[color=9e0b0f][u][b]Alpi Arius Argaven [/b][/u][/color]


Alpi sat quietly, his head bowed in contemplation as he tried to slow his breathing. Before him lay a wooden bust of his brother. It had been carefully realized in a roughly hewn stump of sequoia. The features were stern and angular, perfectly replicated from the stylistic reliefs found within the hall of Argaven. He meditated on the life of his brother and the fear and confusion he must have experienced in his time upland. Two years trapped on the surface, at the mercy of the sun and stars.

“It’s time my love.” 

Alpi’s breathing calmed at the voice of his wife. She laid her hand on his shoulder and he dropped his head onto it. He looked up into her hazel speckled eyes and smiled softly. 

“Aye. Would not be so hard to leave if you were to walk by my side.” 

She returned his smile.

“And what shall the children do then? Who shall provide for them? 

“My father and mother have always been hospitable.” 

Nykia smirked and helped Alpi to his feet. She ran her fingers through his sideburns and gripped them. They looked at each other for a moment, sharing a breath. She kissed him deeply then pulled away and stared at him once more. 

“Return to me, Alpi. Come home with your brother. Come home with the Fist. Come home with the whole sky upon your back. Just come home.” She placed her forehead against his. “That be an order my love.”

He kissed her and smiled. 

“As you wish.” 

She opened the door and Alpi stepped alone into the hall of Argaven. Long rows of benches and tables full of his family lined the walls of the hall. They cheered at his entrance and descended into a low chant led by his father. It would be a traditional Karhider farewell and though Alpi had been to dozens before, this would be the first dedicated to him. His mother approached him, they touched their foreheads and held a large pipe carved from a single piece of bone. He held it high so the hall could see, then lowered and lit it. One by one his family members came forth, took a pull from the pipe and blew the smoke in Alpi’s face. It was an ancient custom and every breath was believed to contain the spirit of those who gave it. Thus as Alpi made his way upland he would be protected by the spiritual breath of his people. His actions would not be his own and every step he took, he took with the support of his people. It was a comforting thought and Alpi knew he would have precious little comfort once on the surface.  

As his final cousin finished their breath his father, leader of the chant, came forth, took a pull of the pipe and blew his breath onto Alpi. He turned to face the hall and raised a hand. At once the chant ceased. The ritual was done, and now they would escort him to the grand hall of Thrillem. His father called forth his strongest cousins and they hoisted Alpi upon a palanquin and as his children ran forth to lead the procession the hall of Argaven emptied out into the tunnels of the Dwarven Hold.    

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Alpi sat awkwardly on the dais raised away from the rest of his family and clan. He had already drunk a considerable amount to ease his nerves but it had instead left him feeling ill-tempered. Among him were the other Dwarfs chosen for the quest. He didn’t recognize them and knew that none were Karhiders or spent much time up in the upper reaches of the hold. He rose slightly unsteadily to his feet and stumbled about till he was closer to the other. Eyeing them he raised his drinking horn and offered a toast. 

“Come forth my Thrillems! Come forth! Let us raise our horns and bend a knee. Offer a toast for these heroes three. Chosen by thee in unanimous decree. Heroes all! For they seek an heirloom to free, from a danger we guarantee and who will on their return find a mountain home filled with glee.”