Chapter 0: The Gathering

[Keehnelf]

Please do not post in this thread yet--it will be the first IC thread but the shape of it is still in process as your characters come together.

[Keehnelf]

Sun's Veil, Year of the Clouded Eye - Upper Hall of the Great Mountain Hold

There were rumors well in advance of the Feast of Sun's Veil, the formal beginning of the new year in the Great Mountain, that the King would make an announcement of some importance. Representatives of every family and the incumbents of every office of significance maneuvered over the course of weeks to obtain a seat at the table of the Upper Hall, where Krakthos would take his dinner and where the announcement would surely be made. In years past, such seats were hard to come by--in recent times, the hall had grown quieter and emptier with each new feast, as the King's eccentricities (some said madness) grew with his melancholy, and to be by his side at such times was to court disaster.

So it was that the occupants of the room swelled well beyond those the feasting-table could hold, and attendants of the attendants thronged against the chamber's outer walls: nervous guardians or eldest sons, apprentices or mentors long past their own years at court. A large window high on the western wall would typically let in the slanting rays of the midwinter sun, but this year the mountain's peak was unaccountably shrouded in icy fog and thick clouds, a condition that would persist well into summer, leading those who lived through the difficult times to follow to name it the Year of the Clouded Eye, where little beyond the mountain could be seen, and all the tidings were of ill omens.

The feast hall was an odd spectacle this year, with mithril-wrought cages specially crafted over the winter brought forth and populated by the residents of the king's dungeons. The presence of the prisoners made all the festival-goers uncomfortable, unclear as it was whether they were to serve some purpose or if it merely suited the mad king's fancy to watch his disfavored subjects watch the rest enjoy a pleasant meal. The prisoners themselves seemed to have no knowledge of their role, though all remained subdued, as though sensing that their presence in this place signaled a fate ever more precarious and perilous that they dared not cause to stir.

Throughout the feast, the King seemed to doze, his much-younger wife Ephrigea shepherding the necessary rituals of the occasion along with Ullif, the chief Rune Seer of the Firedeep Clan, who was nearly as old as the king himself. Ullif performed the various rites of benediction upon the hold with the assistance of his chief acolyte, Fjirn Fjirnsson, a promising adept of the runes who would someday take Ullif's place at the side of the king if his discretion held. Ullif's unsteady hand required intervention more than once as he incanted the Litany of Grudges from the book in which it was recorded, a lengthy sermon that detailed the wrongs that had been suffered by the Firedeeps at the hands of their many enemies through the generations.

As the Litany reached its end, the name of the Black Druid was spoken with special heaviness by the aged advisor, with a meaningful eye toward the king, who continued to doze. Ullif cleared his throat and returned to the book, beginning the section again, once again turning toward the sleeping form of the king as he recited Mangore's list of epithets: Black Druid, Maze of Madness, Bringer of Storms, Evil's Beard, Befouler of Blood and Stone. The queen's none-too-delicate elbow finally roused the king from his unknowable dreams, and he blinked uncertainly toward Ullif for a brief moment before standing, shivering from beard to knees, to address the assemblage.

"Hm. Indeed, my people, the druid Mangore is a pox upon our land, upon our people, and will bring ruin to all the houses of our venerable Clan within the Great Mountain if he is allowed to run amok any longer. He has defiled the tombs of our ancestors, and his dark hand interposes itself between us and the peace of our honored dead like dark clouds before the sun on a miserable day such as today. He must be stopped.

"My advisers assure me that calamity will befall us if we do not act quickly. I have come to believe that his powers will wax too greatly for any to stand before him if he is allowed to walk the land beyond the first day of spring of this year, three months hence. His terrible powers, so bound up with the cycles of plant and sun and moon, are not to be reckoned beyond such a time.

"Thus, though this be a dangerous and thankless task, I have come to you, my people, to beseech your help: I cannot send our armies against him, for he has thrown them back at us, smashing them against the mountain, time and again. He can feel our intent and our presence upon the land. Nor can I demand of any that they undertake this mission against their wills--the black one would find it all too easy to pervert the resentment that would breed and turn our agents against us.

"Today, I seek volunteers to undertake a journey, provisioned to the best I can offer, and slay the druid. I can offer, should you find success, the favor of the kings of the mountain to the families of those who fall, to those who return, and of course property and title within our clan befitting such noble deeds. Furthermore, for those who have committed crimes against our people," and here the king's hand took in those in the mithril cages. "For those, I will offer a full pardon and a modest reward with which they might begin honest lives that do no harm to their fellow dwarves."

The hall is silent for a long moment before the king continues. "I would wish such a party to depart posthaste, within a week or ten days at the most given the short time. Ullif has volunteered to lead the group on my behalf," he motions toward the ancient seer. "But Ullif is beyond the years when he could travel in hard weather on dangerous errands. Instead I have asked his chief assistant, Fjirn, to arrange the necessary details on my behalf, and to take charge of the mission once it is in the wilds. I have spoken for too long--but please ask if any among you require more information before agreeing to take on this task for us all, or step forward if you will lend your hand in these efforts." He sits once more, and a low murmur of discussion immediately rises among the assembled dwarves.

Game on!

[Zorroroaster]

His first impression of the Upper Hall was of an almost painful brightness. He had dwelled so long in the darkness near the forges below that his eyes had become too accustomed to the gloom, and he squinted uncomfortably as he attempted to push his way forward through the crush of people gathered near the entrance to the hall.

So many people. He closed his eyes, reached out with his mind, and briefly took in the sea of lives ebbing and flowing around him: a myriad of experiences washed over him in an instant. He opened his eyes. It was too much, leaving him feeling queasy and uncertain. He did not have the power to read thoughts, that was one curse not yet bestowed upon him. He could sense things though, when he closed his eyes. Call it an empathy with his fellow dwarves, albeit one that was clearly not reciprocated.

Indeed, as he moved through the throng and people turned to look at him it was very clear how others felt about him. Uncertainty. Fear. Disgust. He was accustomed to it now.

As he neared the front of the crowd he could hear a loud voice, one that expected to be heeded.

"...crimes against our people..."

At this, he paused. What was he doing here? Why had he come? Did he have the right, to be standing here with his fellows? Although he could not name them he could sense his own crimes whispering in the back of his mind. Taunting him. Tormenting him.

Enough. Forcing down his own fear and uncertainty, he pushed through the last of the onlookers and finds himself directly before the king. A collective intake of breath from the crowd, followed by a hush.

He waits, and then senses it. His moment.

"I have come. Use me as you will."

[Sol]

Unther Starforge was not entirely certain how it was that he came to be invited to share an audience with the King. These meetings of state were normally reserved for those with greater political standing than he, but Unther was curious - and of course, considering the ever-deepening madness of the ruler, Unther also feared that refusing the invitation could only be considered to be a form of treason.

Still, the encroachment of the Black Druid into dwarven lands was well known, and Unther's suspicion was soon confirmed that this was the reason for parting from protocol.

Unther attached his teeth to a turkey leg and found it tender. He took, too, a mug of mead and found that exceptional as well. The king had important things to say, truly, but he was long-winded and dramatic about it, and Unther decided it was best to ensure that he was spending the time well.

Although Unther believed the King was prone to some colorful exaggeration on the matter, Unther nonetheless agreed that the druid deserved to be brought to justice for his crimes. Indeed, Unther's own great uncle had been laid low, low into the earth, by that feral enemy to dwarven livelihood and national production. It was only right that the death of his upstanding Uncle be avenged and that the long grudge of his family and his people should be recognized.

It shocked Unther to learn that the King did not intend to raise a new militia against the druid, and when Unther learned first hand what had happened to their former standing force, he was saddened deeply to the pit of his stomach. He had known many of those dwarves, and their fate had not been widely circulated as of yet to the dwarven nation. He continued to appreciate the feast thoughtfully, allowing the King's next proposal to think in. A small band. Against the Black Druid and his armies. It was entirely mad. But the more Unther considered it, the more he came to realize the truth.

It was mad enough to work.

Unther, of the family called Starforge, stood up, by so doing, pushing his chair loudly away from the table. "I'm in," said the dwarf, for long had he known that he would willingly face the Druid if ever the opportunity should arise, "When do we leave, and who is with me?" He moved his eyes sternly around the dining hall, ready to see who else would stand to meet the King's call.

[Keehnelf]

As Unther scans the room upon making his declaration, his eyes linger for a moment upon a familiar figure--Crabanth, a distant cousin of his father who had been close friends with his uncle and a member of the lesser nobility. Crabanth was dressed in his finest livery, but hanging back near a wall, with his arms crossed over his chest. On his index finger he wears a large silver ring that aunt her recognizes as having once belonged to his uncle as well.

Crabanth holds the eye contact for a moment before nodding, long and slow, a sort of grim and unsmiling bow in recognition of Unther's commitment.

[KingOfCowards]

Gideon Stonebeard was seated in a place of honor as befit his family name, when the king made his proclamation. He swallowed hard, nervously looking about to see who was mad enough to take up such a challenge. From the corner of his vision, Gideon saw his esteemed father scowling at him, and Gideon quickly looked away to dodge his stare.

He overheard the elder dwarf grumble under his breath, "Bah. If only Joffer were still alive. The only son the gods have left me has not the courage to even look me in the eye."

Gideon's eyes dropped to the table with shame, he stared at his food but couldn't eat a bite if he tried. His stomach was knotted up and his heartbeat raced. He couldn't live like this, not being able to face his father without seeing the disappointment in his eyes. He slowly stood up out of his seat. Better to die a hero on a noble mission, then live as a coward and embarrassment to the Stonebeard name.

"I will go.", he said meekly to the crowds. He quickly cleared his throat and repeated himself louder. "I will go." he thumped his chest with his fist to show his confidence, and almost fooled even himself.

He saw the surprised expression on his father's face before being mobbed by distant cousins and slapped on the back. He never looked back, but in his mind's eye he hoped to see the faintest smile on his father's lips.

[ybn1197]

Grim Kordsson sat cramped within the confines of the hall. He gazed eagerly at the food that he would not be able to share as that was a pleasure only those on cushioned seats were allowed. He scowled as Ullif read off the litany of names but the scowl turned into a snort as the King's sleeping form was undisturbed at the end of the reading, forcing the aged seer to restart his litany. His snort drew the ire of the soldiers around him but in reverence to the King they quickly resumed listening to his speech and ignoring Grim. Yeah that's it bootlickers, Grim thought to himself, All hail the King. Give him your undying devotion and unwavering loyalty. Don't think for yourselves, just do for the nation. Where are your thoughts of self? You have none! You are all just a herd of sheep following Shephard Krakthos to the slaughter. Dance to his tune all you like, I will dance to my own drum." he "hrumph'ed" to himself as he crossed his arms and let his mind generally drift from the King's speech.

"For those, I will offer a full pardon and a modest reward with which they might begin honest lives that do no harm to their fellow dwarves."

Grim's concentration was drawn back into focus quickly. A full pardon?! Did he just offer a full pardon?! He stroked the remains of his beard thoughtfully.

Grim stood up, grasping the bars in front of him and rocking the mithral cage back and forth. "I offer myself my liege. Free from my bonds and my life is yours to command."

[Keehnelf]

The declarations of the various dwarves cause quite a stir--the nobility both proud and nervous that members of their illustrious houses have volunteered for this task of great importance, even more nervous that they will travel among others of such ill repute as the brown-helmed bandit and the nameless, beardless one.

The aged king stands once it becomes clear that no others will stand forward, and smiles at the assembled group in benediction. "My people--you see before you true heroes, who will liberate our clan and our futures from the chains of darkness and evil. In one week's time, we will gather in the Hall of Smiths to bid them farewell, allowing them the time needed to arrange their affairs here and prepare themselves for the journey. I encourage you to thank these young men for their bravery during that time, as I do."

The crowd collapses into a throng of cheering and tumult and celebration that lasts long into the night, after the king has been carried away to bed and the exhausted prisoners have collapsed, unfed, within their cages.

Does anyone have specific conversations they would like to have during that night? If not, I will post a series of character-specific encounters for that week tomorrow.

[Sol]

The first dwarf who spoke he does not know. The meek one he thinks he recognizes as belonging to the Stonebeard clan, distant relations of his. Unther looks on in disdain at the dwarf in the cage who is rattling for attention. He is further annoyed when the King declares him one of their number. Still, when the counting is done, he sees that they number just four. Somehow he felt there might be more.

No matter.

The task must be done and Unther resolves himself to it. Then these four will be his brothers of the cause. With a sideways glance, he considers the caged dwarf once again. Hmmmm. So be it. This one, too.

As the King departs and the throng begins to clear, Unther slaps the shoulders of the others who were chosen, as a brief recognition of their shared path, before making his way to the back where Crabanth, friend of his uncle, stands. Unther regards him sternly, finally saying, "This is a dead man's errand, but I will be laid under before I allow that loose cannon to run riot in our lands or otherwise thwart our people. Here, I have the bracers," he says. "It was Uncle's dream to have our family recognized for our deeds, and perhaps some good will come of this journey yet if I am to find a way to finish these for him."

He pulls back his sleeves to show them to Crabanth - the bracers are made of rare almond-colored metal and are beautifully polished and embellished with engraved runes. The runes are outlined in gold and accented as well by eight small gems, though it is clear that the design allows for many more that must be added before the work can be considered complete.

"It would give me great satisfaction, too," he continues, "To land these bracers, one after another, against the Black Druid's skull before this is done," he says, and it is not clear whether this is some kind of stern jest or a vow.

[Zorroroaster]

He acknowledges the attention from the other dwarf with a murmur, nodding his head in what he hopes will be taken as acceptance and familiarity. Social graces were difficult for him, and he had to force himself to emulate or at least imitate the behaviour he saw around him.

He made mental note of the bracers the other man wore, and the obvious importance he placed on them.

Turning to the imprisoned convict, he walks across the hall to him ignoring what he took to be the muttering stares of the assembled crowd. He leans in towards the bars to address the man.

"Can I aid you in any way? Are you hurt?"

[ybn1197]

Grim chuckles at the man. "The only thing hurt is my pride. I shouldn't have been caught. But I was and here I am. Hopefully I survive this suicide quest and get the pardon I was promised."

[Zorroroaster]

He looks intently at the caged man for a moment. "Perhaps someday you will tell me the story of how you came to be imprisoned," he says. "We are all incarcerated at different times in our lives, though not always by metal bars. Equally, freedom can be thus found in different places, different ways. May you find yours, soon,"

[Keehnelf]

Crabanth smiles at Unther, a hard, dark thing not at all like cheer or mirth. "I was hoping that you might decide to take on this journey. That was why I arranged for you to be present today--some contacts of mine in the court suggested this opportunity might arise, and it would be good to have your name and that of your family shine prominently in the histories of this great endeavor."

He shifts a bit from foot to foot. "I am getting old, but all my sons are grown and have families of their own--none of whom would be interested in this kind of work, more's the pity. I've half-considered tagging along and getting a lick or two in on your uncle's behalf as well. I'm not the fighter I once was, but I've got some knowledge and my own gear. Would you have me?"

[ybn1197]

He looks intently at the caged man for a moment. "Perhaps someday you will tell me the story of how you came to be imprisoned," he says. "We are all incarcerated at different times in our lives, though not always by metal bars. Equally, freedom can be thus found in different places, different ways. May you find yours, soon,"

Grim gives a half-hearted smirk and looks at the man with a quizzical look. "Thank you, I suppose."

[Sol]

Unther slowly develops a grin at Crabanth's offer and says, "I can think of no man better to join the cause at my side. I have heard a tale or two of your exploits in battle and I do believe, sir, that you speak with too much modesty. Meet me on the morrow and we can train together in anticipation of the mission. The Black Druid hasn't a chance."

Pleased that they will now number five, Unther returns to the center of the chamber where his other companions are. One of them speaks to the other who is hanging in the cage. He looks sternly at the one who is in the cage and eyes the lock on it for a moment. "Unther Starforge. You?" He looks at the man who is speaking to him on the ground. "And you?"

[Zorroroaster]

He bows slightly, and looks at Unther for a moment, "Yes, me," he says cryptically. "You may call me what you like. The people living down by the furnaces refer to me as Nai Tnam. Literally, Nameless. I have no memories beyond a few months ago when I was discovered cowering in the darkness behind the great furnaces below. I do not know if I was a good man, or a bad one. Perhaps I was both."

He looks past Unther to the older man Unther had been talking to. "Your name is clearly important to you. I cannot be defined by mine, and thus define myself by actions alone. A blessing or a curse? Again, perhaps both."

[Keehnelf]

Crabanth seems unimpressed by the nameless one's words and, without a retort, puffs out his moustaches with a single powerful exhalation, then turns to Unther. "Indeed, I shall see you early tomorrow so that we can begin our preparations." He turns on his heel and departs the still-thronging hall, thumbs tucked in his belt.

Looks like Sol has a henchman.

[Zhym]

Fjirn Fjrinsson watches the volunteers silently. An odd crew, he thinks to himself, and smaller than he would have liked. But bravery is in short supply these days. He'll take it where he can find it, even if it sometimes wears the cloak of desperation.

When the ceremony has concluded, introductions been made, and the attention to the front of the hall has dwindled, Fjrin steps up to Ullif. "I admit to much nervousness about this mission," he confides. "The king called and I answered, for it is what we do. But I had not expected that I would be charged with leading this mission! It is a weight I hope I can bear."

[Keehnelf]

Uliff puts a hand kindly on the younger dwarf's shoulder. "It is, indeed. The King requires that someone take charge of this that he knows he can trust implicitly to carry out his duty. I have personally assured him that you are such a dwarf. I have every faith in your abilities. And likely your specialized abilities will be necessary to counter the druid's foul enchantments."

[Keehnelf]

Late that night, after the jailors have retired from the main hall of the dungeons, Grim hears a stirring in the cell next to his.

"Hey, boy," calls a voice, familiar after weeks of confinement. It belongs to Striborg, who was imprisoned for murdering a high-ranking officer of the King's Guard with poison. The King claims political motives; Striborg, in the middle of the night, claims not to have been responsible, but the act itself seems indifferent to him, as though it were an inevitability. "Hey boy," he calls again. "I think I might have missed my chance tonight. Thinking about it, I'd like to take this job on. If you vouch for me with the guard in the morning, I'd love to accompany you out the gates. I've no interest in a pardon, and even less interest in dying in the moor to the south. But I'd love to split a cache I've hidden out in the forest with you in thanks before I disappear for good. Sound like a deal?"

---

The Nameless One's dreams are troubled--he imagines himself falling, falling endlessly. This is a dream that he's never had before. It represents worry, something uncommon in his placid emotional landscape, and that compounds the worry that lingers after the dream has faded when he wakes in the morning to resume his duties until the appointed time and place for gathering. The others have heard, of course, by mid-morning. The shift supervisor comes to him specifically and claps him on the shoulder. It's unclear whether the smile is one of thanks for brave service, or appreciation that his unnerving presence will soon be gone from his crew. Either way, the nameless dwarf takes a small comfort in his boss's sincere happiness, and continues at his labors.

In the early afternoon, the crew is on break between pours and one of the apprentices, little more than a boy, approaches the bench where Nai Tnam is sitting, nibbling at a crust of half-stale bread. Lorik is this one's name--son of a mason who died in construction in the lower halls. He doesn't know whether someone told him this once, or if it just knowledge that came on the wind, but it helps him understand the troubled look in the youth's eyes.

"Listen," he begins, haltingly. "I--I haven't really any family here, and you've been kind to me, helping me with difficult tasks and showing me some useful techniques--" That's right, Nai Tnam reflected, he had done those things. He smiled at the thought, almost as if in appreciation of the good works of another. The young man continued speaking, so he attempted to refocus his attention there. "--no family left, except my sister, and she's set to be married soon. I thought, I could come and perhaps make a name for myself as a guard for you, or a porter, or something. You know how hard-working I am. I can swing an axe, and my father had some armor I could bring along..."

---

In the Hall of Sigils the next day, Fjirn finds himself unaccountably surrounded by a throng of the younger Rune Caster apprentices. Half are smiling uncomfortably, the other half a mixture of self-serious and visibly nervous. "Fjirn, we've got a proposition for you," says the tallest of the bunch, a promising acolyte from a family of smiths by the name of Barmand Thunderhammer. "Everyone here knows that you were selected to go on this trip because you're set to succeed Uliff when he removes the mantle of Chief Seer. We've been discussing amongst ourselves, and we think one of us should accompany you. It wouldn't mean anything, officially of course, but it would certainly resolve some disputes we've had as a group about who you think might be worth grooming to replace you once you've had your tenure as Seer. We will abide by your decision, but we will not take 'no' for an answer." He crosses his arms and shifts his weight back and forth uncomfortably in a fashion not dissimilar to what the others are doing, waiting for a response.

---

Unther is forced by Crabanth's enthusiasm to take a break from his work on engraving his bracers, and they practice with blade, cudgel, shield and unarmed all through the day. For an old man, Crabanth certainly has stamina, and seems dead-set on working his protege as hard as possible in expectation of a difficult journey.

---

Gideon Stonebeard finds himself face to face with his father, Valmarr, as he opens his bedroom door in the morning. Valmarr seems in bright spirits, as though the events of the night before have lifted a great weight from his shoulders. He throws an arm around Gideon as the two walk toward their home's dining hall and mentions once again what an appropriate decision Gideon made in the King's feast-hall. Just before they reach their destination, he pulls his son to one side and speaks to him in a near-whisper. "I wanted to mention it before we get out there--but your sister, Myrna, came to me last night after the feast and asked my permission to accompany you when you leave. We all know that she'll never marry, so sending her along to strive and slay in the King's name can only improve her chances for happiness in the long run--she's more content with a blade than a bouquet, at any rate. I didn't give her an answer, since it's up to you, but I wanted to mention it before she ambushes you with it. For what it's worth, I think you should accept the offer." He turns and settles himself at the table and tucks into the large pile of sausage and eggs on his plate. Gideon looks across the room at his youngest sister, Myrna, sitting in a rough-spun boy's tunic at the corner of the table, half a mug of breakfast ale already in her belly and a clean plate on the table before her. While the help would be appreciated, the situation worried Gideon. He himself had never distinguished himself for his martial prowess, though he was hard-working and fastidious. His sister, on the other hand, was clumsy and not well trained. She might prove more of a hindrance in the wild than an aid, especially since it was his sister.