Your annotations of the ingame screenshots gave me a chuckle. 'Giant Crows... damnit', lol.
Thanks, even as I do try to relay happenings via In Character/In world viewpoint, I do have occasional commentary as a player/observer.
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In dim light of few candles, Kogan sat crouched over few parchments and his personal notebook. Left hand's index finger followed runes on parchment, and with feather pen on right he made notes on the small pages. He could hear Cilob practicing her forms in the dining room, but it was not disturbing- of last years it was probably closest thing to marital life they had shared. Ever since she had overheard the discussion, their relationship had cooled considerably. He had faced her with facts, and assessed the logic in selective defying of king's wishes in order to preserve tradition. She had laughed harshly at that- and pointed out that king was the embodiment of tradition and law. Kogan would have none of that, as king merely represented law, he did not interpret or re-write it. Cilob retorted with the letter of law; reigning monarch was the end-all of dwarven law, and tradition dictated his will to be followed. In the end, they had spent almost two days in philosophical discussion, and neither was ready to forfeit. In the end, Cilob had grown angry and had stormed from the argument, although she had given her word not to take the discussion outside their quarters.
Her binge had been a small scandal for few weeks.
Kogan snapped out of his reverie- a hand had appeared on his papers. He frowned at the offending appendage, and was about to severely reprimand it's owner; however, as he raised his eyes into the cold, gray eyes of king's champion, he bit his tongue.
- Baron Diamondraw, I would like to have a word with you. The young dwarf's voice was barely settled from youth's breaking, but carried authority of king's trusted warrior easily with it.
Placing the pen aside, and a llama hair bookmark to his notes, Kogan swiftly assembled his thoughts.
- Please, have a seat,
akur.
Young warrior pulled the fine chair of basalt under him. Baron couldn't but feel a pang of envy- champion was clad in finest adamantium armor Kogsak had managed to craft, on his belt was slung the legendary steel blade Sezomthol... And despite his reservations towards outsiders, the nether-cap shield was of finest craftmanship, and Kogan knew it had been made by this human poet, Copnut. A poet! How the world mocked him.
- I am concerned, baron. I have been forced to give leave to several good candidates for royal guard... Who have had their resignation papers signed by you.
The champion produced a half-parchment to Kogan's table. He opened and pretended to read the paper, fully knowing it from heart.
- Indeed,
akur. I have given permission for some warriors who have sought to seek their way elsewhere. Is there a problem?
Nil's eyes furrowed and Kogan could see how he ground his teeth, holding back an answer that would have been a quite breach of protocol. Eventually, the king's champion had formulated a more fitting answer.
- The warriors, who have been seeking your patronage for release from duty, have been reported having training in the gatehouse of second layer. Your region of responsibility I believe? They claim to be monks out of consience. But they still do forays to caverns, they still wear guard armor. Care to explain what is happening under your auspices, baron?
- Certainly. Kogan crossed his fingers over his belly, glad to have an answer to champion that would have no actual bearing on his goals. Not that the monks of the void, as they called themselves, couldn't be of use, but they were a mere byproduct in his plan.
- You do know the old ways, champion? Back before world was torn asunder, before recreation? Our people lived in peace, in three kingdoms under three grand peaks. Early during those golden days, the three monarchs who ruled the kingdoms set the law that no dwarf should raise their weapon against other. Now, this did cause some problems- our past kin were no more noble than we are, and feuds became simmering pools of discontent among the plenty. Assassination by poison or hidden blade became an epidemic. The three thrones themselves were not above such petty quarrels.
Kogan stood up and went to his coffer, drawing out a well-read book of dwarven history. He opened it from well remembered page and offered it to the champion.
- A solution was found.
Kisat Dur. Unarmed combat circumvented the law, allowing to resolve feuds and quarrels without many, many being put to chains, or worse, to death for breaking the law.
Kogan chuckled a bit at the thought. Such irreverence, such contradiction. He could feel the circle closing, slowly, but still closing. The sobering thought made his mouth dry out of fear. He poured two goblets of beer, although champion refused with polite gesture. Kogan drank both in two sharp draws.
- Now, Kisat Dur was lost in the chaos of Sundering. Or at least I thought so, until the last migrants arrived. Among them, was last master of Kisat Dur among dwarvenkind, master Langguddakost. You know her? The devilress who, after losing use of both her hands, kicked and throttled one of the siege trolls to death during last siege.
- Yeah, I remember her. So these recruits of mine have flocked to her? And you have nothing to do with this movement? Disbelief was palatable from the champion's voice.
- I would join her personally if I could. I won't disagree there. But my decision was based on the law. The warriors of guard who have sought my... blessing, if so to say, to join the master and her troupe, have done so from their own decision. They have right of law to refuse assignment where they feel they will underperform so that safety of their fellow citizens is compromised, and I have the right of law to reassign them to another duty of same general line- in this case, I cannot see how it is different to fight without arms in defence of our mountainhome.
- Rutherer's droppings, but you are correct. Young warrior rose from his seat.
- We both know you are collecting like minded people to the layers for whatever reason. You disparage the humans, elves and goblins who have come to us, to be safe from the tumulous world. You and your ilk refuse to recognize the sacrifices these people do in order to remain among us. I know you eagerly flaunt tradition and logic in against the integration- but question yourself- Isn't it better to have trusted folk to give us insight upon our enemies?
Champion turned on his heels and made his way to the door. Before he stepped outside to the bustling hallway, he gave his parting thoughts though.
- We are surrounded, baron. You have to rule your barony from exile, without realistic possibility to run the gauntlet to your reign. Will that route open by digging deeper?
Kogan fumed internally as he watched the door close. If not for Cilob smirking from the dining room door, he could have broken something.
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- Well, anything? Sazir peeked from the corner, his spidery fingers twitching with anticipation.
- Nothing. Calm yourself, hammerer. Your eagerness to duty is sometimes disgusting.
Sazir sighed, not out of champion's disapproval, but from the lack of news. Oh how boring was life! A treason there, or murder here, and he could give the due strikes to the fullest! He knew many, many good strikes, how to crack bones and crush sinew... And he was eager to show his skills! Nóm, goddess of war, fortresses, murder and death had blessed him with many a skill. He would some day make Her proud!