Garr -
As the sun crept reluctantly over the peaks on the horizon, the city of Korgarr came awake from a night of restful slumber. All nighters stumbled back to their homes, while artisans and mongers started about their daily routines. There was something in the chill air that suggested a change riding the winds; a change for the better. Something was happening in Garr, the results of which would shape the lives of its people forever. It was an optimistic morning, with the children playing and the workers smiling. Though as subtle as it were, the differences in that day from any other shone as bright as the largest torch. Things were happening, events were being set in motion, and order was restoring itself.
The King was to be decided that day, and such an occasion was monumentous for all citizens, no matter their age or creed. The Council of Nine, consisting of the oktar of the nine greatest Clans, was gathering in the Depths to make the decision that would shake the entire kingdom. There were those who were reluctant to see any joy in such happenings, but the society as a whole was eager to see who would become their new leader. The street talk was of current events; who would be the next King? Who would rise from the wake of the former King's death? Who would it be that would take up the mantle of responsibility and lead Garr forward after the monstrous attack? Everyone had their own opinions on who it should be, and why, and there were always those who would argue against whatever anyone else believed. But, that was to be expected. There would never be something that every single individual agreed on, and this event would not even come close to claiming such a trait. Nevertheless, it was quite the day...
Torches lit up the surreal dome of the Hall of Kings. Incense burned, and the scent drifted through the air, carried forth by a soft smoke; tendrils that weaved in and out of each other and seemed almost alive. Delfaen light and decorations adorned the roof, lending an almost ethereal quality to this, the meeting place of the Council of Nine. Below, the circle of podiums was alive with action of a different sort.
Drifkar Gat, the temporary King of Garr and oktar of Tuakmar, stood elevated at the head podium, looking slowly back and forth to the others. Those others were each situated behind podiums of their own, which were arranged in a circle with the King at the head. Restlessness could be felt within the air, an almost tangible thing that choked the veins and inspired adrenaline from the heart. There was a tension that could nigh be seen alive and brewing within the eyes of the oktar.
Four candidates had been chosen; the temporary King Drifkar Gat himself, Rah Kirsdraver of Ratruek, Goretne Teolors of Surok, and Arten Kurren of Kuret. Drifkar and Teolors both withdrew, and the attention was then set on Kirsdraver and Kurren. Drifkar, due to lack of confidence in his own abilities, and Teolors on the account of age. Kirsdraver was fierce in his conviction for the crown, whilst Kurren wanted only what was best for Garr. The debate had reached a standstill, and the room had gone ghostly silent.
Kirsdraver stood there, his brawny hands clutching his podium and his gaze alive in determination. Directly across from him, Kurren was position with his hands behind his back, matching the fiery gaze of his competitor. Finally, Kirsdraver called out to the others.
�And what if they return? What will you do then, without a King fit to head an army? Garr will be left to the wolves without me at its front! Follow the logical path, my comrades!�
�Enough of war, Rah Kirsdraver. Our great kingdom has been bathed in enough blood, and discussion of more shouldn't be held at current. That has nothing to do with the matter at hand,� Kurren said, his voice calm and steady. The two were a stark contrast to the other. Kirsdraver was sure of his total legitimacy in the aftermath of an attack that ravaged the kingdom, and Kurren was indifferent. Kurren believed that only through connection with the other races and their own nations could Garr rebuild as adequately as need required. Kirsdraver, though, wanted nothing more than to double the military, and set all concentration on it. He was certain that there was dire need.
�And what will you do when Garr is attacked again, and Korresh or Tahnn, or any others fail to come to our aid? What will you do when we do not have the strength to fight!�
�Our strength is fair, and our potential connections loyal. Calm your voice, Kirsdraver, or hold your tongue. This is a civil matter, not one of anger.� Kurren had matched every comment, and for the most part, the other oktar had agreed wholeheartedly.
Kurren's mind was alive beneath his mild and mannered exterior. He knew the direction that the debate was turning, and he knew also that after a long night, a decision would soon be made. What would he do, were the kingship placed in his hands? Something deep within told him that he would be fit to handle it, but self doubt was still a demon that taunted his thoughts.
Zilgarr had been completely wiped out, and a third of the army destroyed. Not to mention handfuls of scattered settlements in the north. It had been an awakening, one that Kirsdraver was trying his hardest to use to his advantage. It had almost worked, but a few of the oktar were unsure of him, and had argued on behalf of Kurren in several subjects. Kurren was about to think of the effects of Kirsdraver's potential kingship, when Drifkar spoke up.
�It is done. There need be no more discussion on this. I feel that the Councilors have come to their decisions. Is there he here who hasn't?�
There was no answer from the oktar.
�Then it is settled...� Drifkar paused, his heart thumping wildly in anticipation. He could feel the odd excitement boiling in his blood. �He here who would vote on Rah Kirsdraver, please make yourself known.�
Hands were raised.
�And those on the choice of Arten Kurren, please make yourself known,� and as he said this, Drifkar raised his hand, along with several others. There was a few seconds of silence, and Drifkar continued.
�So be it.�
Drifkar stepped down from the podium, and walked around the circle. He dropped to a knee, and bowed his head.
�Great King, to you I forever pledge my allegiance.�
A messenger boy bounced up and down impatiently on the elevator as it came closer to reached the landing at the Heights. He kept yelling at the device to go faster, but time seemed to just stretch away into a nervous oblivion. When finally it halted, he dashed outside, and let his feet carry him up the steps of the ramp that had been set up the day prior.
He reached the edge, and cupped his hands around his mouth. All around him, for as far as he could see, there were dwarves, all waiting for that one bit of news. They all had their eyes on him, all were hanging on the words that would let loose from his lips.
He took a deep breath, and called out in his loudest voice:
"Arten Kurren is the new King!�
The High Reaches came alive in cheer.
Well, folks, let your ol' pal Dashorek tell ye' some news of our fair, noble, and unjustly just town. Or city, or something.There be new comers, I'll tell ya', and I'm not so sure they be bringin' good things neither...
Firstly ye've got yourself some sort of crazy human lad who's always bein' followed around by rats. Ah! I haven't the slightest why, so don't ask me. It's a little creepy, if ya' ask me...
And a child has gone missing. Small in stature, carries around a little blue and purple doll with him. What's with the doll? I dunno'... But I hear there be some sort of reward for his safe return.
Minotaur, haven't seen one o' those in a good while. One came into town just a lil' while ago, though. Lookin' for some sort of treasure or somethin'. Who knows. Ya' never can tell with lowlanders these days.
Oh! An' there's that fellow with the flute, too. I been hearin' he's a music lover. We'll see how that turns out.
Ahhh, and a nice hearty dose of Garr-wide news for ya', have I as well. If ya' haven't heard, ye've been hidin' under a rock... But, the King has been decided, and if it isn' Kurren, aye I'll tell ya'. Crazy stuff, crazy stuff.
"The depths you say?" says Kariga, the owner of a well to do tavern in the area. "The depths of Korgarr, subterranean land of the Delfae. Wars are ending, and threats sifting away; the Depths are calming. The opening of a grand new epicentre of learning has been announced, and it's time to celebrate the Voyage of Enlightenment, or VoE, as it is accepting it�s first students.
"A titbit of personal enlightenment, if you will - The VoE has replaced two previous establishments - the halls of study and the path of dawn � joining them in a harmonious union. Students of mental magic and sorcery are flocking to this palace of study, as there is something for everyone to learn here. So in my mind the VoE is great, more students mean more patrons.
"Locally, the mines are doing well, and the Delfae in the fungus market are prosperous; friendly businesses always are. Apprentices are everywhere; masters are in demand.
"Not all is happy in the depths, there was a loss at the end of the short undead conflict, and some are hurting deeply. Magical resonance can be damaging, especially to small unsuspecting Delfae.
"There are more Delfae in the depths yet, but also some who choose to leave the comfort or turmoil of the dark passages for the light of the sun. It is said that a party of dwarves and a few young Delfae have travelled out of the Depths. Good luck and Dargotten bless any Delfae who venture there. I saw the sun once, it was too rough on my eyes, and I travelled right back down to my cosy tavern, and here I am still.
"That�s all the news I can think of down around here. Take care travellers! Look me up if you�re ever in need of lodging in the Depths!" Kaiga finished, heading off at the insistence for ale.
Dirgarr seems to have been forgotten.
The hooded figure merely beckons, and points to the stone bowl. It is filled with what looks like muddy water, but images swirl in its murky depths. Momentarily, the water clears, and Dargotten�s eye gives an eerie cast to the snowfields as more snow falls, idly drifting hither and thither in the light wind. A single line of tracks disappears into the snow-laden trees, and the edges of the deep indentations blur as the flakes begin to fill them�
A swirl of darkness, then a pool, despite the bitter cold, remains unfrozen; which is curious enough in itself, without the group which surrounds it. The shadows clear a little and a tall, horned figure is seen heaving on a rope, which vanishes below the water. The blocky shape of a dwarf can be seen almost dancing up and down in excitement, and a human male plunges into the freezing waters of the pool, to submerge himself. As the mists begin to close again a tall, thin figure can be seen, crouched over a large bundle on the floor�
Another pool, another group. A dwarf and a delfae stare at the body of a second delfae as it floats towards them across the water, but we cannot see what significance this may have...
In a cave in the mountains sits a woman, a magic user by the look of the tiny creatures that come at her bidding. Near her stands�no, it cannot be! A S�stiss, by the gods! How extraordinary that one of the cold ones should be here, in the snows. Truly a night of surprises�
There is a momentary blurring, and the S�stiss reappears, no, wait! This is another! See, the markings are different, and this one travels with many dwarves. Suddenly, there is much confusion; some climb the walls to grasp tightly at knobs and handholds. Why should this be? The water darkens and the hooded figure gently tips the water onto the snowy ground.
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