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"Out of the Frying Pan" - Book I: Gathering Wood (reprise)
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<blockquote data-quote="el-remmen" data-source="post: 63661" data-attributes="member: 11"><p><strong>Session #7 (part II)</strong></p><p></p><p>Late that night Jana slipped out of her tent and found a secluded spot in the clearing in the woods south of the camp. From her belt pouch she took a bone she had recovered from that night’s dinner and place it on the ground. She took out the baby wolf skull necklace that she took from the goblin warlock and placed in a few feet before her. Jana then took out the knife she bought earlier that day and cut her palm, wincing. Dipping the bone in the seeping blood, she traced a circle in the dirt around the skull and began to murmur arcane words, her eyes rolling back into her head as she reached, reached, reached out to make contact. </p><p></p><p>But, even as she felt her will reach out she realized it was not working. The token was too foreign, its power too evasive. She would have to try again another time. Jana heard a footfall behind her. Coming out of her trance she turned, feeling dizzy. </p><p></p><p>“What are you doing?” said a barely recognizable voice. </p><p></p><p>Jana stumbled to her feet, grabbing the wolf skull and then rubbing her eyes. She gained her sense of balance and looked. It was Alexandra the Lavender. </p><p></p><p>“What are you doing?” Alexandra asked again. </p><p></p><p>“Nothing,” replied Jana. </p><p></p><p>“That looks like a summoning circle,” Alexandra said, pointing to the circle of blood. </p><p></p><p>“It is not what you think it’s for,” Jana replied. </p><p></p><p>“I know good and well what it is, and nothing can be summoned in the lands under my vigilance without my leave,” the Watch-mage said angrily. </p><p></p><p>“I was not summoning anything to summon something, I mean. . . “ Jana was flustered. “I was not doing this to summon and control anything. I…” </p><p></p><p>“I know what you were trying to do, and I know how easily a circle of summoning can go awry. I cannot allow such things to happen unsupervised in my domain of protection. I suggest that you go back to your camp and do not attempt such a thing again or I will be forced to take action.” </p><p>“You don’t know what you are talking about,” Jana insisted. </p><p></p><p>“I only have your word on that, and looking at this scene, your word means little to me at the moment. I am glad that you are only here until morning, and if ever you pass through Bountiful again, I hope that you will be careful what you do.“ </p><p></p><p>“Fine,” said Jana in a huff, and stomped off back to camp and went to go to sleep, but her annoyance and anger kept her blood-boiling and her mind too alert for a long time before she could slip off.</p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><strong>Osilem, 17th of Ese</strong></span></p><p></p><p>Day came from the east riding the rays of Ra’s Glory, racing the smell of the distant ocean that expended itself in the effort to reach so far inland. In that first light Chance crept into the tent he shared with Jeremy and Kamir. Kamir had already awakened to do his usual chores. </p><p>Jeremy woke up, and turned to look at Chance who dropped into a pretend sleep as soon as he felt the Neergaardian stir. </p><p></p><p>“Chance, where have you been?” Jeremy asked groggily. </p><p></p><p>Chance gave a false snore. </p><p></p><p>“Chance, I know you just got in!” Jeremy said, angrily. </p><p></p><p>“Huh? Whut? Kep it don Ahm tryin’ ta slep,” Chance said, mimicking a groggy voice. </p><p></p><p>“You just got here,” Jeremy insisted. </p><p></p><p>“Will ya be quiet!” Chance rolled over. “Whatcha waking me fer, so early en tha marning?” </p><p></p><p>The waking breakfast bell rang. Chance sat up and rubbed his eyes, following this with an exaggerated stretch. </p><p></p><p>“Ach! Whut uh gret night’s slep that wuz!” he said, and crawled out of the tent to join the others in packing for another portion of the journey to Gothanius. </p><p></p><p>-----</p><p></p><p>The two creaky wagons rolled out of Bountiful, and once again Crumb’s boys broke into two groups, one that rode and one that walked. The rolling plains made brown by the recent harvest, but speckled with the occasional orange and yellow of pumpkin and squash pass them by, and by day’s end they had come upon the first of a series of hills that in the dying light seemed to go on forever in all directions. Here the road was made of a chalky gravel that kicked up large amounts of dust. They made camp in the nearby crabgrass and slept. </p><p></p><p>---- </p><p></p><p><strong><span style="font-size: 12px">Tholem, 18th of Ese</span></strong></p><p></p><p>The next day the wagons moved up and down over the hills steadily for hours with no end. The ridge was all of that dry crumbly stone, covered with a scrabble of low leafless brush in place, but with no trees to speak of and a cold wind that wound about the base of the hills and would swoop suddenly over the summit with a loud whoosh and a cruel slash across the face of those who walked. </p><p></p><p>Up and down. Up and down. Kazrack rode as he did everyday, and he felt as if he were back on the ship, but in a dreadful slow motion. He longed to feel the hard packed earth of Derome-Delem under his dwarven feet, but he was not allowed to walk as he could not keep up and it pained his dwarven soul. </p><p></p><p>It was past mid-day and still they had not stopped for lunch, and Crumb’s boys began to mumble complaints, when from the top of one hill there could be seen a huge cloud of dust approaching from behind the next barren hill. Crumb called for the wagons to stop, and those that were walking could feel the ground begin to vibrate as the cloud approached. Whatever it was could not be seen, but was moving at a steady pace nearly twice as fast as the oxen could pull the wagons. Ratchis stepped off the road and strained his eyes to see what it was. </p><p></p><p>Kazrack could now feel the rumbling and noticed that the wagons had stopped and leaning out of the back, looked forward to see the approaching cloud. “What could that be?” he said. </p><p></p><p>“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” murmured Jeremy. </p><p></p><p>Crumb called for the wagons to continue, moving down to the narrow valley between the two hills.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” said Kazrack. “If this presents a danger we should stay on high ground.” But his advice went unheeded and the two wagons rolled down the hillside. </p><p></p><p>Those who walked followed hesitantly. Ratchis pulled his bow and left the road, coming down the hill through the scraggily brush. And now there could heard above the rumble the sound of many deep voices joined in song. At first it was barely discernible, but as the wagons came to a halt once again at the bottom of the hill, and Crumb called for them to be pulled off the road, the song was understood. </p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Over Hill, Over Dale</em></p><p><em>We are Dwarves and we fight `til we fail!</em></p><p><em>We kill orcs and goblins, too.</em></p><p><em>Better watch out or we’ll kill you.</em></p><p><em>We are Dwarves!</em></p><p><em>And we fight for what’s right,</em></p><p><em>`Cause we’re Dwarves! </em></p><p></p><p>The cloud of dust overcame the would-be heroes and within it could be seen a great caravan of dwarves riding at a quick pace atop huge lizards, lower than horses, but much longer. They began to pass making no notice of the young men on their way to Gothanius. Two by two, they passed, the front ranks holding flags forward, followed by dwarves upon their heavily laden reptilian mounts. The creatures’ dull green scales were covered in the dust of the hills, and occasionally, their long dark tongues shooting out to taste the air, dragging their heavy tails behind them. </p><p></p><p>There were several score of these lizard-mounted dwarves passing, and along their flanks came dwarven warriors in plate mail, and helms with visors to keep the dust from their eyes. Some bore spears and others crossbows, and the lizards they rode were outfitted in chainmail barding. These guards moved faster than the caravan, moving up and down the line, keeping an eye open. One such warrior, rode by slowly sizing up Crumb and his boys, who were now all gathered in a group to watch the spectacle. </p><p></p><p>“Wow,” was all Kazrack could say. </p><p></p><p>“Ah cahnna buh-lev et,” Chance said, his jaw dropped way down. </p><p></p><p>“Where can I get one of those?” Jeremy asked aloud. </p><p></p><p>The dwarven rider’s eyes caught those of Kazrack, and the dwarf who had long been in accidental exile raised his fist in a sign of greeting. The warrior reared his lizard and moved very quickly forward down the line, and at the end of his vision, Kazrack could see he had pulled along side one of the others of the caravan. Now, another lizard left the line and came quickly back down the line towards where the wagons waited for the dwarves to pass. </p><p></p><p>Seemingly unimpressed, Crumb called out in a loud voice, “It may take some time for them to pass. Let’s have our lunch break here.” </p><p></p><p>Some of Crumb’s boys began to help Kinney and Horung with the provisions, but others simply watched in awe. Finally, the other lizard that had left the line reared by Kazrack, and he noticed that it had a double saddle. The dwarf who rode in the rear, dismounted and stepped towards Kazrack. He struck a fist against his chest and raised a fist in a sign of greeting that Kazrack copied. He then threw his open hand forward and he and the new dwarf grasped each other’s wrists and shook. The rider brought his mount back into the line. </p><p></p><p>This dwarf had a thick black beard braided in three large braids that were entwined with twine of pure gold. He was dressed in a shirt of mail, and had a war hammer at his side. About his neck was a leather pouch full of what Kazrack knew to be runestones. This was a dwarven priest. (59)</p><p></p><p>“I am Daerngar of Mnornthord-Rymraugh, which humans call Rockmar. This is the 137th regiment of the Nauglimir Dwarven Merchant Consortium,” the dwarf gestured back to the lizards that still passed. “It is not often that I see one of our kin traveling among humans in this fashion, that is why I stopped.” </p><p></p><p>“I am Kazrack Delver. While my family is originally from Derome-Delem, I have lived most of my life in Verdun, in the Kingdom of Herman Land, and have only just recently returned to our homeland.” </p><p></p><p>“Hmmph,” said Daerngar grunted. “It is good that you have found your way back. A young dwarf as yourself should not have to live among humans and be separated from his people.” </p><p></p><p>“Well, my father made sure I grew up learning the traditions and stories,” said Kazrack.</p><p> </p><p>“As any father should,” replied Daerngar. “And why do you travel with humans now? Why do you not seek out the stronghold of your people?” </p><p></p><p>Kazrack paused, coughed and explained, “In order to arrange for travel here I had to agree to help these humans of the Kingdom of Gothanius in a small endeavor.” </p><p></p><p>“Gothanius? You know that is stolen land?” Daernagar asked, one black bushy eyebrow arching significantly. </p><p></p><p>“Aye, I do. But I have given my word,” Kazrack replied. </p><p></p><p>“I see. And a dwarf’s word should be as steady as the stone. But when you are done with this task you should travel and visit your brethren throughout Derome-Delem and see how it is that dwarves should live.” </p><p></p><p>“I plan to as part of my search for the king who will unite all the dwarven people into one kingdom,” Kazrack said gravely. (60)</p><p></p><p>“Are we not all searching for such?” Daerngar said. </p><p></p><p>“We are?” Kazrack was puzzled. </p><p></p><p>“Aye, we all are, whether we know it or not. Whether one looks or not, one might still find something, sometimes even a king.” </p><p></p><p>Daerngar was silent for a time, just looking at Kazrack. The sound of the passing train of laden lizards seemed distant in that moment, and then the rune-thrower spoke again. </p><p></p><p>“And what did your rune-thrower say before you came on this journey? Did you have your runes thrown?” he went one to ask. </p><p></p><p>Kazrack looked down and then away from Daerngar, trying not to look in his eye. Rubbing the back of his own neck, and clearing his throat, he replied, “We did not have a priest among my people. My father is wise and knows much, but he is not trained in the clergy.” </p><p></p><p>“So, you have never had your runes thrown?” Daerngar asked with a hint of disbelief. </p><p>Kazrack shook his head. </p><p></p><p>“Come with me,” Daerngar led Kazrack further away from the road and away from where Crumb’s boys were having their lunch. </p><p></p><p>He brought the younger dwarf to a spot clear of foliage and traced a circle in the dirt with his finger and then squatted across from Kazrack on the other side of the circle. </p><p></p><p>“Every dwarf should have his runes read ere he go on any journey,” Daerngar said, pulling the pouch of stones out from around his neck. </p><p></p><p>“Give me your hand,” the runethrower said, and placed the pouch in Kazrack’s open palm and covered it with his own strong calloused hand. </p><p></p><p>“Lehrathonar, (61) Keeper of the Secrets Under the Mountain, Carver of the Secret Ways Beneath the Sea, Scribe of Xoth (62) both lost and rediscovered, reveal to me of the path of this young dwarf so he may play his part in the grand role of our kin.” </p><p></p><p>Daerngar then spilled the stones within the circle in the dirt and began to examine how they lay. </p><p>“Hmmmmm,” said Daerngar. “It is as I thought, it is not mere coincidence that I was called to speak to you.” </p><p></p><p>“What. . . What do they say?” asked Kazrack hesitantly. </p><p></p><p>Daerngar looked directly into Kazrack’s eyes, “It is clear that you will make a choice, or help to make a choice that will determine the future of Derome-Delem and thus the dwarven people and their kindred races.” </p><p></p><p>Kazrack seemed to stop breathing, and Daerngar continued. </p><p></p><p>“It is unclear what this choice shall be, but it is not far by dwarven standards, unless you have been infected by human impatience, and it may not appear to be as important or wide reaching as it truly is.” </p><p></p><p>Kazrack let out a long slow breath. </p><p></p><p>“The gods do watch you. You serve them already whether you know it or not. Remember it is their will you perform when you act and you will not fail them – weigh all choice with the patience given our people.” </p><p></p><p>Daerngar stood, but Kazrack felt as if he could not stand with the weight of what he had just heard resting upon his lap. The rune-thrower placed one hand atop Kazrack’s head and spoke. </p><p></p><p>“Natan-ahb (63) , watch over this wayward youth so that he may find his way back into the fold and be welcomed into the arms of the dwarven people. Hodenar (64), watch over his journey, may he find aid where he needs it and may his legs always have the strength to continue when the road becomes difficult. And Krauchaar (65), please aid his skill with axe and hammer so he might overcome any dangers that require those harsh methods as he makes his way wherever he may need to go.” </p><p></p><p>“Thank you,” said Kazrack softly. Daerngar scooped up his runes and slid them into their pouch, place it back around his neck. </p><p></p><p>Daerngar placed two fingers in his mouth and issued a sharp whistle. In the distance, the rider who had dropped him off turned his mount back towards the dwarven priest. </p><p></p><p>“I must go, but remember what I have told you. Pray that Lehrathonar makes all cleared for you in time,” Daerngar said. The two dwarves clutched wrists and shook. Daerngar mounted on the back of the double lizard and raised a fist at head height. Kazrack returned the gesture. </p><p></p><p>Kazrack stood and watched the last of the great lizards pass, imagining riding such a beast into battle, while contemplating the words of the rune-thrower. Before he knew it, Crumb’s boys had eaten their meal and packed up again and it was time to continue the journey westward. </p><p></p><p>The rest of the day’s journey was uneventful. They camped that night on the edge of copse of trees.</p><p></p><p>--------------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p><strong>Notes</strong>:</p><p></p><p>(59) Priests of the Dwarven Pantheon are called Rune-Throwers, because they both hold the secret of the ancient dwarven runes which have power and because they use them to cast spells and divine the future.</p><p></p><p>(60) There is a legend among most dwarven communities that a king will arise to unite all the dwarves of Aquerra into one empire as it was of old. The last time such a thing existed was in the 2nd Age, over 2000 years before present time.</p><p></p><p>(61) <em>Lehrathonar</em> is the dwarven God of Secrets & Lore. Also called “The Silent God”.</p><p></p><p>(62) Xoth is the name for the secret runic language of dwarven priests which no one else may know or use.</p><p></p><p>(63) <em>Natan-ahb</em> is the head of the dwarven pantheon. He is the Soul-Forger.</p><p></p><p>(64) <em>Hodenar</em> is the dwarven god of trade and travel.</p><p> </p><p>(65) <em>Krauchaar</em> is the dwarven god of battle.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="el-remmen, post: 63661, member: 11"] [b]Session #7 (part II)[/b] Late that night Jana slipped out of her tent and found a secluded spot in the clearing in the woods south of the camp. From her belt pouch she took a bone she had recovered from that night’s dinner and place it on the ground. She took out the baby wolf skull necklace that she took from the goblin warlock and placed in a few feet before her. Jana then took out the knife she bought earlier that day and cut her palm, wincing. Dipping the bone in the seeping blood, she traced a circle in the dirt around the skull and began to murmur arcane words, her eyes rolling back into her head as she reached, reached, reached out to make contact. But, even as she felt her will reach out she realized it was not working. The token was too foreign, its power too evasive. She would have to try again another time. Jana heard a footfall behind her. Coming out of her trance she turned, feeling dizzy. “What are you doing?” said a barely recognizable voice. Jana stumbled to her feet, grabbing the wolf skull and then rubbing her eyes. She gained her sense of balance and looked. It was Alexandra the Lavender. “What are you doing?” Alexandra asked again. “Nothing,” replied Jana. “That looks like a summoning circle,” Alexandra said, pointing to the circle of blood. “It is not what you think it’s for,” Jana replied. “I know good and well what it is, and nothing can be summoned in the lands under my vigilance without my leave,” the Watch-mage said angrily. “I was not summoning anything to summon something, I mean. . . “ Jana was flustered. “I was not doing this to summon and control anything. I…” “I know what you were trying to do, and I know how easily a circle of summoning can go awry. I cannot allow such things to happen unsupervised in my domain of protection. I suggest that you go back to your camp and do not attempt such a thing again or I will be forced to take action.” “You don’t know what you are talking about,” Jana insisted. “I only have your word on that, and looking at this scene, your word means little to me at the moment. I am glad that you are only here until morning, and if ever you pass through Bountiful again, I hope that you will be careful what you do.“ “Fine,” said Jana in a huff, and stomped off back to camp and went to go to sleep, but her annoyance and anger kept her blood-boiling and her mind too alert for a long time before she could slip off. [size=3][b]Osilem, 17th of Ese[/b][/size] Day came from the east riding the rays of Ra’s Glory, racing the smell of the distant ocean that expended itself in the effort to reach so far inland. In that first light Chance crept into the tent he shared with Jeremy and Kamir. Kamir had already awakened to do his usual chores. Jeremy woke up, and turned to look at Chance who dropped into a pretend sleep as soon as he felt the Neergaardian stir. “Chance, where have you been?” Jeremy asked groggily. Chance gave a false snore. “Chance, I know you just got in!” Jeremy said, angrily. “Huh? Whut? Kep it don Ahm tryin’ ta slep,” Chance said, mimicking a groggy voice. “You just got here,” Jeremy insisted. “Will ya be quiet!” Chance rolled over. “Whatcha waking me fer, so early en tha marning?” The waking breakfast bell rang. Chance sat up and rubbed his eyes, following this with an exaggerated stretch. “Ach! Whut uh gret night’s slep that wuz!” he said, and crawled out of the tent to join the others in packing for another portion of the journey to Gothanius. ----- The two creaky wagons rolled out of Bountiful, and once again Crumb’s boys broke into two groups, one that rode and one that walked. The rolling plains made brown by the recent harvest, but speckled with the occasional orange and yellow of pumpkin and squash pass them by, and by day’s end they had come upon the first of a series of hills that in the dying light seemed to go on forever in all directions. Here the road was made of a chalky gravel that kicked up large amounts of dust. They made camp in the nearby crabgrass and slept. ---- [b][size=3]Tholem, 18th of Ese[/size][/b] The next day the wagons moved up and down over the hills steadily for hours with no end. The ridge was all of that dry crumbly stone, covered with a scrabble of low leafless brush in place, but with no trees to speak of and a cold wind that wound about the base of the hills and would swoop suddenly over the summit with a loud whoosh and a cruel slash across the face of those who walked. Up and down. Up and down. Kazrack rode as he did everyday, and he felt as if he were back on the ship, but in a dreadful slow motion. He longed to feel the hard packed earth of Derome-Delem under his dwarven feet, but he was not allowed to walk as he could not keep up and it pained his dwarven soul. It was past mid-day and still they had not stopped for lunch, and Crumb’s boys began to mumble complaints, when from the top of one hill there could be seen a huge cloud of dust approaching from behind the next barren hill. Crumb called for the wagons to stop, and those that were walking could feel the ground begin to vibrate as the cloud approached. Whatever it was could not be seen, but was moving at a steady pace nearly twice as fast as the oxen could pull the wagons. Ratchis stepped off the road and strained his eyes to see what it was. Kazrack could now feel the rumbling and noticed that the wagons had stopped and leaning out of the back, looked forward to see the approaching cloud. “What could that be?” he said. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” murmured Jeremy. Crumb called for the wagons to continue, moving down to the narrow valley between the two hills. “No,” said Kazrack. “If this presents a danger we should stay on high ground.” But his advice went unheeded and the two wagons rolled down the hillside. Those who walked followed hesitantly. Ratchis pulled his bow and left the road, coming down the hill through the scraggily brush. And now there could heard above the rumble the sound of many deep voices joined in song. At first it was barely discernible, but as the wagons came to a halt once again at the bottom of the hill, and Crumb called for them to be pulled off the road, the song was understood. [i] Over Hill, Over Dale We are Dwarves and we fight `til we fail! We kill orcs and goblins, too. Better watch out or we’ll kill you. We are Dwarves! And we fight for what’s right, `Cause we’re Dwarves! [/i] The cloud of dust overcame the would-be heroes and within it could be seen a great caravan of dwarves riding at a quick pace atop huge lizards, lower than horses, but much longer. They began to pass making no notice of the young men on their way to Gothanius. Two by two, they passed, the front ranks holding flags forward, followed by dwarves upon their heavily laden reptilian mounts. The creatures’ dull green scales were covered in the dust of the hills, and occasionally, their long dark tongues shooting out to taste the air, dragging their heavy tails behind them. There were several score of these lizard-mounted dwarves passing, and along their flanks came dwarven warriors in plate mail, and helms with visors to keep the dust from their eyes. Some bore spears and others crossbows, and the lizards they rode were outfitted in chainmail barding. These guards moved faster than the caravan, moving up and down the line, keeping an eye open. One such warrior, rode by slowly sizing up Crumb and his boys, who were now all gathered in a group to watch the spectacle. “Wow,” was all Kazrack could say. “Ah cahnna buh-lev et,” Chance said, his jaw dropped way down. “Where can I get one of those?” Jeremy asked aloud. The dwarven rider’s eyes caught those of Kazrack, and the dwarf who had long been in accidental exile raised his fist in a sign of greeting. The warrior reared his lizard and moved very quickly forward down the line, and at the end of his vision, Kazrack could see he had pulled along side one of the others of the caravan. Now, another lizard left the line and came quickly back down the line towards where the wagons waited for the dwarves to pass. Seemingly unimpressed, Crumb called out in a loud voice, “It may take some time for them to pass. Let’s have our lunch break here.” Some of Crumb’s boys began to help Kinney and Horung with the provisions, but others simply watched in awe. Finally, the other lizard that had left the line reared by Kazrack, and he noticed that it had a double saddle. The dwarf who rode in the rear, dismounted and stepped towards Kazrack. He struck a fist against his chest and raised a fist in a sign of greeting that Kazrack copied. He then threw his open hand forward and he and the new dwarf grasped each other’s wrists and shook. The rider brought his mount back into the line. This dwarf had a thick black beard braided in three large braids that were entwined with twine of pure gold. He was dressed in a shirt of mail, and had a war hammer at his side. About his neck was a leather pouch full of what Kazrack knew to be runestones. This was a dwarven priest. (59) “I am Daerngar of Mnornthord-Rymraugh, which humans call Rockmar. This is the 137th regiment of the Nauglimir Dwarven Merchant Consortium,” the dwarf gestured back to the lizards that still passed. “It is not often that I see one of our kin traveling among humans in this fashion, that is why I stopped.” “I am Kazrack Delver. While my family is originally from Derome-Delem, I have lived most of my life in Verdun, in the Kingdom of Herman Land, and have only just recently returned to our homeland.” “Hmmph,” said Daerngar grunted. “It is good that you have found your way back. A young dwarf as yourself should not have to live among humans and be separated from his people.” “Well, my father made sure I grew up learning the traditions and stories,” said Kazrack. “As any father should,” replied Daerngar. “And why do you travel with humans now? Why do you not seek out the stronghold of your people?” Kazrack paused, coughed and explained, “In order to arrange for travel here I had to agree to help these humans of the Kingdom of Gothanius in a small endeavor.” “Gothanius? You know that is stolen land?” Daernagar asked, one black bushy eyebrow arching significantly. “Aye, I do. But I have given my word,” Kazrack replied. “I see. And a dwarf’s word should be as steady as the stone. But when you are done with this task you should travel and visit your brethren throughout Derome-Delem and see how it is that dwarves should live.” “I plan to as part of my search for the king who will unite all the dwarven people into one kingdom,” Kazrack said gravely. (60) “Are we not all searching for such?” Daerngar said. “We are?” Kazrack was puzzled. “Aye, we all are, whether we know it or not. Whether one looks or not, one might still find something, sometimes even a king.” Daerngar was silent for a time, just looking at Kazrack. The sound of the passing train of laden lizards seemed distant in that moment, and then the rune-thrower spoke again. “And what did your rune-thrower say before you came on this journey? Did you have your runes thrown?” he went one to ask. Kazrack looked down and then away from Daerngar, trying not to look in his eye. Rubbing the back of his own neck, and clearing his throat, he replied, “We did not have a priest among my people. My father is wise and knows much, but he is not trained in the clergy.” “So, you have never had your runes thrown?” Daerngar asked with a hint of disbelief. Kazrack shook his head. “Come with me,” Daerngar led Kazrack further away from the road and away from where Crumb’s boys were having their lunch. He brought the younger dwarf to a spot clear of foliage and traced a circle in the dirt with his finger and then squatted across from Kazrack on the other side of the circle. “Every dwarf should have his runes read ere he go on any journey,” Daerngar said, pulling the pouch of stones out from around his neck. “Give me your hand,” the runethrower said, and placed the pouch in Kazrack’s open palm and covered it with his own strong calloused hand. “Lehrathonar, (61) Keeper of the Secrets Under the Mountain, Carver of the Secret Ways Beneath the Sea, Scribe of Xoth (62) both lost and rediscovered, reveal to me of the path of this young dwarf so he may play his part in the grand role of our kin.” Daerngar then spilled the stones within the circle in the dirt and began to examine how they lay. “Hmmmmm,” said Daerngar. “It is as I thought, it is not mere coincidence that I was called to speak to you.” “What. . . What do they say?” asked Kazrack hesitantly. Daerngar looked directly into Kazrack’s eyes, “It is clear that you will make a choice, or help to make a choice that will determine the future of Derome-Delem and thus the dwarven people and their kindred races.” Kazrack seemed to stop breathing, and Daerngar continued. “It is unclear what this choice shall be, but it is not far by dwarven standards, unless you have been infected by human impatience, and it may not appear to be as important or wide reaching as it truly is.” Kazrack let out a long slow breath. “The gods do watch you. You serve them already whether you know it or not. Remember it is their will you perform when you act and you will not fail them – weigh all choice with the patience given our people.” Daerngar stood, but Kazrack felt as if he could not stand with the weight of what he had just heard resting upon his lap. The rune-thrower placed one hand atop Kazrack’s head and spoke. “Natan-ahb (63) , watch over this wayward youth so that he may find his way back into the fold and be welcomed into the arms of the dwarven people. Hodenar (64), watch over his journey, may he find aid where he needs it and may his legs always have the strength to continue when the road becomes difficult. And Krauchaar (65), please aid his skill with axe and hammer so he might overcome any dangers that require those harsh methods as he makes his way wherever he may need to go.” “Thank you,” said Kazrack softly. Daerngar scooped up his runes and slid them into their pouch, place it back around his neck. Daerngar placed two fingers in his mouth and issued a sharp whistle. In the distance, the rider who had dropped him off turned his mount back towards the dwarven priest. “I must go, but remember what I have told you. Pray that Lehrathonar makes all cleared for you in time,” Daerngar said. The two dwarves clutched wrists and shook. Daerngar mounted on the back of the double lizard and raised a fist at head height. Kazrack returned the gesture. Kazrack stood and watched the last of the great lizards pass, imagining riding such a beast into battle, while contemplating the words of the rune-thrower. Before he knew it, Crumb’s boys had eaten their meal and packed up again and it was time to continue the journey westward. The rest of the day’s journey was uneventful. They camped that night on the edge of copse of trees. -------------------------------------------------- [b]Notes[/b]: (59) Priests of the Dwarven Pantheon are called Rune-Throwers, because they both hold the secret of the ancient dwarven runes which have power and because they use them to cast spells and divine the future. (60) There is a legend among most dwarven communities that a king will arise to unite all the dwarves of Aquerra into one empire as it was of old. The last time such a thing existed was in the 2nd Age, over 2000 years before present time. (61) [i]Lehrathonar[/i] is the dwarven God of Secrets & Lore. Also called “The Silent God”. (62) Xoth is the name for the secret runic language of dwarven priests which no one else may know or use. (63) [i]Natan-ahb[/i] is the head of the dwarven pantheon. He is the Soul-Forger. (64) [i]Hodenar[/i] is the dwarven god of trade and travel. (65) [i]Krauchaar[/i] is the dwarven god of battle. [/QUOTE]
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"Out of the Frying Pan" - Book I: Gathering Wood (reprise)
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