Call To The Homelands [5e] IC

[Gluteus_Maximus]

We start this story after the end. An elder dwarf sits at a table, telling a tale to all the youngsters: The tale of the nine dwarves of Weasel Tunnel Grove. "I' all st'rted from a letter tha arrived in the grove by 'n animal mess'nger, a mole, bein' so good at diggin'. It called those of age to Deepmountain, and you may be wondering: 'This tale be called the tale of the nine dwarves, but surely there were not only nine of age in the grove at this time?' ye be right. Thar were more th'n f'rty others with 'em, including tha des'gnated elder Oloric Steelfist."

Now we return to the beginning. Finishing up packing your essentials, you have some time to mess around in the grove. You won't be back for some time, so may as well enjoy it.

[samduke]

Ayris Walking over to the tavern to enjoy a drink, warm meal and try to play a few games of chance or darts. Where she had a chance at making some extra coin off the locals. when she received a letter of summons. it said to come to Weasel Tunnel Grove to help with a great task to travel to Deepmountain with several other mountain dwarves. so she hurried to Weasel Tunnel Grove to meet with steelfist

[Diceomancer]

Orsik stared pensively at the letter. "Wha's got a knot is his beard?" Was his reaction upon first reading the letter. He had been among humans and elves before, and while they were in dire need of some stronger ale, good times could still be had in their company. The more he read the letter, the more concerned he got. This "situation" that required the whole clan and secrecy from both humans and elves, it all sounded a bit ominous.

Orsik decided he could either sit here wondering about it or he could try to find out more. Someone in the village probably knew something. He made sure his possessions were packed, then set out to the tavern to ask the barkeep if he knew anything or knew who might.

[lukitux]

Theryll woke up abruptly in a room at the inn, nightmares of Dragonfire and Demonic Armies destroying his home still plagued him months later. When he saw the letter, he quickly pulled himself together and took a moment to contemplate it. This was clearly more than a simple trip to pay respects, as it was cryptic and had to be kept hidden. If the treacherous and greedy humans and the Elves with their illusions and dishonorable magics were specifically mentioned, then this meeting was probably about something relating to the kingdoms outside Dwarven lands.

He cleaned himself up, putting on his regal-looking clothes and packing up his belongings. He donned a thick hide travelling coat, to protect him from the elements and blows that his shield-magic could not deflect. He needed to get some better armor, the suits of armor that he had forged to defend himself having been destroyed in the battle.

Theryll left his room at the inn, and looked for a chance to talk to Elder Steelfist discreetly, about what he saw in the letter. "Honored Elder Steelfist, may I have a moment of your time to discuss this letter. While I am fully confident in the leadership and decisions of you and the other Elders, as an Arcanist and Tactician, any information about the threats we will be facing would help me prepare my magic to face them. I only ask for information that would not compromise our people's security so if I should not know more I will understand that, especially since I am somewhat new to this settlement"

[MintyNinja]

The message had arrived earlier in the day, but Vandrin still hadn't packed. He stood in front of his bookcase, stroking the braids in his beard as he looked over the treasures there. Histories, journals, texts, and so many other books that he had only read once or twice. If he were to go to Deepmountain with the rest of the dwarves, he'd need to bring at least one of these to read again. The blue-dyed leather-bound tome under his other arm was already decided on. Yes, the road would be dangerous and what little of the Arcane he'd been able to puzzle out could very well be welcome. That errant thought brought his attention back to the book of lore that was currently his top choice from the shelf. It discussed many wild stories of monsters and magic, but he couldn't always tell what was real and what was fiction. Griffons? Very much real. Leviathans from under the sea that subsisted entirely on the tiniest of morsels, eaten through bristles, no less? Those "whales" must have been dreamed up by a child! But maybe the stories would prepare him for whatever he did not already expect out there. Yes, that mental agility would be worth more than knowing how many soldiers died in a battle hundreds of years past. He plucked the book from the shelf and went about the rest of his preparations.

Hours later he found that most of his belongings fit into his backpack and that he didn't own much in the way of traveling gear. He would have to stick to some others and hope to earn or pay for whatever else he lacked. Vandrin also found that his home and office felt oddly quiet, as if he had already left days ago but was just now remembering it. The candles were snuffed, the perishables packed, and the furniture tidied. It was unsettling. With that anxious feeling in his fingers he locked the door behind himself as he trudged off to the tavern. It would be best to be around other dwarves for now, he reasoned.

He crossed paths with Theryll ShieldShield outside the tavern, but merely nodded as the two of them went their separate ways. Inside he took a seat at the bar, a mug of ale, and plate of sausages. During a slow moment he asked the innkeeper, "D'ya happen to know when we might be headin' to Deepmountain? I've closed up shop, myself, but I'm glad you haven't."

[Rogue227]

It had been five years since Morgrim Dragonbane had left his home city, turning his back on the family he had brought – in his father's words – only 'shame and disgrace'. He did not expect a warm welcome on his eventual return to the Deepmountain capital. He felt, however, ready to finally face his past.

He stepped out into the street for his daily patrol. Where he went, everyone was preparing for the great journey. Usually, Morgrim would stop by and exchange a few words, but today he kept to himself. He took his time with his walk around the small settlement, as if to bid this place his farewells.

It might well be a while until he returned here.

[sandmote]

Rynselle packed as soon as she had a moment of spare time. Other than that, she worked as if she was possessed, in order to try to get as much done before leaving.

[Awful]

Therhouna had long had all her gear packed and ready to go, the muscled dwarf having bequeathed all but her utmost essential items to the remains of her clan.

She'd headed to the training grounds - time for one last spar with the guards who hadn't been selected on the expedition.

[Arzanyos]

Urist MacDagger was in a foul mood. He had spent the night in the temple, helping patch up a group of young dwarves with hardly as many braincells as years, who had fancied themselves master smiths. He hadn't even gotten to his bed when the letter showed up. After spending the next several hours packing and getting his house in order, he decided to pop down to the militia...place where he worked, and break out that stash of expensive beer he kept there. Elder's know it's better than the swill at the tavern, and besides, it'd probably be a long time before he'd get to drink it again.

[Vendarien]

Vendarien could not remember the last time he had been this excited. A Brunnbar asked to show his face at an event like this. Either he'd been doing better than he thought, or he missed something big in the 15 years he had been gone from home. In either case it was his duty to help the expedition in any way he could. The packing began light. A few essentials from the chandlery, and some travel clothes. Upon realizing his clansmen may be in attendance Vendarien knew hew could not arrive without some evidence of his accomplishments sense he had left home. After tearing his shop apart trying to pack everything he could it became apparent he had to make some tough decisions on what would go. He would have to settle for something more easily transportable. For his time at arms, he would need to speak with Theryll, about about honoring him with a tale to his family. As for the work he had done sense the injury, his research, and blue prints should do the trick. Who knows what interesting things he may get the chance to add to his notes along the way, plus if he was to be gone for a while it would keep them out of thieving hands if they where always on his person.

The workshop was once again throw into disarray as Vendarien searched for all the separate pages of his work. He had meant to speak with Vandrin about having them properly bound, but had not yet gotten around to it, and wonders if the scribe would be joining the expedition. He had to have some way to keep the papers safe in the meantime, so the anxious dwarf started stitching together a case for his writings. He toiled threw the night, unaware of the hour until it was almost too late. having just finished the satchel Vendarien makes sure all his work is safe and packed inside, cleans and oils his tools, and packs them with his gear, finally retrieving his favorite stein. A surveying look is cast around the disaster area that is his shop, knowing nothing can be done to fix it until he returns. With a shrug Vendarien locks up and rushes to the tavern, grin stretched ear to ear, hoping he can make it in time for a final drink before the excursion begins.

[Gluteus_Maximus]

(Since i'm not sure how I'd roleplay things for those of you who were just packing, or sparring with guards, etc., so I'll sideline those for now)

Those of you who went to see Oloric Steelfist:
He packs as he talks. The dwarf has a cloth eyepatch covering his right socket, a scar akin to a spear injury one might get from an Orc Eye's weapon. He packs books of tales, his own spears, ritual materials, and other doodads that he professes ward off evil spirits. Something he surely "learned" in orc captivity.

He responds to Theryll: "W'll be tryin' our best ta keep tha op'ration hidd'n," with a dark look on his braided bearded face, "An' innercep' any orcs 'r goblins in tha area. Aside from tha', we be avoidin' mass combat."

Those of you who went to the tavern:
The bartender stands off to the side of the bar polishing a stone golem while no one is ordering anything. It's his personal hobby, carving stone golems and getting someone to animate them. They're "nae" better than an animated armor or gargoyle, though.

He responds to Orsik: "Dinnae know fer sure. I dinnae keep up wit this sort a thing, which is why I be nae coming wit'. Me golems be better off nae on tha road."

He responds to Vandrin: "Late a' night. Tha cover 'a darkness be perfect, since tha humans cannae see in it. 'tis a serious matter, affer all."

[Diceomancer]

"Any idea who might be knowin' more?" Orsik asks. "Also, those sausages look good, I'll have a plate o' them."

[Gluteus_Maximus]

"Any idea who might be knowin' more?" Orsik asks. "Also, those sausages look good, I'll have a plate o' them."

He reluctantly moves away from the stone golem, an almost perfected work. He makes up a plate of sausages for Orsik, cracks a burrowbird egg over it, a dark brown egg of a bird similar to a duck in shape and meat, sizzling in the difference in temperatures. The rest of the bar is silent besides the storytelling elderly speaking to the children in the corner. After all, neither groups were going on the journey, and dwarven bars allow any age in.

[sandmote]

Rynselle wanders into the militia organizational building. "Anyone in here?"

[Arzanyos]

Urist looks up from his beer when he hears Rynselle's voice. Shuffling around to find a glass, or at least a second bottle, he responds. "Aye. There's at least two of us shirking our duties here."

[sandmote]

Seeing Urist pull out more booze, Rynselle shrugs. "I just finished getting information out of some of my, uh, sources, but if you're offering I wouldn't mind shirking a bit."

[Arzanyos]

Not finding a glass, Urist just chuckles and hands her a bottle. "Might as well. By the by, what do you think of this whole pilgrimage?"

[sandmote]

Rynselle takes the bottle, and a long drink. "I don't know what to think. I haven't gotten any information on it, and we're leaving everything here wide open to go find out more." As she speaks, she sorts out the paperwork she was carrying with her other hand.

[Diceomancer]

Orsik decides not to press the matter as he eats his breakfast, figuring that if the bartender didn't want to answer pressing probably would case aggravation. He instead turns to Vandrin "Been a while since I was in Deepmountain. How 'bout ye?"

[Arzanyos]

Urist shrugs this time. "That's always the way of it. It's not for us to question, but to experience. Although, I reckon Elder Stonefist knows more than he wrote us."