing fungi sprouting along the sides of the great tunnel that slowly lowered in height until the fist was reached. Here, in the back of the great tunnel, the Four Clans had begun their own digging, the kin-height tunnels branching off in five directions, the fingers of the fist. They traveled down the middle tunnel, whose height was taller than the four others, while the procession members split down their own respective tunnels, each according to Clan. Garlus spake to Alyra as they proceded. "This is the tunnel of Dagarun, the tunnel of all Clans here. The other four lead to each Clans quarters, as we spake of on the way here; Clan Gunderlan, Clan Twinshield, Clan Forgesmoke, and Clan Ironbeard. You are to walk freely only in this tunnel, and the tunnel of the Ironbeards, and in the other three only if invited by the respective clan." Alyra clanked beside him, giving him a breif nod. "And to where does this tunnel lead?" Garlus nodded as he spied Patrim coming back up the Dagarun tunnel toward them. "This leads to the quarters of the Four Clans. All are welcome here. It is where we dine, where we bathe, where we forge and train, where we ply our trades. The entrance to the mines are beyond these places, where the emerald and iron is carressed from the bounty Dumathoin has blessed us with." Patrim closed the distance, and turned to walk with the pair, a few of the dwarves from the entrance, including the Clanwarden, following close behind. Patrim spake as he walked. "The guestroom is being cleaned and cleared for your Samman, brother. There are many who wish to speak with you, though that shall have to wait until you've spoken with Father and Drogan. There will most likely be a Moot as well, after you've washed and eaten." Garlus smiled as he paused, looking to Patrim. "It is good to be home, my eldest. It is good to see your face again." For a moment, the sterness expected of the eldest brother left his face, replaced with a warm smile not often seen since Patrim had abandoned his youth for his axe. "It is damn fine to see you as well, Garlus. You have been missed, and talked of much. Your letter as well as your gift are often reflected upon." Patrim opened his arms, and Garlus embraced his eldest brother. Alyra smiled brightly at the exchange, probably having never seen the familial side of kin beyond the Mage Brothers Kevorn and Kasil. They proceded further into the tunnel, then split off to the left as the tunnel began its branchings. The tunnel opened after a small length, into a largish steam filled cavern. Splashings could be heard as their eyes adjusted to the thick steam of the place, laughter abounded. Patrim nodded to the lone pair, as those who had been following behind were no longer there. "I will leave you to it then. Food will be awaiting you both." Patrim turned and exited the cavern, leaving Alyra and Garlus with the odd scattering of kin. Alyra blushed slightly, as naked kin swam and washed in the center of the cavern, as bare as the day that Moradin and Berronar and Sharindlar had brought them into this world. Garlus looked to Alyra a moment, then grunted with a nod. "I suppose this might take some getting used to. Look upon them all as family, and upon those that claim Clan Ironbeard as brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts, cousins. Though you are not of kin yet, we do not have a seperate place for bathing. However, it is your right to claim privacy here if you wish, since you are guest Samman, and not of kin yet." Alyra shook her head as she began undoing the buckles of her leg armour. "You and I are kin, and that is kin enough for me in this circumstance." Garlus nodded once. "Leave your belongings here, and fear no theft from any Clan here. Theives are removed of a hand, and such has only happened once. Do not be surprised if some ask to borrow your items though...but in the same token do not worry that you will never see those items again. We share freely here, and it is a great dishonor to take without asking, and a great dishonor not to return what has been borrowed." Garlus lowered his pack, placing his shield atop, and began undoing the heavy black and red armour, then slipped into the warm pool of Dagarun.
Zyrus Meynolt: [Party] For the record, if this somehow blows up in our faces and I die, I want a raiseSwift wrote: Permadeath is only permadeath when the PCs wallet is empty.
<Castano>: danielnm - can you blame them?
<danielmn>: Yes,
<danielmn>: Easily.
"And in this twilight....our choices seal our fate"
Re: The Shine of Blade and Stone
The slow clank of his steps echoed throughout the empty hall. Though the noise of celebration came tumbling through the halls of Felbarr where ever one turned...here, at the least, it was quiet. On this, the third night of revelry, Garlus had grown tired of the telling. He was drunk, and in no mood to repeat the peices he remembered twenty times this night. No. Instead...he stood amongst the dead, lining one of the inner halls of the shrinerooms. The dead spoke. They told more of the story than his mouth ever could. He sighed as his hand slowly passed over a body, one of the dwarfs legs lying at an odd angle, a shoulder crushed and wrecked beyond recognition. The face was still there though...a far cry from the face he remembered in the war room...the one so eager to lead he and his company against the giants in the Auril Valley. Garlus still did not know weather any of that company had survived. Ahead, those dead of the Eye...beyond those from the assault on the Low Road. Garlus slowly slumped to sit on the stone, alone with the dead. He felt no sorrow...no blame. They were dead, and passing on. He was yet alive...that is war. The brazziers burned low, casting shadows up the narrow walls, making the dead dance in the light. A final dance, a slow cadence, this dance of the dead, as they departed...each body preserved by the Preists and Preistesses, until such time as they could be interred. The dead were his friends. They knew honor. He rose slowly, and staggered on down the narrow halls...past the dead...toward his room.
He felt a stranger. There were many stories...but most he was not involved in. He had listened intently to the surviving guards of the Eye whom had taken shelter Beyond the Dragon Gate...to the stories of those stationed and the Hammer and Anvil as they recounted the battles with the Giants whom had dared come within sight of Felbarr. The stories of those whom pressed the Low Road, to take and hold the outpost. But it all seemed foreign to him. When pressed, he spoke a bit of what he had seen...mostly of the mage, and the floating Godess Duerra herself. Things were fuzzy...they had had little rest or sleep....
He sat upon his bed, still armoured when the knock upon the door came. He replied slowly... "Enter"
One of the acolytes poked his head through the barely opened door.
"Sir, message to be delivered low land. Talhund Gemsetter sent me to ask..."
"I am already gone with it" Garlus replied, slowly getting up from the bed.
He felt a stranger. There were many stories...but most he was not involved in. He had listened intently to the surviving guards of the Eye whom had taken shelter Beyond the Dragon Gate...to the stories of those stationed and the Hammer and Anvil as they recounted the battles with the Giants whom had dared come within sight of Felbarr. The stories of those whom pressed the Low Road, to take and hold the outpost. But it all seemed foreign to him. When pressed, he spoke a bit of what he had seen...mostly of the mage, and the floating Godess Duerra herself. Things were fuzzy...they had had little rest or sleep....
He sat upon his bed, still armoured when the knock upon the door came. He replied slowly... "Enter"
One of the acolytes poked his head through the barely opened door.
"Sir, message to be delivered low land. Talhund Gemsetter sent me to ask..."
"I am already gone with it" Garlus replied, slowly getting up from the bed.
Zyrus Meynolt: [Party] For the record, if this somehow blows up in our faces and I die, I want a raiseSwift wrote: Permadeath is only permadeath when the PCs wallet is empty.
<Castano>: danielnm - can you blame them?
<danielmn>: Yes,
<danielmn>: Easily.
"And in this twilight....our choices seal our fate"