They gathered around a stone table in the dining hall, mugs in hand, listening in rapt attention to this dwarf with the deeply tanned and weather-beaten skin. Taran paused to take another swig from his own flagon, whetting his whistle to continue the tale. His feet rested on the table, and he eyed his spectators with an inquisitor's interest, gauging their reactions.
"So what happened then?" Ezum the miner asked.
Taran wiped his beard with his sleeve. "Well y'see, whalin' ships are built diff'rent to begin with. There's space on deck ta process th' carcass, so ye dun have to lug it back all th' way ta port. There be try pots belowdecks fer processin' whale fat. And on our ship, back when I was still huntin' the great beasts, we had dozens 'pon dozens o' harpoons lashed to the mast and railings."
"I was operatin' the rigging when it hit us. The lads down in the whaleboat managed to get a harpoon on the beast, but then it drove straight at the main ship like a shark who caught the scent o' blood." Taran leaned forward, put his feet back on the floor and swept a conspiring gaze across his audience. "It rammed head-fairst into th' hull, n' there was a great din o' splinterin' wood. The ship waved and trembled like a babby left out in a stoorm. Men and dwarves fell over. So fierce was th' impact that half our harpoons went overboard, as did anyone who was workin' the ropes."
"But..." It was Atir, the glassmaker. "Weren't you working the ropes when that happened?"
"Aye, lass," Taran replied darkly. "Aye."
He gave them a moment to quiet their murmuring. Then he continued.
"I was thrown from th' riggin' and into the waves. Me body landed in water cold as the grave. T'wasn't a pretty fall neither. Water ain't nowhere near as soft as ye'd think. All th' air went right oot of me lungs, and immediately water tried ta take its place. I tried to get me head above the surface, get back to breathin' air, but so focused was I on this task tha' I dinnae notice the whale."
"She'd gone unner th' ship and come up th' other side. Ins'far as I know, that dive was 'nough to wreck the wee whaleboat that had a rope on her. Now she was tryin' ta run, and wouldn't ye just bleedin' know it, I was right in her path." He took another swallow from the flagon. "'Er 'ead crashed 'gainst me sides, sent me spinnin' below the surface in pain o' th' worst kinds. Me arms flailed aboot, n' in their flailin' I ended up savin' me own life."
"I felt me arm touch somthin' long and I took a grab at it, not quite carin' what exactly came of it. Hells, I figured t'was either that or sink. I got one hand on the object, which was ev'n then gettin' away. I pulled me legs 'round and took it got me other hand on it. T'was a harpoon, n' it was movin' too fast to have been merely thrown. I opened me eyes - not th' smartest thing t' do unner the waters, mind ye - and then I saw why."
"The harpoon was stuck in the whale's back."
"Bloody thing was speedin' away mighty quick, n' I was in no state t' swim. The entire left side o' me felt numb n' unresponsive, n' me lungs still had salt water in 'em. So I held on fer dear life, prayin' to th' gods that the beast would come up fer air afore I drowned. I guess they heard me, since the monster went to surface while I was still conscious."
Taran went into a quick aside into how whales, despite being aquatic, had lungs that needed air.
"To this day, I dinnae understand how I survived. I'd seen men and dwarves drown in much the same predicament, n' that was with th' rest o' the crew there to fish 'em out. I caught me some air on th' surface afore the whale went back under. I clung to th' harpoon, tried to shake it free, but th' creature was now in its own domain and speeding below th' waters."
"Fer three days I clung ta that harpoon. Not once did the whale stop. At some point on th' second day, I noticed why the harpoon wasn't gettin' any looser. T'was stuck, y'see, deep in the whale's hide, n' the wound leaked blood. It's the barbs, y'see. Th' back of a harpoon's blade has barbs facin' down to keep it anchored in th' animals. Moreover, I noticed th' whale was slowin' down, strugglin' less, and goin' up fer air more often."
"It died on the thaird day. Went up fer air, strugglin' all the way, and went still on the surface o' th' waters. Usin' what little strength I had left, I twisted th' harpoon. Blood fountained skyward, like t'was comin' oot the blowhole. Th' animal 'neath shuddered, thrashed a wee bit, then breathed its last n' died. I was lucky tha' the blubbery beast stayed afloat in death, as I collapsed in exhaustion on its back."
"I've no idea how long I was oot 'afore rescue came. Next thing I remember is wakin' up in a hospital back at port. Our ship was lost at sea. Th' whale that I had ridden for three interminable days was too decomposed to salvage. That expedition was a complete failure. But I lived, n' t'wasn't long afore the open waters called to me once again."
"So what was your next adventure?" Atir asked.
Taran chuckled. "Well now, that'll have t' wait, won't it? T'is no fun if I tell ye so many in one sitting. Even I'll run out of tales eventually."
The Whalers
Taran's faction is comprised of dwarves who, for one reason or another, came to worship Taran's gods of sea and sail. This system of belief is not native to any dwarven realm. It originated among human and dwarven sailors alike, and persists almost exclusively as a part of their culture.
Key figures in this mythology are the Old Dwarf of the Sea, the Maiden of Shores, and the One Beneath the Waves, though there are others. The details surrounded each of these figures varies by region, but there are many common points between all versions. Curiously, even the humans believe in the Old Dwarf, and in no version do they have an equivalent human deity.
Politically, the Whalers are anti-monarchy, and value cooperation (among their own), hard work and bravery. They organize themselves in a hierarchy similar to a ship's chain of command, with Taran as their Admiral and High Priest (though he would deny the High Priest part, as there are no true priests in this religion). They are also fairly secretive and distrusting of outsiders, sometimes keeping their affiliation a secret merely to avoid drawing unwanted attention. When Whalers are in power, no dwarf goes hungry and no criminal goes unpunished. Relations with peaceful human civilizations are strengthened. Elves are viewed as weak in Whaler culture, as there are few instances of elven sailors throughout history or folklore.
If not in a position of power, the Whalers choose to live fairly secluded and close to the ocean. When possible, prominent members of the Whalers prefer to live in warehouses by the waterfront. These warehouses consist of both surface and underground rooms and constructions, and typically function similar to an industrial warehouse with living quarters on the top floors. Fishing, carpentry and bone carving are common pastimes and professions among Whalers, though members of all walks of life are more than welcome.
Many Whalers are also expected to learn how to defend themselves in a pinch. They often form a militia that can function as light infantry or crossbow support. Some Whalers enlist in the regular army, while others form their own squads and train in the warehouse, away from the prying eyes of the fortress.
They are secretive for a reason. Sometimes, their worship entails strange rites that aren't fully accepted in typical dwarven religious practice...
And bam, cult initiated. Think Daud's men in Dishonored, with a light splotch of The Shadow Over Innsmouth. In-story, Taran probably wouldn't start actually converting dwarves until several months from now, after regaling them with many more tales. However, I'd like to make a grab at a dwarf now while I can. Preferably the miner, since no fisherdwarves came damn your oily hide, MDFI. If we have sand, throw me the glassmaker. Otherwise, metalcrafter.
Also, those of you who have been dorfed don't have to run their own faction to be overseer for a year, I think. You could become prominent members of an existing faction. Heck, even those of you who have no intention of running this place might want to ally yourselves with one group or another. You'd be influencing the fort's future without having to play a year. Think about that.
...Oh right, before I forget. Put me on the waiting list, aye?
Author
Topic: Crownhammers, the #1 undead, murderous bird sanctuary in the world (Read 69672 times)