[center][color=orange][h1]Orr'gavol: The Hammersworn - Turn 9[/h1][/color][/center]
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Summary below:

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A) Makkar and the Union of Earth were once again tasked with leaving the Hovel to go south in search of good fishing spots.
C) With food now being a slightly less immediate problem, the dwarves started constructing additional, bigger forges to allow for more effective smelting of iron. 
G) At Erima Rock's request, Herim gathered dwarves from the Union of Glass and the Union of Phosphorous and travelled towards the River Darr to dig for glassand and limestone. 
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While it is disputable whether it experienced the worst, the Valley of Darr did indeed occasionally experience hellishly cold winters that lasted longer than even the most sadistic and bloodthirsty of gods could possibly allow. Even though months had passed since the trees put on their cloaks of snow and the rivers retreated under their frozen blankets, the sheets of snow that spanned the plains and woods of the valley showed no signs of shrinking. What had once been the dense, vibrant woods around the Hovel had given way to empty land and tree stumps due to an ever-growing need for firewood. While the dwarves grew ever more desperate by the day, they had still not resorted to burning coal in their hearths - especially not that brown muck they were pulling out of the mountain daily by the ton. However, with the treeline receding away like the hair on a graybeard's head, other options began to seem less appealing. However, the firewood could still be rationed further - unlike the grain of the south. 

The meeting hall was vivid with debate and discussion, joining together in a chaotic cacophony of voices that actually had been sorely missed by all during this long period of rumbling bellies and a growing need for belts and suspenders. Osman had yet to come and Herim Glass had sent a runner for him. In the meantime, Herim knew that it was customary for the foreman's closest councillor to initiate the meeting and act as moderator until the foreman themself arrived. As such, the old, graying dwarf stepped over to the foreman's seat and turned to the crowd. He adjusted his cracked monocle and straighted up his pointed woolen hat. The crowds noticed him and began to quiet down. Herim gave an appreciative nod and greeted all the present dwarves with the usual opening speech of the Hammersworn meetings.

"Brothers, sisters, sons and daughters," he continued, "as our foreman has yet to arrive, I, Herim Glass of the Glass Union, will act in accordance with the laws of our people and open the meeting in his stead. Bring your hardships before us, your family, and we will together strive to solve it." Herim then slowly sat down in the chair. The first to stand up was Khyber Tin. The ancient dwarf tried his best to waddle over to the centre of the room, succeeding mainly due to the help from his apprentice Roka and an additional assistant. He raised his head and looked emptily in Herim's general direction with a pair of milky eyes. The disease had been cruel to all those affected, but few had lost more than the Saint Candidate, Herim believed. For such a wonderful crafter to lose the most vital tools to the continuation of his life's work - indeed a tragedy beset upon him by the cruelest of gods. However, even a cursed fortune could not halt the Hammermaster's determination, and it was evident from his expression that his spirit was as strong as it had ever been. 

"Elder Calendarmaster Herim Glass. It is about time that we got to complain to a dwarf of wisdom for once." There was a gentle hum of snickering in the crowd. Herim remained unphased. "You flatter me, Hammermaster. What do you wish to share with us?" The old dwarf pushed away his assistants and, with some effort, pulled out the worn hammer hanging from his belt. "This is... My hammer. It has been slammed against more... More metal than any of its cousins. Ever since the... The Calamity, it has had a bit of a... A dryspell, if ye will." Another hum of laughter came from the crowd. Roka grimaced and gently punched her own head. Khyber did not seem to have noticed. "This dryspell is largely due... To a failure... In-... In-in-in..." He snapped his fingers for a moment. Roka stepped over and whispered something to him. "Infrastructure!" Khyber blurted out. Herim ran his hand through his beard and raised a brow. "In which sector of the infrastructure do you believe there to be an error, good Hammermaster? I do believe I know which one you mean, but-..." "That would be the smelting... Smelting..." "Ah, the smelting sector, yes," Herim interjected and ran his hand once more through his bear in a pensive manner. Khyber nodded and barked at his assistants to bring over a chair. Once they had, he sat himself down in the middle of the room, awaiting the acting foreman's decision. Herim looked over to Quana and Ra'ol and beckoned them forth. "What are your thoughts on building a smaller version of the old Heartforge, sister and brother?" Ra'ol and Quana looked at each other in disbelief and then back at Herim. "Not to be rude, Elder Calendarmaster, but-..." "Have you lost it?" Quana spat out before Ra'ol could finish his sentence. Herim frowned slightly. Ra'ol punched Quana's shoulder, who looked back with a betrayed look on her face. "No, I haven't lost it quite yet, Quana," Herim said dryly. "Had you paid more attention instead of thinking about hammering metal all day, you might've noticed that I said a -smaller- version, not the actual forgehall. What we need are bigger, better forges, and we need them swiftly - I agree with the Hammermaster's sentiment: At this rate, our supply of materials will outgrow our ability to store them, and we need to start production of the tools we promised Heel's Hundred. Furthermore, if we bring them good tools, we may be able to forge a trading relationship with them. Finally, we need this if we are ever to complete that bloody Thunderhorn. Now, can it be done or not?" Herim patted his brow with the hem of his robes. Quana and Ra'ol looked at each other again and discussed for a little bit. Finally, Ra'ol turned back to Herim. "It will take time, but if we can find enough good clay and stone, we should be able to construct some larger forges a little closer to the mountain wall. I'll have my sisters draw up a blueprint swiftly. We'll take inventory of materials and come back to you tomorrow." Herim nodded. Quana nodded, too. "I'll have my sisters and brothers produce tools and scrap broken forges for materials," Quana said. "So be it. You'll go on ahead. I'll make sure the foreman knows when he, uh, hopefully arrives." As Herim finished his sentence, the door burst open to reveal a snow-covered Osman and another dwarf stomping in. Osman threw his fur cloak off him and, accidentally, on top of the runner, who flailed around like a dwarfling under a bedsheet. The foreman sprinted over to his chair, which Herim already had vacated, and sat down. "Apologies, fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, sons and daughters - I was delayed. Now, where were we?" Herim gave Osman a quick update and the foreman nodded. "Yes, yes, very good. What else needs doing?" Ra'ol sighed and walked towards the door with the rest of his Union. Quana followed suit. Erima Rock looked around and stood up.

"Good foreman, good day. Worry not, I will not take up too much of your time, unlike you did with ours." Osman gave her a scowl as she wiped some sweat off his forehead. "Get to the point, Rock." Erima snickered and bowed. "Ah, yes, forgive me for digressing. It has long been a subject of debate within the Phosphorous Union that have received the short end of the re-industrialisation stick, if you will. You see, unlike you cavedwellers..." There was a collective hiss from the Steel and Mithril Unions. "... My and many other unions simply cannot bear to work such an unrefined material as iron. It is not in our culture nor in our teachings to stick our fingers in a forge or grab around the shaft of a hammer. Moreover, it is no secret that the Glass Union also shares a similar sentiment." Osman looked at Herim, who gave a curt nod. "While I think the Magister's attitude is unbecoming of her, it is true that many within my Union echo her wishes," he confirmed. Osman scowled back at Erima. "What do you propose then, Magister?" Erima reached for her satchel and rummaged around for a split second before pulling out a small vial filled with a gray dust. "This, foreman, is glassand." She then pulled out a vial filled with a white liquid. The vial's insides had crusts of white, as well. "This, foreman, is lime. Together, they combine to form glass - a key material in the construction of the most necessary tools and equipment for research and alchemy." "I know how glass is made, Rock," Osman said sourly. "Good, that saves us another fifteen minutes. I urge you to let me take an expedition out to search for materials, foreman." Erima bowed curtly. Osman looked at her, then at Herim, then back at Erima. "Very well," Osman began. Erima looked up, smirking from ear to ear. "But you will remain. Herim will go in your stead. You'll stay here and ration supplies." Erima deflated. "Why? What have I done to upset you?" Osman gave her a confused look. "I, uh... You are aware that you're being an arse to your foreman, right?" Erima scowled sourly. "What, can't take a joke? Are you always this spineless?" She turned on her heel and left the hall cursing. There came a collective sigh from the Union of Phosphorous. One member stepped forward and apologised, "Deepest apologies, foreman. She truly misses her laboratory. She has not been herself for a while." Osman waved a dismissive hand. "It does not matter. Those who speak filth will get their due. Unions of Glass and Phosphorous - prepare for an expedition." The respective unions began to move towards the door. Herim stopped halfway there and turned. "Ah! Right, I almost forgot." He hobbled over to Osman as fast as he could and gave him a piece of parchment. Osman examined it. "This is the current rationing, foreman. I pray spring comes sooner rather than later." Osman swallowed nervously. "Me, too, friend. Good luck on your expedition." Herim nodded and left.

"Makkar!" Osman shouted. Makkar, who had seemed to fall asleep in his chair, rocketed to his feet and stepped forward, saluting as he walked. "You mentioned you encountered fishing grounds on the way to Heel's Hundred, is that correct?" "That's correct, foreman, but they weren't too lively-..." Osman waved a dismissive hand. "We have no time to discuss whether they are lively or not - was there fish?" Makkar gave a slow, concerned nod. Osman clapped his hands. "Good. Gather your quickest and head down south. Check under any sort of ice if there is fish to be eaten." Makkar gave a quiet sigh and saluted. "Yes, foreman. We'll do our best..." "That's my brother. Now go." Makkar pulled his Union along and left. Khyber and the remaining representatives and spectators gave Osman and the list a curious look. Osman also eyed the list and swiftly pocketed it. "Anything else?" he asked. 

Igura Water of the Union of Silver stood up. "Good foreman, would you be so kind as to share the information on that paper with us?" Osman shook his head. "Not yet. Got to fill our larders before I do." Igura furrowed her brow. "But without transparency-..." Osman shook his head again. "Trust me when I say this - we better all pray Makkar and his companions make it back with a big catch." The crowd grew increasingly worried. Kadol, who had remained after the Steel Union had left, stepped closer to the centre of the room. Osman caught him in his gaze and beckoned him over. "Got anything to add, son?" Kadol straightened his back, but remained looking at the ground. "I... When I was in the mines, I spoke with Godrim Thunderhowler." Osman and several dwarves in the crowd raised their eyebrows. Joron Scroll stepped closer to the centre. "Well, what did he tell you, my son?" Joron said. Kadol looked at Joron and grimaced. "Perhaps it's better if I say this at another time." Osman and Joron both frowned at Kadol. "Son, withholding information from the foreman is a grave offense." Igura raised a hand. "From the -foreman-," Osman snapped. She lowered her hand with a frown. Kadol kept looking down while he spoke. "He told me of our people's origins... From the time of the Children." Joron ordered every Copper Union member to take notes. The other dwarves leaned in to listen. 

	[i]"Ye see, lad, the Golumnar Clan is godkin, meanin' they're descended from the gods 'emselves. Thousands a' years ago, the Golumnar Clan ruled atop the Golumnar in the city o' Koz-Ûmdar. Their technology might'a not been as great as tha' of the Children, but they had the power a' runesmithin'. With that, they rivaled even the gods in power. The children lived in awe, 'n Holek the Last wanted to build a staircase to the heavens to join them at the top. However, had it not been for that traitor Popomel-..."[/i]

"TRAITOR?!" The entire hall turned to Joron, whose face was red with rage. Kadol shrunk with fear. "That's... That's what he said..." Osman looked at Joron, who turned to Osman with such speed that his cloak slapped the closest three dwarves across the face. "Foreman, this ghost is clearly one spawned by the cruel gods to misguide us and cause inner turmoil. We must send a force over and exorcise it." "No!" shouted Kadol. Joron turned slowly towards the youngling. "Do you side with this demon of heresy, you fool? He must have already turned you. Foreman, I request permission to convert this young one back to the true faith." Osman stood up and waved a hand. "He was never yours to begin with, Joron. Now calm down before I have to jail you again." Joron hissed and sat down. Osman let out a long sigh. "You are certain that he said this, son?" Kadol nodded. "This and more." Osman ran a pensive hand through his beard. "Giants, beardless dwarves, lying ghosts and bloodthirsty birds... The gods are toying with us. Keep the miners away from Godrim for now. We will talk more of him later. Meeting dismissed."