I have to say, whilst I liked the first His Dark Materials, the second and third? Meh. Not bad, just Meh.
Well, when I say not bad, the part where they fall in love just like that pissed me off, because they weren't obviously attracted in any way before that point. It seemed like an unnecessary edition, whether or not it caused them to become of age. Find some other way, make the girl murder someone or something
Okay, rant done. Update time.
Othtar Noloc Barbarossa worked it out in his head, lips moving.
“That’s dwarfish, isn’t it? Fairly broken dwarfish,” he said. “For ‘The Black Lands of Battle?”
“Aye,” replied Bjorn. “The dwarves were here first. The humans moved here about six hundred, seven hundred years ago and the dwarves were already here. The settlers just asked them what the place was called. In retrospect, they probably shouldn’t have asked a prisoner of war on a battlefield after decimating their population. But yes, that’s what this land is called.”
“Move here?” said Oldbeard. “That would be the great departure of ’18, would it not?”
“Wait, ’18?” said Barbarossa. “As in 1018? That was hundreds upon hundreds of years ago! No-one knows what happened back then, no records survived, nothing! How do you know?”
“I watched it go,” said Oldbeard. “Lovely big ship it was too, not this trash you get nowadays.”
“Aye, that’s right,” said Bjorn. “You were there?”
“Aye, and I was glad to see them go! Bunch of bigots, the lot of them. As I recall, it was a forced departure. The dwarves and humans kicked them out for acts of violence against dwarf kind. The bastards. What’d they do to the dwarves living here?”
The rest of the dwarves were simply staring at Oldbeard, mouths agape.
“Well, the stories go that they got here, they found dwarves already living here, and they killed them to make room for themselves.”
“What?” said Workerdrone. “they
killed dwarves?”
“A sad, sad time that was,” said Bjorn. “There aren’t many dwarves left now. They’re all under the protection of one of the warlords and try and make as best a living as they can. Any that leave their lands are ripe for capture and enslavement although that’s rare enough nowadays, if only because they’ve stopped venturing out. Poor fellows.”
“Yes, yes, but – Oldbeard. You were alive in the dark ages?” said Kogan.
“Aye, and what d’ya mean ‘dark ages?’” said Oldbeard. “They were better than they were now, I’ll tell ye that! The technological abilities of the dwarves were far more advanced than they are now. How did you think I made this thing?” he clonked his hotshot onto the table. Dwarves back out of its radius. “Or how I’ve managed to live so long? We had technology lad, technology like ye wouldn’t believe! Until the first civil war, anyway. I’m willing to bet that I’m the only person alive today who still remembers! Hell, I was a mechanic, I know loads of things that could help society, loads!”
“Then why didn’t you tell anyone?” asked Kogan.
“Ye didn’t ask,” replied Oldbeard.
“Right!” roared Workerdrone, slamming his empty mug onto the table. “I’m bored, is anyone else bored? Let’s head off. Bjorn?”
“Aye, aye,” said Bjorn. “I suggest we pick up supplies and move to another region. This one is the biggest slaver district in all of Othtar Noloc and its lead by the most bigoted warlord you ever did see. I hear that the Isdilomoth region is in need of strong fighters. They pay well too.”
“What’s Isdilomoth mean?” asked Barbarossa. “That’s in zustash shukar-am*, is it not?”
“Aye, it means Ice-tombs,” said Bjorn cheerfully. “I hear they have an undead problem.”
“Oh, alright then,” said Workerdrone, grinning back at the dwarves.
“There’s just one thing,” said Bjorn. “This company needs a name.”
“That’s a point,” said Barbarossa. “But not the most pressing matter right now. Let’s head out.”
And they did.
The hall of David Tiringuki, warlord of Isdilomoth“And what,” said David in a cheery roar. “are dwarves doing in my dominion? Do you have a message from your master? Who is he?”
It had been a three day trek across what in the summer Bjorn assured them was vast, beautiful forests but in the winter amounted to an extremely large and cold area that lacked basic amenities, such as a climate that didn’t freeze the excrement to your body whenever you used the waste pit. Barbarossa was in a foul** mood.
“Look, we’re not slaves, we’re a mercenary band. We have come to offer assistance with your apparent undead problem. Do you accept or do you not? We haven’t got all day.”
“A mercenary band of dwarves!” said David, surprised. “That’s rare enough! What’s your companies name?”
“We have none as of yet. Do you require our assistance on this undead matter or not?”
“Aye, I suppose we must take whatever help we can. I can’t pay much, which is why the problem hasn’t been dealt with yet. And undead are a copper a dozen and won’t garner much reputation for the company that defeats them. Still, if you wish to do this for me, I would be grateful and always call you friend. My halls would be your halls.”
“Okay, we’ll do it,” said Workerdrone.
“There is one problem though,” said David. “The undead seem to be stemming from the old Tirin Rohir tomb and that place has a curse on it, that prevents any more than four people entering, lest they become undead guardians themselves. I believe it was put in place because the tomb keepers wanted to discourage too many people in the tomb at one time, you know, to keep the place tidy, that style of thing. No more than four souls can enter the tomb at any one time. However, we know no-one is in there because four men ventured inside yesterday and nothing occurred. They did die, but not because of the curse.”
“How do you know?” asked Kogan.
“The zombies eating their brains was a definite clue,” replied David with a laugh. “if the curse had been in effect, they would have become zombies the moment they entered the tomb. They did not. Off you go now, come back when the problem is sorted.”
“I don’t like that guy,” Workerdrone said to Kogan as they walked out.
*Loosely translates to ‘ancient tall-speak’, or old human tongue. It’s mostly a dead language now. The norm is now a universal language, which is what everyone speaks but a few people know dwarfish and old human.
**And extremely smelly
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Topic: To venture north, into Hell: Othtar Noloc, world at war (Read 106562 times)