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mnemenoi
04-30-2009, 07:07 PM
Furiously pacing the halls the large dwarf could be seen muttering to himself. Upon his head was Uerythton, the circlet of the high thane or king, and his clothing was quite exquisite. He disdained wearing such frippery, preferring his more mundane clothing but he was expected to wear these for court and to do otherwise would only continue to add fuel to his rivals. He was quite large for a dwarf, easily rivaling the strongest in the stead. Much had gone to tallow though, with all these meetings and royal duties he had little time to just exercise.

This meeting was unexpected, he having only had a mere hour's warning. The thanes had been assembled for a petition by the high preist of Moradin, anyone else would have been rejected or told to wait. He had no love for the preist though, quite the opposite. He had originally traveled to Uerythtar with him and after the battles had been fought many of the Adbarran dwarves had chosen to stay. Many woman lacked husbands and Beldas had married the princess, so he was a king. The steads own High preist had died beside their old king, Osk Blackalbryn. Originally Beldas had thought it would be a wonderful choice and ally, he had been wrong. He supported the dwarves sealing the stead again and worked against any diplomatic relations. He had also been preaching this to the good native Uerythtaran's speaking about evicting those that did not want a pure dwarven society. Younger impressionable dwarves had flocked to his appeals and formed a society, the sons of Balabault. They had even begun trying to run out and threaten those that disagreed. Of course he himself was not from there, but it seemed to matter little. Beldas had kept them under control thus far, but for how long could not be seen.

When he was originally accepted as king, he had wanted to honor King Harbromm a close freind. Harbromm had united all the sheild dwarves of the north and acted as a unifying figurehead. He had been counciled to wait, until they were a bit more ready, a thousand years of isolation had taught them to wait and be calm. Now he was in quite a situation though. Harbromm was demanding why his close freind would not acknowledge him, while Balabault insiduously twisted the minds of the Thanes convincing him that he was not fit for leadership. Even now the Thanes were decidedly tight lipped around him and he could see this situation would eventually erupt into outright war if he did not carefully watch his step.

Whatever this meeting entailed it certainly did not bode well. A young son of the chanter and acting paige of the king approached cautiously. He was of royal blood and had been around court his entire life, so knew to announce himself with louder footsteps. With a deep breath the king turned, looking at the younger dwarf.

"Great Thane of Uerythtar, the thanes have been assembled and we await only my father. Your petitioner, High Forgesmith Balabault Tethgard, the Shield of Moradin is awaiting your invitation into the sanctum. I am certain it was the odd hour that accounts for my father's tardiness, I am certain he is making haste as we speak," hoping that he was not upset at his lateness.

"Ovor Uerthshield, the Fifth, Blood of Kanik has done no diservice in his appearance. Moradin understands that patience is virtuous, I am certain his representative will as well," a smile coming to his face. "I appreciate your message Dorn and shall heed it, please tell the assembled thanes. Your father shall announce me when he arrives." With that the young dwarf bows before his liege and quickly begins toward the adjacent halls and their awaiting occupants. Secretly he was amused by his absence, not a very good chanter at all, he had never had any real competition. Chanters were only of noble blood and it was a hereditary title. Very few existed at all, King Harbromm only three. He had known enough to quiet his opinion when he initially butchered a telling of an epic. He also notoriously was a drunkard, but he did keep the court amused and it would appear waiting a bit. He knew it would not last forever, but even the small inconveinances to the high preist were appreciated.

Perhaps he will request an epic to open the meeting this evening, that should do quite well indeed...

Windstar
04-30-2009, 07:24 PM
Extremely well written, KUDOS.......

mnemenoi
05-02-2009, 09:49 PM
A solemn dwarf walked through the city proper. He was thin and his crafted glass spectacles hung to his nose, as if to certainly fall at the next step. He had seen much change in these recent years. Where once the street held old and disused insignia of the shop owners, now was freshly emblazoned. It was change and he could feel it. He was not certain how he really felt about what was happening around him. He was a scholar, a member of the Uerythtaran preservation society and had read of the history, of the dark times and the good and what had made them seal the mountain to begin with...

The orcish hordes had conquered many of the outposts and nations, ravaging them while the humans and elves cared not having been more concerned with their own cities and petty fiefdoms. With the fall of Ammarindar and others nearby the Thanes felt that they were certainly next and had no choice. The gates of Illethkeep were sealed and only a few were allowed upon the mountain, those that grew grain and tended the herds. Even those were watched and secretive, should anyone suspect that the stead existed it placed everyone in danger. Soon wealth and gold became of little value as everyone adapted to barter and service for their needs. Only the nobles and Thanes held onto what wealth they had, a sign of their prowess. With no need of attracting customers no one felt the need for signs as everyone knew from their youth where certain things were. Certain areas fell to disuse, inns immediately being closed and sealed. Even now the younger children look on in awe at the large furniture and gargantuan space afforded what were known as humans. Only recently had the inn even reopened, but it only had held Dwarves thus far.

The sound of steel ringing snapped him from his thoughts, the forge of Moradin active at all times. Never had the fire been extinguished, had it been so they would have to rebuild another house for his worship. He is eternal as our his chosen people. As he shaped us from Toril, so do we shape the earth and its treasures. The temple itself was vast, as were almost all of the temples throughout the stead. One begins to focus upon many things when given the time and patience and the stout folk were long lived indeed.

He was proud of his home, of his people and kept their history and documents. He and his fellows took their job as religiously as a preist, caring for old texts and lineages of a time that had been forgotten.

He entered into his own home, a simple dwelling of 4 rooms cut from the stone itself. He shared it with his wife, another guildmember, and with their only child. Until you married you stayed within your parents house, no matter what your age. It was tradition and had always been. When you married, mostly for strengthening the clan or for trade you were given a home by your clan, within thier domain. The guilds traded and bartered for all the services you needed and everyone shared. They were all your brothers and sisters, to do otherwise would spit upon your gods and family. There were a few outcasts and miscreants, whom were ostracized for their uniqueness. His own son had ignored tradition and chosen his own profession, it had broken his parents hearts. They were still proud, he had become an expert sharpshooter and often stayed within Illethkeep the military housing complex and gates to the city. He occasionally visited, but often was found at the barrel when he came to visit. He just had no gift for language and history. he knew the feeling having once thought those same things, but his father had been stern. He had not been so, he and his wife had so longed for a child they had given him everything he desired. He only hoped that he could find another to continue their work, few wanted to apprentice and if the trend continued they would have to lower their requirements.

He shook his head, smelling his wife's cooking. These things could wait, he did not wish to upset her with talk of dismal things. It was their anniversary this evening and he had found the perfect gift. A detailed manuscript concerning a meeting with the Elven enclave before the stead was sealed. He would surprise her after dinner and they would sit and talk of their son, of his accomplishments and he would be happy.

mnemenoi
05-03-2009, 09:38 PM
A lone dwarf sat upon a wagon pulled by two small mules, he was late and certainly felt ashamed at his tardiness. The supplies were delivered late and there was little he himself could have done, but it did not make him feel any easier about it. Illethkeep had been busy, more so then usual. They were conducting some military exercises and trying to get any assistance in loading a wagon was an exercise in futility, even if the supplies were bound for the watch tower. He had managed, but it had made him a few hours late and he hated to be in the mountains when the sun fell. It was dangerous enough in daylight, at night the trail was unintelligible and the mules refused to move.

The keep could be seen in the distance, a lone tower well above the peaks. It was made shortly after the stead was reopened to signal and seal Illethkeep in the event of an army or whatever loomed beyond. In its thirty years it had never seen anything, but it was maintained to calm those within the stead. The guard there was changed monthly, but supplies had to be delivered weekly. Mostly it was food, water and some ale for those that were off shift. He really enjoyed these treks across the mountains, only he usually left much earlier. He had been stuck once and nothing had happened, but he had heard tales from the soldiers there of strange beasts that walked the land.

He was rapidly approaching the watch keep and soon would be inside their gates. Close to the keep they had chopped the wood and the bracken back so as to reduce the chance of anyone approaching without their notice. He would have to stay the night there, but that was certainly an enjoyable time and the bottle of spirits he had hidden for them might have to be opened. He smiled as he broke through the treeline, looking toward the parapets and the tower for some familiar faces.

He immediately knew something was odd, a shadow of black seemed to envelop the fire tower and he saw no one at their post. Surely his old eyes must be playing tricks he thought, but he slowed his mules all the same. They whinnied at his attention, seeming to misunderstand his decision to stop. They disliked having to restart a trek and going uphill only made them regret his choice the more.

As he stared he was confounded by the shadow that seemed to not be moving, he even looked above expecting some giant bird or other terror to be descending upon him. Nothing was there, the sun was still up and would not be setting for another few hours. He looked again at the crenalations for a familiar figure or even some movement. After a few minutes he could see something moving amongst them though. They were very short for dwarves and not nearly thick enough. They were small and thin keeping to the shadows, never coming into the open or signalling to him.

A dark feeling of dread began to fill him, something was wrong here. He knew it in his bones. It was a feeling he could not shake, no matter how he tried to explain it. He needed to get back and warn everyone, something had to be done. Something had happened and it was not safe.

He reigned in his team and started back toward Illethkeep hoping in the dwindling light that he would make it back. He could only hope that Beronnar was watching him and guiding his steps...

mnemenoi
05-09-2009, 07:32 PM
I am alive when at battle, I live for duty and to be the will of Clangeddin. I am the youngest of the priests of Goblinbane and only through my uncle's dealings was I granted an apprenticeship. Once we were a rising clan, my father preeminent amongst his fellows. Many spoke of his rise to thane, great were his connections to the other clans and guilds. I was very young, perhaps not even seeing my tenth year. My sisters having just recently been crafted by the world forger. My father's reputation had spread far in the stead and it was said that he was favored by the daughter of the high thane. She had known him from their youth and had relied upon his council greatly.

When she disappeared he led the search, that she might be found. I can remember vividly the look of steel in his eyes, the pain in his voice. He was a great father and stalwart champion of the stead. It might appear that his attention was divided and that my mother was neglected, but that is false. The thane's daughter knew her as well and her appearance at our hearth and even at my own birth testified to her support.

Long did he search, until the suspicious eye fall upon him. I do not know how some of her jewels had come into his possession. Perhaps it was a gift or something more sinister, I am uncertain. It was later revealed that most of the royal jewels had been taken, these baubles were the only ones ever found. He was beaten and asked to confess, to reveal what had occurred. Only when he was threatened with the expulsion of his family did he accede to their wishes. He was an honorable man and could not abide his families suffering on account of his pride. He never revealed her body, nor the jewels location.

He was stricken from the records, his body dumped upon the valley to be eaten by vermin. We were left alone, I taking up some years later my father's legacy. My father's loyal friends have aided our family in secret lest they be seen in the community as such. We are never to speak of him, never to say his name again. It is his penance for his crimes.

I still find myself remembering that fateful day when he went to meet his death. The look in his eyes and the sorrow upon his face. He was innocent I am sure, but had no other choice. "Avenge me my son," was the only words he said to me. I have sought out everything I might in an attempt to uncover what transpired that fateful day. The jewels have never been seen and never has the daughter been found. I often wonder now what I might do, what evidence I should seek. I do not know.

I only know that even the Lord of the Twin Axes is silent when I think of him. I know that he had no guilt. I simply continue onward, forging ahead. I am the eldest male in the hearth and it falls upon my shoulders to care for my kin. I strive further and onward hoping that one day I might stumble upon something. As Silverbeard has taught me, patience is needed to understand the world that the all father has forged.

I still think his name and know one day I might speak it aloud again. I am Morkas Tigereye, Alaghor of Clangeddin Silverbeard, son of Duri champion of Uerythtar.

I can only wait and pray....

mnemenoi
05-30-2009, 04:18 PM
A chill wind blows across a valley strewn with mighty boulders that once lay high upon the peaks that now shadow them. Horns blaze in the distance, the call for war. Screams and grunts echo through the range as the army begins to move. They travel lightly, nothing ever blocking their progress across the peaks. Here they are kings, living as their gods choose for them. Here they may stand and know they are truly the worthy of Faerun.

Krimba Hai stands days behind, their collaboration of caverns and dwellings. They had grown strong in the peaks and their gods were pleased. Their numbers had swelled, made fat upon the abundance of game and fallen cities to plunder. It was as Gruumsh had promised, exactly as Hakat had told...

In the beginning all the gods met and drew lots for the parts of the world in which their races would dwell. The human gods drew the lot that allowed humans to dwell where they pleased, in any environment. The elven gods drew the green forests. The dwarven deities drew the high mountains, the gnomish gods the rocky, sunlit hills, and the halfling gods picked the lot that gave them the fields and meadows. Then the assembled gods turned to the orcish gods and laughed loud and long. "All the lots are taken!" they said tauntingly. "Where will your people dwell, One-Eye? There is no place left!" There was silence upon the world then, as Grummsh One-Eye lifted his great iron spear and stretched it over the world. The shaft blotted the sun over a great part of the lands as he spoke: "No! You Lie! You have rigged the drawing of the lots, hoping to cheat my followers and me. But One-Eye never sleeps. One-Eye sees all. There is a place for orcs to dwell... here!" he bellowed, and his spear pierced the mountains, opening craggy rifts and deep chasms. "And here!" The spearhead split the hills to reveal gullies and pits. "And here!" The black spear gouged the meadows and made them bare and harsh deserts. Then Grummsh pounded the haft of his spear into the earth defiantly and where the ground was smote did rise brackish waters and stunted trees and foul gasses wafted up and there were the swamps. The true home of his people for it was closest to the feet of their lord. "There!" roared He-Who-Watches triumphantly, and his voice carried to the ends of the world. "There is where the orcs shall dwell! There they will survive, and multiply, and grow stronger, and a day will come when they shall cover the world, and they will slay all of your collective peoples! Orcs shall inherit the world you sought to cheat me of!" With this Grummsh returned to his iron fortress. No one tried to intervene, for they feared that in his rage Grummsh might loose his followers upon the world, and although together the other gods may have stopped him, their loss and the loss to their peoples would have been great indeed. It was in these beginning days, when it was darkest and coldest that the Orcs began whispering of their future. A time when the Orcs would rise to destroy all others and rule the world that was stolen from them.

They marched now under Korg, great cheif of the Black Moon Tribe. They had conquered many of their neighbors and even now the bloodied finger tribe stood little chance. They would kill Riurk, their cheiftain, and Korg would bathe in his blood, take his wives and they would follow Korg. It was our way, had always been our way. Already Krimba Hai was filling and Korg had done what no other great cheiftain had done before him. Slowly he was drawing all the tribes of the Peaks and soon war would be made. As they made their way across the mountains a rumble shook the mount beneath them, One Eye was pleased...