Explaining entity sizes in D&D 5E… in a somewhat dirty way

So you’ve just defeated the Goblin Chieftan Bik-Dik of the Skinworms Tribe in a glorious fight that went back and forth, and you’ve now begun looting his smelly, beaten corpse. Bik-Dik was wearing a Half Plate armor set, which is better than your Chain Shirt. Naturally, you want to equip that Half Plate for that sweet 15 AC. But hold your horses for a minute there, skip. You’re a Half-Orc Fighter, your size is medium. Bik-Dik is a Goblin, and Goblins are small, you probably couldn’t even fit your thigh down into that Half Plate (you might want to reconsider eating all those sweet-rolls earlier). However, fret not, brave adventurer!

If you find a blacksmith or an armorer, he or she will be able to re-size the armor for you, it’ll cost you a bit, but significantly less than buying new stuff. Oh, and you might want to put that chain shirt back on first… Those nips could cut steel, my friend.

The same goes if you want to snatch some equipment off of something bigger, say a Hill Giant. What is a Dagger to a Hill Giant is a Greatsword to a Medium character, so maybe your Gnome Paladin should not be waving that thing around in public. Gear like this can’t, obviously, be resized, however, you may find collectors and other weird folk, that’ll pay you handsomely for giving them the big one.

Now, go on out there, and do adventuring and stuff… And don’t forget to wash your hands and get your mind out of the gutter.

Calendars of Fellmir

Most cities have little in common, other than the same coin-types, languages and their understanding of time. While the months, weeks and days may wary, the years are all used in the same way; as all were under Giant rule when the calendars started.

B.C. (Before Civilization)
The B.C. calendar is the earliest one (though Mountain Dwarves have recorded dates way before this), it counts downwards, which sometimes can confuse those not great with numbers (or books), but the B.C. calendar ends with 1, where it starts is unclear, as not many things still stand from the time before the Giants. Most significant occurrence was the start of the First War against the Giants, starting with Karan’s rebellion in 216 B.C.

A.Y. (Abborgardian Year) Sometimes the abbreviation AoA is also used in it’s sted (Age of Abborgard)
Where the time before civilization ends, the time of the magocracy known as Abborgard begins. Until the rise of the mages, most fighting had been just that, and only through tactics and numbers, had the armies of Humans, Gnomes and Halflings been able to make any progress. With the use of magic, the battles suddenly became a lot easier, and a final succes was had at the Battle of Grunnmr, where a vast Giant army, led by Cromm the Warlord, fell. This marks the year 1 A.Y. The time of Abborgard was one of peace and prosperity, as the mages enabled trade from the northern territories to the southern lands, inviting Tiefling and Dragonborn into centrall Fellmir. The Abborgardian calendar ended on 605 A.Y., the 13th of Highsun, with Abborgard’s Collapse.

A.A. (After Abborgard)
After Abborgard’s fall, many alliances were broken. Chaos rose, and darkness is waiting to break the light of day forever. Orc war-parties grow ever bolder in the north, Gnolls attacking merchants with silver from Ezolder, and in Grunnmr… The Giants might see chance for a brutal revenge.

The current year is 48 A.A.

The Giant Wars of Fellmir

Through the story of Fellmir, Giants have always been a sore spot for those who sought a peaceful life. While the Giants mostly are found in the north-western Fellmir, their raiding parties often reach far, and the damage done shows. The western area, known as Grunnmr, is almost entirely inhabited by Giants, and is considered as the most dangerous place to live, even more hazardous than the Salt Fields and the Ice Wastes. Smaller incursions and uprisings have been recorded, but in general only three of these, are considered as outright wars.

The First War – years 216 – 124, Before Civilization (B.C.)

It was never written anywhere that a Human named Karan, would end up leading the first insurrection against the brutal rule of the Giants. Karan earned his living by stealing and mugging people. While serving time in prison, the complex was attacked and overrun by Hill Giants, who slaughtered and ate most of the guards and other prisoners. Escaping to an upper part, along with a wounded guard and another prisoner, the group found the commander for the Giants along with five other Giants in the stable, killing the guardsmen’s horses. The three barred the door and burned the stable down, with the Giants stiil inside it. Thus began the tale of Karan the Flame, people revered him as a hero, and Karan found his new lifestyle to be safer than stealing. Known for his shrewd tactics, Karan was said to, in disguise, visit the foot soldiers and low ranked fighters. Claiming to be “just another man-at-arms”, Karan got insight in how commanders before had used the low ranked units as cannon fodder against the large stones, hurled by Giants in combat. Karan’s philosophy of war was simple; minimize losses so that most warriors are up for the next fight. Many officers considered this to be cowardly, but the common soldier revered him. With this tactic he slowly managed to wrestle territory from the Giants, even building small fortresses and fortified outposts to maintain his position. Karan was getting old, a leg injury had taken it’s toll on him, no longer able to take charge, but Karan’s closest officers led the army by his example. A few days before Karan died, he received a strange visitor. Clad in golden scales, but with no weapons, the legendary Elven general, Delvinerre, sought an audition. Karan thought he was dreaming, but the Elf was real. A friendship began between Humans and Elves after this day. Karan died about a week later, and was burned on a massive pile. Karan himself wished no monument, claiming that his past was still clinging to him, if people would just remember his deed as a commander and his name as such, then that would be the only monument he could ever ask for.

Karan’s tactics were part of the reason why the first war almost lasted a hundred years, clearing out large parts of central and northern Fellmir of Giants, and even today, Hill Giants are a rare sight in the north. Frost Giants are more common, though they mostly reside of the other, frozen side of the Ebonheart Mountains. The First War caused bad blood between Hill Giants and Frost Giants, as the Frost Giants were among the first to seek a peaceful life, even giving up their weapons for safe passage north. However it is widely believed that, had Karan rushed his armies, his need for troops and the losses amongst the ranks, would have risen significantly. Amongst the greatest of Karan’s battles was a skirmish against one of the most notorious and dangerous warlords amongst the Giants; Gemalog Red-Fist.

The Second War – years 1 – 23, Abborgardian Year (A.Y.)

The second war began as a group of mages (along with a large army of foot soldiers), marched upon the lands of Grunnmr, where Giants had their homeland and strongholds, not even degenerate generals like Shollstan of Sidara had dared going far into this mostly plain and open land. With only few forests and mountains, the armies would be out in the open. And the Giants here were dug down. One thing was fighting Giants on open ground, a completely different one, was to fight Giants with defensive means and materials. The arrival of the mages significantly changed the tide of battle, as their leader was none other than Abboran Knodd, who would found the Abborgardian Empire after the Battle of Grunnmr. Like Karan, Abboran believed in making the public’s opinion, and thus support of the armies, despite pushing far into Grunnmr, Abboran felt the luck of war changing, and ordered an exhausted and battered army to return. Many felt betrayed, but fact is that many able-bodied people were in the army, had the army been defeated, the central Fellmir would have been next to defenceless, and the Giants were ruthless in their vengeance. A smirch of dishonor was still clinging to them after the first loss.

Instead of building a new army, Abboran decided to strengthen the defenses, letting the Giants come. Several clashes back and forth over the next years did little to change the power-balance, but most of them ended with a victory over the Giants. After more than twenty years of battle, the Giants too faced exhaustion and great losses, no longer receiving reinforcements and make very little to no progress defeating their foes. For a long time, the Giants were licking their wounds, and peace reigned in Fellmir once more.

The Third War – years 481 – 518, Abborgardian Year

For nearly five-hundred years, no-one saw or heard much from the Giants. But suddenly the hills west of Abhelm became dark, line upon line of Giants, with massive iron weapons, siege engines and even their own Shamans. The Giants were coming to fight, and this time, it would be a final fight. Many cities and fortifications had already fallen, quicker than word could reach Abhelm. The siege itself lasted for six long and grueling years, but Abhelms walls stood firm. Meanwhile mages and legendary warriors from afar came swarming to fight the Giants. Many heroes fell, and it’s said that the hills were crimson with blood for the next several months. Finally an army from the south, consisting of Tielfing, Dragonborn, Aarakocra, Kenku and Tabaxi forces liberated Abhelm, by splitting the largest of the Giant armies, getting the slow and stupid Giants to follow this new threat, only to fall into ambushes near Fokal Jungle. The natural habitat of many of the races in this distraction army became the death of several thousand Giants, wandering into the jungle, but almost never out again.

With the main army of the Giants now weakened, and with Dwarven Siege engines pummeling the shores of Grunnmr, slowly but surely the Giants was pushed back, taking heavy losses in almost any struggle. Before perishing to a Fireball, High Shaman Dukkûr, swore to return, with a new army of Giants. His swear, it’s said, should have been something along the lines of “Wait, O foe, belittle and foul, for Grunnmr will rise, and Grunnmr’s folk will rise, no safe place shall ye find, no wisdom of this battle shall you have!”

The Giants have since then remained in Grunnmr, but with the Fall of Abborgard, it seems likely that they will make old Dukkûr’s promise come true…

A treasure hunter’s notes

A few quickly scribbled notes lie in a small journal by the skeletal corpse of a treasure hunter.

Getting into the tomb was no problem, I looked at the upper levels of the manor briefly, it looks more like a death-trap. I saw a few of the coffins open, but managed to, thanks to two potions of invisibility, slip by undetected. I should make an effort to move quietly though, I like my face not chewed up.

At last, I’ve found something of note; a very large room with a stone door up a set of stairs. It won’t budge. There are nine seals marked on the door, I saw them as I lit the four braziers that all had some foul smelling oil to them. There are also nine chests, each on a 2-3 foot plinth. They are all open, and aside from what appears to be a mechanism for holding something, they are all empty. They must relate to the seals on the door, so the “key” is to fill them, or at least put some certain item in them. But what item? And does it matter which item in which chest?

I looked at the plinths, there are some ancient runes engraved on each of them. It is not Elvish, but I think these runes were used in old rituals. Lucky that I bought that translated journal off of that codger in Ezolder. It took a while, a couple of hours or so, but I’ve managed to make some sort of alphabet to translate the runes. Gods, to think that father scorned me for not becoming a scholar, and here I sit, translating ancient runes into common.

I’ve found a strange orb, about the size of a fist, made out of some sort of glass, it reminds me a bit of a crystal ball, as used to scry into the future, but it feels heavier. The color of the glass is light-grey, almost like the color of a cloud, there are what looks like foam-white streaks inside. This must be “air”, I’ll try and put this orb on the holder in the second chest from the left, closing the chest should probably trigger and unlock one of the locked seals on the stone door.

Unfathomable Legends of Fellmir: The Nahajaga, also known as Snake-folk

In the Kishan Highlands, the eastern border area between the Trelland Desert and the Zolmar Plains, a strange creature is said to live in amongst the red rocks and tufts of vegetation within the Highlands. Outcasts from roaming bands of Lamia in the desert for lack of magical ability, the half-snake, half-humanoid Nahajaga, have sought together to survive these harsh parts of the world.

With few travelers ever going through the Kishan Highlands, partly due to the legends and tales of the area, partly because the desert doesn’t offer much in terms of trade options or wealth, the tales of the Nahajaga are scarce and rather lacking in detail. The great explorer, Andros de Trelland, claim to have seen “a family of five, the adults being well over 15 ft long, slither away from sight near the eastern edge of the desert.” Andros, an adventurer and cartographer, was not known for caring much about creatures, unless these were interested in him and his travel party. Having spent a good sixteen years in the desert to later get his name, Andros had seen his share of snakes, with help from the locals, he was able to discern from the pattern, and the fact that one of the adults “had a fold-able layer of skin on each side of their heads”, that these were “Cobra-folk”.

Since Andros, not many people have spoken about these strange snake-people, the Nahajaga have often been confused as Nagas or Lamias, both very dangerous and notorious creatures, the common traveler would do best to avoid.

Docks and piers along the Drunhollow River

Sailing the Drunhollow is a slow and arduous task, as ships designed for going fast, such as sloops and galleys, would get stuck on the muddy banks and shallows of the Drunhollow. In some places, there’s less than 3 ft of water from the surface down to the mud. The Drunhollow is also prone to flooding over it’s shores, in some areas like the flat, open Onnich Plains between Abhelm and Catacrach, that means that river becomes one with the rest of the landscape. Another point against the use of fast ships, is that they rely heavily on wind. To move a boat by wind, it requires a sail, and a sail requires a mast. Unfortunately most of the bridges crossing the river are low-arched creations of stone, so anything taller than 10 ft would likely hit the bridges along the river’s flow.

Instead the Drunhollow is sailed by barges, gondolas and row-boats. Barges haul surprisingly large amounts of good from the southern regions, with most of them heading to Catacrach. Even where the Drunhollow is at it’s most narrow places, three barges can easily pass each other at the same time. Barge crews are expected to be strong, able to move the larger shipments, as well as staking the barge out of a bank of mud and forward into the water. Gondolas are much smaller and slimmer than barges, not meant for wares any larger than they can be held by a person. Rather the gondolas freight people, acting as ferries. It’s safer to travel south by the Drunhollow, than on the Ivory Road, even if it is slower and more expensive. A particular route is transporting nobles and wealthy individuals from Catacrach to the pompous, monthly balls at Applewatch Estate, though you have to get an invitation if you want to enter. Row-boats are more common near Coolelool in the south, here they are used by fishermen to catch some of the many edible fish, that call the waters their home.

From it’s source at Coolelool lake, the Drunhollow runs past several docks and smaller piers. Each description is also marked on which shore the landing is located.

Coolelool. The stilt-town in the middle of the lake, many of the barges are build here, and it’s an important trade-hub for many southern parts of Fellmir.
De Caballier estate. One of the highest praised vineyards in Fellmir, a single De Cabal bottle cost around 70 gp. It started as a small private pier, made from logs and planks, but increased export of their priced wine, caused the De Caballier family to hire workers to fortify and strengthen the pier to an actual dock-site. W.
Lethillith. Small village of mostly fishermen, the huts and houses are Elven in architecture. A wooden stilt-bridge makes the first land-based crossing point across the river. With no trade routes of note, the wooden piers aren’t well suited for barges. W.
Ston-gar. After nearly a day on the river, you’d finally reach the first landing on the eastern bank. Ston-gar was originally built by Hill Dwarves, settling due to the nearby hills being rich in both quarried stone and several miscellaneous ores. For those travelling light, and for the barges that aren’t in a hurry, Ston-gar is the first stop where wares, other than wine, are hauled onto or off of barges. A dirt road leads north-east towards Dalb. E.
Torshridge. The stone bridge across the river, just north of Torshridge, is an example of making sure measurements are correct, before you finish building. When the bridge stood finished, it is only wide enough for a single person (or a very skilled rider on a horse) to cross. At first the bridge was meant to enter into the embankment below the ridge, where Torshridge is built, but the bridge is built over the town and onto the top of the ridge. Torshridge’s location means little trade, and though fortified, the pier is shorter than most barges, making landing here a difficult task. W.
Boulderhead. Once a larger outpost for the Abborgardian Empire, but as the news of Abborgard’s Fall reached, more than half of the citizens left. For a long time the city stood mostly empty, the former mansions going into various states of disrepair. However, after a roaming band of vagabonds, known as the Bucklands, arrived, the city have been returning to normal. Boulderhead is on of the oldest docks along the Drunhollow, built in the same marble like stone that was the mark of Abborgard. W.
Tyllonwyrth. The first town from the south. Originally two small villages on either side of the river, Tyllon and Wonwyrth. With the assistance of Abborgard, a stone bridge with trading in mind was built, connecting the two villages as one. Abborgard also helped enforcing the docks on both sides. Tyllon have a smaller road leading out to the Ivory Road, and road towards Cyndarr from Wonwyrth was also started, this however was around the fall of Abborgard, and the road was never really completed. Brave merchants sometimes take this route though.
Applewatch manor. Unlike De Caballier manor, Applewatch doesn’t have a large stock of wares to sell, so the pier isn’t built to be used by barges. The torches and lanterns are always on, as nobles from south and north come to Applewatch to make business deals. The gondolas, run by Applewatch’s own people, make the trips between Catacrach and Lethillith several times a week. W.
Reikwâer. The smallest of the Cyndillian cities, and last port before Catacrach from the south. From Coolelool the journey by the river takes about four days to Catacrach, three if the vessel makes no stops, as it’s often nighttime or late evening, and Catacrach doesn’t allow barges in before sunrise. Because of this, many barges halt at Reikwâer, though often not for trade, rather just for sailors to get some shut-eye and maybe a meal. E.
Catacrach (Haddorn Dockyards district). Two enormous iron portcullis, spanning the entire river, closes off access for barges after sunset. During daytime the dockyards are bristling with life and trade, Catacrach is the only city, along with Drummuch, that employs ware haulers. Anywhere else, the moving of wares is carried out by ship crew and people employed by the merchants.
Absel Landing. The dock-site for Abhelm, in it’s time, the mages used to visit here often, and a small village started to sprout near the quay. Since Abborgard’s Fall, the village have been mostly abandoned, though treasure hunters to Abhelm often land here. W.
Vull Thrazbur. Hill Dwarven logging camp on the south-western edge of the Flyntwick Woods, the largest forest in Fellmir. Though Dwarves aren’t known for their carpentry skills, they are known for mastering axes. Utilizing the massive forest to send barges of lumber up and down the river every single day. E.
Drummoch. Sitting with three rivers running into the falls that make the Grehlyg Valley, Drummoch’s main feature and purpose is freighting wares from barge to boat, or from boat to barge, which requires the wares being lifted 74 ft up or down a sheer cliffside. The people of Drummoch works with every aspect of making this possible, from rope-makers making extra strong rope, carpenters and engineers keeping the cranes and runways in top condition.

A D&D character’s backstory, Tena Barkfang

Tenarhik-ga-Rovhtark. Child number four out of five, she was born in a household of chaos, her father was a thief and highwayman working in and around Stilben. With that lifestyle, it was expected that, one day, the father might not return at all. After a month of no word or sign, Tena’s mother took to running a brothel (after conning the previous establishment out, with the help of the two elder sons). With a business on her hand, and no spouse to help raising the young ones, all but Tena’s younger brother, had to leave the home.

Tena had always been the “black sheep”, where her brothers and sister all were pretty short and slim, for Half-Orcs, Tena was at age 10 the tallest in the house. Half-Orcs often test their strength through wrestling and fist-fights, which typically ended with Tena as the victor. And when her brothers decided to run away from the beatings, she would throw smaller stones (or other available objects) at them, developing a very sharp eye and a means of defending herself at range. Despite numerous fights and wrestles, Tena was closer to her siblings than to her father, who was barely ever home, and a mother too busy with conning and stealing to make ends meet.

After the father’s disappearance, the two elder brothers got hired as bouncers by their mother, and her older sister hitched a ride with a merchant going west. Finally her youngest brother, too young to wander the world, too scrawny to work as a bouncer. He was however the fastest to be able to write and read, helping his mother keeping a business ledger. Not interested in staying around the brothel, there clients asking if she was “available”. Instead Tena decided to try her luck, wander the world, maybe something would feel like home and feel right, somewhere out there.

However, her tall frame, muscled arms and chest, and the general dislike of Half-Orcs made life hard. A couple of shady persons would hire her as bodyguard, but Tena was determined to not follow in her father’s unfortunate footsteps. Finding instead, the serenity of nature, the marshlands near Stilben became her home, using her accuracy to hunt frogs and other small critters for food.

She is naive, from not having been in contact with many people, often leading her to bad decisions and contracts.

A D&D character’s backstory, Maewhynn Copperquill

After more than 80 years as a teacher of Evocation, a student asked Maewhynn “What would happen if this spell was used on a live subject?” Torn between Dwarven sense of morale and the quest for knowledge, she sided with knowledge, and took her three students on an excursion to a tomb for clan-less Dwarves. Here Maewhynn raised a corpse for each of the students to test their skills on, but alas, wind of her deed reached the archmage. After a brief conversation, Maewhynn’s persuit of knowledge was acknowledged, but to commit necromancy within a Dwarven stronghold was unforgivable, and Maewhynn had to leave for the overworld.

Here, there were plenty of test subjects. Though a few times, her magic caused the townspeople to claim that she was raising the dead, which, to be fair, she was, but only for the sake of seeking knowledge on the effects of evocation spells on bodies. “I don’t care for these folk’s proof-less claims, that I should be raising the dead in order to turn them on the living. I have no such plans or interests, and unless you get between my spells and their target, you will be fine.”

Through her travels, Maewhynn had had to pay off her fines several times, as it turns out; most people aren’t happy, when you bring their dead relatives back, only to hurl fire balls at them from a distance. “Of course I’ll follow the laws, as long as these laws do not prevent me from obtaining knowledge. If you can provide me with specimens, and a place to perform my craft, I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”

Reforging Old Bonds, a Dungeons & Dragons story

Marakesh enters the square-cut tunnels, with some difficulty, as the ceiling is only about 5″5′ up from the floor. Ahead of him walks the Mountain Dwarves of clan Bulkfire, that had just cleared the road, they seem to have general small talk going between them, about the termors and quakes today, about the size of the boulders. One of them, a younger male dwarf with dreadlocks in his hair and beard, shortly mentions the “fine curves on those two elven lasses”, only to receive a less-than-friendly backhand slap by the female road-worker. Their general talk seems to shift about what they are doing afterwards, they are probably aware that the matters for why an awkward Sun-Elf, are here in a Dwarven Stronghold, is of a higher priority.

Just in front of Marakesh, Muirhon the Clanlord and his daughter Hildryn, the one female Dwarf Fighter, that caught his attention. Muirhon is silent as the rocks around the tunnel, but Hildryn casts the Elf a few look from time to time. Occasionally, the mountains outside tremble from the earthquakes, but the rumors of Broz Kadûr seems to be true; the tunnel does not seem affected by these earthquakes. The walk is long and arduous, the cleanly cut-out tunnel doesn’t change it’s appearance for the next two miles. Suddenly the group step through arch of cut stone, warm, orange light beams through the massive cave that is the stronghold.

The stronghold is made up from layers upon layers of cut stone buildings, carved out of the mountains. The upper levels seems more conventional buildings, similar sizes, scarcely decorated, square-cut homes. Other levels seems to have a market place, with various shops, mostly smithies and gem-workers. Just as Marakesh looks around in this strange, new place, Muirhon finally speaks to Marakesh. The workers have dispersed, and Marakesh now stands alone with the two Dwarves. “Well lad, this is important so I hope that you’ll heed my words well. Not all Dwarves here are prepared for the change you’ve brought, and though they know you would only be able to enter, if a Dwarf would let you, they might suddenly feel the urge to call you nasty things. This is simply because change and some Dwarves don’t go well together, but please, do not give them reason to hate you, this is a momentous moment for Broz Kadûr, and, I hope, for the surface world as well. I will need to prepare a few things before I present you before the Council of Clans, it will take some time to call the other Clanlords and our honorable Thane as well.” He stops to look at you and Hildryn, “You can walk around with Hildryn, she’ll keep you out of most harm, and will know where to lead you, when the time comes. Or you two can accompany me to Bulkfire Clan-hall, we’ll go over what’ll happen, you can get some rest and, if required, you two can have some time on your own. I’ll leave the choice to you.”

Marakesh’s silent nature left an awkward moment for all, until Hildryn suggested that it probably was better to head for the clan-hall for now, to which an expected shrug from Marakesh’s shoulders was all the response the Dwarves got. The trio left through to the levels with the great clan-halls of Broz Kadûr, many of the common Dwarves stopped their daily cyklus to see what an Elf was doing here in these halls of stone. Few got close, to which Muirhon had to shield Marakesh, and yell “Aurh-Saman!” an ancient Dwarven phrase that means something along the lines of “Reforge the Old Chain” Of the younger Dwarves around, many looked in wonder, but Muirhon was well-known, and Dwarves respect the Clanlords. However, while keeping Marakesh out of potential harm’s way, Muirhon couldn’t stop an increasingly large group of curious Dwarves from looking, it was hard to hide a more than six foot tall anything amongst the Dwarves.

Once inside the Hall of Clan Bulkfire, Muirhon called a very young Dwarf, short, beige-colored beard strapping his chin. Muirhon handed the younger Dwarf a simple, yet decorative axe. “Bring this to the Thane’s Herald, tell him Aurh-Saman is coming. Clan Bulkfire wishes to call a council.” The young Dwarf nodded and took off. Inside the Clan-hall’s dim-lit rooms, Muirhon wiped his forehead. “It will take a couple of hours, though we should hear the horn of the herald soon.” Muirhon opened a door to a chamber, “You will not be disturbed in here, I will announce when we will be heading for the Council.” With those words, Muirhon closed the door, leaving Marakesh and Hildryn alone. After a moment of awkward silence, Hildryn embraced Marakesh (for as much of him as she could reach), and they proceeded to talk about interests and their lives and adventures, and of their coming life together, and the task they were to accomplish. In the far distance, a deep booming call echoed against the ancient walls.

An hour or two went by, and Muirhon announced that they were leaving for the Council now. The otherwise commonly-dressed elder Dwarf, was now in a polished ceremonial plate armor (that didn’t seem to fit him all that well). In unison, the three began, followed by Bulkfire clan-folk, to move towards the Council. The amount of Dwarves, staring was uncomfortable for Marakesh, but as Hildryn had told him; he would likely have to get used to it, if they were to live amongst other people. The long walk was perhaps meant to be silent, but word had reach Clan Bulkfire and it’s equally minded Dwarves, slow and low at first, but building up in volume and intensity, the Dwarves cheered “Aurh-Saman! Aurh-Saman!”

Upon entering the Council hall, the liveliness of the stronghold outside vanished the same moment the forged steel doors closed behind the last Clanlord to arrive. Finally the Council of Clans was assembled. In the centre of the massive hall, the ceiling nowhere in sight, the walls going up finely carved with faces of former Thanes and heroes. Along a wide, but low stone table sat the seven other Clanlords on heavy-cut stone chairs. Marakesh and Hildryn was, by Muirhon in advance, asked to stand back until called upon. Their very different hands reached one another in the darkness. For the first time since leaving his icy home, Marakesh felt a strange warm and calm feeling rush over him, and if he had looked at Hildryn, he would have seen her rounded cheek go red in a blush.

The Thane’s Herold; an elder, slim (for a resident of Broz Kadûr) Dwarf in a long, dark-green robe, clanked an odd mixture of a staff and a maul against the stone floor. With a clear voice, the Herold announced out, “This Council of the Clans is called by Clanlord Muirhon Bulkfire, son of Orrin Bulkfire and Mardi Copperhelm. Is he present?” Muirhon got up, with some trouble due to the armor, “Aye, Clan Bulkfire is here.” The Herold nodded and continued to address the other Clanlords and Clanlady present, going left from Muirhon; Thurin Hammerhead, Etta Irngrim, Hrolkr Urt-Hedin, Bjorngrim Wolfheart, Zonkir Silvershield, Murdrir Rockaxe and Olfart Goldcrusher. “This Council of the Clans is also basked in the glory of our higness, Thane Kaatbul Platebasher, all please rise in her name.” As if on cue, all the Clanlords and the Clanlady rose and made various bows towards a stone and iron throne. Upon it, in a mithral chain-mail with heavy-set golden pauldrons, sat the Thane. Kaatbul’s long dark-blonde braids held together by thick golden rings, she nodded down to the hall; the Council was now officially started. The Herold spoke again, “Clan Bulkfire have called this Council, for a special reason. Clanlord Muirhon Bulkfire, will you present your case?”

Muirhon got up, cleared his throat shortly, “Fellow lords, and lady, honorable Thane, I’ve called this Council, because of what I, with my very own eyes and with my very own blood, have seen. My fellow lords and lady, Aurh-Saman is upon us!” The other Clanlords began to mumble and talk between one another. Before the Herold could ask for order, Olfart’s raspy voice cut through the air, “So an Elf gave something to one of your kind? Where is this Elf and the item it gave then? Prove to us, that Aurh-Saman is actually here.” Muirhon cocked a wry smile, “I’m glad you asked that, fellow Clanlord. Lad, Hildryn, step forward if you please, and place the item on the table, I’m certain the Clanlords and Clanlady would like to see and feel it for themselves.” Led by Hildryn, Marakesh was almost dragged close to the table, the Clanlords and Lady turned their heads to see, even the Thane seemed to lean forward in her seat, to get a better view. Hildryn placed the Ice Rose, crafted by Marakesh’s magic, on the table in front of the first Clanlord, Thurin Hammerhead. The old Dwarf took the ice flower gingerly into his hands, studied it closely, then passed it to the left. As the Rose had been around the table, the Herold then took the Rose up to the Thane, who seemed to spend the longest time yet, looking the single flower of ice over. With the Herold by her side, she whispered something into his ear.

The small-talk and low-volume arguing stopped, when the Herold clanked his maul-staff down. “Thane Kaatbul Platebasher will speak on this subject now!” Kaatbul stood up from her throne, her majestic braids reaching the floor by her feet. “You, Aelfir, step to me.” Hildryn had to nod Marakesh in the direction of the Thane, but eventually he took the few, for him, steps to the Thane. He felt her eyes resting on him, her voice was calm, but friendly, “You speak our tongue, yes? I see you’re a Zon-Aelfir, not one Ara-Aelfir, not one from a spire. Tell me, what caused you to craft this beautiful item for a Dwarf?” Marakesh seemed to look at his feet, turning his face away from the bright blue eyes of the Dwarven Thane, finally he spoke, “I found her… to be the prettiest creature I had ever set my eyes upon. I felt that I had to express that, and I’m not… great with words.” Marakesh glared apologetically down to Hildryn a little behind him. The Thane nodded apparently also looking at Hildryn’s reaction. “Are you, as an Aelfir, aware of what Aurh-Saman means? You must have heard it a couple of times by now.”

Marakesh told what little he knew, mostly what Muirhon and Hildryn had told him about it. Kaatbul Platebasher nodded slowly, “Then, I ask of you, Zon-Aelfir, by what name shall we, the people of Broz Kadûr, call you by, now that you are a friend of Dwarves here?” Marakesh was hesitant at first, but after a nudge from Hildryn, he stated his full name “I am Marakesh Fen’Harellan.” Meanwhile this conversation went on, the Herold had gone to a back room, now he came back with a bronze slate. On top was in Dwarven runes written “Forging Old Chains Back Together for Eternal Friendship” the Herold held it towards Marakesh, and the Thane spoke again “This slate needs to be taken to the nearest Aelfir settlement, we know of the spire Aerellith north of here, and slightly to the west, from clan Wolfheart, we have learned that the spire is led by a Highlady Ondilgorin. Unfortuneatly we know nothing more of this settlement. What we do know, is that the slate needs the inscription in Aelfir as well in as our Runar, I trust that you will assist our smiths in making the inscription correct.” She turned her attention to Hildryn and Muirhon, “As much as I understand what the love between two people require, I would ask that you carry this task out as soon as you can. My personal armory will provide you with equipment, if needed. This is a large task to take in, but one that will benefit not only Dwarves, but also the surface world in due time.” She sat herself down again, a thoughtful look in her small eyes, she nodded to the Herold, who proceeded to clank his maul-staff down, “That concludes this Council of the Clans, does any Clanlord or Clanlady have any say against what have occurred, should speak up now.” Olfart as the only one looked as if he wanted to end with a final word, but instead kept it to himself.

So ends the adventurous tale of Marakesh, but his adventure is not over yet. He and Hildryn have a very important task ahead of them, and after that? Who knows…