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Post by Aldacer on Jan 16, 2017 6:47:48 GMT
 Location: Idmidium - Inner Market Word would spread like wildfire. Decades had passed, perhaps centuries, since dwarves of Idmidium and the mightier kingdoms had been seen. Much less since they had been engaged in open foreign trade. But a mysterious messenger, some say a dwarven Lady, had been appearing in towns all over. None were quite sure how she got where she was going so fast. Some say ancient magic. Others tunnels under the ground or stone-magic. The real answer was, as if often the case, something not quite any of those and somewhere in between. Every major city, principality, and respectable organization would be visited by a team, lead by this mysterious woman. Stormwall would recognize her locket as bearing the same crest as Aldacers helm, for it was his wife, who was Head of the Merchants Guild for Idmidium, and one of the most powerful dwarves in the Kingdom. Each visitor was given a sealed and embossed letter containing directions to Idmidium from her and her associates, and promising wonders and delights. As each one approached, they would be stopped to be checked for papers, their goods inspected. But most of them would be distracted. The inspections were done by constructs with eyes of cobalt and jet, bodies of burnished bronze and dragon ivory. Above the top most tower hovered a sight never seen before, a small flotilla of what looked like ships or boats, but they simply hovered. After each inspection, they were assigned a young (for a dwarf) guide or escort, and shown to the area of the market inside the entrance wherein what they sought could be found, or where those who sought what they had might be. The insides of the carven were carven vaulted ceilings hundreds of feet high strung with glowing crystal lamps and chased with quartz veins left naturally. Though obviously declined in splendor from the days gone past, Idmidium was perhaps ina revival, and almost any sort of stone, metal, or war craft could be found, from swords to ornamental jewelry to armor and wrought iron lampstands. The North had awoken, and Aldacer stood next to a sort of building off to the side, waiting and watching. Hoping some might see the temple of Irodil and pay their respects, or come with a curious and open mind to the house of his Lord. Or even recognize him and say a greeting.
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Post by Stormwall on Jan 17, 2017 3:15:29 GMT
" Aldacer! Well met!" Stormwall's voice tended to carry, and he stood head and shoulders above the tallest foreigners in attendance. The dwarves barely came up to his back. Nevertheless, it took him some effort to get through the crowd, whose focus rested completely and utterly upon dwarven crafts. He couldn't blame them. He'd advised Ashdell's metalworking guilds against sending samples of their wares. Ashdell's tinsmiths and pewterers could turn out some beautiful and functional objects, enough to make a killing in Mystmarch far to the west, but here their work would be considered juvenile. No, the caravan he'd led here, via the mountain passes and the town of Hallenrul, carried other things entirely. Billets and blanks of wood from the enchanted forest; leatherwork and furs from the same source; finished woodwork from spoons to bedsteads; various trade goods from the uttermost West. The load comprised a respectable representation, despite Ashdell's defiantly unexceptional nature. Stormwall freed himself from the crowd. Aldacer might notice the bow he'd blessed, unstrung and tucked away in the centaur's saddle harness. "Well met," said Stormwall again, placing his forearm across his chest in a centaur's bow. "I hadn't thought to see you on the day the Dwarven Triangle opened its doors to commerce." That was the term others used, anyway, for the land between and around the three great dwarven strongholds: Idmidum, Pabila, and Copperhead. Enigmatic places, and rightly so. Had even the Mapheri Emperors known what strength and wealth the dwarves had here? Those flying ships alone...
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Post by Dilly on Jan 17, 2017 15:05:47 GMT
On the road to Idmidium
The man's voice echoed through the mountain pass. The rumbling of old, wooden wheels rolling over uneven, rocky roads provided the accompaniment. At the front of the rickety cart, an wizened gray magi held the bridle in one hand and a long-handled pipe in the other. In the back of the cart, a box of glass bottles jostled where they were held in a shabby box, lined with straw to cushion them. Stretched out across the floor of the cart, a young boy slept peacefully through the ride. His red complexion a stark contrast to the simple, unbleached tunic that he wore. The old man's singing stopped, as he squinted at shadows on the horizon. A bridge of cobbled stone marking the pass ahead, and guarded by dwarves. They were getting close now. The leader of the band stepped forward as the cart approached, addressing the driver by name. "Belgarid. Well met," the dwarven knight stated in polite greeting, before asking, "What brings you here this day?" The old man sucked on his pipe for a moment, as though considering the question. Finally, he reached up and removed the pipe. "Torba root, mostly. Though I'm hoping to find some wildvine at the market." The dwarves had not opened their markets in many years. This was an opportunity to stock up on medicines for Hallenrul. As such, the old magi had taken to the road after some time away from Idmidium. Pity, that, really. Once upon a time, he had journeyed in the company of Idmidium's paladins. Brave men, all of them. Especially those no longer with them. "Are we there yet?"The sound of hands, feet, and knees scraping against the wooden planks of the cart betrayed the awakening of his passenger. Rubbing at his eyes sleepily, the ruddy, horned boy hung his arms over the back of the driver's bench, resting his chin there as he looked around at the unfamiliar people and places. "Almost," the old magi answered, without paying the child much mind. The dwarven soldiers walked around to inspect the cart, though as could be expected to a cart from Hallenrul, there was not much to inspect. Tipping his pipe at the knight, the magi, too, addressed the man by name. "Ragnar, son of Lothar, give my regards to your father." The knight bowed his head, taking a step back to allow the cart to pass. "Good journey, Belgarid," the man offered. As the cart rolled on, over the bridge and down the road that would lead them to Idmidium's gates, the man watched as the cart with the boy riding atop slowly vanished into the misty mountain morning. "Tis a brave man who keeps company of a Tiefling on the road."
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Post by Aldacer on Jan 18, 2017 22:54:01 GMT
StormwallAldacers eyes widened a moment, then a genuine grin split his face. He couldn't reach up to clasp the centaur around the shoulder like he might, even at his impressive height for his people. Clad in simple grey and thread-of-silver piping, the robes of his order, which most wore in most cases, seemed ill-fitting for the warrior. Still, perhaps incongruously, he wore a well-aged leather sword belt around his waist, and a shield on a strap at his shoulders. And still the ancient Crown-Helm that he had found questing. The only things he knew about it were that it was from centuries before the Empire, and that it held a priceless gem cut with the emblem of Irodil. It might have been before the Venators were formed even, when the Irodilin priesthood ran an Empire. Regardless of height, he bowed similar to Stormwall, and inclined his head in further respect. What had transpired in the woods there with he and the other had forged a bond like little else but combat could. Honored, by the presence of his comrade, he motioned away from the crowd a bit and drew him to the side to speak better, his excitement obvious. "I had hoped Ashdell would send someone. I never thought to ask specifically for you, I figured you would be in your woods. But I am beyond pleased it was you that was sent. Tell me, what do you bring? My wife is Mistress of the Merchants here. I will provide the best introductions I can for a friend such as you. Then if you will, I would claim first look at your wares. The Venators have been training apprentices, and we do find ourselves in need of specialized materials for the arms and armors I would have them armed in. But you know of that plan from before, yes?"
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Post by Stormwall on Jan 19, 2017 2:28:58 GMT
AldacerThe agenda sounded intensely practical, all things considered. "Aye, it'll take the merchants long enough to set up that we've got plenty of time for introductions." Stormwall squinted across the hall, over the heads of the crowd. "Your wife is the dignitary who carried the invitation to Coalhurst? I had no idea she had that kind of responsibility. I'd love to meet the Mistress of Merchants. "By then the setup should be done, and you can claim your first look. I don't remember the specifics of your plan for the Venators, but the Sovereign Guilds have sent wares in variety. I don't doubt the caravan has something that would be of use to your people. The main thing that comes to mind is the load of wooden blanks and turned handles taken from the trees of the enchanted forest. I'm told it's a good and biddable material for an arcane crafter."
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Post by Elrid Acfream on Jan 20, 2017 2:33:36 GMT
It was not a long journey to Idmidium- all things considering. Acholt and the Dwarf-city were neighbors, more or less, and Elrid had been overjoyed when a mysterious invitation had arrived with directions and invitation. She had instantly called for a group of her kin and best woodworkers to assemble things to trade and they had set out, trade parcels slung on the sledges pulled by the great wolfhounds and carried in packs. That had been some time ago and now the journey was coming to a close. Walking at the front of the small band, with Gerafel on a tight leash, she was the first to come into view of the Dwarven guards at the entrance. She held out the papers- the invitation, her identity as Queen of the Acholt, and her seal. There was quiet talking amidst the knights on duty as they assessed the group, especially eyeing the great hounds that stood nearly as tall as them before waving them on through the road. Excitement bubbled through Elrid's veins and she fidgeted as she walked, craning her neck and head to get the best first glimpse she could of the fabled Dwarf city. The others followed behind more sedately and more calmly, hiding smiles beneath their beards and hands. Finally, they reached the entrance itself. It towered above her and Elrid leaned back, jaw dropping open as the automatons moved for a final inspections. Great beasts of metal, they appeared to her, glimmering giants like things out of legend. She showed the papers as the rest of the group reached her, all as awe-struck as herself. Ships... that flew! Elrid could hardly contain her excitement, bouncing on her heels as she waited for things to finish. After several moments, a young dwarf beckoned to them, studying the papers and walking ahead. Elrid followed, turning around and around, trying to absorb as much of this new city as she possibly could. It was a beautiful city- different than her own, but still very impressive. Then they entered the market, the hounds whining and sniffing after the smell of exotic foods, but the woodsmen kept the dogs on tight leashes, unloading their goods and preparing to do what they could to convince others to trade for them. What was oak, no matter how finely carved and crafted, compared to these magic things of metal. And flying ships! Elrid still couldn't wrap her head around that. How was that even possible? And was that a centaur? Her eyes widened further. Magic! It was indeed a wondrous realm. Elrid set down the pack on her back and wandered away from the others, holding Gerafel tight next to her on the leash. The young dwarf stayed beside her, nudging her towards a certain Dwarven woman. "This is Queen Elrid of the Acholt," he said as an introduction and flourish to the awe-struck young woman. Elrid looked up in surprise at the mention and nodded with a wide grin. Then she remembered herself and tried to look more formal, unconsciously trying to straighten the small circlet on her brow, before giving what she thought was a stately bow. "Greetings from the Acholt. We come with..." She trailed off for a moment, "Arts of our own and bearings of a hopeful friendship." She gave a fainter smile, hoping that was queenly enough. Aldacer @stormwall Dilly
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Post by Dilly on Jan 20, 2017 3:55:00 GMT
The small cart passed through the gates, into the city of Idmidium. The old man, still holding the bridle in one hand and his pipe in the other, seemed completely nonplussed by the sights surrounding the interiors of the great city of dwarves. Everything was as he remembered it. That was not the case for his travel companion, who shuffled around the back of the cart constantly moving from curiosity to curiosity, spectacle to spectacle. The very nature of a large city was foreign to him. Hallenrul was a hamlet, little more than a village, and this was a metropolis. Great walls. Buildings reaching upward, with more people down a single avenue than lived in the blessed town that lay to the north. And that was without all of the rest, the airships, the knights, the markets. Bringing the cart to a stop, the old man eased his way down from the bench. The gray magi paused to stretch and lament on old bones as he made his way to the front to tie up the horse. From out of the back of the cart, the young Tiefling jumped down and then took a few steps away from the cart as he stared up in amazement at an airship tethered in the sky above. Taking the boy by the hand, the wizened magi pulled him in the direction of the market.
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