#archlector vanskleig

[aquadestinyswriting]

A Circle None Can Break- Part Eleven

Summary: Selene has been called to the Archlector's personal apartment to meet with King Storri, the Archlector and Librarian Haneskeeper to discuss what aid, if any, Fangthane might be willing to give the beleaguered Grand Magus.

Words: 2,422

Warnings: None. Just some very frayed tempers on both sides.

Notes: This is the bit I've been most looking forward to getting to. I must admit, I didn't expect this to go in the direction it did, but I think it works out way better than the first draft now.

tags: @druidx, @strosmkai-rum, @homesteadchronicles, @warriorbookworm, @odysseywritings, @sparrow-orion-writes, @blind-the-winds, @writeblrsupport, @writeblrcafe

Selene whooshed out a sigh as she made her way through the Cathedral to the Archlector's personal apartment. It had finally been decided that the Cathedral was the most neutral place for this smaller and more intimate meeting, and the Archlector's apartment was the most comfortable place for the dignitaries that would be attending. The wizard was grateful that His Holiness had insisted on the location, her most recent experience of the palace had been less than pleasant, but she was still not looking forward to this.

The Moradhir paladin that was accompanying Selene through the Cathedral looked back at the human wizard and sent her an encouraging smile,

"It's not often that anyone gets to see His Holiness' personal apartment. He must like you if he's invited you there." He said. Selene flicked her eyes to the floor briefly and shook her head,

"While I am incredibly grateful to hear such, I am uncertain as to why." She admitted, returning her gaze to the armoured dwarf walking in front of her, "As I understand it, most of your people are less than happy with those of us who chose to stay in Toreguarde following Drakemar's involvement in its reconstruction." The paladin shrugged, his pauldrons clanking at the motion,

"His Holiness was chosen as Archlector fer a reason, my lady." He pointed out, "Those of us who serve Moradin, or any of the other Gods worshipped in the mount, trust his judgement." 

Selene's heart lifted at the statement. While she had never met the man before, he had clearly believed her words to be important enough to cow the rest of the mountain into listening to her. Certainly, it seemed that the Archlector's words had been enough to convince king Storri to allow her to stay. Feeling better, Selene allowed herself a small smile. Maybe there was a chance for her to swiftly solve the problem of the Seal after all.

"Right, here we are." The paladin announced, "I'll be right outside just in case. There shouldn't be any more nasty surprises like there were with the Council." He added, stepping to one side after rapping out a code on the elaborately carved door. Selene inclined her head,

"Thank you, Ser Stonebreaker." She said, "Hopefully this will not take long, and I can be out of your collective hair shortly. I don't want to be responsible for bringing any more trouble, or grief, to your people." Stonebreaker shook his head,

"We'd be dealing with it whether you were visiting or no." He pointed out, "Good luck." He added as an attendant opened the door. Selene nodded to the paladin once more before following the beardling inside.

King Storri, the Archlector and Haneskeeper were already inside, all three sat on comfortable chairs around a large marble table. Another beardling –with wavy blonde hair and dressed in a smart, richly embroidered tunic – sat in a wingback chair next to a generously sized bookcase, his nose currently buried in a book. So His Majesty had brought Prince Garin with him, this was, hopefully, a good sign. The room was, helpfully, lit by a myriad of glowstones artfully, and unobtrusively, placed around the room, allowing Selene to see the various mosaics laid into the floor and the tapestries adorning the walls. Most were, understandably, related to Moradin, though a few seemed to depict old clan crests. Presumably the clans of Archlectors in centuries and ages past.

The attendant coughed politely,

"Presenting Grand Magus Frigidwake, as requested, Yer Holiness." She said, "Was there anything else you or your guests needed?" She asked, allowing Selene to step into the room. The Archlector's cragged face split into a gracious smile,

"Some more refreshments would be appreciated, if ye don't mind fetching them Dora." He requested, "We may be here for a while." Dora curtsied and quickly scurried off. Storri scoffed as Selene came to the table and took the seat next to Haneskeeper,

"I rather hope it doesn't." He said shortly, "I mean no disparagement on yer hospitality, Yer Grace, but I do have other matters to attend to." Selene's gaze flicked from king to Archlector, suddenly reminded that king Storri was still very young by the standards of dwarves. Archlector Vanskleig merely shrugged, shifting into a more comfortable position,

"I do understand, Your Majesty, however, this is a matter that  I believe, requires all the time we can give it." He said pleasantly. The elderly dwarf turned his attention to Selene, grey eyes meeting green. Selene felt a shiver run down her spine. While the Archlector's gaze was pleasant, almost grandfatherly, she could sense the centuries of wisdom and power the ancient dwarf held despite his frail frame. It reminded her very much of Yastromo.

"I have asked High Librarian Haneskeeper to see what information he could find regarding God Clay and its potential whereabouts with all the archives we hold here in Fangthane." The Archlector said, gesturing to the old, but not yet ancient, dwarf. Haneskeeper cleared his throat,

"Aye, I scoured every last shelf of the Library and the Cathedral's archives for ye." He said. Selene smiled at him,

"Thank you for being so thorough. Any information, no matter how scant, will be invaluable." Haneskeeper shifted uncomfortably,

"Aye, well, unfortunately, I regret to inform you that Fangthane doesn't hold any God Clay that might yet remain on the Material Plane." He said. Selene's smile fell a bit, but she shook her head,

"I suppose it would have been far too convenient if it were." She sighed, "Did your research turn up any possible locations?" She asked. The silence that met it was almost deafening in itself. The hopeful expression on Selene's face dropped entirely as an icy stillness descended on the room. Haneskeeper cleared his throat,

"It did." he confirmed slowly, his eyes flicking to king Storri, whose expression remained neutral, but his body language belied the silent rage building within him. Selene looked between the two men, briefly glancing over to note that prince Garin was sitting utterly still. She slowly leaned forward,

"And..?" She asked, her stomach dropping as the bubble of hope she'd started to feel earlier burst. Haneskeeper whooshed out a sigh,

"The God Clay's last known location was within the God Vault of the Redhammer Clan." He replied, "As their lineage was known to have been Blessed with the ability to Shape the stuff, it makes sense that this would be where the God Clay is currently located." He explained. Selene frowned,

"That makes sense, what little information I was able to glean from my own research made mention of this Blessing." She admitted. Her eyes narrowed, "So do you mind telling me why His Majesty looks like he's about to throttle me?" She asked lightly, looking over to Storri, who was now clearly biting back a tirade of some sort. Haneskeeper sent the younger dwarf a short glare before returning his attention to Selene, a haggard expression on his face,

"Putting aside some ancient dwarven Grudges, the ancestral home of the Redhammer clan used to be known as Kar'ak Ungor and was located in a volcano near the northwestern coast of Allansia, just off the Bay of Corpses in the area now known as the Dragon Reaches." He explained. Selene's annoyed expression settled into a frown as she mentally mapped out the area. Her heart froze as she finally realised what the old librarian was telling her,

"Wyrmholme." She murmured, horrified. The moment she had uttered the word, the damn holding Storri back finally broke,

"Aye. That ancient artefact that's sacred to our people is in the claws of the dragon ye sold yer bloody city to!" He snapped, "Tell me, Grand Magus, why is that knowledge suddenly so damn problematic?" He asked. Selene blinked herself back into the room and frowned at the enraged dwarven king. She shook her head,

"It's a problem because I know that, while House Drakemar provided the capital that allowed us to rebuild Toreguarde into what it is today, I don't believe that it has the best interests of the people at heart." She replied, "I am fully aware, too, of the general hostility that the relationship with Drakemar has caused between us." She added. Storri leapt to his feet, slamming his hands on the table and knocking his seat over,

"Then why ignore the advice given ye when that damned Emissary turned up?” he asked, with an angry growl, “We didna send ye 30,000 souls to fight off the damn demons you let into the world just so ye could turn around and work with that damned beast!” he shouted. Selene immediately sat upright, her knuckles white as she tried to reign in her own, dangerously flaring, temper. She sucked in a breath before replying in as even a tone as she could manage,

“First thing, Your Majesty, the decision to send so many people to help fight off the Demonic Horde was not ours to make. The blame for such lies squarely on the shoulders of King Nargond, gods rest his soul.” She stated, earning her a nasty glare from the young king.

“As for the matter of accepting the aid offered by the Emissary; what else would you have had us do? We had barely managed to build the bare bones of the old town, never mind enough houses for everyone that had been displaced by the time any money we had had run out. Besides, my own objections about Drakemar's continued involvement were thoroughly overruled by the time the Edict came into effect." Storri scoffed,

“Then why stay in the Dragon’s employ, love?” he snapped, “Ye had ample opportunity to leave alongside plenty others!” The shadows cast by the glowstones lengthened as Selene flushed, scowled at the king and stood, towering over the dwarves sitting around the table,

“Had I left, Your Majesty, the Sealed Hellmouth that lies beneath my tower would have been breached long before now and your mountain overrun by demons." She growled, "You would ask me to place the lives of over a hundred thousand souls spread over the entirety of the Pagan Plains at risk? You would ask me to abandon the people I was tasked to protect by Yastromo himself, all so you can feel all better about even deigning to talk to me?!" 

Haneskeeper yelped as a gust of icy wind blew around the room, knocking over some of the small knick knacks scattered around the room. Prince Garin huddled into his chair as much as he could, protectively holding the book he'd been reading to his chest. Archlector Vandkleig merely raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, unruffled by the emotionally charged magic that was building within his personal chambers. The elderly dwarf muttered a prayer and Dispelled it,

"I think we're rather letting our tempers get away from us." He said mildly, "Let us return to the matter at hand, shall we?" He suggested. He looked over to Selene, who bowed her head, chastened,

"Yes, Your Holiness, I apologise." She murmured, sitting down once more. Storri snorted, but also sat once more. Haneskeeper cautiously looked between his king and the Grand Magus,

"Getting back to our discussion, I'm sorry that we can't be much help to you with regards to the God Clay, hen." He said, "That's something ye'll need to take up with yer Emissary." Selene shook her head,

"I suppose I have no other choice." She sighed, "However, from my understanding, that only solves half my problem." She said, turning her attention back to the Archlector, ignoring Storri entirely as he made a grumble of protest. The Archlector stroked his beard,

"Ah, you did say your research mentioned Shapers. I can only surmise that you've worked out that you require one to use the God Clay." He said. Selene nodded,

"Yes, Your Holiness. I had kept the question of enquiring about this after learning what I could about the God Clay first. I really do not wish to ask any more of you-" 

"Then don't." Storri snapped suddenly, "We can't help you." Selene frowned, turning to face the still outraged king. Was he not aware of Meredith's talents? She glanced to the Archlector, who was gazing at his king with an exasperated expression.

"While I understand your reticence Your Majesty-" she began, only to be cut off once more,

"I just said we can't help ye! What are ye not understanding?" Selene inhaled deeply. While she did not personally pay direct homage to any god in particular, she found herself asking for the patience to deal with the frustrating dwarf in front of her from any that happened to be listening in. So long as it wasn't Him.

"Your Majesty, what I do understand is why you are reluctant to allow me to request the help of one of your youngest citizens. Unfortunately, given the nature of the situation, I really do not have any other recourse." She pleaded. All three dwarves stared at the wizard. Haneskeeper frowned,

"Now how did ye-?" He started as Selene quickly held up her hands as Storri's expression grew thunderous,

"I've been staying at the Hammer and Anvil. I was speaking with Gruk about the situation and he told me about his youngest daughter." She explained, as quickly as she could manage. "I don't want to drag anyone else into this but-" 

"No."

Selene stared at Storri, desperation writ plain over her face,

"Your Majesty. Please-" she began. Storri's nostrils flared as he lifted his chin,

"We've given ye what ye came here for." The king stated evenly, his voice colder than the winter winds that lashed against the mountain, "I will not permit ye to take anyone back to that godsforsaken place, least of all a woman as young and impressionable as Miss Ironforge." He looked to Haneskeeper, then bowed deeply to the Archlector as he rose once more,

"Since the matter's been settled, I'll see myself out. Grand Magus, I'll give ye one more day to pack yer things then I want you out of this mountain never to darken its doors again. Am I clear?" He didn't bother waiting for an answer, simply gesturing for Garin to follow him out as he walked away. Selene could only stare, dumbfounded as the king of Fangthane left the room, almost barging into the Archlector's attendant, who had just returned with a large trolley filled with food and beverages. Garin, bowed and muttered an apology before following his father out of the door.

[aquadestinyswriting]

A Circle None Can Break- Part Eight

Summary: Vera tries to find out what's going on with High Inquisitor Firetome the night before the council session. Selene faces the Fangthane Council the following morning and has to face the ire of the dwarven people regarding events that were well out of her control

Words: 2,824

Warnings: Political BS? Maybe, possibly some degree of victim blaming? Nothing overly serious I don't think

Notes: This took a lot longer to wrangle than I wanted it to, but I'm finally happy with it. This is a scene I've been iterating on for years at this point.

tags: @druidx, @strosmkai-rum, @homesteadchronicles, @warriorbookworm, @odysseywritings, @asher-orion-writes, @blind-the-winds, @writeblrsupport

Vera glanced around the office, checking and rechecking all the darkest corners just to make sure that Firetome hadn’t left anything to catch anyone snooping around unawares. Satisfied that there was nothing in the office that would alert the High Inquisitor to her unauthorised presence in the room, the young dwarven woman crept up to the filing cabinet. 

Vera did not know what she was looking for exactly. All she knew was that there was something very wrong with the way Firetome had conducted his interview with the Grand Magus and she intended to find out why. Vera quickly opened the top drawer of the cabinet and rifled through the paperwork within it,

“No wonder he can’t find anything. There’s no rhyme or reason to any o’ this.” she muttered, quickly placing several sheafs of parchment back where she had found them. After several minutes of fruitless searching, the dwarven woman stepped back, hands on her hips. Given the utter lack of organisation, it would take far too long to find anything in the reports that Firetome had been given. She needed a new strategy. 

Vera tucked a skein of sandy hair back behind her ear, closing the filing cabinet as quietly as she could manage and looked around the room. She grasped her holy symbol and gingerly looked around the room more carefully. Small motes of blue-purple and faint gold met her gaze, most of them small, innocuous objects that the High Inquisitor had either found or been gifted. Some items had red auras around them, clearly items that had been handed to the High Inquisitor for further investigation and safekeeping.

Vera had been about to give up entirely when she felt her attention being gently nudged towards a pile of parchment on the far corner of the desk. There didn’t seem to be anything at all amiss about it, but something in her gut was telling her that what she was looking for was in that pile. Despite her young age, Vera knew better than to ignore that feeling and seized it, quickly walking around the desk and flipping through the paperwork. Most of it seemed to be made up of half-finished reports and financial statements that were clearly to be sent to the Council. She paused as she picked up yet another statement, brow furrowing as she looked at it more closely. At first, it seemed to be just another monthly budget, but a small tilt to one side showed the scratch marks left of something else. Someone, likely Firetome himself, had been writing a note on a piece of parchment and had been using the pile to lean on. Vera squinted as she tilted the parchment one way then another in an attempt to make out what the note had said. 

‘Tell ...bal…‘rkhide in pos… gus held in… no troub…bririan looking fo… Ake opportu…eal left unguar…strik…on hot…

Hope to… eeting soon.’

Vera grunted in frustration. This was no good as actual evidence, but clearly Firetome was communicating with someone and trying to organise a meeting of some sort and was imploring whoever he was speaking to to ‘strike while the iron was hot’. She looked through some of the other papers in the stack, only to come up empty-handed. Her only hope at this point was to hope that she could find the actual note, but given how far down in the stack this budget had been… Vera grumbled as she put the piece of parchment back where she had found it. As much as she wanted to find some sort of evidence that Firetome was up to something nefarious, it seemed as though she had long since missed the boat. The only thing she could do now was to keep a closer eye on the High Inquisitor and hope that he let something slip.  

The young inquisitor shook her head as she crept back out of the office, it was very unlikely that she would have the opportunity to work very closely with Firetome again unless something went horrifically wrong with the Council session the next morning. Perhaps it would be worth asking Agnar if he could have her be an aide to the High Inquisitor for a week or two? After all, she would need to know how to file her reports once she finished up her training and what better way to learn than to shadow the man responsible for compiling the reports for the Council to look at later? Feeling a little better, Vera walked out of the cathedral, heading for home. There would be time enough to ask about that after the Council Session; for now the young dwarf needed to get her rest if she wanted to attend and find out what exactly was going on with the Grand Magus’ visit.

~*~

The whole of Fangthane was abuzz with gossip from first light the next morning. News of the Grand Magus’ meeting with the full Fangthane Council had spread like fire through a coal seam, and now practically everyone was trying to crowd into the public seats of the council chambers. 

Edwin sucked in a breath as he clambered to his seat, looking up at the public seating above. It was a testament to how many had been lost to the Demon War that, despite the huge crowds of people that had been waiting outside an hour ago, the public galleries were only barely three quarters full after everyone had finally been permitted inside. Of course, there were plenty of dwarves that couldn’t attend for various reasons, but Edwin doubted that even they couldn’t completely fill the huge chamber. Edwin tore his gaze away from the galleries above and down into the petitioner’s chamber. It was currently empty, but Edwin knew Selene was waiting in the antechamber. While his old friend was clearly far more experienced in politics than Alexis had been, he couldn’t help but feel that this session was going to be so much worse to sit through than that one had been. He mechanically got up then kneeled as Captain Bloodvein entered the Royal Box, banged his hammer on the floor and announced the Low King’s arrival.

Selene looked up at the Kingsguard who had escorted her to the main council chamber at the muffled announcement. The armoured dwarf poked her head out of the door and nodded, holding it open so Selene could hear what was going on. The wizard stood, gripping her staff and listened intently.

King Storri looked around the chamber, at the vast sea of people who had come to see what the fuss was about. He whooshed out a breath, then stepped forward to the edge of his box,

“Ye may all be seated.” he intoned, “As I’m sure everyone in the mount is aware, the Grand Magus of Toreguarde has requested an audience with the full Council of Fangthane to ask some questions of us. I will remind everyone present that the Lady Frigidwake is to be permitted to speak without interruption, and any who cannot keep their words to themselves will be escorted out of the chambers and given some time to reflect on their choices.” he glared across the room at the merchants sitting directly opposite him. “Ye will all be given the opportunity to air any grievances once the Grand Magus has finished her opening statement.” When no one raised any objections, the young king returned to his seat and sat down, gesturing to Captain Bloodvein. 

The kingsguard captain glanced down to the door to the antechamber and nodded to the guard standing ready at the door, then addressed the rest of the room,

“Presenting Grand Magus of Toreguarde, Hero of the Pagan Plains and Inheritor of the estate of the esteemed Magus, Gerith Yastromo the Yellow, Lady Selene Frigidwake.” he called.

Selene calmly walked out into the petitioner’s chamber and bowed deeply to the Royal box before nodding in acknowledgement to the rest of the Council. She glanced up to Edwin, feeling the nervous flutter in her stomach calm upon seeing him, and began to speak,

“Good dwarves of the Fangthane Council, know that I come not as a representative of Toreguarde, but simply as a Wizard who has come to seek your aid in dealing with a matter that concerns all the people living on Allansia.” She said her voice clear and sharp. She noted the various glares being directed at her from not just the Council members, but from within the public galleries as well. She paused a moment to consider her words, then began to slowly walk around the chamber,

“As I’m sure many have been made aware through various rumours, the Seal beneath the wizard’s tower in Toreguarde is failing. I have been researching numerous ways to try and stop this from happening, but have, thus far, been unsuccessful.” She paused again, looking up at the hundreds of dwarves that were staring down at her, allowing them to absorb what she had just said. She turned to the Royal box, back straight and head held high,

“During my research, I came across some scant information regarding an artefact colloquially known as God Clay. Now, I understand that, as Throff’s children, the dwarven people may have more information on such an artefact. I come before you all only to ask if I may be permitted to seek out further information from those that are far more knowledgeable than I.”

A rush of whispering overtook the previous stony silence, growing louder with every moment until,

“What right have you, a human, to ask about dwarvish secrets?” Someone from the public galleries demanded, “Especially one that’s responsible for a city that has turned its back on the friendship offered by us?” Selene looked up in the direction the voice had come from, unable to see through the gloom of the upper parts of the chambers,

“As I said earlier, Master Dwarf; I come before you as myself, not as a representative of a city I’ve come to realise has offended you all so deeply.” she replied calmly. 

“Why should we bother to help when it’s your own bloody fault the thing has to exist in the first place?” another voice shouted. Selene suppressed her wince. She had been warned that this topic might be brought up. She turned to the direction this new voice had come from, but was interrupted as the damn holding everyone’s opinion back finally broke and almost everyone began shouting and yelling all at once.

Selene huffed a sigh at the noise going on around her. She couldn’t make out any specific accusations, but the word ‘heretic’ was certainly being bandied around all too readily. She winced as a loud, ringing ting! echoed around the chamber, immediately silencing the angry shouts and yells. The wizard frowned in confusion, searching for the direction the sound had come from, only for her eyes to widen in shock and for her to drop to one knee, head bowed low to the floor. Selene could hear the intake of breath from everyone else in the room as all the dwarves present, King Storri included, immediately did the same thing.

An elderly dwarf, crooked and bent with age, slowly stood from his seat, hands gripping a tall, elaborate staff made of adamantine and mythril. An almost impossibly long beard draped to the floor and coiled around itself beneath his seat. He wore the purest white vestments lined with silver, mythril and gold filigree and a stole made of woven gold and brilliantly polished copper rested over his shoulders.Upon his tabard, which was woven out of the same thread as the stole, was a filigree hammer and anvil, sewn in silver and mythril. The Archlector of Moradin, the holiest man in the mountain, glared around the Council Chamber with a deeply disapproving glare,

“I must say that I am deeply disappointed in the lack of decorum on display.” He said, his voice level and clear, “Lady Frigidwake has come to us in order to seek help in dealing with a situation most dire, and this is the welcome she receives?” his words echoed around the chamber as the other dwarves shrank back from his gaze. The Archlector turned his attention to the Wizard at the bottom of the chamber, “I do apologise for the commotion, please continue.” He said, slowly lowering himself back into his seat.

Selene wondered how anyone had missed such an important figure’s presence in the Council Chamber as she slowly rose and gave the elderly dwarf another deep, respectful bow,

“My thanks, Archlector.” she said, quickly clearing her throat and looking around the room again, finally noticing that the Archlector had chosen to sit in the public galleries and not with the rest of the official Council. Recalling herself, the wizard addressed the rest of the room,

“I understand that the dwarves of Fangthane are, rightfully, angry with those of us who were present when the portal to the abyss was first opened. Please understand that this event, and the Demon War that followed, are deeply regretted by everyone involved. The past, however, cannot be changed. The portal exists, and while it does, it presents a great risk to the lives of all the peoples of Allansia, everyone in this mountain included.” She turned back to King Storri, “I was tasked by Yastromo himself to look after the people of the Pagan Plains, and I will not allow myself to fail in this duty. Not again.” 

Storri stared at Selene, a disquieting feeling settling in his gut. He swore he’d seen that same haunted expression on another’s face, but he couldn’t think whose, when or where. However, he recognised the look of a woman who had stared into the face of utter defeat and could not bear to do so again. He nodded and looked around at the rest of his council,

“All those in favour of assisting Lady Frigidwake in her endeavour?” he called. Selene closed her eyes as the council members conferred with one another, the quiet mumbling a balm to her ringing ears. 

“All against?” she heard Storri sigh. Now the only sound was the rustling of fabric. She slowly opened her eyes again and looked up at the young king, who nodded down at her,

“Very well, Lady Frigidwake. You are permitted to speak with the relevant authorities regarding your request. I will also add that I will personally convene a smaller meeting to discuss your findings and whether Fangthane will lend any further aid in your endeavour to permanently close the portal.” he said, “Don’t make me regret this.” he added firmly. Selene beamed up at him,

“Thank you, Your Highness, and esteemed Council members. I will be sure to make this as quick and painless as possible.” she confirmed. Storri merely waved at her and gestured to Captain Bloodvein, who nodded and tapped his hammer on the floor of the box,

“His Royal Highness declares this session closed!” he intoned. Selene waited as the Council shuffled out, noting the severely disappointed and disapproving expressions on more than half the members’ faces. Had the king overruled the decision of the rest of the Council? She didn’t have time to ponder this any further as she felt the magical weave in the room being pulled together. Her guard for the day quickly bundled her into the antechamber, closing the door as a muffled ‘boom’ went off, causing some dust to fall down from the ceiling. Selene huffed out a sigh,

“Let me guess? Someone was a lot less happy about the outcome of that than everyone else?” she asked sarcastically. The guard snorted,

“Looks like. Either that, or we’ve got another bout of attempted assassinations on our hands.” she replied, “I’m gonna have to ask you to stay put while I assist the rest of my unit in apprehending those responsible.” Selene grimaced, but nodded,

“Of course.” she said tightly, “As much as I’d like to help, I’m painfully aware that my presence will likely make your day a lot more difficult than it already is.” The guardswoman sent the wizard a lop-sided smile,

“The offer’s appreciated, but… aye. I’ll see if I can get the Abouna in here to sit with ye, at least that way I’ll not get a bollocking for leaving ye unattended.” she offered, quickly adjusting the strap holding her sword in place before launching herself out of the door. Selene huffed a sigh as she sat down. Were it not for the fact that he was outside the mountain right now, she would have taken the opportunity to get Chrackle to find the one responsible for the Fireball going off. At least so she could rule out the involvement of the Cabal. Grumbling, Selene sat down in the chair and pulled out her spellbook. At least she could get on with adjusting some of her matrices while she waited.

[aquadestinyswriting]

A Circle None Can Break- Part Nine

Summary: Firetome has a discussion with Darkhide about the Fireball that went off at the end of the Council session. In the meantime, Ragnarsson pays the Archlector a visit to have a chat about a certain member of the clergy and the Hellmouth situation.

Words: 2,018

Warnings: None

Notes: Finally figured out how I wanted to go forward with this. No mention of Selene in here, but I don't think anyone will mind getting some insight into the other goings on within Fangthane.

tags: @druidx, @strosmkai-rum, @homesteadchronicles, @warriorbookworm, @odysseywritings, @asher-orion-writes, @blind-the-winds, @writeblrsupport, @writeblrcafe

Firetome couldn't quite hide his snarl as he strode into his office and slammed the door shut. Whoever had tried to use a Fireball to try and kill or maim the Grand Magus was clearly an incompetent fool of the highest order. The flame haired dwarf threw himself into his seat with an annoyed growl, pulling out the scrying mirror from his desk and waving a hand over it.

"What do you want Firetome?" Darkhide sighed irritably. His hood was down, and Firetome could hear the inquisitive squeaks and yaps of about a dozen kobolds. The dwarf glared at the human man,

"Whatever agents ye've sent up here to spy on the Grand Magus are incompetent buffoons." He growled, "What idiot tries to kill a bloody wizard with a wee, totty Fireball? And in front o' three quarters o' the bloody mountain to boot?" Darkhide's brow furrowed in confusion, even as his eyes narrowed and blazed with indignation,

"All of the spies I have working for me are here giving me their reports." He said, voice calm, "Besides, none of them are capable enough with magic to manage more than a few sparks, never mind a fireball, no matter how small." Firetome snorted and leaned back in his seat,

"Maybe some o' yer Cabal friends got impatient then?" He suggested. Darkhide rolled his eyes and snorted derisively,

"Oh, please." He sighed, "Any member of the Cabal sent in to kill their 'Little Librarian' would have cast a Fireball big enough to kill everyone still in that room when it went off." He pointed out, "The Cabal are hardly in the business of hiring third rate wizards or sorcerers." The human shook his head,

"Given your description of how small the fireball was – and the fact that it was cast in full view of pretty much the entire population of your city – I would surmise that it's merely a disgruntled citizen who took advantage of their only opportunity." Firetome grumbled, 

"Fair point." He muttered, "In which case I'll see how this plays oot. Maybe we can turn it to our advantage." Darkhide huffed out an impatient sigh,

"You do that." He grumbled, shutting off the connection and leaving Firetome to stare at his own reflection. The dwarf snapped the casing of the mirror closed, placed it back into the drawer and slammed it closed. He ran a hand down his beard. Were the caster of the Fireball truly a dwarf, then the action constituted an act of war against Toreguarde, and the Inquisitor knew he couldn't afford to have that happen. Not yet anyway. 

Then again, the Grand Magus was not here on official business, and she most certainly was not the sort of person to report such an incident back to Toreguarde. Not if she wanted to improve relations between Toreguarde and Fangthane. Firetome relaxed into his seat, tapping his steepled fingers on his lips as he thought. If what the Grand Magus had said was true, and that the God Clay was her last option for sealing up the Hell Mouth, then she would not only need the artefact in question, but a Shaper as well. 

A slow smile spread across the High Inquisitor's face. It didn't matter what the woman did, there was no way to permanently seal it. Even if Drakemar gave her the artefact if asked, without a Shaper it was utterly useless to her, and there would never be any ever again. He chuckled, pulling out an iron-wrought draconic eye with wings on either side of it out from under his vestments and rubbing his thumb over it,

"All we need to do is wait, my Lord, then you and your siblings can finally reclaim the world that is rightfully yours."

~*~

High Priest Ragnarsson whooshed out a sigh and dusted down his vestments before knocking on the elaborately carved door in front of him. He was grateful beyond words that whoever had cast the Fireball directly after the council session had been concluded was a less than powerful caster. Had they been any more capable, then Fangthane would have lost the entirety of its council, the Archlector and their king in one fell swoop. Due to this, the whole mountain had been swiftly locked down, with all entry and exit points shut tight so the perpetrator couldn't escape.

The greying dwarf quickly shook his head to clear it of such maudlin thoughts. There were other, far more important matters to discuss. The door swung open to reveal a young woman dressed in the dark green and gold robes of the Archlector's personal attendants. The beardling smiled as she stood to one side to allow the High Priest of Moradin inside,

"Please take a seat, Father Ragnarsson, His Holiness will be with you shortly." She said, bowing low as the older dwarf walked past her. Ragnarsson inclined his head as he stepped into the room,

"Thank you Agnes." He replied, "I don't suppose I could trouble you for a pint of stout?" Agnes curtsied and hurried off into another, adjacent room while Ragnarsson settled himself into the closer of two wingback chairs situated next to a large fireplace.

The Archlector's office was more akin to an apartment. The main office had several comfortable chairs dotted around the space, with two large couches facing one another in the centre. Bookshelves lined every wall, all of them covered in various little trinkets and knick knacks along with many books in nearly every language spoken on Titan. Doors led off to other rooms, one of them a small kitchenette, another a water closet, one that led to the Archlector's bedchamber and one more tucked into a far corner, which led directly to the Contemplation Chamber. 

"Your stout, Father." Ragnarsson blinked and looked up at Agnes, smiling as he did,

"Thank ye, hen, it's much appreciated." He said, taking the offered tankard and placing it on the coaster on the arm of the chair. Agnes bobbed her head,

"It's no trouble, Father. Are you well, though? I only ask because you seem troubled." She noted. Ragnarsson shook his head,

"I'm as well as I can be, given the circumstances." He replied, "How fares His Grace?" He asked. Agnes chuckled,

"He is as spry as ever Father Ragnarsson. All His Holiness said on the matter of the Fireball in the Council Chamber was that whoever cast it was, and I quote, 'Clearly not trying hard enough and is a lousy shot'." 

"Indeed, I've seen my grandfather throw rocks with more accuracy the day before he passed into Moradin's Hall." An amused voice called from the other side of the room. Agnes beamed as the Archlector shuffled out of his bedchamber, having changed into more comfortable robes. The elderly dwarf motioned for Ragnarsson to remain seated even as the younger man began to rise. He turned to Agnes,

"Be a dear and ask the kitchen staff if they can send a plate of pastries, Agnes. I rather suspect the good Father and I will be here for a while." He said. Agnes bowed low and hurried off, leaving the two men alone in the room. The Archlector sighed as he sat down in the chair opposite Ragnarsson,

"Now then, I think I know why you're here, Jotunn, but can you confirm an old man's suspicions?" He asked. Ragnarsson nodded, made sure his tankard was secure, then leaned forward,

"Of course, Yer Grace. I wanted to know your thoughts on the reason fer Lady Frigidwake's visit." He said. The Archlector nodded, running a hand through his beard,

"Ah yes, to find out more about the God Clay." He murmured, "While I understand that many in the church are reluctant to allow the Grand Magus access to such knowledge, I see no harm in it. After all, she has already pointed out that we cannot allow the Hellmouth to continue to exist." Ragnarsson shifted uneasily,

"Aye, that is true yer Grace, but the fact remains; she'll not only need the God Clay but a Shaper. And the one we have is only barely of age, and hasn't even been trained on how to use the stuff." He retorted. Ragnarsson sat back in his seat and rubbed his temple, "Besides, only Ovaksson and his wife, you and me know about the lassie. If she goes off to Toreguarde with the Grand Magus, then folk are gonna put two and two together and they're gonna start asking some right awkward questions." 

“They might, but is that a good enough reason to not allow Gruksdottir to help if she is able?” The Archlector countered. Ragnarsson blinked owlishly at the much older dwarf. The Archlector continued, “I have been in Contemplation since the Grand Magus’ arrival, and I know what Moradin’s thoughts on this matter are.” he paused for a moment and regarded Ragnarsson critically, “Tell me, has the girl spoken of being Called, or having dreams or nightmares about the Hellmouth?” he asked lightly. 

Ragnarsson squirmed under the gentle, but firm gaze of the Archlector. While Gruksdotti had never approached him directly, he had heard that she had indeed been having regular nightmares for the last month or so. Ragnarsson had been hoping that it was simply the stress of adapting to becoming a fully fledged cleric so early, but given the circumstances… he heaved a sigh and nodded, not meeting the Archlector’s gaze and staring into the fire instead,

“I’ve not heard if they’re about the Hellmouth, but, aye, the lassie’s apparently been having regular nightmares for the last month or so.” he confirmed. The middle aged man winced as he heard the Archlector’s disappointed tutt,

“Jotunn, you know as well as I that we can’t ignore such things.” the elderly dwarf sighed, “If Gruksdottir’s been Called to assist in permanently sealing the Hellmouth, then there is little we can do to stop her from going.” Ragnarsson returned his gaze to the Archlector and shook his head,

“I know that, but, as I said earlier, the lassie’s had no training on using raw God Clay. It’s no’ right to send her off with well wishes and hoping fer the best.” The Archlector hummed, tapping a finger on his chin,

“That is a bit of a pickle.” he agreed, but he raised an eyebrow, “However, she wouldn’t be able to get the proper training regardless. Fangthane has no raw God Clay for her to begin to practise with.” he pointed out. The Archlector sat back in his seat, relaxed, even as Ragnarsson blustered, “Personally, I have faith that the girl will manage just fine, provided she keeps her own faith in Moradin throughout the trials He’ll set before her.” 

Ragnarsson stared at him, eyes wide. Uncertainty gripped at his heart. There was less than a year for Gruksdottir to learn the secrets of the Gift she’d inherited and for her to find and use whatever God Clay remained. There was also the matter of the enemies of the Grand Magus, who likely wanted the Hellmouth to reopen, they would all set their sights on the girl the moment they discovered her involvement. Could Ragnarsson take the risk of having the life of a member of his flock snuffed out before it had truly begun? He startled as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Your concerns are valid, Jotunn.” The Archlector said gently, now sitting on a footstool in front of the middle-aged priest, “However, you must remember that Moradin must have faith in Gruksdottir and her ability to succeed, otherwise He would not be Calling her.” Ragnarsson took in a deep breath and nodded as warmth flooded into him,

“Aye. Aye, ye’re right.” he stuttered, his fear abating, “So, what do we do about the Council’s insistence on not allowing folk to leave the mountain for Toreguarde?” he asked. The Archlector smiled as he stood,

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll come around to changing their minds soon enough.” he replied lightly. A shiver went down Ragnarsson’s spine at the elderly dwarf’s words. Was it his imagination or did the floor under his feet just tremble?

[aquadestinyswriting]

A Circle None Can Break- Part Ten

Summary: King Storri has an intimate meeting with Ragnarsson, Head Librarian Haneskeeper and the Archlector, along with both of his children. In the meantime, Gruk finally admits that his youngest daughter might be the only person in the mountain that can help the Grand Magus in her quest.

Words: 3,423 a little longer than usual, but it's necessary.

Warnings: None

Notes: So who wants to know more about Fangthane's sordid history? This was such a fun chapter to write, but by all the gods, Selene can be so dense sometimes.

tags: @druidx, @strosmkai-rum, @homesteadchronicles, @warriorbookworm, @odysseywritings, @asher-orion-writes, @blind-the-winds, @writeblrsupport, @writeblrcafe

Despite an extensive search, the caster of the Fireball thrown into the middle of the council chamber was not found. While Captain Bloodvein had been annoyed that his guard for the Grand Magus had left the woman unattended, if only briefly, he had acknowledged the necessity. Thankfully, no one had been seriously hurt in the attempted assisination, but it was very clear to everyone involved that the target had been the Grand Magus herself, rather than the king or any of the Fangthane council members.

KIng Storri paced around his office, hands held firmly behind his back while Head Librarian Haneskeeper, the High Priest of Moradin and the Archlector watched from their seats. Prince Garin, stood awkwardly in the corner, eyeing his father warily, while his twin sister, Crown Princess Garni, poured out some much needed sweet tea.

“Come now, Father, you’ll wear yourself out with all that pacing, sit down and have some tea.” Garni said. Storri huffed a sigh and looked over to his daughter with a wane smile,

“My apologies Garni, I’ll sit down in a minute. Still too frazzled by what happened.” 

“Aye, we’re all a wee bit frazzled, Your Majesty, but the princess is right; ye’ll feel better once you’ve had something to drink.” Ragnarsson said. Storri huffed an irritated sigh, stopped pacing and grudgingly sat down and picked up the teacup. He took a small sip of the drink, then placed it back on the table. He sat back and ran a hand down his face,

“So, what are we gonna do about this?” he asked, “We all know the Grand Magus is like to want to leave much sooner now there’s been a public attempt on her life. Not that I’ll complain if she leaves early, mind, but I’m worried that we still don’t have any clue as to who did it.” 

“If I may, father, Captain Bloodvein is of the opinion that it was probably a member of the Cabal. He said something about the stink of dark, arcane magic.” Garin said. Storri lifted his head and looked at his son out of the corner of his eye,

“If that’s the case, then there’ll probably be more attempts.” he grumbled, “Any suggestions on how we handle things?” he asked the rest of the group. Haneskeeper shook his head, as did Ragnarsson. The Archlector, however, ran his fingers through his beard, his expression thoughtful,

“If this individual is the type to keep hanging around, then may I suggest a smaller meeting with the Grand Magus in a more secure part of either the palace or the Cathedral?” He said, “A second, very public, convening of the Council is likely to give the miscreant the opportunity to cause quite a lot of collateral damage should they make another attempt on the good Grand Magus’ life.”

All three other men stroked their beards thoughtfully. Garni scoffed,

“Forgive me, Yer Eminence, but if this individual is going to keep making attempts on the Grand Magus’ life, then surely it is in the best interest of the people of Fangthane for the Grand Magus to be given copies of whatever information it is she seeks and then sent on her way?” she asked. She ignored the warning glare her father sent her way and continued looking directly at the Archlector. The elderly dwarf gave the princess a warm smile,

“While I appreciate your concern, Your Highness, I believe that the Grand Magus has every right to know everything she needs to in order to prevent catastrophe befalling us all.” The Archlector looked over to Ragnarsson, “After all, it is not just the possible location of the God Clay that she requires.” he added, voice low. 

Storri frowned in confusion as he looked between the Archlector and Moradin’s High Priest. The latter was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. A few long moments later, Ragnarsson huffed a stressed sigh with a shake of his head,

“As much as I would rather we didn’t have to share that particular bit o’ knowledge, if using the God Clay is the only way to stop that hellmouth from being prised back open again, I suppose we have no other choice.”  he grumbled. Storri’s frown deepened,

“What d’ye mean ‘that particular bit of knowledge’?” he asked lightly, “If the Church has something to share, then I would very much like to hear about it.” Haneskeeper frowned, running his fingers through his greying, brown beard. Slowly his movements slowed and his eyes widened,

“Wait, ye canna possibly mean..?” he asked, trailing off as Ragnarsson glanced over to him and nodded, before returning his attention back to his increasingly irate king,

“I believe High Librarian Heimlig and High Inquisitor Firetome have previously explained that the Grand Magus did not only need access to the God Clay, but a Shaper as well?” he asked. Storri nodded, his face twisting into an unhappy grimace,

“Aye, that they did, though neither elaborated on that particular point.” he said, “They didn’t seem to think that we could provide one. Though, to be honest, I was more concerned about the God Clay itself at the time. Perhaps I should have asked them more about it.” he added with a shake of his head. Ragnarsson glanced over to Haneskeeper, who was staring, open-mouthed at the other man, disbelief writ plain over his weathered features. Haneskeeper shook his head and turned his attention to the king,

“A Shaper, Your Majesty, is an individual who has been Blessed by Kherillim with the ability to use and… well, shape, God Clay.” the old librarian explained, “It’s an ancient ability that was only ever found in one family line, passed down directly from one generation to the next. However, the line became extinct several centuries ago, during the War of the Red Hammer. There shouldn’t be a Shaper for the Grand Magus to use.” Storri frowned as he considered the information. Garni tapped her chin thoughtfully,

“Oh, wasn’t that the war that started because some cousins all the way over on the western coast of Allansia turned their worship to Ladeurger and were all turned into Duregar by Moradin as punishment?” she asked, “I remember reading a bit about it not long ago. Apparently there was a line that was once Blessed by Kherillim that fell from Her grace and were punished along with all the other heretics in the Purges that came in the war’s aftermath.” Haneskeeper nodded and smiled at the girl,

“I see ye’ve been keeping up with yer lessons, Your Highness.” he noted proudly. He turned his attention back to the other men in the room, “By all historical accounts, the Blessing in question should not currently exist.” 

Now that Garni had mentioned it, Storri did recall having to learn about the war of the Red Hammer in his own youth, along with the history of the Purges when he asked why so many clans were no longer talked, or written, about afterwards. He looked over to Ragnarsson and the Archlector, confused,

“So ye’re saying that Fangthane’s Church of Moradin has a Shaper, despite the fact that it should be an extinct ability?” he asked. Ragnarsson nodded,

"That is exactly what I'm saying, Your Majesty." The older man confirmed, "We've been keepin' it quiet because it's something that a lot of people with ill intentions will be very interested in." 

"Given that the girl exists at this particular time, however, is not a coincidence." The Archlector stated, "The Grand Magus has already all but stated outright that the God Clay is the only way to permanently seal the portal to the Pit that currently rests beneath her tower. While we do not have any of the God Clay here, we do have someone who can use it."

Storri stroked his moustache as the two clerics spoke. He was not happy to hear that such information had been kept from the Royal Family, though he understood Ragnarsson's reasoning. 

"You said girl," Storri said slowly, staring at the fireplace behind and between Ragnarsson and the Archlector, "how old?" He asked, already dreading the answer. Ragnarsson sighed,

"Not long reached age of majority, Your Majesty. We had her fully ordained as a cleric almost a year ago, on the Archlector's suggestion, rather than waiting 'til the next Throff's Day." 

Storri frowned, staring into the fire. While said girl was technically a woman, she was still so young… The king shook his head,

"Very well, we might as well convene a small meeting with only a few, senior members of the Council." He said. He turned his attention to Garin, who came to his father's side almost immediately, "Garin, please have a message sent to the Grand Magus informing her that there will be a meeting, arranged at our earliest convenience, to discuss any aid that we might be able to render." He said. Garin nodded, bowed, and quickly left the room. Garni cocked her head, her brow furrowing in consternation,

"Father, you cannot mean to –" she was quickly cut off by her father's stern glance,

"Nothing has yet been decided." He stated shortly, "The meeting is merely to go over the options available." 

The Archlector gave the affronted princess a soft smile, leaning forward,

"I realise that you worry for the young lady in question, Your Highness, and I am glad that you do. However, should it be Moradin's will that she go to Toreguarde to right the wrong that has been done to the world, then she, and we, must abide by it." He reminded her, glancing briefly over to Storri. Garni nodded, sitting back in her seat, chastened,

"Aye Yer Holiness." She said quietly. Storri bowed his head; he knew very well that to defy the Gods was folly. However, a small part of him still bristled. Fangthane couldn't afford to lose more people, especially the youngest of them. If the girl had a talent that was believed to have been extinct for centuries, then surely the Crown and Church had a duty to ensure her safety above all else?

Haneskeeper was the first to leave, muttering about needing to check the records held in his library. Garni, recognising her father was in a maudlin mood when Storri barely acknowledged the elderly dwarf, was quick to take responsibility for seeing her family's guests out the door.

Ragnarsson shook his head as he escorted the Archlector to their carriage,

"Do you think His Royal Nibs is going to let the lassie go with our wizard friend?" He asked, the two of them settling into their seats as the carriage rocked into motion. The Archlector leaned his head back, looking out the window at the palace,

"If not, then he will be in for a very rude awakening once Moradin deigns to take matters into His own hands." The ancient dwarf replied wearily. "For now, my friend, all we can do is wait." 

~*~

Selene tickled Chrackle under his beak and handed him a piece of the meat on her plate,

“Now, don’t go begging everyone else for some.” she warned, “You’ve had plenty.” Chrackle said nothing, either aloud or mentally, but he did send his wizard a short glare before flying back up into the rafters of the main barroom of the Hammer and Anvil. The pub was quiet, mostly because Snorri had only allowed his family and closest friends inside. It wasn’t that Selene wasn’t grateful, but she did worry that the landlord was going so far out of his way to help her,

“You don’t have to keep closing your establishment on my account, Snorri.” she said when the landlord returned to the table with another round of drinks, “I would have been perfectly happy to have stayed in my room.” she added. Snorri shook his head vehemently,

“I’ll no’ have a bunch of folk botherin’ ye with silly questions or comments, hen.” he replied. “Besides, it’s easier for yer security to keep an eye on ye with fewer folk around.” he added, nodding to the small group of kingsguard that were sitting at a nearby table, currently thoroughly enjoying Snorri’s hospitality. Edwin sighed,

“He’s got a point, Sel, I do feel a lot happier knowing everyone that’s in here is someone I know. I know the Crown has officially stated that the assassin that tried to kill you earlier was probably from the Cabal, but I’m not entirely convinced of that fact.” Selene frowned, turning her attention to her fellow human,

“What on Titan makes you say that, Edwin?” she asked, utterly perplexed, “I know there are plenty of dwarves here that have legitimate grievances against my presence, but I doubt any of them would have been stupid enough to have flung a Fireball at me while the Archlector and the King were present.” Edwin grimaced and said nothing, taking a gulp of the stout Snorri had handed to him instead. Gruk spoke up in the cleric’s stead,

“I wouldn’t be so sure, lass,” he sighed. “there was an incident involving a traveller who was passing through not that long ago. Since they’d come from Toreguarde’s way, they got a lot of grief themselves and had some attempts on their life, though the perpetrators were never caught. Most o’ the regulars here suspect that some of the most disgruntled folk in the mountain were responsible, if not directly, then they at least allowed outsiders entry into the mount to do their dirty work for them.” Selene grumbled and took a swig of her own drink,

“I suppose it doesn’t actually matter who it was, in the end. I made a lot of enemies in my time and I haven’t exactly been able to go and deal with them personally. I have a much more immediate problem to deal with anyway.” she said, drumming her fingers on the table and gesturing to the heavy, leatherbound book on the table next to her plate. Snorri blinked, noticing the ever so slight twitch in one of the Abouna’s eyebrows, but decided that, for the moment, it was best to keep his mouth shut. He looked back over to Selene as she started speaking once more,

“I asked Auld Derek if there was anything that he knew of that could help me locate some more information on the God Clay, or about Shapers, but this was the only thing he could find in the library. Apparently if I want something actually useful, I need to ask the Cathedral for access to their archives.” 

Gruk’s head snapped up,

“What was that, hen? Something about Shapers?”

All eyes turned to Gruk as Selene shrugged,

“Yes, the book Egrim let me see from his own collection, made mention that in order for the God Clay to be used, I’d need a Shaper.” she explained, “I figured it would be easier to ask about the God Clay first, then enquire about how to find a Shaper.” Her face pinched into a confused frown as Gruk slowly looked down at the table and shifted uncomfortably. Edwin laid a hand on the smith’s shoulder,

“Something on your mind Gruk?” he asked. Gruk’s worried frown lifted a little as he looked back up at the pair of concerned humans,

“Apologies, was just thinking about something Ragnarsson said a good while back.” he muttered, “It’s probably nothin’, but he did mention something about God Clay and Shapers when we were getting Merri enrolled as an Acolyte way back when.” Now it was Edwin’s turn to frown in confusion, while Selene leaned forward excitedly,

“Do you remember what he said?” she asked, “I only ask because this will give me a lead on who to talk to about it if the Council refuses to answer my questions at the next meeting.” 

Edwin watched Gruk’s expression; the man was clearly having some sort of internal debate about the subject, and Edwin wondered why the smith was suddenly being so cagey. Gruk was usually a very forthright individual, not one to bother with secrecy. Unless…?

Gruk fidgeted as he considered how to answer Selene’s question,

“Well, I do remember him saying that there were a couple of artefacts kept in the vault that were made of God Clay.” he said slowly, “I don’t recall him ever saying anything about the church having any that wasn’t already used to make things.” Snorri cocked his head in confusion,

“Why would he even mention the stuff to you?” he asked, “The only cleric we’ve got in the family is Merri! And ye just said ye were there to enrol her as an acolyte.” The ex-slayer took a breath to carry on with his interrogation, but was stopped by Edwin holding up at hand. The Abouna squeezed Gruk’s shoulder,

“You don’t have to answer, Gruk, but Snorri makes an excellent point.” he said slowly, “The High Priest of Moradin wouldn’t tell you something like that if it wasn’t relevant.” he added. 

Gruk tried not to let his panic show, but he was having a hard time doing so. He should have just kept his big mouth shut. He truly didn’t know much more than what Ragnarsson had told him, but if he told them everything then they’d want his wee baby girl to leave and help solve their problem immediately. He couldn’t let that happen, she was too young and inexperienced in the ways of the wider world. Another part of him railed against the instinct, reminding him that his youngest daughter was now a grown woman, and she was clearly aching to get out there and help. Who was he to stop her if she wanted to go? While he was no cleric, Gruk knew enough to know that to deny a Call was to defy the very God that his daughter now worked for. He heaved a sigh and looked between Edwin and Selene for a moment before hanging his head,

“It was relevant.” he said, voice low, “Merri found a bowl made of God Clay when she was just a wee bairn. She had gotten some of the claydust on her hands and found she could make things with it. By the time Ragnarsson and I found her, she’d already made a wee mouse companion for herself that was running around her feet.” He explained, “I knew it meant something, but I wasn’t told any details until I went to get the paperwork to enrol her as an acolyte a decade later.” Gruk looked back up, his expression haggard as he looked over to Selene,

“I’ve no idea if we’ve even got any God Clay in the mount, hen, but ye said it yourself; it’s no use to ye if ye don’t have someone that can use it.” 

“And your daughter is probably the only one that anyone knows of that can.” Selene surmised, grimacing at the defeated expression on the smith’s face. She reached over and laid a hand on top of his, “If there was any other way for me to deal with this, I’d jump all over it.” she said apologetically, “The last thing I want is to drag innocent people who had nothing to do with the portal’s existence into this mess.” Gruk smiled up at her,

“I ken.” he sighed wearily, “As much as I don’t like it, my wee girl is grown up and can make her own choice on the matter. And I rather get the feelin’ she’ll jump at the chance to help ye.” Edwin fiddled with one of the braids in his beard, frowning,

“That’s if the Council will let her.” he said, “We don’t even know if the Council wants to tell Selene anything about where she can even find the God Clay yet, never mind sending a barely adult woman to help a city they seem to despise.” he pointed out. Selene huffed a sigh,

“Well, let’s get the next Council meeting out of the way first. If they can’t help with locating the God Clay itself, I can at least make inquiries about them allowing Meredith to help.” 

None of the people around the table had noticed that one of the kingsguard had left the nearby table as soon as the conversation had ended. The heavily armoured dwarf excused himself, stating that he was going to do a quick patrol around the pub. No one noticed him pull out a small hand mirror from one of the pouches on his belt as he walked out the door. Firetome was going to be very interested to hear about this.

[aquadestinyswriting]

Filled with Clarity

Summary: Archlecor Kargun Vanskleig is in contemplation to work out how best to help the youngest member of his clergy.

Words: 609

Tags: @druidx, @asher-orion-writes, @homesteadchronicles, @warriorbookworm, @mariahwritesstuff, @writeblrsupport, @ashirisu, @flashfictionfridayofficial, @blind-the-winds

Warnings: None.

Notes: This is set just before the council session in part seven of A Circle None Can Break and so is technically a part of it, but it's also part of the whole The Trouble with Meredith series, so I'm placing it there.

Kargun Vanskleig was not a man that was easily perturbed. However, when the High Priest came to him seeking guidance regarding an issue with one of his church’s youngest clerics, he had to admit that what he had been told was incredibly distressing.

The Archlector of Moradin steepled his fingers as he gazed into the molten metal bubbling away in the scrying pool of the contemplation chamber. He was almost nine centuries old and had seen many promising young clerics pass through the trials that Moradin sent to them. Most were relatively mundane; little things like the occasional crisis of faith, or to venture out far into the wider world to do His work elsewhere. He’d only ever seen two dwarves that had been clearly Marked for a much greater purpose in the time he’d spent working for his God- both when he was a much younger and fitter man- and now he needed to try to guide a third at the end of his twilight years. 

Vanskleig huffed a sigh, his old bones creaking as he shifted his position to make himself more comfortable and opened his mind and heart to the presence of his God. He smiled as he felt the comforting touch of Moradin on his shoulder,

“Some idea of what the lass has to face would be appreciated, ye ken.” he said, seemingly to thin air. “I can’t help out very much if I’ve no idea what’s coming.” The old dwarf felt the presence around him consider his words. Vanskleig knew very well that the Gods were rarely forthright about such requests, but if you don’t ask, you don’t get. He could work out what anything he was sent meant later. The Archlector felt his attention being drawn to the scrying pool, where the molten metal was now swirling and an image was taking shape in the centre of the whirlpool. Vanskleig’s eyes went wide as he took in the vision Moradin was granting him, his old heart breaking at the sight of it. 

“I’d rather been hoping ye’d be a bit gentler with this one.” he sighed, shaking his head as the vision ended and the pool returned to its resting state. He felt a pinch of regret near his heart,

I know, I’m sorry.

Vanskleig closed his eyes and tilted his head back, trying to shove the ancient memories that flashed into his head back into the recesses of his mind. There was no point in dwelling on his own past, not any more. Once the memories faded, he opened his eyes again and looked to the largest statue of Moradin, set against the far end of the scrying pool,

“I suppose I’d better go knock a bunch of heads together at this council session then.” he groused, “Ye ken, I’d been hoping that ye’d at least grant me a degree o’ peace in the few years I’ve got left.” he sniped, only half-glaring at the statue. 

I’ve been trying. This one isn’t me.

Vanskleig frowned,

“Who, then?” he asked. Vanskleig grumbled when he didn’t receive an answer, “Fine. I suppose I’ll find out eventually.” The ancient dwarf groaned as he pulled himself upright, leaning heavily on his staff to do so. Once he was up, Vanskleig bowed his head to the statue and shuffled to the entrance to the chamber. There was much work to be done if he hoped to give at least what little help he could to expedite matters, and precious little time in which to do it. At least now he had a clearer idea of what was coming and could put some contingencies in place if required.

[aquadestinyswriting]

A Circle None Can Break: Part Thirteen

Summary: His Majesty is brought into the Royal Vaults to see the message left for him there. He sends his Kingsguard to find the thief and vandal responsible, only to have a heart to heart with the Archlector

Words: 2,332

Warnings: None that I can tell. Let me know if I'm wrong

Notes: Second to last chapter folks! This has been a journey and a bit. The message being referred to can be found at the end of the Flash Fiction entry A Mother's Wrath

tags: @druidx, @strosmkai-rum, @homesteadchronicles, @warriorbookworm, @odysseywritings, @sparrow-orion-writes, @blind-the-winds, @writeblrsupport, @writeblrcafe

King Storri glared at the moulded runes on the wall of the Royal Vault. He sniffed and turned to the captain of his Kingsguard,

“Do we have any idea how the culprit even got into the vault?” he asked lightly. Captain Bloodvein stroked his beard thoughtfully, mulling the question over,

“Not yet, Your Majesty. All we know so far is that the doors weren’t forced open and none of the guards, or any of the rest of the staff, have seen anyone skulking around the palace.” he replied. The taller dwarf glanced at the runes on the wall. They had been too perfectly moulded onto the surface to have been the work of some random thief and vandal. He cleared his throat as his king fumed,

“Your Majesty, perhaps we need to consider the possibility that this was not the work of a mortal being,” he ventured warily, “The Vault has been thoroughly protected from all manner of teleportation magic and the runes are confirmed to be physically present and, by all accounts, appear to be part of the wall. The language used is also indicative of-” he was cut off as Storri raised a hand,

“I will confer with the Church with regards to this message, Captain. However, if the disappearance of a potentially sacred or heretical artefact was the work of the gods, then how do you explain that?” he asked, pointing to a scuff mark on the floor next to the shelf and a faint footprint next to it. Captain Bloodvein heaved a sigh and nodded,

“I’ll send out a search party for the individual responsible at once, sire.” he said, turning to the small troupe of guards he had brought with him, “Broadaxe, Silverhand with me.” he called, starting to lead the two other dwarves out of the Vault, only to be stopped by the appearance of a tall, thin figure in the doorway. The Kingsguard stumbled to a halt and bowed deeply as the Archlector quietly sauntered into the cavern. He nodded to the Kingsguard and smiled,

“Please, don’t stop your search on my account.” he said mildly, stepping aside to allow the Kingsguard to leave. Captain Bloodvein bowed once more, frowning in consternation, but quickly recalled himself and left.

Storri turned stiffly and inclined his head at the sound of the Archlector’s voice behind him,

“Archlector, to what do we owe the pleasure?” he asked. Archlector Vanskleig said nothing as he glided across the cavern, peering at the runes moulded onto the wall his king was standing next to. The elderly dwarf cocked his head,

“It’s curious, don’t you think? That we should be so troubled by earthquakes, and that some random miscreant manages to gain entry into the Royal Vault, of all places, to steal a random sacred item mere hours after you dismissed Lady Frigidwake from the mountain?”

Storri tensed. The Archlector’s voice was soft, gentle even. However, even Storri could not miss the undercurrent in the elderly dwarf’s words. The king turned back to the wall, shaking his head,

“What should I have done instead, Archlector? Sent one of our own out on what amounts to a suicide mission when we are only barely recovering from a disaster that Lady Frigidwake, and her companions, were responsible for?” Vanskleig sighed, leaned on his staff and laid a hand on the young king’s shoulder,

“I just don’t want to see ma people suffer any more.” he murmured. He huffed a sigh and shook his head, “However, I will concede to yer wisdom on this matter. The tablet still needs to be returned, however.” Vanskleig squeezed the younger dwarf’s shoulder,

“I understand your reluctance to get involved, Your Majesty, I do.” he said quietly, “However, inaction on our part will have graver consequences than can possibly be imagined.” He gestured to the runes, “Not a one of us, not even I, can deny the Call of Kherillim or even Dànadas.” he added. Storri hung his head,

“Aye, that it does. So long as yer Kingsguard don’t do anything rash, then there won’t be any further issues.” 

Edwin and Selene raced through the streets of Fangthane, Gruk in tow, while Snorri kept the patrons of his bar in their seats. 

“What in all the Hells is the lassie doin’?!” Gruk despaired as he skidded around the corner and onto the street leading out to the main entrance to Fangthane. Edwin shook his head,

“It’s not Meredith, Gruk. Throff has had enough and is making a Statement. I just hope we find your daughter before the Kingsguard do.” he muttered. Selene said nothing, guilt squeezing at her heart. While she was more than aware that getting Gruk’s daughter involved in her city’s problems was the Will of the Gods, that didn’t stop her from wishing that there was another way to solve the problem.

~Too bad, there isn’t.~ came Chrackle’s voice in her head, ~Anyway, you’re a bit late. The girl’s surrounded by Kingsguard. Giving you a heads up that she’s very upset so you might want to duck and cover.~ he said. Selene grimaced, realising only now that she could feel the pull of magic towards the front door. She grabbed Edwin and Gruk and pulled them behind a pillar just as a loud Crack! Echoed around the hall. Loud shouts of fear and partial outrage quickly followed suit, along with the muffled voice of a young, female dwarf yelling something. Selene couldn’t make out what the young cleric was saying over the ringing in her ears. She could barely hear Edwin’s swearing. She glanced over to Gruk, who had gone white under his beard. The smith looked up at the human wizard and gestured in the direction of the front door with a determined grimace. Selene shook her head, but Gruk could not be swayed and he snorted, got up and marched out from behind the pillar to confront whoever got in his way first. Selene swept her gaze over to Edwin, who shrugged and got up to follow the dwarven man. The ringing in her ears abated slightly as Selene rounded the pillar, only to find Captain Bloodvein standing next to a wary looking young dwarven girl wearing clerical vestments and clutching a stone tablet in her arms. The Captain of the Kingsguard was waving for the other dwarves with him to stand down as he approached Meredith, glancing up at the doors at the girl’s back. Selene followed his gaze, jaw dropping open at the sight of the huge crack  spread across the massive, granite slabs that made up the front door. Selene quickly recalled herself and brought her gaze back to the two dwarves at the foot of the doors.

Captain Bloodvein held up his hands in the most placating manner he could,

“Alright hen, point made. I’m just here to get that tablet and take it back where it belongs.” he said, keeping his voice level. The young woman glared at him, tears brimming in her eyes,

“And I just telt ye that I couldn’t.” she snapped. Captain Bloodvein heaved a sigh,

“I can’t let ye keep it.” he said patiently, “If ye’re worried that ye’re in major trouble, don’t be. I saw the message yer Mistress left fer us. I’m no’ daft enough to get in Her way.” Meredith frowned, concerned,

“Ye swear I’m not in trouble fer this?” she asked. Captain Bloodvein clasped his hand to his chest and bowed his head,

“On my Oath and Honour as Kingsguard, ye have my word.” he said. Meredith’s frown lifted into a look of shocked surprise for a moment, before she grimaced, nodded to herself and held the tablet out,

“I’m not even sure why She wanted me to take this anyway.” she muttered. Bloodvein smiled as he took the tablet from the girl’s hands,

“I’ve got a vague idea as to why, but let’s wait to see what happens next, eh?” He turned around and nodded to the half-incensed, half- worried Gruk, who had stopped in his tracks halfway up the entrance hall, “My apologies, Mr Ironforge, I’m gonna have to borrow yer daughter fer a bit longer. I rather think there are some folk that want to have a chat with her first.” he said, glancing over to Selene, who bowed her head in embarrassment. Gruk snorted, crossed his arms over his chest and nodded,

“Of course, Captain, I’ll no’ get in the way of that.” he agreed. He glanced over to his daughter, his expression softening slightly on seeing the scared and anxious look she was giving him,

“We’ll have a chat with yer mum when ye get home.” he said, “We’ll sort something out. In the meantime, mind yer manners.” he told her. Meredith slowly nodded, a small smile finally gracing her features. Edwin sighed and ran a hand through his hair,

“I suppose you’ll be needing someone to get word back to Snorri and his pub about what’s going on?” he asked, “I dread to think what kinds of rumours are making their way around the place by now.” Gruk slapped the Abouna on the arm,

“Dinna panic, I’m comin’ with ye, ye daft blithy.” he sighed, “It’s not like I want any of those rumours doing the rounds, and I know what’s being said in that bloody taproom.” the smith looked over to Selene,

“You make sure to take care of ma wee girl, aye?” he said, voice stern once more. Selene chuckled and nodded,

“Of course. I’ll, hopefully, see you later. Provided His Majesty doesn’t throw another hissy fit and throw me out immediately.” 

“Be an idiot if he did.” Chrackle squawked, fluttering onto Selene’s shoulder, “Already need to repair door. Will need replace if he that stupid.” Selene glanced to the crack in the door again,

“Quite.” she murmured. She waved Gruk and Edwin off and turned to Captain Bloodvein, who had finally managed to coax Meredith down the stairs. The kingsguard quickly created a square around their Captain and his two guests and quickly marched back towards the Palace, making every attempt to keep ahead of the slowly gathering crowd that was congregating near the front doors.

Firetome seethed as he read through the latest report that was hurriedly placed onto his desk. He, and his his master, had both been most pleased when word had reached them of the theft from the Royal Vault. The High Inquisitor had been hopeful that, once the girl had been arrested, he’d be brought in to question her. This latest report, however… He threw the parchment onto the fire with a frustrated grunt. Now that the Archlector had become involved, there was little to no chance of stopping Moradin’s little pet from getting to Toreguarde. He didn’t bother looking up at the knock on his door.

“Yer Eminence, ye have a visitor.” Vera called from the door. Firetome schooled his expression into one of weariness,

“May I ask who it is?” he asked with a resigned sigh. Vera stepped to one side as another, feminine figure appeared in the doorway,

“Thank you for bringing me here dear.” came a familiar, lilting voice, “I believe I can take it from here.” Firetome nodded at the dubious expression on Vera’s face and smiled as Lady Copperheart walked into the office,

“Lady Copperheart, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” he asked, smiling broadly at her. Vera sighed, shrugged and left, closing the door behind her. Ionah waited until she was sure the trainee Inquisitor was gone before she replied, sitting down smoothly in the chair opposite Firetome. She smoothed out her dress,

“It’s recently come to my attention that His Majesty has agreed to have one last meeting with Lady Frigidwake, despite insisting that she leave the mountain earlier today.” she sniffed, “As I understand it, there were some…ecumenical developments that led to his change of heart.” She glanced up at Firetome, “You happen to know anything about that?” she asked sweetly. Firetome huffed a sigh,

“Aye, disappointingly. Apparently Throff Herself saw fit to get involved.” he replied, “T’would seem that our attempts to prevent help from reaching Toreguarde have been thwarted for the time being.” he grumbled. Ionah shook her head,

“Disappointing.” she tutted, “However, we are not entirely out of options.” the noblewoman took out a compact mirror and checked her reflection, “The girl is young and inexperienced and there are rumours afoot about other forces encroaching on Toreguarde, which I’m sure will be more than enough to take care of her.”  she added. Firetome snorted,

“Given that she seems to be a favourite of Moradin and Kherillim both, I doubt anything else that wants to throw itself at her will be enough.” he muttered, “I’m of a mind to ask Grimbeard to keep an eye on her. See if he can’t cause her some trouble while she’s there.” 

Ionah smiled,

“You speak to dear Grimbeard, and I’ll see what my own connections in the city can do. A word or two in the right ears should be enough to keep her too busy to deal with what she’s there to do.” she said, leaning back in her seat. Firetome grinned at her,

“Well then, my lady, I think we both have rather a lot of work to do. I’ll make sure to tell my Inquisitors to allow you entry whensoever you need to speak to me again.” he added, getting up from his chair and offering his arm. Ionah beamed at him, took the proffered arm and allowed herself to be escorted back to the door,

“Thank you, High Inquisitor. Do endeavour to keep in touch, won’t you?” she simpered. Firetome kissed her hand as he opened the door,

“Of course, my lady. Until next time.” he said. The High Inquisitor watched the noblewoman go, feeling a little better about the situation and returning to his desk to get on with the mountain of paperwork that was waiting for him.

[aquadestinyswriting]

From the weaponry asks:

rapier: which character is the most stylish? (Of the Fangthane lot. We all know Thazar would win otherwise)

penknife: which of your characters is best at keeping secrets?

Optional, because I can't remember if anyone dies on-screen: shotgun: if characters die in the story, who has the most dramatic death?

Thnk you for the asks hen. Questions are from the ask game found here

rapier: which character is the most stylish? (Of the Fangthane lot. We all know Thazar would win otherwise)

Oh, yeah Thazaar would totally win if there wasn't a caveat (though tbf, I could also go with Frenchie or even Cece for this this one). However for the Fangthane lot, I might have to give it to Merri's uncle Ufgi (the one who made her armour before we went toddling off to Khull the second time). He's one of the few dwarves I can think of that likes to "dress up" a bit and likes adding little flourishes to both his work and the things he wears (including adding odds and ends to his braids in his beard for special occassions). I figured he was the type to lean into that given all the inscription he did for Merri's armour, dude went well above and beyond for it.

penknife: which of your characters is best at keeping secrets?

The best one for keeping secrets is actually Thaddeus for the Wizard's Tower lot and Ragnarsson/Vanskleig for Fangthane. Thaddeus is pretty much the only wizard in the tower that isn't prone to gossip and actively dislikes and avoids it it whenever he can. Because he's also the least sociable of the lot (and that's saying a lot for the wizard's tower since they're all fairly antisocial aside from Dwena). Ragnarsson, being High Priest, has to keep a lot of stuff confidential for clergy, staff and devotees of Moradin as part of his job. Vanskleig is good for this as well for more or less the same reasons.

shotgun: if characters die in the story, who has the most dramatic death?

For fiction set around either completed campaign, we do have Selene (see: To Heal a Broken Soul for the details about that), though I wouldn't really call it dramatic. More sad and traumatic for everyone involved (she did get better, but she did, ultimately, make it to the Waiting Room to have a chat with a god).

Merri's death was pretty dramatic. Arrow right through the heart killing her almost outright from a completely unseen assassin? I'd call that plenty dramatic. And traumatising for everyone else.

The most dramatic though, really does have to go to Llachlan. This is kind of spoiling the backstory for a major plot point in The Ouroboros of Destiny campaign, but I'm pretty sure you want to know the details anyway.

Part of the backstory involves Llachlan being a typical teenager and deciding that the best way to deal with his supposed abandonment by his parents is to run away from home (with a great deal of "encouragement" from that shadowy voice he heard). He winds up getting involved with some filthy, rotten cultists (as you do in these situations), who are very interested indeed to learn who he is.

Fast forward about five years and the Cult of the Black Lady is setting up a massive ritual to bring said patron Demon Prince into the Material Plane. The final sacrifice that's needed to kickstart the magic needs to be someone blood related. Funnily enough, Llachlan fits the description perfectly. By this point, Llachlan's been trying to back out and word has finally got back to mum of his whereabouts. She gets a whole damn army to try and get him home, but turns up just a moment too late to stop the cultists committing that final sacrifice. The ritual does get stopped (don't ask how I'm still working those details out, but it probably involves Meredith's massive explosion of grief-stricken Divine Retribution. Girl's around 600-odd years old by now and has been Archlector of Fangthane for about 300 years by that point.)

As to why Llachlan's around by the time of the start of the campaign which takes place around 250-300 years later... well... that's another matter entirely.

[aquadestinyswriting]

A Circle None Can Break- Part Fourteen

Summary: Selene is escorted back to Archlector Vanskleig's personal apartment to have one last meeting with the Low King of Fangthane. In the meantime, Firetome is making plans of his own.

Words: 2,138

Warnings: None that I can tell. Let me know if I'm wrong

Notes: Ok, so the finale is going to have to be split into two parts itself because it'll be about 5k words long otherwise. However I do like where this one went.

tags: @druidx, @sparrow-orion-writes , @homesteadchronicles, @warriorbookworm, @mariahwritesstuff, @writeblrsupport, @ashirisu, @thesorcerersapprentice, @blind-the-winds, @philosophika, @the-down-upside-finch

It did not take long for Captain Bloodvein to escort his charges back to the Cathedral, only to be met by a small contingent of Hammers, led by Captain Gravelheart. The two saluted one another, with Captain Bloodvein sending his peer a look of confusion. Captain Gravelheart smiled broadly as she gestured to Meredith,

“Apologies Captain Bloodvein, but I’ve been asked by His Holiness to escort wee Gruksdottir to a meeting with him and High Priest Ragnarsson. I was also told to inform ye that His Majesty is awaiting the Grand Magus in His Holiness’ apartment.” Captain Bloodvein nodded, tucking his helmet under his arm as he turned to Meredith,

“On ye go then, hen.” he sighed, “It’s probably fer the best that Ragnarsson tells ye what’s what anyway.” Meredith bowed deeply to him before stepping forward to stand beside the ochre-haired woman, looking far more comfortable in the intimidating woman’s presence,

“Thank you for escorting me this far, Captain Bloodvein, and for your help earlier.” she said. Captain Bloodvein shook his head,

“It’s fine, hen. I’m just glad we could get it sorted out.” he replied smoothly.

Meredith turned to Selene and bowed again,

“Thank you for looking after my faither. Hopefully, I’ll have a chance to see ye again when I arrive in Toreguarde.” 

Selene nodded, smiling broadly,

“I certainly hope so, though it may not be immediately. I’ll have a lot of work to catch up on once I get back.” she replied, “I’ll try to arrange a meeting as soon as I get word of your arrival, provided His Majesty agrees to this, of course.” she added with a wink. Meredith bit back a chuckle and nodded, bowing again before following Captain Gravelheart around a corner. Captain Bloodvein shook his head then looked to the Grand Magus,

“If ye’re ready then, Lady Frigidwake, I suggest we don’t don’t keep His Majesty waiting.” he stated gruffly. Selene nodded and stepped through the imposing doors of the Cathedral,

“Of course, I’m as ready to be done with this as I suspect he is.” she sighed “Please, lead on.”

~*~

Firetome huffed impatiently as he waited for his Scry to be picked up. What was taking that oaf so long? He looked at the timekeeper on his wall and drummed his fingers on his desk, of a mind to try again the next morning. Just as the High Inquisitor reached forward to dismiss his spell, the fog in the mirror cleared to reveal the annoyed countenance of Inquisitor Grimbeard. 

“Ye picked a bad time to check in, ye ken.” the grey-haired dwarf grumbled, “Starhammer’s bein’ a right pain in my arse.” 

Firetome glared at the skinny dwarf,

“I don’t much care to hear about Starhammer right now. I’ve got a job for you.” he snapped. Grimbeard blinked, then shrugged,

“Well, go on then. It’s gotta be better than filing a tonne of paperwork fer no reason.” he groused. Firetome snorted and smiled,

“It’s some actual work for once, you’ll be glad to hear. Word in the vein is that His Majesty, in his infinite wisdom, is allowing one of our newest clerics to travel to Toreguarde in the near future.”

“This to do with that rumour about the Seal finally failing?” Grimbeard asked. He smiled widely as Firetome nodded, “Figured as much. The Tower’s been tryin’ to keep that under wraps, but I think the whole city’s heard about their Grand Magus’ ‘holiday’ by now.” he chuckled, “Wouldn’t be surprised if the Chancellor didn’t try to kick her out the minute she gets back. He’s being properly pissy right now from what I’ve been hearing from Starhammer.”

Firetome grumbled, sitting back in his seat with a shake of his head, 

“He can try, but I doubt it would work. In any case, I need you to keep an eye on this cleric’s activities after she arrives and get some words in the right ears about her adventuring in city limits. We might as well make that Edict work in our favour.” he said. Grimbeard stroked his beard thoughtfully,

“I can do that, aye. But why, and what’s in it for me?” he asked. Firetome scowled at the other dwarf,

“You don’t need to know the details, and because I said so as your High Inquisitor!” he snapped. Grimbeard snorted, his features twisting into an annoyed grimace,

“Look, I’m only here because our masters want that portal reopened. I don’t owe you any allegiances and I’ve got a bunch of other, more important stuff to be getting on with. So if you want me to keep an eye on this wean, ye better give me the details and pay up for it.”  he countered. Firetome groaned, running a hand down his face. This was why he’d been so grateful when Grimbeard had offered to take the position of Head Inquisitor for the Temple of Moradin in Toreguarde. However, he was a shrewd man and clearly knew how to bargain. Firetome glared at him,

“Fine. The lassie being sent your way is there to permanently seal the portal our masters want kept intact. However, she needs an artefact to be able to do so. If you can prevent her from acquiring it, then there’s nothing for us to worry about. As for what’s in it for you, I can fudge the numbers a bit and get ye another pay rise. If ye need more incentive, then I might be able to put in a good word to the Council for ye. See if we can’t get that old Grudge taken care of.” he suggested.Grimbeard smiled broadly,

“Thank you for the details and I’ll take the good word to the Council over the pay rise, ta. I’m sure I can have a word with a couple of folk to stymie the lassie’s efforts once she gets here.” he said, “Did you need anything else while you’ve got me, High Inquisitor?” he asked. Firetome shook his head, rubbing at his temple with his fingers,

“No, Grimbeard, just make sure she can’t do anything with the Seal. Good night.” he grumbled, waving his hand in the direction of his mirror to cancel the Scry. Speaking with that slimy sod always gave him such a headache. A pity that he was too useful to not interact with. Heaving a sigh, Firetome got up from his seat and creakily made his way to the barroom. After all that, he needed a drink.

~*~

Archlector Vanskleig smiled broadly as Selene walked through the door of his private apartment once more.

“I must apologise for making you walk back and forth across our city like this.” he said, gesturing to a seat as far away from where King Storri currently sat as possible. Selene shook her head,

“It’s no trouble. Not when so much is at stake. Besides, I need the exercise. My job normally involves far too much sitting.”  she quipped, happily taking her seat. The Grand Magus noted the chastised, if somewhat sullen expression on Storri’s face, but said nothing. Archlector Vanskleig nodded, 

“Of course. However, to the matter at hand. I’m sure you’re already more than aware of what Kherillim made of our king’s decision earlier this afternoon?” he queried. Selene nodded,

“It was a little hard to ignore, Your Eminence.” she agreed. The wizard finally glanced over to Storri, whose ears were already flushing with embarrassment. She returned her attention to Vanskleig, “I was also present at the front door when She made Her displeasure fully known through Meredith. I regret to inform His Majesty and yourself of the damage to your front door, but there was little I could do to prevent it.” 

“No apologies are necessary.” Storri said, “If anything, the fault is mine, and I aim to do what I can to rectify the situation.” 

Vanskleig sat back, while Selene turned her full attention to the Low King, watching the pair of them carefully. Selene shook her head,

“Which situation, Your Majesty? The door?” she sniped. King Storri schooled his expression as he looked up at the human woman. As much as the jibe rankled, he could not blame her for the comment. He inclined his head,

“Well, yes, the door situation is among those that need to be rectified.” he retorted with a small smile, before shaking his own head. “My words and actions this afternoon were out of line, and not in keeping with the demeanour expected of a king of Fangthane. For that dishonour, please accept my most humble apologies.” he stated formally, bowing his head enough for his beard to reach his seat.

Selene wanted to be annoyed with the king, but she felt the flare of anger in her heart guttering out at his words. She closed her eyes for a moment, huffed out another sigh and leaned forward as she opened them again,

“Your Majesty, all I want is for the people of Allansia to be safe. The people of Fangthane included.” she stated, “I’m sorry that the only solution I’ve been able to find is one that seems to have reopened old wounds, truly I am. However, were I to return to Toreguarde without a solution, the city and continent I have wept and bled for will die, and there will be nothing I can do to stop it.” she pleaded. Storri stared at Selene, finally seeing the face of the desperate woman who had watched his father declare war against the demons a scant ten years before rather than the imposing Grand Magus that had walked into the mountain a few days ago. The young dwarf looked down at the floor,

“I heard you say as much before, and regret that I refused to listen. I also regret that it took the intervention of our Beloved Mother for me to see reason on this matter.” he murmured, “While I cannot help you with regards to acquiring the God Clay, I can help by allowing Miss Ironforge to travel to Toreguarde to render what aid she can in the meantime.” he stated, “I have already discussed this with both His Holiness and High Priest Ragnarsson, and we are all in agreement that it will be to the benefit of everyone involved, not least Miss Ironforge herself.”

Selene smiled and bowed her head,

“Thank you, Your Majesty, words truly cannot express my gratitude.” she said. She looked up at the young king, “Again, I do not blame you for your reluctance. Were our situations reversed I believe you would have had as much as, if not a more difficult, time convincing Toreguarde’s Council of your own need for aid.” she shook her head, “It is also not within general human nature to hold long-term Grudges of the sort that dwarves tend towards, so know that no further animosity will be held against you for your words or actions.” Selene smiled softly as king Storri seemed to finally let go of the tension within his body. Clearly this was something he had been very worried about.

Storri whooshed out a long breath as Selene finished speaking. While he did not believe humans held Grudges like dwarves did, he wasn’t sure if the Grand Magus would hold his animosity towards her against him. Now that she had flat-out stated that she did not, he could finally think clearly once more. He nodded,

“Thank you, Grand Magus. All we ask in return is that Miss Ironforge is kept as safe as possible while she is within Toreguarde’s territory. There are many in the Council who will rankle against this decision, and I would prefer to have evidence to refute any claims regarding the people – and Council – of Toreguarde and their attitudes towards my people that may well be bandied around.”  he stated. Selene nodded,

“That seems fair, though the fact that the dwarven community within Toreguarde is positively thriving ought to be evidence enough, I concede that the Council may wish to ignore that in favour of their own biases. Gods know the Toreguarde Council is just as guilty of this, despite the best efforts of those who know better.” she added with a mutter. Storri chuckled, running a hand over his beard, making the ornamentations jangle at the motion,

“Perhaps I can persuade you to join me for a small tea time snack before you leave so we can complain about our respective governments?” He suggested, “We don’t often get a chance to air all our grievances, and it will be refreshing to hear from another in a similar situation.” 

Archlector Vanskleig smiled and gently rang for one of his attendants as the Grand Magus and his king conversed with one another. Now that the earlier hostilities had given way to casual conversation, he could afford to leave them to it and attend to other matters.

[aquadestinyswriting]

Character Profiles Masterpost

This is where you'll find links to all the profiles I've made for my OCs. Most of them are from the Titan Fighting Fantasy universe. I'll link to any others when I come across them.

Titan Fighting Fantasy

The Heroes

Selene Frigidwake

Edwin Goodwin

Meredith Gruksdottir

Yoruk Bloodvein

The Found Family Members

Vera Thoriksdottir

The Villains

Ionah Copperheart

Reginald Schreiber

Skarld Firetome

Garl Grimbeard

Thaddeus Darkhide

Side Characters

Dwena Diamonddust

Thazaar Clayrmantle

Thaddeus Darkmantle

Meredith's Family: Gruk, Morag, Hilde, Dugald

Olin Starhammer

Jotunn Ragnarsson

Archlector Kargun Vanskleig

Meredith's Clerical Friends: Birghe Gurrisdottir, Ugri Kiruksson, Kidri Toroksdottir

[aquadestinyswriting]

Hey, Aqua! Happy STS! :D Soooooo what's the most frustrating story-related thing you've encountered this week? Tell me about your problems. 8) 8) 8)

Hi Jax thank you for the question.

Oh boy! Do I ever have a frustrating story problem. Gonna put it under a cut in case it gets super rambly.

Ok, so I'm at a point in A Circle None Can Break where I'm about to wrap the whole thing up. My problem? How big a kerfuffle does Throff want to make? And how is she gonna use Merri to do it? Bearing in mind that Throff and Moradin need Merri to stay alive so she can solve Selene's (and, thereby, Their) problem for her. However, said kerfuffle needs to be big enough to make King Storri Sit Up and Pay Attention(tm) so he realises how much of a total dick he's being. Also so I can have the Archlector show up after to be all "Sooo... how did defying our patron Gods go for you?" Because Vanskleig is very much the type of snarky, elderly old man to do just that. In the most polite, grandfatherly way possible, of course.

I also need this show of power and pissed off-edness to be powerful enough to give the bad guys (and their patron Demon Prince) lurking around Fangthane some degree of pause about getting involved too early.

The thing is it needs to be dramatic and possibly a little traumatising (because channeling the will of a very angry God for the first time ever probably would be if I'm honest). Mostly because I'll be coming at this from two perspectives: Selene and Edwin (and the others who are witness to the whole thing and it's aftermath) and Meredith's. Because this is another bit of A Circle None Can Break that directly crosses over with the The Trouble With Meredith series.

To give some context: the very first draft has Merri go break a part of the front doors of the mountain (which is still impressive given those doors are probably a good 15 feet tall and about 5 feet thick) but that feels a little underwhelming considering the potential possibilities.

[aquadestinyswriting]

WIP- Fangthane’s Folly: Prologue

The morning broke dark and gloomy, the sun barely able to eke out any brightness to light up the golden cap of Fangthane, which was unusual for the middle of Reaping. Suddenly the clouds broke and dull thunder echoed over the plains around the mountain. The Dwarves living inside the mountain continued about their usual morning business, unaware of the weeping clouds for the moment as forges were lit and kettles boiled. In the upper reaches of the mountain the Cathedral of Kherillim’s bell tolled out, announcing the beginning of morning prayers for those living and working within. 

Jotunn Ragnarsson, High Priest of Moradin, frowned as he strode down the narrow corridors to the Chamber of Contemplation deep below the main cathedral. A deep uneasiness had settled in the pit of his stomach when he had awoken and, while it was not an unusual occurrence given the recent war with the Kobold king Torg, it had not yet abated. Indeed as the High Priest continued on his path, his uneasiness only continued to grow. Jotunn finally stopped in front of the impressive golden door that led into the Contemplation Chamber and attempted to calm his frantic thoughts and thundering heart. He smiled slightly as he felt the warm and comforting touch of Moradin’s presence, though he still did not feel entirely at ease as the touch seemed almost… sad. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, the stout dwarf steeled his nerves and pushed the massive golden door open, shielding his eyes as the light of the molten gold within the huge scrying pool set into the floor beset them. 

After taking a moment to adjust to the change, the High Priest cast his gaze around the huge room, finally settling on a slumped, still form at the edge of the pool of molten metal. Forgetting all sense of his usual decorum, Jotunn rushed to the older dwarf’s side, his heart dropping the moment he began to move. Archlector Kargunn Vanskleig, the most venerable dwarf under the mountain of Fangthane, even now gently held his staff of office in his grip, his gaze still lingering on the scrying pool as the High Priest of Moradin knelt at his side, frantically checking for any sign of life in the old dwarf. A few moments later, Ragnarsson gently closed the Archlector’s eyes for the last time and bowed his head in silent prayer. 

Every last dwarf under the mountain and even those working in the fields right outside stopped what they were doing the moment the Bell of Deep rang out its dolorous tone. Most were simply confused, it was rare for the bell to toll more than once every couple of centuries, never mind thrice in a little over a decade. For those closest to the heart of the matter, however, the tolling came as first a shock, then a wave of combined grief as the High Priest of Moradin confirmed their worst fears. The loss of so many during the Demon Wars still weighed heavy and the war with the kobolds under King Torg had exacted an even heavier toll on the already beleaguered dwarven people. To add the loss of the Highest of High Priests seemed to be almost too much for the people of Fangthane to bear in such a short space of time. King Storri, however, was determined that life, as difficult as it had become as of late, would carry on.

The Council Chamber was in an uproar as the members of the Fangthane Council debated what on Titan was going to happen,

“Why are we even surprised by this, the man was practically ancient even by oor standards.”

“Did he even have a successor in mind?”

“Oh come on, we a’ ken Ragnarsson’s goin’ tae take up the position, just makes sense don’t it?”

“Ye gone senile auld man? That’s no’ how it works.”

“Shut yer blowhole ye wee scallywag, nae-one alive kens how this is gonnae work! Been o’er eight hunner years since onyone last had tae sort this sort o’ mess oot.”

“Och, ye dafties, ye forgettin’ we’ve still got a’ the records o’ whit happened last time?. Besides there’s a whole section dedicated tae this situation in the Book o’ Moradin.”

Ragnarsson sighed heavily as he watched the other dwarves bicker and argue amongst themselves, it seemed the passing of Vanskleig had released the valve that had been holding back the rush of fear and anxiety that had pervaded the halls of Fangthane for the last ten years. Dwarves, generally, did not deal with sudden change very well and had a tendency to work in timescales of decades and centuries rather than months and years. The priest was startled from his musings by a gentle hand on his shoulder,

“I’m sorry Jotunn, I didn’t realise just how lost in thought you were.” The dwarf turned to look at who was speaking and smiled hollowly at the High Priest of Galana,

“Ach, ‘tis nae worry Edwin, it does neither dwarf nor man nae guid tae get lost in his ain thoughts fer too long.” he replied, casting his gaze back over the rest of the Council with a frown. Edwin followed his gaze and shook his head,

“It’s all a bit of a mess right now isn’t it?” he mused. Jotunn snorted,

“Tha’s puttin’ it a bit mildly lad, but I get whit ye’re sayin’.” he replied, “Still, we’ve weathered worse, this will pass like a’ the others eventually.” Edwin nodded, settling back into his seat as much as he was able. Eventually, the hubbub in the chamber died down as King Storri, young Princess Garni at his side, strode to his usual place and laid Račun to the side of his throne. His guardsman tapped the end of his warhammer on the ground, silencing the other dwarves. Storri nodded to him and remained standing as he addressed the room,

“The passing of Archlector Vanskleig has dealt us another mighty blow even as we attempt to recover from the war with King Torg and his armies. I am more than aware that many under the mountain, and even beyond, doubt whether we as a people can continue to weather the storm that even still batters at our gates. However, I remain confident that we can and will endure We have successfully pushed back the invasion attempt from under our feet and can now…”

“Aye, wi’ the help o’ outsiders, and those were fi Toreguard besides!” an angry voice erupted, causing all of the dwarves and the lone human in the room to turn and stare at the individual in question. Ragnarsson snorted as he saw the High Inquisitor of Moradin rise to his feet, his bright ginger beard almost blazing in the dim torchlight, “Aye, I’ve nae doobt we kin weather the storm as ye say, but a’ that wee stunt did wis make us look weak!” he shouted. Storri, to his credit, met the blazing glare of the older dwarf,

“Forgive me High Inquisitor Firetome, but I will have tae disagree.” he replied levelly, “The opportunity arose tae take advantage o’ a situation that wid save the lives o’ a guid number o’ dwarves. Lives that we canna afford tae lose when a’ the reports we’ve received suggest that there’s worse tae come.” Firetome snorted,

“Oh aye, it saved a load o’ lives in the short term, I’ll grant ye, but fi whit I understand, they never finished the job and now we get tae deal wi’ a Lich leadin’ an army fu’ o’ Death Knights instead! Tell me, Yer Majesty, is that really better than how things would hae turned oot withoot their interference?” Jotunn and Edwin glanced at each other nervously as a frightened whisper rushed through the chamber. Storri looked over to where the head of the Moradjar Paladins now stood, glaring daggers at the Inquisitor,

“An’ fi whit I understand o’ the situation, we’d be dealin’ wi’ this regardless since this wis Darkhide’s plan a’ along!” he snapped. Firetome scoffed,

“Ye say that, but who wis it that brought that maniac’s attention upon us in the first place?” he sneered, “S’far as I kin tell, Darkhide wis perfectly content tae terrorise jus’ Toreguard until we got involved in their affairs.” he sneered, directing his attention back to King Storri, whose glare had softened a little as he considered the other dwarf’s words. Ragnarsson growled slightly as he rose,

“Ye’re forgettin’ yer place Firetome!” he snapped, “That we got involved wi’ Toreguard wis the Will o’ Moradin Hissel’! Or are ye arrogant enough tae believe that you ken better than the Dwarf Faither?” he asked. The room immediately hushed as everyone looked between the High Priest and the High Inquisitor of Moradin. Firetome’s glare deepened,

“Of course not!” he snapped, “What I question was why we allowed the outsiders inside our mountain in the first place.”

“You ken damn well that ours is no’ tae question the will o’ the Gods Firetome. Sit back doon afore ye embarrass yersel’ ony more!” The Inquisitor’s glare deepened, but he slowly sat back down in his seat crossing his arms over his chest with a muttered grumble. Ragnarsson bowed towards the young king,

“Ma apologies Yer Highnesses, that was an outburst that should never hae occurred. Carry on” he said, sitting back down himself with a weary sigh. Edwin gave him a concerned look and leaned over as the King regathered his wits about him,

“Well that’s going to get the whole mountain talking, make no mistake there. I hope you know what you’re doing by pulling rank on this guy.” he said quietly. Jotunn grumbled slightly,

“I’m hoping so too. The last thing we need richt noo is a major schism.” Edwin nodded sympathetically and returned his gaze to the King, who had started talking again,

“Well, however this turns out, I’ll be happy to back you up if you need it.” he said quietly. Jotunn smiled quietly,

“Ta laddie, I rather get the feelin’ I’m gonnae need it.” 

King Storri looked around the room and sighed heavily,

“While these are indeed trying times, I am still confident that we will endure as we always have and come out the other end stronger than before.” he concluded. He glanced up towards the High Priest of Moradin, “High Priest Ragnarsson, we understand that, traditionally, the Archlector chooses a successor to his position in advance of his passing. However, we have heard nought of this from the Cathedral’s clergy.” Jotunn clenched his jaw as he stood again, he was not looking forward to this,

“If ye’ll fergive ma candidness Yer Highnesses, Archlector Vanskleig never named a successor. It wis his belief that the position should ultimately be o’ Moradin’s an’ Kherillim’s choosin’.” He paused for a moment while a confused whispering sprang up. Storri’s Kingsguard tapped his warhammer on the floor and the rush of noise stopped. The young King gestured for the Cleric to elaborate, Jotunn swallowed heavily, 

“While I am masel’ uncertain as tae how he believed that this would become apparent, there are still procedures in place tae elect a new Archlector should the previous pass afore namin’ the next.” he added. KIng Storri nodded in understanding,

“I see.” he said, steepling his fingers as he thought the matter over. After a few moments of contemplation he nodded, “Are we tae understand then that the matter will be dealt with by the Religious Council alone?” he asked, glancing around the room. High Priest Ragnarsson nodded,

“Aye Yer Highness t’will be.” he confirmed, “It may, however, take some time fer us tae come tae a full agreement on the matter. It has been well o’er five generations since this situation last occurred.” At this an elderly dwarf sitting nearer the front of the stands pulled himself up, pushing his spectacles back up his nose,

“The main Library still contains records o’ that precise situation. If it wid help the Religious Council come tae a conclusion that wee bit faster, I can arrange fer those records tae be found and handed o’er temporarily.” he suggested. Jotunn nodded gratefully,

“T’would be a great help if ye could Master Haneskeeper.” he replied, “Aifter a’, the sooner we get this sorted oot, the sooner we can a’ concentrate on the matters tryin’ tae bash oor gates in.” King Storri nodded in satisfaction,

“Then I may as well call this Session tae a close. Unless there are ony other matters that require our immediate attention?” he asked. Upon hearing no answer, he gently tapped Račun on the floor and stood, his daughter quickly following suit and both exited the chamber, closely followed by their Guard. Jotunn frowned as he watched High Inquisitor Firetome turn to the High Priest of St. Cuthbert, both of their expressions unhappy as they filed out along with the rest of the dwarves in the room. Edwin laid a hand on Jotunn’s shoulder, redirecting his attention,

“Come my friend, I think we both need a chance to unwind after that.” the human glanced up in the direction the other High Priest had been looking, “While Firetome’s  attitude is somewhat concerning, I wouldn’t let it worry you.” Jotunn grumbled into his beard and shook his head,

“Ye ken fine weel it’s no’ just Firetome wi’ that attitude.” he retorted quietly, “I’m just hopin’ that this latest catastrophe willnae result in a’thing blowin’ up on us.” Edwin nodded sympathetically as the two of them made their to the streets outside,

“I know, but unless and until that happens, there’s not too much point in worrying over it.” he pointed out, “Come, you look and sound like you need a stiff drink and I have a friend who will be more than happy to ply you with large quantities of good, strong ale.” Edwin grinned as that finally earned him a chuckle,

“Well, if ye’re payin’ I might as well take ye up on the offer.” he joked, gesturing for the human to lead the way. The High Priest of Galana sighed as he started off down towards the market district of the city,

“I’m not making any promises.” he retorted with a smirk.