[center][color=orange][h1]Orr'gavol: The Hammersworn - Turn 5[/h1][/color][/center]
[center][img width=50 height=50]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/73/f0/f0/73f0f0057e50ab84d681e1e2da0322ac--fantasy-concept-art-fantasy-artwork.jpg[/img][/center]

Summary below:
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B) The Unions of Copper, Phosphorous and Glass were given orders to begin researching simple runesmithing techniques from whatever clues they can find around the Hovel.
C) In a fit of desperation, the Union of Stone was given command of dwarves from the Unions of Earth and Bronze to start construction of a mountain fortress to the west of the Hovel, even though spring has yet to come. Additionally, the Union of Silver was tasked with aiding the Union of Steel by planning out a road network between the planned iron mine to the west and the Hovel, one that would pass by said mountain fortress.
F) The Union of Steel was tasked with building an iron excavation site in the mountains to the west, where they found Godrim Thunderhowler.
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This was the first time the longhouse felt cold. The walls were as thick and tight as always - not even the whistles of the wind ran through the tar-filled cracks between the planks and stone. The coals in the central hearth glowed with heat and light as usual, yet the air was as chilling as the outdoors. Neither debate nor dispute rustled through it; merely frightened whispers dared venture out into the room. The full hall had never felt emptier. The silence remained even as Osman Slag came out from the back room. He scanned the faces of his people - they told different stories - some long, others short; some involving a family, others involving a life's work - but all had the same conclusion: Death. Osman sat down in his chair, ran a hand through his long, black beard, and cleared his throat.

"Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, sons and daughters. I, foreman Osman Slag of the Union of Steel, declare this meeting of Unions to be open. All mouths will speak, all ears will hear, all minds will think. Our agenda today is once again long and may very well decide the future of our people. Let us begin." Osman raised his fist in Steel Union salute. Each Union saluted back in their own way.

"I trust we have all heard Logmaster Joron Scroll's report. Against my better judgment, I let him take Kadol, Mehmel Flame and Qorr Coal to the western hills to investigate what many of us thought was but silly younglingspeak. I see now that I was in the wrong - let it be said once more: I was in the wrong. When even the world-eyes return with tales of ghosts, it is clear that we have strayed too far from reality. Our time in the mountain deep has made many of us blind to the world of the spirits - a world our ancestors knew well. While we can debate long and hard about whether we have angered the spirits, none can dispute one fact: We have forgotten them. This must change at this instant. I, foreman Osman Slag, lay the following suggestion before the council: The world-eyes movement is, from now on, banned." A sudden collective roar of fury shot out from the Union of Phosphorous and some members from nearly every other Union.

"Foreman, you are being irrational. Yes, we, too, were in the wrong and taunted our brothers and sisters needlessly even though they spoke nothing by truth - but there is no need to-" Erima Rock said desperately.

"You world-eyes often speak of others' reluctance to accept the alchemical truth. You shun those of your own who believe in all that cannot be seen with one's eyes. If spirits that can be seen exist, we must accept that spirits who cannot be seen, also may exist. Therefore, we can no longer allow the further existence of your movement," Osman replied. In the crowd, Joron Scroll and Daven Glint, representative from the Bronze Union, nodded in approval. Erima lowered her head and gestured for the rowdy world-eyes to calm down.

"Joron Scroll. Step forth. I asked you to take your wisest and discover for us the story of this Godrim Thunderhowler. Have you come to a discovery yet?" 

Joron stepped forward. A pair of assistants each came bearing a small stack of copper disks, many of them green with age, and placed them down on the table. Afterwards, another pair each brought a bundle of parchment scrolls, one of them looking ripped and mouldy. Joron cleared his throat and runmaged through the documents and disks until he found the oldest disk and the oldest scroll. He gently removed the band keeping the scroll rolled neatly and calmly rolled it out, clearing his throat once more before reading:

[center]"[i]Mountain yonder, clad in snow; tell me why my city burns; Orr'gavol, the shadow spurns; taste for blood, eyes that glow.[/i]"[/center]

Joron put the scroll down and reached for a moss-green copper disk. He rubbed it gently with a fold of his robe and began reading:

[center]"[i]When the Golumnara looked down and saw the Umnastarr, their hearts grew hot with fury and their minds black with rage. Disgusted with the arrogance of the Gol'ungyr, the Golumnara struck down the mountains in the west and in the north, unleashing a thousand days of ice and death upon the Valley of the Darr. Shards like tusks of beasts rained from the heavens on weary Gol'ungyr bodies, waves of snow and frost flushed through the valley like a tide - a tide fat with ravenous sharks.[/i]"[/center]

Joron put down the disk. At this point, many of the dwarves around had leaned so far in they were figuratively lying on top of the tables. Osman drummed his fingers impatiently. Joron dug through the pile once again and pulled out a slightly newer, yet still rather green, disk from the pile. He brushed some dust off it and began reading:

[center]"[i]Popomel the First was right in his mission to undo the Umnastarr, but even the destruction of the stairway to the heavens could not soothe the fury on the Golumnar's peak. His line was snapped early for his ignorance - merely forbidding the sacrilege of surmounting Golumnar was a meagre attempt to please those ever-holy on high. Meagre, meagre, meagre. We saw, yes, we all felt the punishment of the Golumnara: A winter not only in the form of frost, but in fear. The demons came from the north and west - brought our every home to ruin. Eyes like kindling coals; tusks like spears of steel; mind set on naught but the flesh of us sinners.[/i]"[/center]

Joron put down the second disk. He declared that there was one more document to present before he could share his conclusion. He picked up a final scroll, this one looking surprisingly new. He pulled the black ribbon sealing the scroll off and unrolled it.

[center]"[i]Six were chosen out of us; one of every folk; given axe, given shield; given all that they may wield; placed in hills, placed in caves; placed to guard us 'gainst the waves. 
Hark, the horn of death is blown; one for every guard; ancestors, holy gods - give us all that we may wield; fight in hills, fight in caves; here we die against the waves.[/i]"[/center]

Joron put down the scroll. His assistants came over and began to clean the table of the documents and disks. Joron stepped closer to the centre of the room and looked around. Half the crowd looked very confused; the other half looked to have some fear mixed in with the confusion. Joron nodded at Osman, who looked somewhat confused himself. Joron sighed and lifted his hand.

"My fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, sons and daughters, we have studied the few texts and logs we managed to salvage after the Calamity. Our research have brought us to the harrowing conclusion that our people's history with the gruesome winters of old here in the valley of the Darr, may not only have been characterised by ice and snow. With the words of Godrim Thunderhowler as an addition to our research and the discovery of the skulls below the mountains to the west, we propose the idea that our people never fell to merely the cold - there was something else out there. This scourge that the logs and scrolls keep mentioning. This wave of death, of sharks, of demons. We cannot say for now exactly what these are, but the gods know, we must prepare ourselves. Thunderhowler's spirit spoke of 'evils of this world', and we cannot go on pretending that these do not exist. Good foreman, history's truth is that the gods are cruel in their nature, and that is the way we must see them - cruel and very, very real. Foreman, I propose we begin sacrificise of food, craftsmanship and animals to the gods, as we did in ages past. Only then-..."

"We will do no such thing, Joron Scroll," Osman retorted curtly. "Our supplies are stretched thin already, even thinner if we add the potential threat of an invasion."

"What will we do then, good foreman?" Joron pleaded. "If we do not attempt to please the gods in hopes of a lighter punishment, then we must prepare for their icy wrath."

Osman nodded. He pointed to the last of the scrolls and disks that the assistants were busy carrying back to the house of the Union of Copper. 

"Runesmithing. You will take our finest scholars and you will find some way to unlock the ancient arts of runesmithing. That is sure to give us an edge in a coming conflict." Joron looked dumbfounded, uncharacteristically so. Some dwarves in the crowd began discussing whether the foreman had lost his mind, some even laughed.

"Good foreman, correct me if I heard wrong - you commanded me to uncover the secrets of runesmithing?" Joron repeated.

"And by your fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, sons and daughters, you shall complete this mission," Osman affirmed, looking as serious as he always did, if not a little stern. Joron's brow rose in disbelief.

"Foreman, I am not certain if you understand - runesmithing has not been practiced since the time of Popomel the Second, and even then, most of the techniques of the ancient times were forgotten. Even if we had all the scrolls and logs in Gol'kharumm, we would likely never uncover anything!"

"You have been given your command, Logmaster. You shall take the Union of Phosphorous and the Union of Glass with you. Together, the three Unions will uncover the secret to saving our people. Now go." Joron Scroll of the Copper, Erima Rock of the Phosphorous Union, and Herim Ore of the Glass Union all looked equially unwilling to do as commanded, but a certain hint of curiousity glinted all their eyes. Just maybe, they thought. They said their oath aloud and left the hall with their respective unions. Osman fell back into his chair and scratched his arm. Khyber Tin of the Mithril Union stood up with some difficulty and looked at Osman.

"That was foolish, foreman. Runesmithing has been a myth for centuries, and now you set nearly a third of our people and nearly all of our greatest minds on the task of chasing a legend. I pray to the Heaven Smith and all the Forge-Saints that this produces the results you hope for. Otherwise, you have wasted the valuable time we do not have." He gave an angry grunt before he got up and left the hall, along with the rest of the Mithril Union. Osman felt beads of sweat form on his forehead. Was the stress finally getting to him? He pushed the thought away when Quana Forge stood up.

"Foreman, there is still the issue of the magnatite in the western mountains. The spirit, while bearing ill news, is a friend to our people. We can therefore finally begin mining the iron we need. However, with the snows having settled, travel there will be hard. We must plan proper, efficient routes and get that iron as soon as possible."

Osman pondered this for a second and gave an agreeing nod. "I approve of your proposal, Quana. You shall command the Union of Silver to help you plan an efficient network of paths until spring comes and we can begin constructing roads. Until then, use wooden roads and bridges where the snow gets too deep or too treacherous. Igura Water of the Union of Silver. You have heard your task. You and your union will aid Quana Forge and the Union of Steel in constructing the road to the new western mine, and by your fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, sons and daughters, you shall complete this mission."

Igura Water, a young, fair-haired dwarf of a thin, slim build, stepped forward and courtesied in the Silver Union style. Her fingers were armoured with gold and silver rings; her neck was heavy with necklaces; her robes were wrapped in pristine pelts. "By my fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, sons and daughters, I shall complete this mission," she repeated, flashing a grin of golden teeth, and left with Quana Forge and their Unions. The dwarves that remained looked at Osman in disbelief. Ra'ol Cave stepped forward and looked ready to give Osman a piece of his mind, but Osman was quicker.

"Ah, Ra'ol, just the dwarf I wanted to call up next. You will take your Union, along with the Unions of Earth and Bronze, and begin constructing a mountain fortress in the great cracks to the west. We must strengthen the defenses of the new iron route post-haste." Ra'ol lowered his fist, looking dumbfounded.

"Now? As winter begins? Even if we had the tools to do that, we would still be short on all kinds of supplies!" Ra'ol retorted switfly and loudly. Osman waved a dismissive hand.

"This fortress will act as an outpost for rest and warmth in the winter months to come. It will also provide protection against this new threat that may come from the west."

"But-!" Ra'ol pleaded. Osman, looking unusually vexed, waved his hand dismissively once more.

"You shall have all the resources and help you may need, Ra'ol. Now get to it. This meeting is adjourned." Osman stood up and walked into the backroom in a storm. Outside, he heard outrage and disbelief at the foreman's orders. Osman grunted quietly in pain and looked down at his arm.

He had scratched it bloody.