Late Autumn, 31st Year of the Reign of King Reld Firepike of Clan Boneshield of the Kingdom of GrimtallowA sturdy creature, fond of drink and industry.
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[----++] Faunamancy
[-----+] Floramancy
[-----+] Mycomancy
[----++] Necromancy
[----++] Enchanting
[--++++] Meditation
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[----++] Masonry
[----++] Carpentry
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[---+++] Foraging
[-----+] Trapping
[-----+] Farming
[-----+] Herding
[----++] Mining
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[----++] Maces
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[Stone Soul]: You can repair or improve items as though making them from scratch.
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[Sorcerer of Life's Robes]: [-----+] Biomancy Skills. [----++] Appropriate Diplomacy Skills. Fancy green glowing robes bearing plant and animal motifs. Commanding presence.
[Masterwork Bronze Mace]: [---+++] Maces. Penetrates armor.
[Masterwork Bronze Net]: [---+++] Nets. Inhibits rather than damaging.
x3 [Mutagenic Jar]: Stoneware jug glazed with ash and sealed with wax. Contents can be used to induce overwhelming and random mutations in a living thing.
[Bronze Cage of Volcano Snails]: Large bronze mesh cage with a latching panel on one end. Contains Iron Snails, fist-sized molluscs that filter iron from their food to grow shells out of.
x6 [Mudtoads]: Brown, donkey-sized, eight-legged toads suitable for hauling goods or riders.
"Bubbles" Klukuluk, Indentured Fishwoman Servant
A small pale blue humanoid with a hunched posture and fishy features.
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[----++] Trapping
[----++] Spears
[----++] Painting
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[Indentured]: Captured by a foul one.
[Rotspine Clan]: +1 Skill when acting against Gnawfat, Smashreed, Slimestone, or Bonelure Clans.
[Amphibious]: Can breathe and move normally on moist land or shallow water.
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[Capybara Leather Loincloth]: A loincloth made with unnaturally clean lines and exotic leather.
[Capybara Leather Cloak]: A fine hiding-hide made by the foul ones.
[Copper Spear]: +1 to Spear Skill. A fine weapon made from mysterious shiny rock. Tastes like crunch goo.
Gibs, Orcish Runt
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[----++] Daggers
[----++] Crossbows
[----++] Light Armor
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[Crude Crossbow]: [-----+] Crossbows. Grant free attack to enemies you roll 1 against.
[Salvaged Leather Scrap]: [-----+] Light Armor. Destroyed on enemy rolling a 6.
[Crableg Necklace]: Demonstrates your cruelty and strength.
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[Brutal Vow]: You can force an enemy within range to trade blows with you.
You're a
male dwarf, which means you have a
vibrant blue beard. This is considered fairly cursed among dwarves, presumably related to corruption involving souls or raw magic. Most of your kin are much more traditionally colored, but your paternal grandfather, Kald Gravegold, and a cousin named Dor Barkjar both have similarly blue hair. Most thought you'd become a necromancer like your grandfather, but biomancy was in some ways even more depraved. On that note, Dor is the most timid dwarf you know and loves making fruit preserves, so apparently there's more to wielding foul sorceries than the right beard.
Your eyes are
bright red, which is a much more natural, forge-happy color.
[----++] Foraging
[----++] Carpentry
[----++] Maces
Speaking of names, dwarven ones are somewhat complex. Unlike elves, which favor self-important songs, dwarven first names are usually short and plain. Yours...
A. Dak
B. Tulm
C. Korst
D. Rathak
E. Other. Exotic names aren't common among dwarves, but become moreso the stranger and more isolated one is.
Like elves, dwarven names thereafter are somewhat complicated, tracking lineage or personal accomplishments as the situation favors. The same dwarf might be known as Kald Gravegold, Kald Hammerfell, Kald Stillbronze, or Kald Blackbelch depending on whether one was speaking of his personal nature, past accomplishments, family and home, or originating clan. Other, more exotic uses likewise exist, and the line between each of them is more poetry than math.
As for yourself...
F. Blackbelch. You're officially of the Blackbelch Clan, though that refers more to the mountain fortress of Paleboulder than the smaller holds further out or their satellite homesteads.
G. Tornspear. Your mother is from the mercenary-inclined Tornspear Clan, though she's more interested in feeding and caring for soldiers than being one. As a wanderer yourself, you've got something in common with them beyond lineage.
H. Bendcloak. The nearest fortress of any proper size is called Bendcloak, which serves as a second home and familiar shopping station. Bearing this name marks you as a swamp dwarf.
I. Stillbronze. Your homestead is named Stillbronze, and consists of a cluster of families and anywhere from twenty to a hundred dwarves depending on season and circumstance.
J. Gravegold. You're the spitting image of your grandfather in some ways, so you might be referred to as Gravegold as an emerging clan or affinity name.
K. Bonesoul. Your unholy coloration and skill with biomancy gives you a fairly exotic affinity name.
L. Toadlord. At Mount Doom your specialty was amphibians, which are fairly malleable for higher life forms. The salamanders applied their usual sense of grandiosity to your feats.
M. Other. Dwarves can have just about any name for some circumstance or another.
Highblossom is as garishly vibrant as ever. Elves don't go halfway with their lands; they leverage life itself to the fullest effect, and that means their holdings are absolutely teeming with life of some variety or another. Their fields are bursting, their cities are made of trees, even their roads are often some kind of tough vegetation. Animals skitter everywhere, whether finely dressed or not. It's genuinely overwhelming.
The good news is that it's not hard to find speedier transportation. Elven lands are also fairly sprawling, which can make getting across them obnoxious, but they've got the beasts of burden to compensate for this. You're able to hire a few wagons pulled by neon pink flightless birds to run you and your cargo from the front gates to some other sprawling tree-city, where you can hire a giant caterpillar to shuffle you to another node, and then a team of the elves' signature land-bats to haul broad sleds to their major portal staging point. Three days from the southern end of the kingdom to more or less the northwestern corner.
The Gateway, as this place is known, is actually pretty cool. The outskirts are creepy, completely exposed to the outside world and all its horror, but deeper in it becomes dense enough to forget that. And it reaches both up and down, relying on organic glows to light the inside of deep tunnels and wide chambers. You end up relaxing in a tavern deep and isolated enough to be in a dwarven fortress, with only a modest throng milling in and out. Not all of them are elves, either.
Wandering words tell you that this is the right place: Several other patrons openly discuss the upcoming expedition, usually in terms that suggest they're part of it or some kind of support staff. You spend a good few hours just unwinding from the weeks of travel, then flop to sleep in the stable you're keeping your toads and minions. Elves make a firm distinction between elves and not-elves, but less so between various other forms of life, so it's pretty cozy in there.
The next day, you take stock of your situation. Donning your opulent sorcerer's robes, you examine your
pack toads.These brown frogs are about the size of a donkey, making them big enough to ride or haul cargo. They have less of a hopping motion than smaller varieties, but still tend towards it if they can, so they're not great for delicate cargo. They are good at making their way over rough terrain, but being belly-crawlers are prone to getting scraped up on rough stone. As expected, they need relatively damp conditions, at least to lair in, but it's not like you need to dump barrels of water over them.
You have six of them, three of each sex, so you can continue producing them should they prove useful. Their eggs are unfortunately not worth much, but the toads themselves are largely herbivorous, requiring a bit of protein in a diet of vegetables, so they're relatively cheap to feed.
Your other major accomplishment is your own
skillset. You specialized in meditating your own mana, which is fairly common for initiates and apprentices. More than a few mages complain that their mentor didn't actually teach them any magic, but it's a rare pupil indeed who feels cheated of an education in producing raw power.
Otherwise, you're a bit of a dabbler, experimenting with every skill a biomancer might need.
[--++++] Meditation
[----++] Faunamancy
[-----+] Floramancy
[-----+] Mycomancy
[-----+] Foraging
[-----+] Trapping
[-----+] Farming
[-----+] Herding
You and your two slaves- elves are incredibly blunt about the moral and legal permissibility of owning living things- hop your way around the city on a trio of pack toads. Normally a blue-bearded dwarven sorcerer with two savage thralls all mounted on toads would qualify as exotic, but this is an elven city. You find yourself routinely entranced by bizarre people, creatures, and everything in between.
There is, however, an undertone of singular purpose. Supplies are being ferried everywhere, a lot of traffic seems to be running very specific errands, and large groups are common. This is an expedition, alright.
You break your plan to find your old friend into two parts. First, parade around the city getting a good grasp on things, and see if he takes notice. Second, ask around. The first succeeds fairly quickly.
Your first pass takes you through some kind of change of guard, with tired green-uniformed spearelves staggering in one direction and fresh ones hurrying from another. A female elf in ragged bark armor intercepts you at a full sprint, skidding to a halt as you do.
"You the snake's biomancer?" she demands sullenly.
The first thing that catches your eye is the scar over hers. Elves don't scar; "a scarred elf" is a dwarven idiom meaning someone who's in a bad situation because he wants to be. Regardless of whether that's a genuine war-wound or not, it's a very deliberate decoration now.
The second is that her gear is heavy but not good. Elves can make surprisingly potent materials out of plants and animals, but the kind of stuff that can hold up to dwarven steel looks like it. This is just tough wood, possibly better than copper but definitely worse than iron. She's also holding a warhammer, which is a decidedly unusual weapon for a slender elf, and it's likewise not something you'd arm a child with if you could help it.
The last item on the list is her coloration. Red hair pulled into a ponytail, solid purple eyes. Elven colors are supposed to represent their nature, but you admit you don't actually know what they mean.
"I might be," you answer in a dwarven attempt at subtlety, waving a leaf-glove from atop your magic frog.
Surprisingly directly for an elf, she reaches into her breastplate and fishes out a wood chip.
"He's always at The Scattered Eel. Tonight. No slaves, dress nice."
You take and examine the slip. It's a very thin pane of wood, maybe the size of two fingers, with a name and googly-eyed mascot burned into one side, and some kind of organic sprawl on the other.
Well. That was easy.
"Talaniss Bellbreak, at your service," she adds pointedly before running off. You suppose she'll be wanting a favor or somesuch.
...just what is your friend up to and how many people are involved?
Your efforts to map out the rest of the settlement are greatly complicated by the fact that it's designed, built, and run by pointy-eared bastards. Your fancy yourself a biomancer, but the elves
see life the way dwarves do stone, and that means everything they do carries that drumbeat within it. This whole place is
alive, but that means it's a chaotic mess, more ecosystem than city. You're inside a living thing, literally and figuratively.
"Hey boss, when are we gonna get some grub?" your orc asks, glancing at the locals.
"Foul place, foul place," your fishwoman mutters.
You reconsider your strategy over a lunch of vegetable-studded gruel. Elves produce an obscene amount of food, but they also produce an obscene amount of elves, so most of what they eat is relatively bland staples supplemented by fruit wines and occasional treats. The ale is slightly off, but there's plenty of it so you can't really complain.
Your minions are much more carnivorous, but also accustomed to starvation, so they're fine gnawing on grilled forearm-length bugs. You do have to repeatedly stop them from stealing from each other, though.
As for getting around, you quickly realize that this place was built for living things. Being a living thing yourself, albeit one with more similarity to a block of granite than most, you should be able to navigate these damned elf-mazes simply by wandering around with the right idea in mind, and stumble across more or less the right thing via natural organic motions.
Failing that, the toads can lead.
It's a little before noon now, so you've probably got time for three good sight-seeings before it's time to join your host for dinner. What do you look for?
[Pick 3, duplicates allowed]
N. Warriors and warbeasts. Learn more about the expedition's military capabilities, get a chance to acquire pets or bodyguards.
O. Weapons and armor. Learn more about the expedition's military capabilities, get a chance to acquire equipment or training.
P. Livestock and slaves. Learn more about the expedition's economic capabilities, get a chance to acquire pets or laborers.
Q. Tools and materials. Learn more about the expedition's economic capabilities, get a chance to acquire equipment or resources.
R. Mages and alchemists. Learn more about the expedition's research capabilities, get a chance to acquire knowledge or skilled labor.
S. Exotic goods and rare materials. Learn more about the expedition's research capabilities, get a chance to acquire special equipment or special resources.
You can't make heads or tails of the scribbles on the back of your card, so you grab an elf- literally- and ask him where to find The Scattered Eel. He obliges, because elves are soft and cooperative, though the directions are... imprecise. It takes a bit of exploring to find your way.
Your destination occupies a circular layer in a treelike construction, above a tailor and below a spa, overlooking a lake well above ground level. The ambience is to your liking- the interior is dark wood sheltered from exterior light and only dimly lit by a turquoise glow. The eelman at the front is expecting you, and leads you to your hosts.
There you find three figures seated around a table. All are peculiar.
The easiest to describe would be your good friend, a snakeman ranger named Salkassin. He's basically a snake with arms, dull green in color, and that classic sinister gaze that makes you feel like you've got something he wants. His outfit is new, some kind of fancy red and black uniform with a silver cloak clasp. You don't recognize the symbol it carries, but you can tell it's supposed to be a tree stylized into lightning or vice versa. Last you saw him he was bearing a heavily beaten helmet and rusty scale armor, so this is quite the upgrade.
To his left sits a small humanoid. At first you think it might be a child, but the proportions are off. Its skin is the blood-tinged tan you might expect on a dwarf or human, but its head is too big for its body and its eyes, ears, and nose are all far too big for even that. The ears possess a fairly distinctive frilled edge which reminds you of tree leaves. You think it's female, and wearing some kind of fancy too-white robes and a gold circlet studded with a badly cut garnet.
To his right is a tall, athletic squidman with red skin and a mantle of tentacles for a lower half. There's something off about it, but you can't quite place it. Lots of little details that seem askew. Its outfit is what you think is a monk's robe.
Salkassin is the first to speak, beaming with sinister joy.
"My dear friend! How long has it been, mmmm?"
"Year or two," you respond gruffly, thinking back to his sorties near the volcano. The salamanders always needed outriders to handle various tasks, and he'd been banished from Grimtallow for being a treacherous bastard by then. You hadn't cared at the time, but he's making you nervous now.
"Too long, too long," he insists, shaking his head sadly. "Come, sit! Only the finest for my good friend!"
You reluctantly take a seat in a high-backed chair of dark wood. It matches your outfit, at least.
Up close, your assessment of those assembled doesn't change much. The small thing stares at you inquisitively but you think dismissively, while the bigger one seems to have an alert but comfortable posture, like you might expect on a bodyguard. Your good friend, meanwhile, beams at you like you're the tastiest thing he's seen all day.
"I understand you have a business proposition," you say, returning his stare.
"Business? Why the rush! We should catch up on old times first. Good times. How have you been, my good friend?"
He's still staring at you like you're food.
"Nobody's hiring," you finally respond.
"How tragic! What injustice, for a dwarf of your talent and vision to lie fallow! Oh, I am truly sorry to hear that."
You glance at his companions, but they're just staring at you. You're not sure what the point of this charade is, but your good friend isn't poetic just for the sake of it. He's a hardened ranger; if he's taking the scenic route, there's probably a reason for it.
"Seeking to change that?" you ask bluntly.
He smiles just a bit more.
"I was thinking," he says conversationally, leaning back with a smug smile, "about a change in... the way things are done."
You raise an eyebrow, hoping he's not just planning another coup but with more backing.
"Don't you think? This place... it's not quite to our liking," he continues. You note the royal 'our'. "It could be made moreso, don't you think?"
You glance around the room, knowing he's not actually talking about the restaurant.
"Seems fine to me."
"Fine isn't the same as finished, dwarf."
There's a little bit of edge in there. Appealing to your dwarven sense of perfection with regards to treason or political aspirations is a bold move, you'll grant him that.
"Well, I'm a biomancer," you counter, waving a hand dismissively. "Sometimes you work with what you've got."
His intensity deepens. You are not following this conversation at all.
"Well said," he almost whispers. "And when a suitable opportunity presents itself?"
You give him a long, hard look. He's up to something, and you're not sure how much sense he's got in that snake brain of his. But he's definitely got his eyes on something very specific, and he's managed to convince several other people to go along with it. And either one of them is high up enough to give him a fancy uniform, or he's managed to convince two different groups of people of two different things.
"For a
suitable opportunity, you strike."
He breaks into a fully fanged smile, and he and his companions all seem to relax into their chairs.
"I'm glad we're in agreement, good friend. So please... order anything you like. The possibilities are without limit."
You
still have no idea what's going on, but it's time to move anyway.
What do you order?T. A feast fit for a king. The opportunity has presented itself, after all.
U. Something to your liking. The point of an opportunity is to get what you want.
V. Enough to fill you up. Strange food is best eaten to necessity and no more.
W. Something humble. You'll accept hospitality, but you're neither beggar nor debtor.
X. Nothing. You'll eat when you see the food, not before.
Y. Leave. You'll have no part in this madness.