Emerin's Log
25th Felsite, 354Frey returned today from his tour of the sietches and the general feeling is that we do all have a common enemy in Stonebreaker, but the sietches are quite protective of their independence. A meeting has been arranged at a local plateau near the base of the mountain, an outcropping of rock named Olonakil, or Gearpoint.
One of the masons started gibbering today, frothing at the mouth over his ale (and not as a result of the ale, either). He insisted on everyone calling him "The Breed of Sewers" and started carting tetrahedrite out from the stocks to one of the workstations. Any time someone tries to negotiate with him, his head turns 180' and he spits pea soup at them. Mostly he chants in insensible tongues, but two phrases keep emerging; "The Dripping Darkness" and "The Divine Betrayers Betray Once More!".
1st Haematite, 354The air was thick with uncertainty when the groups reached Gearpoints; a shallow mesa of dolomite in the sand, roughly likened to a six-toothed gear. Emerin's own party of four consisted of herself, Frey, the Nakasian priestess Karana, the crippled speardwarf Khain and at both his own and Frey's insistence, dungeon master Gethro. Emerin vaguely recognised Toolbridges from the sietch of Catchwater, along with his wife and nephew, but had to rely on Frey for the names of the leaders from Brimclosets, Sandstops and Armdread. The leader of sietch Armdread, Rimbearer, strode forward with a belligerent glare in his eye.
"So you're looking to own us, is that it?" he demanded. "Starting a fief of your own?"
"Not really what I had in mind, no," said Emerin, raising an eyebrow. "This is about protection, yours and ours, against the greater threat of-"
"Oh, I see!" laughed Rimbearer derisively. "It's 'protection', is it? You'll be wanting taxes, that's how it starts, and soon enough you'll be after the shirt on my back! You even brought the bleedin' aristocrat to hammer the point home, if you don't have a Hammerer yet yourself!"
"That's actually not-" Emerin began, but was unable to successfully interrupt Rimbearer's tirade.
"Well, I won't stand for it! I say that we can manage well enough on our own without any of your help! Neither I nor my sietch will have any part in this!"
"Then by all means," said Gethro in a calm, firm voice, "do not let us detain you from your business." He locked eyes with Rimbearer, whose boisterous expression became a little less certain.
"Fine!" he shouted. "I will! We're going, and we strongly urge everyone else to do the same!" Rimbearer stormed away, his companions following him with more than a hint of uncertainty. Emerin gave Gethro a puzzled look.
"What was all that about?" she asked.
"Sometimes dwarves come to a conference not to hear anyone else's voice, but to boast how well they can speak themselves," the dungeon master explained. "Take my advice as someone who has been in politics for a long time, Mayor, you do not need that sort of person. The only regret is that his sietch will suffer for his pride." Emerin shook her head and turned to the remaining sietch representatives.
"Very well then," she said. "First of all I wish to thank you all for taking on the refugees you have. I understand how difficult this can be." Emerin smiled to herself at the thought of the last three years; she really did. "We all face a threat in General Stonebreaker. Some of us might agree with his motives; who would want to be ruled by an elf? This does not excuse what he does in the name of that. Holddeep has experienced what it means to be his prey and some of you have suffered against him directly." Emerin nodded to Toolbridges, who still used a crutch.
"I believe that the best course of action we can take is to join together in defence against him. My town has walls, mechanised defences and infratstructure that the sietches do not but we lack the resources and space to simply move everybody there, even if there was the will amongst you for such a thing to happen. We can also field less scouts and advance guard than the sietches can. We offer protection and defence in case of attack, but ask for your axes in return to help make it happen."
"Call it what it is," said the representative of sietch Sandstops, a female dwarf named Cuphammer. "You ask our fealty."
"Yes," said Gethro boldly, stepping forward alongside Emerin, "but we ask it in the truest sense of the word, not the distortion it became in the secure halls of the Mountainhomes. A promise to serve for a promise to protect. A promise of benefit to everyone, both now and in the long term. Alone, the sietches will fall. Alone, our town will fall. Yet a council of representatives as exists in the human lands is too slow, and each sietch deciding for itself whether it will take part in any given confrontation will bring too much disunity. Fealty is the most viable option given the threat of Stonebreaker, of the Queen and of the desert itself."
"You would have us swear fealty to you, then?" asked the Brimclosets representative, Bittergem.
"No," said Emerin, taking an additional step forward to put herself in front of Gethro. "I would have you swear fealty to the town itself and to the union it represents, not to any one noble. So I would have my town swear its own oath to protect you. What say you?"
"I say aye," said Toolbridges, who bent to one knee on the sandy dolomite. "Your town has saved me and mine in the past and you have our trust."
"You will promise this, in word and in stone?" demanded Cuphammer. "That we will be as equals?"
"Not as equals," said Gethro, stepping forward again to put himself level with Eremin, "but that all will benefit. That is the best offer you will get, and a better offer than Stonebreaker or the Queen will give you. As representative, though, you will have voice to plead your sietch's needs in the greater body."
"We swear this both in the stone of a tablet and in the stone of foundations," said Khain, who had been studying the gear-shaped rock. "This place would make a fine site for a watchtower, both to keep guard over the sands and to commemorate the occasion. I would myself insist that its operation remain in the hands of the sietches, not the town. If they trust us for protection, we must trust them for warning."
This offer seemed enough to placate Bittergem, who knelt and swore fealty also. Seeing the other two sietch leaders consent and her own objections answeres, Cuphammer's oath completed the three. Karana carved into a stone tablet the oaths of the three sietches, as well as the oath of Emerin (and Gethro, who insisted on a noble oath being present), and above it she devised a flag. Carving with prodigious skill she detailed three titans to represent the sietches who swore fealty, the six-spoked gear of Olonakil, and upon each spoke the sign of one of the gods, in honour of the six shrines of the leading town.
"Not a bad piece of stonework," commented Toolbridges, leaning on his crutch. "What do you call it, though?"
Karana traced a finger around the gear, stopping at each of the little signs on the spokes, wherein she had detailed a tiny abbey.
"I call it Olonkulet, master Toolbridges. Gearabbeys."
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Today's belated update and unrelated
plug is brought to you by Writer's Block! The lesson here being, just keep writing through it, because no amount of delay is going to help.
The good news is, we can
finally start referring to the gods-damned town by NAME!
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Topic: Olonkulet - Bloodlines (Read 62427 times)