"We could use the same sword. That would be the most accurate way to recreate the event. I wouldn't have to actually change the weapon either, just take it apart and put it back together."
Heff has been silent, pulling at this goatee, but clearly listening. As Toramin glances at him, he can tell that Heff is pale, and his movement seem to pain him, as if he is injured. "I agree that having him checked out by somebody who specializes in these things would be a good idea. It's never a bad idea to learn more. The only question, should we offer it to Bjorkus, or order it of him?"
Krokar grimaces. "I'd prefer the former, but I understand the necessity. Toramin, would you bring up the idea to him? If he remains reluctant, I will order it, however unpleasant he believes it. We won't hold people against their will, but you raise a good point about making sure our field agents are not a danger or liability to his other agents."
~The Grand Tour Day 18~
After eating his dinner in silence, Bjorkus spends some time working on his scrimshaw. For a moment it looks like he might say something to Coralla but instead he rolls over, tucks into his bedroll, and goes to sleep.
"Gladly. I will tell him that a healer is coming to make certain that the Kuthite did not do long term damage to his mind or spirit. Perhaps this is a moment of simple depression that will improve in time. But that priest of the shadow god might have done something to him more damaging than cutting, and we owe Bjorkus to find out if that is the case."
Toramin will search for Bjorkus until he finds him.
"Bjorkus, I have not seen you for several days. Are you well? There is a healer coming to examine you to make sure that the Kuthite did not interfere with your mind or spirit when he was torturing you."
Toramin compliments Victkor's fighting prowess and respectable healing skills over dinner.
At the end Liamsho is frowning. "That is a very expected result of that spell. It appears that the force will not reveal itself under the same circumstances. I appreciate your time Bjorkus, I will continue to contemplate this matter. You may go if you wish, or stay if you wish. I have a pot of tea almost done if you're interested."
~The Grand Tour Day 18~
Viktor gives a smile and a clap on Toramin's shoulder. "I did much healing today, but you and Bjorkus were the ones slaying those undead. I only did damage control. I daresay you might have saved my life on this trip, although I've never attracted such trouble before on such a short trip."
"It there trouble? A big fight maybe?" he says a bit more hopefully. "Tell me one of those slave-princes Yix was talkin' about is makin' a move."
"I don't believe that is an accident. Not to sound crazy, but I think that there is something or someone who would prefer I did not make it home. Though the giant was more flash than substance, you would have easily defeated him."
~~~~~Grand Tour, Day 18~~~~~
Rilka is curled up in a blanket, making notes about the day. ”Well,” she says as she puts her pencil down, ”that’s an end to today. If there is a person behind our travails, hopefully he realizes it’s a waste of time. G’night.”
~The Grand Tour Day 18~
"Hmm." Viktor pulls at his beard as he stokes the fire. "Not unheard of. The giant was more interested in you than the rest of us. Giants have more hatred for dwarves than other races." He smiles. "Probably, although with backup it would have been a harder fight. Thanks be to Erastil it was not a frost giant."
"I am unaware of any slaver activity. I'm worried -- as I just said -- about what the Kuthite did to you. A healer is coming to examine you to make sure he did not leave any nasty surprises, like that blood curse."
Toramin nods to Liamsho careful to not let his amusement about the man's extravagant look show on his face.
It has a citrus taste to it, with hints of orange, apple, lemon, tangerine, and lime. Beyond that it seems very natural.
"Dalton's magic put me together well enough", he explains while touching the ragged scar running across his abdominals where Targ had nearly gutted him thoughtfully. "But I can't say I know everything that bastard did to me while I was down there... If one of the healers wants to take a look he can knock himself out. I still don't like 'em - bunch of cowards."
Toramin settles into to drink his delicious tea and wait for the healer Heff had mentioned.
After Bjorkus gets through his cup, his eyes are dilated and he seems relaxed. Liamsho floats to his feet. "Good. It is time to begin. Bjorkus, why don't you lay back for a minute and relax. You look like you may appreciate some sleep."
Toramin frowns slightly when Bjorkus goes under, but the dwarf had arrived late and since Bjorkus did not seem afraid of Liamsho, assumed that the two had discussed this before he arrived. However, he focuses on Liamsho's actions, watching for anything untoward.
At the end he places a gaunt hand on Bjorkus. A thin, nearly invisible thread flows from each of their temples, down to their hands and connect the two. For half a minute the two sit in silence, then Liamsho's body spasms and his muscles tighten up instantly, causing his body to go rigid. His grasp remains tight on Bjorkus's wrist, white knuckled as his eyes roll up in his head. But after a few seconds of these spasms he collapses and the thread breaks.
Liamsho gets up, his face for once showing an emotion: shock. "That...was unexpected. The spell should have only shared the memory with me, but it also transferred the mental and physical state to me." His limbs shake, and he sits down, placing a glowing hand on himself and steadying. He remains silent for an hour until Bjorkus wakes, coming down from his drug-induced state.
"Some sort of spellcaster was waiting for a powerful spell to be cast involving Bjorkus, somebody or something far more powerful than I. It needed the thread of magic to hijack in order to contact him. But it's nature was strange, the nature of the spellcaster, and the message became distorted. Whatever it was, it was in great pain and distress, and it wanted to guide Bjorkus to help it, and to help the world. I am afraid that is all the detail I have at the moment."
Toramin had seen potent divinations performed before and he knew that details faded or were distorted as time passed. He pulls out a piece of parchment and begins asking questions, much like he had once done for his mother.
"How powerful was your spell? Do you think it will try to hijack all spells that target him of sufficient potency? Does it change the nature of such spells or merely relay information? What was the nature of its pain? Its distress? Could you discern a connection between it and Bjorkus?"
"You're sayin' that vision when you remade Targ's sword was a cry for help from some kinda powerful mage - more powerful that you?" Bjorkus snorts and shakes his head. "I'm not even gunna pretend that makes any sense. And if they're so soddin' powerful why'd they call out for me. What in the nine Hells would they want from me? I'm nothin'. This has gotta be a f$++ing joke", the bull says with rising anger. "This has gotta be a Aestherics trick. Krokar or Heff put you up to this didn't they? Tell me the f*!%ing truth!"
He turns to Bjorkus. "A powerful spellcaster, not necessarily a mage. Many magical creatures and outsiders are also known to cast spells, and the nature of the entity makes me doubt it was humanoid. It was far above my level of power, perhaps even above the level of Alia." He looks at Bjorkus in silence for a moment. "Beyond your help in some form, I would not know what it wants. I assure you this is not a joke. Whatever it is is indeed powerful, but perhaps somehow imprisoned, or otherwise incapable of imposing its will upon the world directly."
Liamsho, do you think you could establish direct contact with this power through a divination? My mother has cast her thoughts on to other planes and my grandmother has spoken with her goddess. If it hijacks spells, and the nature of the spell is one of communication and communion, could that improve our knowledge?"
"Yes, the language was draconic. While the dragons are long dead or gone, the language itself is far from it. It is an ancient language that holds much power."
Liamsho stares off for a moment before answering Toramin. "I could try. That theory seems to have grounds in reality. Perhaps a scrying or sending spell."
"I don't wanna hear anymore. You got the soddin' answer you wanted. I'm done with this", he growls as he storms out.
Toramin sighs.
"Terror would also seem a reasonable reaction. But, Bjorkus has been acting erratically since he was tortured by that priest of shadows. I hope that a healer can help him. That this is just the aftereffects of someone interfering with his spirit and mind. Krokar worries that it is a self-esteem issue. Bjorkus has a melancholic disposition. He tends to focus on the bad, forgetting or letting that pervert the good. I've heard he has been spoiling for a fight. As if that would magically solve all his problems. As if life were so simple. I worry he might be trying to get himself killed. But speculation is pointless when knowledge can be attained. Hopefully, the healer will know more."
"You find what you look for in this world. If you seek despair, you will find it. If you look for violence, you will find it. Bjorkus is poorly educated, but not stupid. And he has a strong connection to humanity. I do not believe he searches for violence, I believe he searches for a sign that his life and actions have meaning. He did not cast down Targ. He did not cast down Acera. Perhaps that is effecting him."
"But as you say, speculation is only worth so much. I am a skilled healer, but there are some more qualified than I at the Aestheric's disposal to handle this matter. However he did not sound as if he liked the idea, perhaps you should go convince him that seeking help will be a good thing."
He stands, taking the cup from Toramin, cold and gaunt hands brushing his for a brief moment. "I hope you enjoyed the tea. Is there anything else you would like to discuss while you are here?"
I have little patience for his belly-aching about Targ and Acera. He might not have killed Targ, but he bought Gabe the time he needed. He might not have thrown down Acera, but his magic gave me the edge I needed to see the thing done. He would rather focus on what he did not do than what he did."
Toramin notes Liamsho's poor circulation, but is unfazed. The rigors of magic and the touch of the gods changed a person. He was turning to stone. Liamsho had one foot in the grave. As a child, the uncanny had been the standard. People beyond the halls of the Trealamhgabha seemed to get more worked up about such things. And Liamsho seemed to enjoy making a show of it.
Liamsho's question took him by surprise. He had never really spoken to the man and did not know what they would discuss beyond shared projects.
"Nothing that springs immediately to mind. Thank you for your tea and patience."
Toramin bows respectfully and if Liamsho says nothing else will turn to leave. He still had a bull to wrangle and would not rest until a healer had examined Bjorkus.
"That is a wise viewing of the events, and I agree with that perspective. Perhaps he does not though. Perhaps you may...try to convince him?"
He gives a deep bow. "It was my pleasure. Please feel free to visit again." He goes back to his meditating.
Which is Heff's problem. . . ultimately he cares more for abstractions than people. And that is the danger I face as well.
"Some might call me cruel, but if so I am cruel in the way that winter is cruel. There is no necessary virtue in suffering, but neither is there virtue in mercy which allows for greater losses. Ultimately, we all must do what we believe is best. And one day all will be called to give an account.
Is not that what your faith teaches? Though the afterlife must be a confused place. I have read that the ancient desert had two death gods, the giants have theirs, the orcs have theirs, we dwarves have Magrim, who knows how many others there are. Death it seems is a crowded market."
He shifts infinitesimally slightly in his position. "A paladin who is called cruel? Interesting. But pragmatic, and aware of the consequences of one's actions."
"All are judged equally in the Boneyard and their fate is decided, their plane for them to live by decided for eternity." He looks up. "Death is the most crowded market, for all face it but the gods themselves. And even with them there are exceptions."
Bjorkus snorts and shakes his horned head. ”Hungover”, he admits as he takes the offered seat. ”And angry.”
The bull studies the pale woman, watching her for a reaction to his admissions. ”What’s your name? You with the Aestherics?”
The final leg of the journey is uneventful. The four hours are within a day's travel of Dağın Kalp, and free of any creatures or beings that may threaten the party elsewhere. Finally, they see the entrance to Dağın Kalp, a door of immense proportions. Two dwarves in stoneplate with massive axes stand at the front gate. Once Toramin vouches for the party, they step aside and bang the hafts of their axes on the ground, and with a quiet whoosh the doors slowly swing open.
The entry cave is majestic and massive. Pillars of immense proportions hold p the cave, sloping down into a calm lake beneath. The walls are carved to be vantage points for archers and mages with cover, while the constant walking uphill and across bridges is set to be collapsible. One wonders how it would even be possible to attack such a city with this gauntlet set up at the entrance, even if you could get an army inside.
The party passes the entrance cave and finally reaches the beginning of Dağın Kalp, a massive and beautiful city full of pillars and bridges and activity. The multiple levels are filled with activity, dwarves having a strong presence at over 90% of the population but smatterings of other races are seen as well. The echoes of the massive caves are filled with talk and mirth and roars and laughter as the city bustles about in midday. At this point Viktor clears his throat. "This is where I leave you lads. It was an honor traveling with you, I wish you all the best of luck." After receiving his payment and giving some farewells, he walks off into the city.
The party passes through the hall of ancestors, the most sacred place in the city. It was the first series of caves dug out, and it is where dwarves go to rest when they die. Solemn priests walk about quietly in these halls.
They also pass through the more developed halls where every bit of the structure was carved out. All of the areas are lit by a combination of fire and natural sunlight, with a few scatterings of magical light. One of them is the council chambers, where the Voices in the Stone meet.
The grandeur of the city is breathtaking. An hour spent walking through the city and only a fraction of it has been seen. Some of the parts of the city seem entirely different worlds than the other parts. Yet Toramin leads on confidently.
Truly a marvel!
Dalton was amazed by the scale and thought that went into the metropolis. It felt fortified without being tight, spacious yet cozy in the bitter cold wastelands. I can see why they keep to themselves. It wasn't that you didn't have to leave the place, but rather even if you tried, it might take you a week - most of the city went unobserved by them in their first hour or so.
Bidding their guide farewell, Dalton frowned. We will need another such person to lead us back!.. but let's hope that's not for a while.
"Toramin, one could spend a month here and not even have the slightest hint of boredom. Tell me again - whatever made you want to leave?"
Dalton knew his heritage was mixed elven, but he began to wish it had been of the stouter race.
”I’m angry at Krokar and Heff for treatin’ me and everyone else like soddin’ tools. I’m angry at the Aestherics for lyin’ to Akropash about what I am and what I did to help bring down Targ and Acera. I’m angry with Raul for havin’ more sense than pride and not givin’ me the fight I know we both wanted. Worst of all I’m angry at myself: for bein’ a fool and letting myself be used by Heff and his kind; for bein’ too weak to be the hero they want me to be; for bein’ too weak to stop Raul from draggin’ me into Targ’s dungeon in the first place.”
Bjorkus snorts, nearly in a rage now. ”That’s why I’m f#+$ing angry.”
Bjorkus marvels in his own way, silently impressed by the scope and detail of the massive dwarven architecture. It served to make him feel tiny and meaningless, a spiritual experience for some no doubt, but for the bull it was an uncomfortable sensation that he’d become too familiar with in the past few weeks. He half-heartedly keeps an eye out for anyone that might be a bit too interested in their tour.
Lilith,
I want you to do a mental evaluation of
Bjorkus. Something deep is troubling him
and I want to know how we can help. He is
a good Aestheric and a good man and I hate
to see him suffer. Try to find the root
of the problem and see if you can help.
Krokar
Lilith nods with Bjorkus, listening intently. "So are you angry at the lies in themselves, or that you feel they are doing something malicious?"
"Yes, I'm told you had a confrontation with Raul, although you seem to have a preconceived notion of him and what he wants. Do you think you understand every piece of this man and what he wants out of life?"
She crosses her legs. "Would you rather be aware of what the people in charge of you are doing, would that help to settle your mind?"
"Being too weak. There are different kinds of strength, yet in both of yours it seems to be a physical kind. Is that the depth of it, you want to be physically stronger?"
Toramin eagerly points out the sights of Dağın Kalp.
"Remember the first story I told at Marble Cliffs? You must see the Yemin Merdiven"
The spiral of stairs is truly titanic reaching up further than would would imagine possible to a great eye in the vast distance.
"The Yemin Merdiven extends beyond the mountain's caldera into a spire that pierces the clouds. There is an observatory at the top of the spire. I have never seen stars like the ones I have seen from there."
The observant notice runes running up the winding course of the Yemin Merdiven.
"I left because Sir Geoffrey has friends even in Dağın Kalp, Dalton. He needed an advisor on technology for the Xilres War. I was the Trealamhgabha who knew the most and would be missed the least. Ianna, my next younger sister, was not best pleased by this decision. It is for her sake that I have returned now. Hers and the missing letters."
But where are my manners? Everyone must be tired from the trip. Let's go to the clan hold of the Trealamhgabha. I'll introduce you to my mother, who will be pleased that I've made friends in the two months I've been gone from home."
He leads the way using the Yemin Merdiven to ascend higher into the mountain. After about an hour's walk he breaks off down a passage that leads passed shops and workshops filled with all manner of curious devices. At the end of this passage is another massive door.
Toramin touches several of the gears and the door swings open, revealing the entry way of a tasteful but extremely well appointed dwarven mansion.
An attendant bustles out to meet the party and is greeted by name.
"Djore, these are my companions: Master Dalton, Mistress Rilka, Bjorkus, and Coralla. Can you please see that four guest rooms are made ready for their use? Also, can you have my grandmother and mother informed that I have returned? Do you know where Ianna is? I desperately need to see her."
Djore gives a bow. "Of course Master Toramin. I will have the beds made, and inform them myself." He gives a nervous glance and tugs at his beard at mention of Ianna. "Perhaps you should speak to your mother and grandmother on the matter."
Lilith nods with Bjorkus, listening intently. "So are you angry at the lies in themselves, or that you feel they are doing something malicious?"
”Both? I don’t soddin’ know”, the half-minotaur grumbles. ”It’s not uncommon for pirates to spin tall tales ‘bout their accomplishments to build themselves up in piratin’ circles. I’m sure there’s some goin’ around about me before I even got to Akropash but those were at least kinda true. Knowin’ I could back the stories up made ‘em true enough in a way. The s#!* people are sayin’ bout me in Akropash are all false and nothin’ I do makes ‘em truer for me. I want to feel like the hero they want me to be.”
"Yes, I'm told you had a confrontation with Raul, although you seem to have a preconceived notion of him and what he wants. Do you think you understand every piece of this man and what he wants out of life?"
”Don’t let that dog fool you like he’s fooled everyone else. He wants to clear the air just as much as me, he’s just a better liar than I am. I don’t claim to know everything about him and I don’t want to. I know enough to know he’s a scumbag that deserves whatever punishment he’s got comin’ his way. I just wanted a few rounds with him before he’s taken away for good.” Bjorkus shrugs. ”I figured they’d owed me as much.”
She crosses her legs. "Would you rather be aware of what the people in charge of you are doing, would that help to settle your mind?"
”I don’t think so. I don’t think Heff and his kind could tell me the truth even if they wanted to. Knowin’ more would just make me distrust ‘em even more.”
"Being too weak. There are different kinds of strength, yet in both of yours it seems to be a physical kind. Is that the depth of it, you want to be physically stronger?"
The bull laughs darkly. ”Yeah. I wanna be strong enough to crush whatever next tyrant, witch-made monster, or goon of theirs that comes my way. I wanna to be strong enough to be whatever it is I'm supposed to be. I want to be strong enough to feel like I have some control in my soddin' life again.”
"Thank you, Djore. I will go to me rooms and make myself presentable. Where do you think that they will be?"
After receiving his answer, Toramin will retire to his rooms to refreshen up. His rooms like the rest of the manse were elegant, almost minimal, and very expensive. He removes his armor, cleans it and Talev's Legacy while a bath is run.
Before he began to petrify, Toramin would have brushed out and oiled his beard, but the individual strands had also turned to stone. They were still mobile, but they needed no oil. The basalt dwarf finally lowers himself into the steaming bath and relaxes.
I'm home. Soon I will see my family. No giants to slay. No necromancer to throw down into ruin. No spying. While there are some who do not love me here, there are more who do. Whatever Ianna's troubles are, they can be fixed. I'll ask her to travel with me, to see the world. I've missed her so much these past months.
Toramin is an efficient bather, and soon the bath is done. He dresses in a white tunic and arctic fox fur lined robe.
Mother first. Then Grandmother.
He then sets out to find his mother.
"I have never spoken to Raul, I have only heard of him. My only observation is that we often create symbols in order to have structure and meaning in our life, and sometimes that comes in the form of demonizing others. Did Raul not help you bring down Acera, and then turn himself in quietly afterwards? People also can change. I am not saying that I understand Raul's motives, I am simply stating that it is easy to misread people, and that people can also change."
"I believe everybody is capable of telling the truth. Some live their lives surrounded by lies, but even most lies have seeds of truth to them. So if being lied to makes you distrust them, and being told the truth only makes it worse, what would you suggest as a way to fix the angst between yourself and the council?"
"Hmm. You started speaking of physical actions, but then you spoke of your life and destiny. Would you entertain that the strength you seek is not only physical in nature?"
Djore bows again. "They are both in the dining hall, having their midday meal."
"Mhmm, so lying in itself you're not adverse to, but you feel as if unrealistic expectations have been set for you? Perhaps that you have been made out to be more than you are actually capable of? Or is it that you believe you are weaker now than you were before, and that you should be able to live up to these expectations?"
He matches her gaze and then grunts and nods.
"I have never spoken to Raul, I have only heard of him. My only observation is that we often create symbols in order to have structure and meaning in our life, and sometimes that comes in the form of demonizing others. Did Raul not help you bring down Acera, and then turn himself in quietly afterwards? People also can change. I am not saying that I understand Raul's motives, I am simply stating that it is easy to misread people, and that people can also change."
”People can change but I don’t believe for a second Raul’s one of ‘em. If he was, he’d be lookin’ to make things right with me too. No, he’s just tryin’ to play the Aestherics.”
"I believe everybody is capable of telling the truth. Some live their lives surrounded by lies, but even most lies have seeds of truth to them. So if being lied to makes you distrust them, and being told the truth only makes it worse, what would you suggest as a way to fix the angst between yourself and the council?"
”You think I should give the Council a chance? How ‘bout they do one thing for me in good faith without makin’ me beg for it? I’ve humiliated myself for them. I’ve bled and nearly died for them. I trekked across the soddin’ desert, acted like a slave, and got thrown in a f%&%ing dungeon for them. You think I should trust them: How about next time I ask for help from one of their spellcasters they give it up without takin’ every coin from my purse or take my side instead of backin’ the soddin’ werewolf that was responsible for keeping a tyrant in power.”
"Hmm. You started speaking of physical actions, but then you spoke of your life and destiny. Would you entertain that the strength you seek is not only physical in nature?”
”Sure, whatever. I want whatever it’s gunna take to make things right again.”
Bjorkus follows Toramin’s servant through the underground mansion, observing passively the opulence that the dwarf had grown up in. He wonders briefly how hard it’d been for him to be away from such comforts for so long and he finds himself mirroring Dalton’s earlier sentiment – Why would anyone leave this? The bull gives a wordless grunt of thanks when they arrive at the guest quarters and, after Coralla’s let into hers, steps inside his own. The space was decorated much like the rest of the mansion – all clean polished stone with inlays of precious metals. The bull strips out of his cold weather gear and packs it away, confident it won’t be needed for a while. The air in Dağın Kalp was cool but compared to the outdoors it was downright balmy.