Fantasy Emvala | The journey of Fallond

[Zef The Owl]

"It's your time to awaken..."

"Now now, don't be frightened, many great things await you."

"Great in good, or great in terrible, I cannot say, but certainly something great."

"Many eyes are upon you, and I'll trust you'll not disappoint."

"But first, you must wake."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
​

Death was always a disorienting affair. When Fallon was knocked out by his, he'd lose the better part of his senses. The world going dark after his accident in the lift, whether it be slow or fast depended on his struggles, but death did eventually come for him. It whisked him away into darkness, perhaps to an afterlife, perhaps to the hands of some dwarven god, or a capricious demon, or perhaps to an abyss that promised not but sweet oblivion, taking all of his conscious piece by piece till nothing of what he was remained. Yet, oddly enough, none of these things came to pass, instead he would be there in that abyss for what felt as though an eternity. Unable to move, or speak, a void with no sensation to speak of with but a faint voice in the background. Each word seeming to drag out for eons, yet being completely ephemeral and hard to grasp. As though the words had impossible importance, yet at the same time, were of meaningless worth. A contradiction.


Only when the last word was uttered, 'wake', from a voice of indescribable consistency did something happen to his abyss. A flash of light, followed by the feeling of being lifted up. As though a draft or massive hand had pushed him up from below towards that light. One that engulfed him, and caused every nerve in his body to come alight with life once more, caused breathe to fill his lungs and his skin to warm. When he awoke, he would be awoken with voices that started muffled as though in water, but became altogether more clear over time.

"Ey... Ey! Is he comin' too?"

"How should I know?! Keep focused on lookout, we don't wanna get caught out here like this you lout!"

The voice was hushed, but held severity in the tone as one person chastised another. The first thing Fallond would notice would be the smell of pine, and the feel of a warm blanket over him, while he rested upon a pillow. It wasn't particularly comfortable however, below him the cart wood was hard, and bouncing about, moving considerably. It was, indeed a cart he was in, driven by two tough looking work mules. All about him was a pine forest, with a poorly beaten road leading down a rickety hill. Two people seemed to be driving it;

One, was an older human with a grim complexion. He had narrowed silver eyes and short brown hair, his skin callous and scarred, suggesting great hardship. He wore a chain mail chest piece and seemed to have a large bastard sword strapped to his back. The other was a younger human, brown hair done back in a tail with a frown on his face. He seemed to be more in a cloak with a crossbow strapped to his back as the two bantered in hushed tones. Both were obviously mercenaries of some sort. There were no defining traits designating a kingdom or anything of the like. What did stick out though, were faint glows from their weapons. In small inlays both in the butt of the crossbow and the iron base of the bastard sword. The glows were of different colors, the crossbow's blue, the sword's a light green.

It was hard to make them out for Fallond who would just be waking up, his vision bleary at first he wouldn't be able to pinpoint the exact cause of the glows. Not that he didn't have plenty else to react to too, with all of the sensations about him.

Hexblood Bandit

 

[Hexblood Bandit]

Wake

With a loud groan Fallond Baernson sat up in the cart. Fallond cannot remember too much on how he died besides the long fall from the lift, and the cracking of what he assumed was his skull. Still disorientated from waking up from death, Fallond raises a hand to his head, checking for any leftover cracks, and takes in the scene before him—smelling pine which is vastly different from anything coming from his homeland. Awareness finally dawned on him and he hurriedly moves back as far he could manage in the cart from the mercenaries, clutching the blanket tossed over him as if it were the Copperbeard's prized jewels. Fallond's eyes flicker to the glow of the warriors' weapons, and swallows down the indignation of his perceived treatment as common luggage. In an attempt to regain his pride as a dwarven nobleman, he clasps his hands together, breathes deeply, and calmly addresses his potential saviors.

"Ahem. Who are you people? And why in the Nine Hells am I in the middle of a forest away from Caer Dultann!?"

Fallond's calm demeanor lasts for all but two seconds before the panic swept back in.

 

[Zef The Owl]

The men snapped their gazes back at the rising voice. The younger one grinning proudly, he knew he heard right the bastard was waking up! The older one was just annoyed, the man with the Bastard sword merely sighed and leaned arm back some on the front rest of the wagon. His words were hushed, and quick, showing the urgency of his return words. They weren't threatening, at least not in the way that he wanted to do Fallond any harm, more, it was a very grave warning.

"Hushed tones, we're still near the Gouge. If a Tyrant gets wind of us 'ere we'll be lucky if there's a smokin' crater left ta mark the grave."

The younger one merely sighed and shook his head, the tone also hushed.

"Aye we're in danger, just keep it down, we're almost a safe distance. I'm guessin' Cae Dultann is like, your home or somethin? Some Dwarf settlement? Sorry to say you're just spittin' distance from the Gouge. We found you with the rest of Kosgraeg's expedition, you were the only one still breathin'. You remember anything what happened to the rest of your group? Y'look like the Miasma-born got to ya."

He said, with a sigh, shrugging as he let the older gent focus on steering the wagon, while he himself made conversation. The younger one seemed the better talker.

"As for who we are? I'm Kelden, this is my partner Marcus. We were hired by Reissiren Oredelver to see if we could find anything from Kosgraeg's expedition. So don't worry none she can sort out how to get ya home when we get you back to her, you're in good hands."

 

[Hexblood Bandit]

"What is this Gouge you speak of? And there should not be a tyrant anywhere near Caer Dultann, start making sense or el-"

Fallond cuts his threatening remarks short given the warning glare he received from Marcus. He forces himself to settle down by pinching his arm, and gathers his thoughts on the numerous amounts of issues that need to be dealt with. Given the present situation concerning life and death, the mercenaries should answer to only the most pertinent questions at hand, if at all.

Surprisingly it was easy for Fallond to accept that he died back at the lift, and was somehow revivified back to life. He always felt that he was chosen by a higher power, and knew there was more for him then his lot in life—or the next one apparently—as a squire. The burning question was if anything had changed at his homeland, and why was he brought to wherever this Kosgraeg's expedition was. Regardless of Fallond's unbelievable circumstances he needed to accept that danger lurked nearby and find out from Kelden and Marcus where they were headed. He turned to the better talker of the pair and addressed him.

"Forgive me, that was unbecoming of a dwarf to lose my nerve. I am Fallond Baernson of Clan Copperbeard, hailing from the Great Halls of Caer Dultann. Who is this Reissiren Oredelver you are referring to? And do I have anything to fear from this Miasma-born?"

[Slight edit to convo]

 

[Zef The Owl]

The two looked, totally taken aback by Fallond's words. The both of them exchanged glances, the younger one looking more concerned while the older one sighed with agitation in their voice, shaking his head and focusing on the road. He muttered something about 'Miasma in the head', before making sure to direct the horses and holding his tongue. The younger one, Kelden, looked back to him with raised brows.

"It's... Alright friend, your clearly rattled. Sounds like ya must have taken a knock to the head... You've forgotten of the Gouge? And the Miasmia-born? Even Reissiren?"

He looked genuinely concerned, clearly Fallond's recounting of reality simply wasn't matching up with theirs. The young man undid a flask from his belt, Kelden holding out a flask of water for the dwarf with a short sigh, his shoulders slumping a bit.

"Here, I'll try to explain maybe it'll jog your memory. You should drink up, you were laying in the sun a while as far as we can tell, heat might be getting to you. Right ah... The Gouge." Likely, due to Fallond's experience in aristocracy he would have skill in reading people. So he could tell that the way Kelden was speaking about it was like he was about to explain something that should rightfully be common knowledge, like trying to explain why water is drinkable or something. "The Gouge is also known as the 'World Scar', it's a chasm that cuts through the two major continents. It's where the Tyrants live and breed among a great many unnatural things. It's the most dangerous place in the whole world, an' every nation contributes part of it's military force ta keeping the Tyrants contained."

"Miasma comes from The Gouge, and the Miasma Born are born from the Miasma. Monsters, really, is the only way I can describe them, they come in shapes, sizes, types all innumerable, the only thing they have in common is they hate anythin' that's not a Miasma-Born. There was a Miasma cloud that blew through the expedition, that's why we're thinkin' your team got minced by them."

"Reissiren is the current leader of Clan Oredelver and their Company 'Deepcore'. She's got a vested interest in anyone going in and out of this place, your expedition included." Marcus cut in, almost impatiently in his hushed tone.

 

[Hexblood Bandit]

"…I see. I fear I must have hit my head harder than I thought. I will need some time to gather my thoughts. Thank you Kelden."

The dwarf downs the whole flask, and strokes his straw-blonde beard in contemplation. According to the Copperbeard's Clan Headsman, it is better to keep your cards close, and reveal only what is necessary to the right types of people. Whoever this Reissiren woman is, Fallond assumes she leads a major dwarven clan in this part of the world and could potentially be a useful ally, and hopefully the right sort of person to know—fortunately for Fallond, she is seeking him out. Yet, it is definitely odd that he has never heard of this Clan Oredelver before, and how the Gouge splits up two major continents. What continents would the mercenaries be possibly referring to, especially if every nation commits forces? Now, Fallond is beginning to believe that it was not a higher power that sent him here, or at least a benevolent one, most likely this is nowhere near his homeland, or even his world—strange as that may be.

When it comes to the Miasma Born, they seem to be similar to the demons from the Abyss. Difference being, that these monsters live and appear in the Material Realm from a malevolent cloud. The further this cart gets away from the Gouge, the better off Fallond will be.

 

[Zef The Owl]

Thankfully, they went without too much issue, the tree cover began to lessen a bit as they went uphill a bit to a more hilly area. Less trees, and more rocks were probably a reassuring sight for any Dwarf. They got to a more hilly area, and soon he could look back over the forest they had just came out of, over the canopies as the treeline rose. What he'd likely see was, certainly one hell of a sight. Sure enough, they weren't kidding or exaggerating when they named this thing 'The Gouge', the land was totally up heaved just beyond the forest. Huge chunks of earth reaching upwards into the air as if a massive blade had been slammed into the very landscape, then torn back upwards dragging earth with it, making a lip over the miles wide crevice. A yawning wound in the world that stretched from as far as Fallond could see, horizon to horizon.

What's more, was that there was a distinct Blue glow emanating from it. It was impossible to see inside of The Gouge from this angle, but there was some unnatural blue light coming from within it. It was a hell of a sight, and one looked over by a pretty decent outpost of sorts.

They got to the foot of a small mountain, going up a windy path. Up ahead was the tell tall sign of Dwarven architecture carved into the stonework. However, things were just a little different, rather then cast iron and carefully carved steel, the gate seemed to be made of bronze and brass. It looked like pipework ran through it all, creating an imposing and massive gate that seemed to loom over the incoming cart. The mercenaries breathed a sigh of relief as they pulled up to the door.


"Aye? Who goes there?!" The voice of a dwarf, male, came from the gate itself. It didn't have any ports or anything, and it seemed to have a static that came along with it. It seemed to boom over the area.

"We're back from Reissiren's job, we found a survivor from the expedition."

"We were startin' tae wonder! We spotted a Tyrant takin' flight and we were gettin' worried! Ai'ght, openin' the door now!"

There was a hissing noise as steam vented from the doors, gears turned and pipes began to unlock from one another as the door slid either way. A mechanical grinding noise being heard as the Brass gates parted, revealing a massive Dwarven entrance hall behind it. Dwarves stood at the ready, some in plate armor with axes and spears in hand, others with flintlocke rifles resting on their shoulders. Beady eyes peered suspiciously at the humans as they pulled in the cart into the hall, and the doors began to slide shut behind them. Lights were set up along the sides of the hall, not torches, mechanical devices that illuminated the area.

One of the dwarves stepped forwards, in silver steel armor. A massive war axe upon his back, his every step bringing the clink of armor as he stroked his black beard. "Ye alright there lad? These humans weren't too rough with ye were they?" The dwarf joked, looking to Fallond and clearly sizing him up. He was probably the captain of the clan guard here, or at least so he held himself.

The other Dwarves had some unfamiliar armaments, particularly the rifle toting dwarves. They seemed to have goggles of some kind, mechanical contraptions built into them that caused them to whir as goggle lenses extended like spyglasses, before retracting, as if zooming in and out.

 

[Hexblood Bandit]

Truthfully, the Gouge frightened Fallond. His father sent him to be a squire because there was nothing else for him to give. Clan Copperbeard would have only been comparable to the human's baronies—rich in some form, but not prosperous enough for the third son to receive much of an inheritance. Previously Clans have been fractured if the first two sons did not receive their proper due. Fallond wasn't meant to be a knight, not really, but unfortunately he had no say in the matter as it was meant to give Fallond a chance at generating wealth. Or at least being sworn in as an Honor Guard of the Prince.

"Magic. Must have been magic that did this to me."

He recognized the similarities between the blue glow coming from the gouge and Kelden's crossbow. Well, at least they were both glowing blue, but that was enough for Fallond. Nevertheless for magical shenanigans, Fallond felt secure, and slightly proud upon seeing dwarven architecture—even if it wasn't quite what he was used to. Fallond tests out standing on his feet He looks down onto the dwarven captain from his higher position in the cart, and glumly omits part of the traditional dwarven greeting from his homeland.

"Well met captain. I am Fallond, son of Baern. Kelden and Marcus treated me well, for without them I would not be standing before you."

Even with a dwarf's natural intuition for contraptions, Fallond couldn't recognize anything familiar in the armaments or goggles. Another difference worth noting.

 

[Zef The Owl]

The dwarf chuckled in a mirthful tone after said greeting and reassurances about the mercenaries. "Well met, Son of Baern. I am Runthur of clan Oredelver. If ya say these folks kept ya safe then I suppose they've earned their coin. Marcus ye know where to go." Marcus just endured the jabs, nodding as he dismounted from the wagon. Kelden shrugged and followed, the groups going their separate ways as Runthur began leading Fallond down a hallway, motioning him to follow.

"Apologies about the mercenaries. With the Tyrants all up in a fuss over tha' recent airship battle we dinnae want tae risk our personal troops. Wouldnt have done ye any good if a Tyrant spotted ye anyway. Dwarves werent made fer sneakin about anyway am I right?"

A hearty laugh escaped him as he patted Fallond on the back. The halls were of carved stone, as was typical of a dwarven hold there were runes and Dwarven carvings of moments of importance. Here, it mostly seemed about commerce. Stories of good deals, or times they made great profit buying out a rivals property or goods. While there were mentions of battles and great works, it almost always ended in how much Clan Oredelver profited over their victories.

In a way the glory was less about the battle or work, but by the coin made. The pride rested in greed and gains. It wasnt the slaying of a dragon that was to he commended, that was a prelude, a footnote. It was how that dragons horde was utilized to set up a lucrative trade pact that doubled the profit. The Oredelver clan specifically seemed to be a clan based on mining, so their history was rich with territory gains and rare ores that were mined and sold to blacksmithing clans, as each clan seemed to specialize in a trade.

Now was probably a good time to ask questions if he had any, the halls were long, and they had few stairs to descend. Plenty to see on the way though, dwarves in side rooms going over maps, or drinking jovially in mess halls, more soldierly types doing drills. There was a lack of aristocratic dwarves, which made sense in hindsight what with this being an outpost in such a dangerous location.

 

[Hexblood Bandit]

An airship...? Fallond was greatly disturbed by Runthur's casual mention of an airship, something only theorized about in his previous world, and that distracted him from the captain's overfamiliar touch.

Fallond considers himself to be a proper city dwarf, one whose dwellings is buried deep underneath the mountains, not outside in open spaces like the humans and elves. For most of his life, the nobleman did not see the outside world—the Great Halls were built into a massive cavern system, far from the open sea; therefore it was not a surprise that the concept of a flying ship sailing across the sky would be completely alien to him. How would it get off the ground? Moreover, what was the fuss between the Tyrants and these so-called airships. According to what Fallond's gathered so far, Tyrants, were not simple despots, but something more akin to a dragon, or a Demon Prince from the Abyss that births the Miasma Born in number aplenty. Or were the Miasma Born directly spawned from the blue haze seen from the Gouge earlier? The answer wasn't clear to Fallond.

At least there were some similarities of the dwarves Fallond could rely on. Oredelver Clan's outlook on profit and gains was an odd relief for the world traveler—his clan were in many ways likeminded to theirs for the reason that coinage is king. As the pair walked down the long hallways, Fallond raises a few questions to Runthur about the Oredelver's clan leader.

"If it is fine with you Runthur, I would like to know more about Reissiren. I feel ashamed to admit that I am unfamiliar with who she is, and I would hate to offend the Clan Headman by not knowing much about her interest in the Gouge and of the expedition. Could you tell me about this Deepcore company of hers?"

 

[Zef The Owl]

Now that earned a raised brow from the dwarf. He looked over with quite some surprise, "I'm gonna guess Kosgraeg didn't tell ye what you were gettin' into? Soddin' bastard." He sighed and shrugged, his armor visibly clinking as she shrugged. "Reissiren is the head of Clan Oredelver, taken' it over the position of Family Head after her father be passin' on to the great beyond, rest his bearded soul. She's a hard worker, real hard, always lookin' fer a way to get a leg up. This whole outpost was her brainchild, whole idea was tae take advantage of rare ore veins that only show up in the Gouge. We have to be careful, an' it's slow, but they're high sellers since it's dangerous tae get your hands on even a handful of the stuff." He said, stroking his beard as he looked up. "Deepcore is a clan business, naturally like any clan business we hire other dwarves but the core family works in it fer life. Myself included."


"Just typical tradition' an all that, where we stand out is our success. We've claimed some of the most lucrative ore veins out there, and we're always lookin' fer new gains. The biggest rival we got is from Clan Greydelver and their Quarryfront business. Kosgraeg Greydelver leading it." He said, flatly, with a shake of his head. "Sorry tae say but, Kosgraeg threw yer into a rival company's turf, probably wanted tae see how much success we had delvin' out that new Ore. I dinnae how much he paid you lad but it definitely wasn't enough."

"At first Reissiren just wanted us tae chase the expedition out, but when we heard they'd been attacked we figured it better tae save any survivors. Don't get me wrong, we're rival clans, but a dwarf is a dwarf and no one with a beard deserves tae be left out ta rot with the Tyrants. Especially not some bloke that got hired under false pretenses."

"Which brings to mind, how much did Kosgraeg offer ye for this whole disaster? You could probably talk up Reissiren some coin fer good info, hehehe...."

 

[Hexblood Bandit]

(Sorry for the late reply! Really enjoying the direction you're taking the story so far!)

Kosgraeg Greydelver, was it? Rivalries between dwarven clans, especially when it comes to their companies, can be brutal. Dwarves hold grudges like no other, the kinds of grudges that go on for generations in an already long-lived race. Fortunately the Clan Oredelver and Greydelver seem to keep their rivalry civil on the surface, especially if they risked their own assets to try and save their rival's expeditionary force. Runthur's distaste for Kosgraeg made Fallond think it best to separate himself from their rival company as much as possible. And while he could attempt to deceive Reisseren Oredelver out of some coin, that would be beneath his status as a nobleman, regardless if Clan Copperbeard exists in this realm. Besides the Oredelver's Family Head is quite shrewd according to the captain, so problems would arise if they couldn't verify the truth of whatever lie Fallond could spun. Now for the other problem, Fallond did not know what the expeditionary force was aiming for, what sort of ores were they after, and how could Fallond turn this to his advantage. Being honest and admitting the truth of what happened would be ridiculous and likely unbelievable—it was not as if Fallond knew what happened to him, or the why.

"It is as you said, good Runthur. The soddin' bastard did not offer nearly enough for what has happened, no, definitely was not enough for the lives it cost. I will tell Reissiren what I know, but unfortunately this whole affair was a loss for everyone around, nothing worth risking more lives over..." Fallond shook his head at Runthur's question, relied on his nobleman background to appear sincere in his deceit, and had mimicked a hurt expression on his face. Keep those cards close, and let the other person fill in the blanks for themselves. Play the hand at the right moment and win bigly; Fallond was going to survive in this unfamiliar and hostile environment. "The Gouge has yet again proved its ruthless and unforgiving nature."

 

[Zef The Owl]

Well, Charisma check passed. He seemed empathetic to the situation. "Well if its any consolation lad, ye wound up here. Probably the safest place around the Gouge fer whatever thats worth." He said with a firm nod. They passed by what, looked to be a large bay of sorts. This is where he got to see the very theoretical vehicle he had before mentioned. What was just beyond was a docking bay of sorts. Those bronze steam contraptions where everywhere here, and it seemed part of the mountain had been hollowed out to make room for all of this. Inside were a number of smaller craft, a bit like small fishing ships. They had sails coming off the top and sides, with a rudder system and two turbines off the back. They were painted a stony gray, and seemed to house two to four people. They were floating in the air, tied to a stone carved dock where dwarves seemed to be working on them and loading up.

Largest of all though was one single ship, while not galleon sized it was certainly larger then the other smaller ships with noteable armnaments in the form of cannons. Much like the others, it was floating in this massive hollowed out dome, tied to the docks with dwarves loading and unloading cargo. There was a brass door of massive proportions at the edge of the dome, presumeably so vessels could enter and leave, while keeping concealed inside the mountain.

Unfortunately they saw this all from below, at the bottom of the dome. The docks had to be miles up with carved stairs leading up to them on a much higher floor. "Her office is jus' on the other side of these here docks... Hm, Dirola! Ey! You there lass?!"

A female dwarf poked out her head from the docks above. She had brunette hair tied back in two tails, along with freckles. She seemed to be wearing overalls of some description, an adult yet a younger dwarf, bright green eyes looked filled with energy and curiosity. "Aye? Oh! Ye made a friend! Did he drink ye under the table or did ye figure out how words work?" She teased, there was no malice in her words for the older dwarf. Clearly just friendly banter.

He rolled his eyes, "This be Diora lad... She's my niece and a damn fine engineer. Could never wrap me head around these new Pearl engines that're all th' rage... Leave that to the new generation am I right? A-Anyway sod off lass we jus' want tae know if the boss is in her office!"

"Aye she is! Just head on through! And ey welcome to the outpost laddie!" She gave a little wave and grin from her perch on high.

 

[Hexblood Bandit]

Fallond returns Diora's wave with one of his own, a faint smile appearing on his face at the pair's banter. The ships looked magnificent to the dwarf lordling, if a tad daunting to say the least of whether or not the machine could fly like a bird. Back where he comes from, engineering never reached such a magnitude quite like the giant ship. And earlier did Runthur not mention a recent airship battle, Fallond could not help but shiver at the thought of such things going into battle—simply frightening to imagine what a Tyrant must be like if even this cannot reliably stop them. Moreover while the massive door is not as grand as a ship, it was still quite a glorious creation that any true dwarf should be proud of as it looks solidly built.

Now seemed a good time as any to ask a question to the outpost captain, especially if he is unsure as to what will come of his meeting with Reissiren Oredelver. "Your clan's ships are impressive Runthur, and with Pearl-based engines installed you say? Diora must be a uniquely talented engineer to handle working on such a technological wonder. Excuse me but I must ask, how fast can the largest ship there go, and how, ahem, high can it soar?" Fallond was greatly impressed, and wondered how he would feel looking down on the world. Would he feel exhilaration for literally rising above his father and his brothers, or fear at the thought of falling and crashing down? "And would it be that the Family Head commands this vessel?"

 

[Zef The Owl]

Rurnthur looked over and nodded, smiling some at the mention of Diora's work. "Aye she's got a knack fer it, which is good, its a mite safer tae travel by air then by ground. Much less chance of runnin' into Miasma-born. As for our largest ship? Here? Well that'd be the one we're walkin' under, The Earthen Reach, she's a cargo an' combat ship. Good for haulin' and blastin. She could likely get ye to the Dwarven Capital Anvilstead in three days time at jus' above cloud level. On foot that's typically a three week journey, weather permittin'. That's bein' generous though given ye would either have tae go through or around the Mourning Lands, which'd slow ye down by another week or so bein' generous." He pointed out, stroking his scraggly beard as he looked up thoughtfully, with a short nod before looking back. "The smaller ships, the interceptors, they move faster an' can go higher. Easily outmanuvering bigger ships, but their smaller Pearl engines dont last as long. 'Bout a day and a half of juice if yer usin' an engine that hasnt had any wear and tear yet. Ye wouldnt make it all the way to Anvilstead even in the best case scenario. But, yes, all of these vessels are under the command of Reissiren, though she has trusted admirals and captains she assigns tae vessels, speakin' of..."

They got to the end of the docks, through one more door that led to a hallway. This hallway led to just one more intersection, at the end was a large, ornate double door with carved runes-- Mostly dwarven blessings-- carved all over the archway. The handles of the doors were tough iron, and each door had a sapphire inlayed into the stonework.

"Well lad, this is it... Any other questions before we head on in? After that Ressirens gonna want yer full attention ahm sure."

 

[Hexblood Bandit]

Fallond inwardly cursed at Runthur's mention of Dwarven Capital Anvilstead, as he regretted the missed opportunity to ask for a map from Kelden and Marcus. Perhaps Fallond was simply being overly-cautious, but even if asked to point out where his supposed employers, Clan Greydelver, live, then he risks drawing more attention to himself. Now, Fallond will likely have to deal with being questioned over who he is, and the consequences if his story falls apart by Reissiren. Something tells the dwarf nobleman that the Family Head will not buy a head trauma angle, so it would be best if any conversation regarding himself is avoided—granted, Fallond did not know what would happen if his truth got out. For the time being, he should see about sending himself up to the capital, or somewhere more pleasant compared to the Gouge. However—

"Yes Runthur, I have but one more question. Would you tell me about the distance from the dwarven capital Anvilstead, to its neighboring cities? I am thinking about travelling after this to help get my mind off of the expedition." In a certain way, Fallond was planning on travelling the land.

 

[Zef The Owl]

Runthur nodded, stroking his beard as he looked up thoughtfully. "Well, if yer heading out from Anvilstead, the Port City of Emberbeard's Reach is a good weeks travel, not too far. As the name suggests ye wont find a bigger airship dock in the Dwarven Kingdom and ye can get a ship to most non-dwarven kingdoms from there if yer the travelin' sort. I aint a fan meself I like my feet on the ground, but ye know how non dwarf folk can be, fer some reason they dont see the benefit of big sturdy tunnels with good tram systems." He waved a hand dismissively.

"Lets see... The city of Coalvein is about two weeks out to the Northlands from Anvilstead, our clan is from there an' has a lot o' influence there. Usually big competitions are held over rare ores bein' presented an' fine smithing work by the noble class. If ye wanna make it big as a smith or a prospecter Coalvein is where ye do it."

"Then theres the city of Gurgrad about three weeks out tae the weat. Coastal city good fer fishing, it was a gift from the Lizardfolk, sign of good will when they noticed how close Gurgrad was tae Anvilguard, they didn' want border tensions so they left it tae us. Only stipulation was we didn't change the name. Just as well, they're busy dealin' with the endless Flametongue hordes to the south so the last thing they want is a war with anyone else." He shrugged, armor clinking.

"Last one is about five weeks tae the West, more inland. Helmpyre, its older than Anvilstead and has more history b'hind it, previous seat of the throne before the Molten Lord 'ad his old spat and lost. Still one of the most lucrative places 'round thanks to its pearl farms underground. Most every dwarf who uses pearls 'as a pearl grown from there." He shook his head, "Not me though I'll leave pearl usin tae others. M' axe would get jealous if ah started fightin' with them!" He laughed a boisterous laugh. "A-Anywyay, theres other cities but I wouldn' say theyre as close. Ye would be spending months on foot. Just be keepin' in mind airships cut down all them times by a third. The undergrouns Trolly system in Anvilstead does the same if yer like me and like th' ground more."

 

[Hexblood Bandit]

Fallond mirrors Runthur, as he too begins stroking his beard in thought. All good locations worth paying a visit, or if needed, to lie about and say he was from there. According to the captain's words, Fallond seems to have underestimated the prevalence of airships in this land, especially if this Port City of Emberbeard—a dwarven noble name perhaps—can take travelers to kingdoms afar from there own. The lordling was still unsure of how to feel about flight however, and now has to wonder about this tram and trolly system Runthur prefers. That seems more in line with his realm, while they were not as extensive as this one seems to be, the mining railway went throughout the Copperbeard's mountain. In any case, travel is far faster and more expansive than anything Fallond was used to, the only problem is what about the cost of using such a method to travel. A question for another time really.

If Reissiren Oredelver proves to be an amiable Family Head, the city of Coalvein could be a good city to visit, and potentially one to find work in if he leverages the contact here. Not that Fallond was interested in becoming a smith, never really had the talent as one back at home, however he did have a decent eye for prospecting. Either way this city would not be a suitable choice if the matter of his background comes up, too easy for Reissiren to catch on to a mistake.

Gurgrad, a gift from the Lizardfolk was it? How many years have the dwarves held on to the coastal city, and what are the Flametongue hordes? Fallond has mostly been holed up in his mountain, so he has never seen a coast, or the sea. The thought of riding out on the sea frightens him more than sailing in the open sky, for he has heard its dark waters are vast and deep. Runthur only mentioned the fishing industry, rather than a booming trading city, so has the trolly and airship business lessen the need of sea ships? Surely not to other lands across the sea? Despite his fear he would like to see it once, and it may be an acceptable background to rely on.

Helmpyre is the furthest city from Anvilstead, and as Fallond is unlikely to rely on aid from the Oredelver's after reaching the capital, he may have to brave the journey on foot. And pearl farms? Strange lands these be, but maybe there is potential if he goes there. Well the Pearl City is far enough that the Reissiren would likely know less about it, but may in turn raise questions as to why Fallond traveled out to the Gouge. At this point it is best to just roll with her question, and omit personal inquiries when he can. Runthur mentioned the Molten Lord as well, a title for a key dwarven figure in history? An important city no doubt, but the capital is not off the table either for places to stay. Test the waters with the Anvilstead, and potentially move on to a different city given enough funds or reason.

The meeting with the Family Head should not be put off any longer, "Many thanks, Runthur. I owe you a drink. Now, it is best that I do not keep Reissiren waiting."

 

[Zef The Owl]

( Sorry! Had to focus on snowmageddon, back into it!)

The dwarf nodded to Fallond, "Aye, I'll hold ye to that lad. Now ye better get in there." He nods, opening the door for Fallond. Inside was an office of sorts, looked quite official. The stonework here was carved very carefully and smoothly, a line of carved runes were etched into the stonework going in a full line around the circumference. Paintings on the wall depicted mountains, deep strip mines and rich ores glittering in piles alongside gemstones.

Three gemstones were imbedded in the far wall behind a stone desk and the figure that sat on it. A carved emerald, a ruby, and a sapphire. All set up in a triangular formation. The desk itself was also carved stone, but with an ornate cloth covering that had draperies coming down the front and sides of the desk making only the carved stonework of the corners visible. The desk had plenty of books strewn about in neat piles with a scale to the leftmost side. Four small, well, pearls lay on the desk. Two red, two a deep brown hue, pearls of very different colors then likely what he was used to, size too these were the size of a golfball, much larger then pearls he may have seen.

The woman behind the desk, sitting and scrawling in a notebook was a fine Dwarven woman. Long blonde hair was done back in an ornate tail that wrapped knot into knot and ran down her back. Her features softer the engineer woman outside, suggesting nobility. Her eyes a deep brown, as they darted up to the door as it opened. Clothes wise, she had on a black robe coat of some fine soft material, rimmed with white plush lining. She seemed to be wearing neatly cut clothing suited for a noble, a buttoned up dark green shirt with gold trimmings whos collar went up her neck. Along with black trousers, golden buttons buttoning up a seam in the sides.

She regarded Fallond, her gaze scrutinous as though she were instantly judging him like a deposit of ore the moment he stepped in, judging his stature for value. Thankfully this probably would be the most familiar thing yet for Fallond, it was exactly what you would see in Dwarven high society. High standards, always looking to read someone while judging what conversational approach should be taken. Suitable for courts and the like.

"Aye? Yer the one trom the expedition. Come in, 'ave a seat. We can give you a drink if you need, the trip here was no doubt harrowing." She motioned to one of two fine wooden chairs before the desk, nice and coushined for a relaxing sit.