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Malad Aethmak

An inquisitive mind with an iron fist

0 · 264 views · located in Exalted Mountains

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by lil_kreen

Description

Image

Clan Leader: Jorn Gareif
Titles/Honorifics: Prototypist, Engineer Inquisitor
Gender: Male
Race: Deep Dwarf
Age: 160
Birth Date: N/A
Birth Place: Deep underground
Sexual Orientation/Preference: Asexual. Dedicated to his work.
Marital Status: Single
Markings/Scars: His arms are densely scarred from early burns and metalwork giving him a very rough dusky hide.
Tattoos/Piercings: Malad's tattoos are predominantly magical in nature and only seen by such sight. His hands densely so to resist the hazards of his work and as a result are a particularly dense thing to be smashed into one's face.
Height: 4'1"
Weight: 302 lbs
Eye Color: Pale silver
Hair Color: After repeated bleaching through chemical exposure his hair is very orange
Hair Style/Length: Malad's beard is shortened by abuse but generally kept shoulder length.
Hair Wear: Metal nuts constrain his beard and hair so it does not move in the way while working.

Overall Personality: Malar has the unnerving stare of an inventor with the pragmatism of an engineer. Everything is a tool to be used or made of them and Malar fully intends to categorize and repurpose everything to further the dwarf empire. He'll learn anything he can with dutiful pragmatism to learn it in a safe environment and will talk to anyone with useful knowledge. However he rarely does small talk to dwarves let alone non-dwarves he reserves a more friendly albeit respectful candor to his superiors and to most everyone else seems cold.
Public Behavior: Malar is usually going somewhere and working on something with an ever fervent rush. Whenever there are other smiths under him they experience similar expectations. Though he'd never abuse the fine dwarven 'tools' under his care and sees to their well-being he does treat them just as impartially as a metal hammer. A tool that is broken or unfit is simply discarded. Malar doesn't drink citing it unfit of an Engineer Inquisitor to dampen his first good tool.
Behavior with Family: Malar has severed all contact with his family.
Behavior with Lovers: One he's said to have had but both he and the lords are silent on where she has since gone.
Behavior with Enemies: He's no patience for enemies or politicking and ends workplace strife with a partly metaphorical iron fist. Any political interests skulking around his things he much prefers to hand over to his superiors.
Likes: The unknown, Complex machinery, libraries, journals or books of complex works.
Hobbies: Other than his bed Malar's room is crammed full of densely organized books. His pleasure lies in understanding so the works he collects in his immediate care are frequently studies or manuals of learned individuals or even magical grimoires he finds interesting.
Interests: Understanding the complexity of reality for dwarfkind
Dislikes: nondwarves, priests of no study, the cold, travel
Goals/Ambitions: an integration theory of engineering, religious/natural powers, and arcane laws.
Superstitions: None. He is a dwarf of practical learning.
Fears: What scares us is frequently made of tools we do not yet possess.
Biggest Fear: That the realities of various disciplines is somehow disunified.
Morals: If one is to truly create tools for dwarfkind nothing must be forbidden but all learning should be studious and in its pursuit never wasteful of dwarf lives or wealth.

Malar is a hulking figure whose strength is born of long hard hours at work. His soul has grown as hard as the tools he uses and though judicious with his skills toward dwarfkind as a whole has largely lost interest in the well-being of individuals other than tending to the utility of good servants. As such he's known as a hellish but fair taskmaster when engaging with subordinates at all. He's not above going to get knowledge or samples on his own and though he dislikes the road can frequently be found there anyway. He smokes an herbal cigar while traveling to soothe his mind. He bears a spire of his own make that provides access to his journal. In it is a not so small library of knowledge keyed in manner known only to Malar and despite the spires having been stolen have failed to divulge his secrets. Paramount among his secrets is the nature of that hybrid device of mechanical, arcane, and divine make he's made repeatedly from scratch without loss of his body of work.

So begins...

Malad Aethmak's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Sybbil Vallade Character Portrait: Tarrik Vallade Character Portrait: Feyleth Ithlonde Character Portrait: Feyren Ithlonde Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak

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Malar did not approach his lord but certainly came closer to observe as was his duty. An engineer inquisitor never rested or ogled in face of the interesting. A twinkling spire of coiled wire and angled metal in one leather gloved hand the other moved as if writing on air at his side.

The glowing puff of a cigar smouldered quietly as he studied walls that needed little maintenance. Deep in thoughts of self-building structures loosed a puff of light grey smoke with the edged scent that is kin to herbal cigars. There could be many uses for such creations if magical in nature perhaps it could be repurposed for stone. Could crystal golems exist at that scale perhaps? There were environments where they could grow mass. The curling smoke soothed a darting mind even as the grey perturbed so slightly around areas where nearby hastily scribbled considerations reside hidden inside his mind's eye.

Dark blue crystal goggles raised by a pause of the writing hand but his eyes wince at the surface light adding color to his darkvision. Insufferable elves have to make everything so pale it glows. His pale silver eyes almost seem pinholes through white with he a creature of the underground. Still it made distance easier to judge as he wrote mental estimations of wall height, tree spacing, diameter distribution, and copious notes about researching the hydrology of that dense white structure and surrounding landscape.

Though to him the words appear around things and people, the whole world his journal page, to others there was little evidence. Only those black pips for eyes reading something floating in space and faintly evading smoke. Malar couldn't trace the gate without it being patently obvious so opted for a wall of technical treatise instead for now. Pictures were quite a physical concern he had to draw.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Sybbil Vallade Character Portrait: Tarrik Vallade Character Portrait: Feyleth Ithlonde Character Portrait: Feyren Ithlonde Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak

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#, as written by Marcus
Jorn looked upon the twins that greeted him and then the elvish archers who pushed their way out from behind the many trees present within the forest. The old dwarf had many of his own thoughts on what could be done with the elves of the Whispering Woods but as for now he kept them bottled up and away from his current task.

"I pride myself on knowing all who speak with me. Tarrik Vallade, first born to Brakk Vallade, you and your sister here are both known to me." The old dwarf suddenly turned his attention away from both Tarrik and Sybbil Vallade and back towards his men.

"Everyone lower your guard! You there, Harthmyr, get my cane from the cab!" Jorn began to bark his orders and then found himself looking upon Malad Aethmak with his own silver gaze just to wonder what the younger dwarf was thinking. "Aethmak stay close. I'm sure you will find the hospitality sufficient."

Once he was done barking orders he simply turned back to his elven greeters just to then take up his cane when it was brought to him. "Lets get to the brunt of our visit. I'm sure our people and your own would be better suited with expediency then a lingering presence.

Jorn was prepared with both knowledge and skill at his side. A little magic never hurt and it was with a slight tap of the butt of his cane to the old weathered path that housed his men a the moment would begin to push forward. His eyes shimmered as he began looking at the old wards and spells that the forest housed. His old senses brought him back to wars in the past in which elven trickery could almost be found around every corner. Jorn did not hide his spellcraft as he expected that the elves had something hidden in store if anything at all.

"Forgive an old codger for finding trust in times like these. I'm sure you both are equally cautious of my small traveling caravan of armed guards and the metal carriage that brought me this far. To be weary of old rivals and enemies, even in times of peace, friendships can forge strong alliances...." Jorn pushed forward only to grimace as he himself did not believe the words that truly flowed past his lips. "We must be vigilant."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Sybbil Vallade Character Portrait: Tarrik Vallade Character Portrait: Feyleth Ithlonde Character Portrait: Feyren Ithlonde Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak

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#, as written by Prose
"Welcome to Elwendil, capital of Neluthien," Tarrik said to Jorn in the airy accent the elves all had. The elven man patiently waited for Jorn to gather himself and his dwarves.

It had been two centuries since any of their kind had set foot within the walls of Elwendil. To the Neluthien elves it was their most sacred site. The Whispering Woods were as old as Gaia herself, and the elves claimed that all life was born from their city. Having dwarves walk upon that earth made most of the elves uneasy. Their faces were all impassive with no expression, but the eyes that looked down upon the elves were contemptous. Even when times were easier between the two races was it a rare occurence for dwarves to lay eyes on Elwendil.

Inside the gates the city was nothing but breathtaking. Trees glowed with an ethereal light that pulsed from the sap coating their trunks. Beautiful elven people glided about in their long robes of silk. Stairs ran up and down the trees into homes grafted into the very trunks. Each tree was as wide around as any tower. The entire city was a veritable natural grown fortress.

A gaggle of children ran by, their wondrous faces alight with light and life. Tradesmen went about their crafts making pottery, art, music, and singing to buddings of the trees to spellcraft into bows.

Small zips of light flew to and fro as quick as lightning. They were tiny motes of dust to the eye at first but upon a second look one may be able to see the miniature life that it was: a small fey.

"Feyleth awaits you in the inner sanctum for you to see council from her," Sybbil mentioned to Jorn. An easy smile had spread across her glossy lips. Feyleth had been the one the dwarves they needed to speak with about their findings.

Feyleth was a strange creature, even to the elves. She had been born a halfbreed between two species. The first of her kind. If the dwarves found the company of elves trying then they would not be pleased to meet Feyleth.

The Fey themselves were incorrigable and full of speculation. One could only guess as to the meaning of their words and Feyleth was of their blood.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Sybbil Vallade Character Portrait: Tarrik Vallade Character Portrait: Feyleth Ithlonde Character Portrait: Feyren Ithlonde Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Dion Costas

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High above Gaia, in high orbit...

Space and reality bent and gave way, with a tear rent in the fabric of space as a wormhole opened up for the briefest of moments.

The single one-man Prowler emerged, it's sleek black hull reflecting the faintest of light from the dead star within the system, and the light from the moons as the cockpit darkened to compensate for the light within this strange and fantastical world that lay below.

Captain Costas, a seasoned Apollo pilot, Aurora Bomber Pilot, and Commander of the Wrath's Fighter group. Was seated within the cockpit, at the controls of the Aschen Empire's newest, and most advanced reconnaissance craft. His mission was simple, to scout the planet, document it's lifeforms with a thorough yet brief flyover, and then determine if the planet was worth visiting further.

Costas took a deep breath, his face obscured by the dark visor as he glanced down to the Three-dimensional holographic projection of the planet, and the Anquietas text that scrolled up and over it.

"Recon Log; I've jumped to the generated coordinates for my reconnaissance run. This star system seems to have one class M planet, and is trinary in nature." Costa said into his audio log, before he heard the sound of brief static, one of the displays flickering in his periphery.

"Initiating atmospheric insertion and activation of the scout package.." Reaching out, Costa flipped several switches, engaging a high-definition camera that swiveled on a small ball mount in the nose of the craft. Angling it down, the light of Gaia was in full view, bathing the interior of the cockpit in a dull blue light.

Another glitch, this time in throttle control. "Unidentied error; flight systems." Scrolled across his main display in Anquietas, and he furrowed his brow. "What is going on, gods damn expensive piece of crap, Aerospace can't build a solid fighter to save their lives." He hit the display, but as he approached the planet, more and more seemed to go wrong.

The controls stopped responding, and everything suddenly went dark, as the Prowler slipped into an decaying orbit, and eventually into an uncontrolled tailspin over Gaia, streaking across the sky across almost the whole of Si'ven.

Warning alarms blared, and G-forces crept up as the Prowler was engulfed in white hot plasma, as atmospheric friction built up, threatening to tear the craft asunder as it soared over the surface.

---

To those on the ground, two deafening booms preceded the arrival of the doomed prowler, several brilliant streaks of white in the daytime sky, along with trails of thick inky black smoke as the Prowler broke apart. Dion, in his final moments of consciousness pulled the ejection lever, sending the entire cockpit assembly shooting several feet into the air, a parachute deployed to slow the fall while the Prowler itself careened into a nearby tree, impacting with a deafening bang and sending up a plume of flame, scattering debris across the woods.

The whole ordeal left the lone pilot out cold, as even the auxiliary systems failed, computer regulated navigation simply shut down, plagued with magical influenced glitches and errors. The only thing keeping the cockpit pressurized was a simple mechanical regulatory system, designed for durability in hostile environments.

Blackness gave way to light as the escape capsule's parachute became entangled in the branches of the towering trees. Emergency releases broke, and the Capsule fell several feet, jarring it's previously unconscious occupant awake.

Sparks erupted all around Dion as he felt warm blood trickle down his face, the cockpit was totally trashed, he looked up at the parachute wafting in the breeze, it's brilliant orange color making it easily locate-able to anyone who was watching.

In a normal situation, an electronic beacon would then activate, on a subspace frequency that would ensure help's arrival. But this time the beacon did not activate.

Dion groaned, and looked to his arm. A special device designed to test if the atmosphere was breathable by reacting with oxygen showed green, he had ten hours of oxygen in the emergency cockpit capsule. Reaching up, he attempted to unfasten his restraints, nothing worked, not his helmet's HUD, not the cockpit's systems, nothing seemed to function except a few indicator lights, which were on systems so simple, they would be the last to be influenced by whatever doomed his craft.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Sybbil Vallade Character Portrait: Tarrik Vallade Character Portrait: Feyleth Ithlonde Character Portrait: Feyren Ithlonde Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Dion Costas

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Lord Gareif called his name so blue crystal goggles went back down as Malad suffered enough of the blinding elf architecture for now. He could see a tide of light illuminating the air somewhere inside. He nodded firmly at Lord Gareif and if his latest luck held the elves would be leading his Lord there.

Quick to hup to Malad moved forward to just behind his lord. An unusual off-silver hilt wobbled on his belt not quite platinum or steel but an edge below the guard that looked painted with metal. Malar carried a hammer more often and didn't have the harness to anchor such things proper. An expensive new alloy however incomplete yet certainly wasn't getting out of his sight but for the will of the Lord.

At close range Malad looked to the magic eye a dwarven statue hewn from taut flesh. Filamentous layers of artistry from dwarves of research like himself but of the arcane. He'd let them run or revise with the ample time for an art to their craft. Both Runes and inert stories of the clan curl symmetrically from underneath his gloves onto the rest of his body.

Malad raised an eyebrow at the notion of alliances with the light-drunk elves but said nothing. Politics were the Lord's concern though he hoped he didn't have to be blinded here often. While walking on through the capital Malad sometimes still had to block out the blinding trees. Even the dust conspired give him a headache until he noticed the tiny flap of appendages. His thoughts went to more soothing topics then the slimy trees gave him an idea. While making a shorthand note he absently mutters from behind Lord Gareif while eying a tree, "Get sample of glowing tree sap. Analyze for lighting. See if it can be made into rum. Remember to get black bottles for the besotted stuff." He did a quick trace of the general shape of the trees onto a mental canvas with one finger.

The boom of a meteor then grabbed his attention. It wasn't hard to find with the shockwave pulsing over them but the black smoke made him second guess his first assessment. He directed some thought to finding other pictures of meteors and while pieces broke off the object came to a conclusion of compared illustrations. The light was uniform among meteors and they did not burn with black smoke behind them. Still if the air burned in front of the object it must be going as fast and from above. A curious thing. He wasn't taking off his goggles in here to see the objects coming off.

Malad's rough voice had the tint of curious amusement after a moment, "M'lord. Over there. It's come from above but meteors don't burn. It's come too fast too high for artillery."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Sybbil Vallade Character Portrait: Tarrik Vallade Character Portrait: Feyleth Ithlonde Character Portrait: Feyren Ithlonde Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Dion Costas

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#, as written by Marcus
Jorn was about to enter before noting what Malad had muttered and then the loud bang from something flying to fast. His initial thoughts had been the same until he realized that the falling star was something more. The older dwarf had traveled to many strange locales and traversed the deepest reaches of space before returning home and it was clearly obvious that the crashing object was a ship of some kind.

"So, another has fallen, I wonder what will come of this?" Jorn suddenly turned to the two elves who had accompanied them and gave a gruff sigh. "I expect your company would like to deal with the mess. Perhaps I can send a few of my men to accompany them." Regardless of the answer there was more important things to discuss.

A few of the dwarven soldiers would gather a few chests to carry behind Jorn as he entered into the building to await for the one he was sent to speak with. Strange as it would be he figured it best to allow the elves to act first in this manner.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Sybbil Vallade Character Portrait: Tarrik Vallade Character Portrait: Feyleth Ithlonde Character Portrait: Feyren Ithlonde Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Dion Costas

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#, as written by Prose
"Feyrun," Tarrik called out in a commanding tone. All of the elves had stopped to watch the vessel break into pieces above the clearing of the trees. Their sharp eyes picked out a human sitting inside some metal contraption. Strange arrivals were rare on the planet, but not unheard of even for the tree-folk.

"Yes my Lord?" Feyrun's voice was deep but smooth as an aged honeyed mead.

"Take some scouts and find our visitor from the skies. Bring him to me in one piece and alive. I want to see where this person is from and if it is related to certain events," said Tarrik. He eyed the dwarf in front of him with some uncertainty.

"Very well," said Feyrun with a bow to the Elven Lord.

"Jorn of House Havelshield, you may have men accompany Feyrun, or not. It is your choice but I will not bear the consequences of them being unfamiliar with our woods. They are quite perilous and filled with fey, as I am sure you understand," said Tarrik to the Dwarven Lord.

Feyrun left the company gathered at the inner gates inside Elwendil, a few of his men following behind the dark-haired elven man.

"I would like to go as well," a gentle voice spoke up to Tarrik. He frowned down at her and crossed his arms across his broad chest. After a moment of thought, Tarrik nodded to Sybbil. She smiled gracefully, lifted onto her tiptoes and gave her brother a kiss to his smooth cheek. She, too, left the gathering.

"Your men will be shown where they may stay. Bring whomever you will to speak with Feyleth," Tarrik said to Jorn. He made a motion with his hand and several other elven men began to help the dwarves with whatever they may have needed. They headed west toward a large tree with a burl cut at the lower roots for entrance into an underground hollow. It would be more than accommodating.



An hour passed.



Tarrik sat upon his throne made out of a massive elm. It still bloomed and shed leaves on the earthen floor of the throne room. Tiny motes of fey lingered amoung the living branches. No other elves were present aside from a strange creature that resembled more fey than elf.

She was stunningly beautiful, almost too much so to be looked upon with desire. Her skin was iridescent and glimmered with the lights of the fey surrounding her. The woman's hair was amaranth and laced with soft downy feathers. Her eyes like two glittering jewels inlaid in her wondrous face.

A smile graced upon the woman's glossy lips and she stared at the dwarves.

"Dwarven... Lord... Jorn...Welcome..." spoke Feyleth, sending a shiver even down Tarrik's spine.

"What you have found... I fear... for us all..." Feyleth's speech was oddly broken. Tarrik did not seem to be surprise by this behavior. She had always spoken thus due to her making. Feyleth was a creature half in the world and half in another at all times. She walked between the worlds in spirit barely anchored by her physical embodiment.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Sybbil Vallade Character Portrait: Tarrik Vallade Character Portrait: Feyleth Ithlonde Character Portrait: Feyren Ithlonde Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Dion Costas

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The silence around the lone Prowler pilot was almost deafening; but he couldn't sit in one place since he knew that help wasn't coming. He took a quick assessment of his injuries, but he figured his Nanites would take care of him.

He let his eyes drift about, taking in his surroundings; as alien as they could be. He made the deduction that he was in a forest of some kind, where there was vegetation, there was a animal life, and it was likely that the planet's atmosphere could support human life.

He pulled his visor over his face, and checked the pressurization. The oxygen gauge showed that his suit had three hours of emergency oxygen, so he made the decision to try and go for help.

A gloved hand reached up, and clenched the emergency cockpit release, he pulled the lever back and the canopy was blown from the capsule, hurling several feet and landing nearby atop knurled roots with a thud.

He checked the oxygen reader once more, it was still green; so he lifted his visor and took the first breaths of alien air. However something seemed off as he tried to stand up; his legs shook and he winced in pain.

Was this world's gravity heavier?

Joints popped as he stood up, unfastening the last of his restraints, he looked around once more.

"I'm three kinds of frakked." He muttered.

Pulling out of the cockpit, he threw his legs over the side of the capsule, and landed on the ground with a crunch of leaves and undergrowth. He then reached forward, and undid the emergency cargo latch to get at the supplies inside.

Inside was a green rucksack, emergency heat blanket made out of gold reflective foiling, three days of bagged emergency purified water, two ration bars that held a whopping 5,000 calories, along with complete nutrition, and an assortment of emergency tools, such as a wick lighter, basic first aid kit, and a multitude of other supplies.

He grabbed the rucksack and threw it over his shoulder, before reaching out and grabbing the machete and tomahawk/shovel tool that was loaded in the emergency hatch, as well as a simple magnetic compass.

The last and most vital survival tool was a field manual composed by the Imperial Navy, which was a guide for survival in several different situations.

He slid the guide in his front pocket, before he took his helmet off, with an audible hiss and then he tossed it into the cockpit. With everything he could carry he looked around, and then he frowned.

"I suppose i Pick a direction and walk." He said, attatching the tomahawk and machete to his belt, before checking his weapon, which he figured probably didn't work.

His eyes moved to the parachute, which was tangled on the trees, and the cord dangling from the fabric. He decided he would try and salvage the parachute next, as it would come in handy for a temporary shelter.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Sybbil Vallade Character Portrait: Tarrik Vallade Character Portrait: Feyleth Ithlonde Character Portrait: Feyren Ithlonde Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Dion Costas

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Malad followed Jorn along with the elves deeper into the migraine capital of elfdom. He rubbed his head pondering an idea to solve some of his problems. Could the damned light from the trees be repurposed? Then he needed somewhere to distribute it. He looked about at the construction and wondered how all the energy moved about to be secured from tampering. The task at hand caught his attention at the view of the wooden throne and tabled his thoughts for now.

The goggles came off as Malad caught sight of Feyleth. It wasn't a frown as much as a discerning impulse one who'd spent too long in a lab. Shaking off the unusual impulse of contemplating the dissection of the hybrid Malad rubbed his pale eyes.

Something dangerous just found? Quite. Malad made a slight smile, "Hmmph."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Torggrim Argaald Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Sybbil Vallade Character Portrait: Tarrik Vallade Character Portrait: Feyleth Ithlonde Character Portrait: Feyren Ithlonde Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Dion Costas

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#, as written by Marcus
"Torggrim!" Jorn barked to the dwarves in his company before entering to meet with the elvish lords who he wished could have been entirely avoided. "Take a small company of my men and accompany the elves to that event. Don't return empty handed."

"Will do. I'll make sure to bring something back..." Torggrim quickly offered his response only to wave over a few armed dwarves and began to march towards the direction of the fallen vessel. Jorn simply looked at the other elves present before turning away from them and enter into the meeting room.

Torggrim had traversed similar terrain before back during the war but he would not loose sight of the elves they would accompany. Jorn's man knew what must be done if things seemed to go south and had his Great Houses trust.

As for Jorn, Malad, and the few dwarves who carried a couple of chests it was nothing but short work that they presented their goods. An old heirloom stolen from the elves long ago was a simple looking hour glass that was housed in a silver cage of sorts. The sands within the hour glass were replaced with sparkling ground gemstones that seemed to reflect the light around it. There was also a silver dirk whose ebony hilt and grip bared gilded crafted leaves that decorated the blade. Along with a few other goodies and several chests of mithril and platinum coins pressed in the dwarven likeness of their currency.

"A pleasure I'm sure. Our gifts are of items once thought lost from war only to be returned and with a bit of incentive. As for what I've found it would only be pressing to say that the object of your concerns is a mystery to even our old scholars who've searched their grand archives. I have even pressed several powerful wizards and sorcerers, both natural blooded and otherwise, and still have not heard from them." Jorn took his place behind those chests of treasure and lost history only to grimace. "You know full well that coming to ask for help in understanding such a thing was not my first choice. But sadly this strange cube is somewhat beyond me."

Jorn muttered his words only to know fully that not all he said was true. "A force not of this realm lay within the box and its material seems to hold many possibilities. I would imagine that such a thing is very powerful.....but I also fear that from this discovery something else has captured the hearts and lives of the people who call this realm home."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Torggrim Argaald Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Sybbil Vallade Character Portrait: Tarrik Vallade Character Portrait: Feyleth Ithlonde Character Portrait: Feyren Ithlonde Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Dion Costas Character Portrait: Mylor Clearwater

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#, as written by Prose
Elwendil Throne Room
Tarrik sat upright upon his throne and down his nose at the dwarf. His crystalline nail-tipped fingers dug into the bark of his high seat. Foolish creatures always pushing for more expansion and discovery within the Mother's bosom. It appeared they had dug too far and unearthed something dangerous.

The Elven King must needs take it from those irresponsible creatures and keep it contained. Power could not be trusted with the other races of Gaia.

"I have felt this... otherworldly presence... your people have unearthed..." Feyleth said, raising from her chair seated close to the King's. The woman's silver robes pooled at her naked feet as she stood. Feyleth's jewel-like eyes bored into Jorn's face, searching. Across the earthen floor the faerie-elf glided to the dwarf. Not a single sound did her footfalls make as she approached.

When Feyleth reached Jorn Havelshield, she knelt down upon her knees as no elven creature had done before a dwarf in the history of Siv'en. Those deep pools of amaranth stared unblinking into Jorn's, attempting to capture his gaze with her own. But, it was not his eyes that the faerie-elf searched. It was beyond those organic orbs and into what he had seen, what his people had seen, and further...

"I see..." Feyleth's corporeal form disappeared from the court.




Deep beneath the Exalted Mountains in the Kingdom of Mahark did Feyleth appear. Before her eyes laid a box. The powerful woman circled around the construct and finally approached.

A single, silken, and long finger touched the pointed edge.

Instantly her mind became awash with the unseen fingers of another mind, a mind expansive and powerful- a mind that encompassed an entirety of its own dimension.

Who are you?

"A being that belongs to this world while you do not", Feyleth answered the voice. Her palm graced the smooth sides of the cube structure.

I belong to all things, just as all things belong to me. The grasping tendrils of thought latched onto Feyleth's mind. It was a feeling like cold water filling one's skull, and with it, it seeped into her very thoughts.

A shiver ran down Feyleth's spine. Her other delicate hand latched onto the box, needing to feel the object beneath her flesh. A vast wealth of knowledge was nestled in the elven woman's mind; mysteries that had long been forgotten, arcane arts that no longer were practiced, views into the worlds that were attached to Gaia, places that were and no longer were.

And tucked away in the deepest recesses of Feyleth's mind, a malevolence patiently waiting to be unleashed.


Image
The Landing Site

The silence around the Aschen man broke as a bow string drew. An arrow pointed at the nape of his neck while stern eyes regarded the man. The woman was dressed in leather armor from heel to foot, a mask was drawn up over her jaw, and thick braid of red hair thrown over her shoulder. Mylor appeared human but for one detail; a slightly pointed ear peeking between wisps of hair.

"Lost?" Mylor asked the man. There was a touch of dark humor in the tone of the female's voice. A crooked smile quirked the edge of her mouth upward.

A Terran, she thought to herself, or one of the other bastard human races that infected the once beautiful planet.

"So far from home..." Mylor loosened the bow string and let her aim fall to the earthy ground. The bow was a curious weapon to have on a planet with such low technology and advancements. It was a compound bow made from carbon fiber. Hardly a weapon that was fashioned on Gaia.

Her eyes slide past the man before her and into the woods.

"They're coming for you. Stay here and become their prisoner or ..." A wicked smile spread across the woman's face.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Torggrim Argaald Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Sybbil Vallade Character Portrait: Tarrik Vallade Character Portrait: Feyleth Ithlonde Character Portrait: Feyren Ithlonde Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Dion Costas Character Portrait: Mylor Clearwater

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Dion made his way quietly through the woods, he didn't want to stray too far from the crash site for fear that he would get lost, but his concentration was broken by the sound of a drawing bow, his hand immediately went to the disruptor pistol at his hip, but then he slowly raised both his hands upon realizing that his weapon likely was overcome by whatever seemed to cause his other devices to malfunction, and whoever had drawn down upon him already held the advantage.

Unlike Mylor's leather, Dion was still in his flight suit, the black vinyl like material encased him from his neck to his boots, which were the standard EVA grade all purpose boots, sealed to the suit, as were his gloves.

Worn over his flight suit was a harness, which held an oxygen tank, power source, and the rucksack which was thrown over his shoulder. His uniform also bore the patches and insignia of the Aschen Empire, specifically it's 45th Custos Pantharae prowler squadron. Which bore an image of a black panther lurking over a planet, with an Aschen prowler circling the panther.

His rank insignia, that of captain was denoted by small collar pips, where the helmet sealed to the flight suit, of course all of this was only likely recognizable by those intimately familiar with the Aschen Empire.

Slowly he turned, his hands still raised as to not appear a threat, until his eyes fell upon the woman before her.

"I made a wrong turn at the Pleiades cluster." He said, still keeping his hands raised, but began to lower them as she loosened the tension on the bow.

"They're coming for me? I don't plan on exactly becoming anyone's prisoner." He called out. "You got something better?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Torggrim Argaald Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Sybbil Vallade Character Portrait: Tarrik Vallade Character Portrait: Feyleth Ithlonde Character Portrait: Feyren Ithlonde Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Dion Costas Character Portrait: Mylor Clearwater

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Malad was deep in considering conduction rates of theoretical construct networks and barely noted the hybrid feyelf's assessment of what they already knew. However when she came close a free hand quietly dismissed his view of the journal spire. Were the elves not going to say anything of note? It suited them he supposed. Then the lady fey-elf vanished. His pose straightened as he thought of where she'd gone.

Malad leaned forward to whisper in his Lord's ear, "If this Feyleth has gone in freely to where I think then it may be prudent to investigate gating such paths outward from the box."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Torggrim Argaald Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Sybbil Vallade Character Portrait: Tarrik Vallade Character Portrait: Feyleth Ithlonde Character Portrait: Feyren Ithlonde Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Dion Costas Character Portrait: Mylor Clearwater

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#, as written by Marcus
Torggrim continued to push forward with the dwarven guard right behind him. When he would dip and duck under low hanging branches the rest of his company would attempt to keep their fearless ranger in sight. The Dwarf had a knack for adventuring in strange lands, even though this place was not all that unfamiliar. Wars fought in a distant past left fresh memories and wounds alike.

"Keep up lads. Jorn tasked me to guide your sorry lot here and back." Torggrim bellowed back to the rest of his small platoon.

Many of the dwarves seemed to groan and a few had their jollies satisfied as another took a branch to the face. It was a miracle that Torggrim was even able to keep them in check as he continued to push through the underbrush.

Meanwhile back at the place of meeting Jorn simply frowned as the amalgamation of elf and fea suddenly vanished before the dwarven lords eyes. He simply offered a moody sigh as Malad made the obvious seem ever more so than it already was. Jorn wanted to do just that but his fellow Councilors refused to agree on all terms with him.

"You and I once again agree." Jorn muttered his words silently towards his companion only to shake his head and glance up at the elf upon the throne. "I wouldn't have needed to come here at all if I'd just had my way. A shame really to have to share things when you know best....."

The setting changes from whispering-woods to Exalted Mountains

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Torggrim Argaald Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Elder Kardal Steelheart Character Portrait: Thane Riak Steelheart

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#, as written by Marcus
The patrol of dwarves that Riak called down upon acted quickly for a heavily armed patrol. The front and read guard carried sturdy walking axes whilst the group that sat within the center were somewhat different than their heavily armored companions. Several within the middle of the patrol raised strange looking muskets engraved with golden or silver inlay and crafted to look like the gapping maw of some great beast whilst an older dwarf simply raised his cane up towards the traveler above and barked out his orders in his native tongue.

"Hold yourselves!" Jorn shouted in dwarven as he looked at his engineer only to shake his head. "Shaky lot we have here Aethmak." The noble amongst the group simply then brought his attention towards Riak who was shouting on about some beast. Obviously the newcomer was brave but from where did he come from?

"No beasts roam my lands!" Jorn shouted up towards the man. "I am Lord Jorn Gareif, master of the great Clan Havelshield!"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Torggrim Argaald Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Elder Kardal Steelheart Character Portrait: Thane Riak Steelheart
  1. please keep in mind canonically the highest level of mechanical power able to fuction on gaia is base uses of gunpowder

    by lostamongtrees

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Prototypes only went so far in theoretical testing. Malad needed practical environments to see how weathering and field treated his new tools even if they were robust inside the lab. This prototype's mechanics of actuating ammo while balancing the spinning movement of the multiple barrels proved to break down constantly. So he took the weapon prototype a different direction and replaced bits with aetheric items carefully crafted to dance together. The mages were actually on-board with the nature of the creation for once while making his parts. Bleeding dogmatic artisans.

Sorties like this were perfect for testing such things. In this case there were a three packing equal bits of a crew served weapon so the weight wasn't onerous. Three packed the prototype: One with the gun core; one with the small spring-stabilized stand, spare aetheric capacitors for when they screwed up the chant, and ammo; the last packed the fairly heavy spellwrought barrel. Heated up too much firing that fast and he had to redesign it out of ceramic with the mages' help. Three also fired it: one to sight, one on bent knee reciting the chant he'd taught them that made the collection of small spells inside the core to operate in the right pattern, and the last to pull the trigger unleashing hell. Seven musket firing rate for three musket men and no reloading for a few normal musket volleys or so worth with the boxed magazines. Weight class allowed them to put on a powerful scope if they cared. Expensive to build overall but he reckoned it had a strategic use in battle all its own class. Where to put such weapons to best effect was for his Lord to puzzle out. The cores still burnt out every few months after bouts of sustained fire but he had a feeling the thrice-damned aetheric parts didn't like his line-straddling around their mechanical meddling.

His endless thoughts on his own work mostly lead to his own terse response on the dwarves to his Lord, "Had them bring the big gun. You'd think they'd be less worried."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Torggrim Argaald Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Elder Kardal Steelheart Character Portrait: Thane Riak Steelheart

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Silently Riak watched the dwarves below form up into the defencive positions a number of them pointing rifles up at him, if he so wished he could fire his own flintlock pistol on them, though what use would that be?.

Riak nodded listening to the lord of this party below him and called back down to them “then let us talk peacefully, I am Thane Riak Steelheart, of the Realm forgers, the last warrior of our clan!” stepping away from the ledge, Riak would begin making his way down the mountain, and disappeared down one path and after a few minutes or so, he’d be just further up the path from the dwarves, no more than five hundred yards from them.

His chainmail and plate armour made of thick dull plates of an ancient ore from the deepest realms of Gaia, the standard muskets of the dwarves would have trouble piercing the plate armour and chain but the larger weapon in the dwarven party’s arsenal could potentially do the job.

The giant-esc being would come to a stop two hundred and fifty yards ahead of the dwarves and draw his greatsword, the weapon only just shorter than Riak, with Riak being 14ft tall and the blade twelve in full, and the blade a full foot in width, he’d stabbed the tip of the blade deep into the path and bury five foot of the blade, before finishing his approach, now unarmed and meaning his peaceful intentions. He would stop 30ft in front of the party.

“Your equipment is of remarkable quality” he watched the dwarves, he could tell they were on edge “your troops seem jumpy, Lord Gareif, Is it because of me?” Riak raised a hand and fixed his broach shifting in his armour, and moving the cloak a little so it didn’t cover up half his face.

Standing into a casual relaxed stance Riak mostly kept looking around, noting the geographical changes to the mountains and then beyond to the lands below, the world had truly changed more floating mountains higher up above his home peak among other changes.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Torggrim Argaald Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Elder Kardal Steelheart Character Portrait: Thane Riak Steelheart

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#, as written by Marcus
Thane Riak Steelheart, the Realm Forgers, whoever this man was Jorn simply grumbled as he looked over to his men and the tinkerer who accompanied him in order to field test the new rifles. It was only when the rather massive man made himself fully apparent before the group of Dwarves to Jorn cough a little as he looked upon the half giant before him.

It was only when the half giant offered his praise over the quality of his craftsmen's work did Jorn level his gaze at the giant of a man. "You appear to have giants blood within your veins. I cannot blame my men here for not thinking you to be some emissary of those who wish me destroyed. However...." Jorn stepped forward and waved Malad to follow behind him whilst he approached [bThane Riak[/b].

"From where does your clan call home Thane Riak? My people have lived in these mountains sense the first stirring of the very ground we stand upon and yet I've never seen someone or anyone as tall as you or even your clan you claim to represent."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Torggrim Argaald Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Elder Kardal Steelheart Character Portrait: Thane Riak Steelheart

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Malad stumped off to follow behind Jorn absently making notes in his journal artifact about the trip and equipment performance thus far. His eye followed the armor work by Riak while wielding the small elongated diamond shaped object with a coil of arcane-marked thick metal about it. There was always notes to be made and strategic information to be recorded.

Malad ever terse introduced himself simply to Riak, "Malad Aethmak, if it please you."

The hand on his spire at one side his fingers touched runes on the coils of wire swiftly recording information. The grain and scratch patterns on the armor were useful information as even if one polished the alloy's skin still shone through.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Torggrim Argaald Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Elder Kardal Steelheart Character Portrait: Thane Riak Steelheart

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Riak nodded in understanding of Lord Gareif’s caution, and turned pointing to the mountain from which he had no more than thirty minutes prior exited. “you would not have heard or even known of us Realm forgers as the last time we left the Forge was just over thirteen thousand years ago, I remember watching my father sealing the gate to protect the tribe” he looks back to the two who had stepped forward “It is a pleasure Malad” his tone reflected this to be true in same way, Riak produced his flintlock, the size of a small cannon, the design and construction not unlike older dwarven designs, possibly. He was just looking it over, rolling it between his hands, scrutinising it, looking for imperfections.

“I am the only living Realm builder to bear arms, my people are a peaceful lot, their duty the creation of worlds and stars” he holstered the unloaded pistol. “or so it was before the collapse of my people” he sighed heavily, it was still a sore subject, for a multi million year old being, a few thousand years is nothing.

Casting aside the moping he further investigated the dwarfs before him, scrutinising their arms and armour, like any craftsman would over their trade. “as for half giant, we realm forgers have no relation, we are an ancient folk the eldest of us having forged the realms we take for granted millennia past.”

He turned heading towards his sword and lifted it up and sheathed it and looked back to the dwarves. “If you are interested in learning further, I may allow you entry into the Forge. Riak spoke more of seeing if the dwarves were curious enough to find out more, or if they declined he would pass on by and continue his exploration.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Torggrim Argaald Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Elder Kardal Steelheart Character Portrait: Thane Riak Steelheart

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#, as written by Marcus
Jorn almost seemed flabbergasted at the idea of this massive man standing before him, with many like him no less, and even the offer to see something that might just be insane enough to warrant a good laugh and further investigation. If anything this giant of a fellow was just some crazed barbarian who had stepped one mile to close.

"Alright, I'll bite......." Jorn trailed off slightly only to smile a little as if he had just heard the worlds worst fucking joke. The old dwarf clenched his cane and choked back a bit of laughter as he looked over to Malad only to offer his companion an approving nod. "However we will be bringing our current company. How far are we talking here?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Torggrim Argaald Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Elder Kardal Steelheart Character Portrait: Thane Riak Steelheart

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Riak lead the way towards the entryway, from the shear face on his left two reactivated golems began to glow and pull themselves from the wall, standing half Riak’s height and glowing a with a blue aura and deeper blue eyes, the golems watched the dwarves but Riak spoke up in the ancient tongue of his people. “Stand down they are friends”

The two golems stance changed and one spoke in common to the dwarves. “are you truly peaceful?” one asked, the other returned to its position in the wall Riak patted the second golem and it retired also.

“I am sorry about them, they watch and guard the entrance” stepping up to the rubble that sat in front of the gate, Riak began clearing the rubble aside, but as he did this, the entire cliff face began to split, the great stone doors grinding against the ground as the giant golems inside, pulled the doors apart opening them. Slowly, the sound of 90 meter tall doors filled the air, stone grinding on stone. Echoing out across the mountains. “welcome to my home”

He watched as the gates opened and after thirteen thousand years, they shall remain open to welcome all of a peaceful heart to enter.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Torggrim Argaald Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Elder Kardal Steelheart Character Portrait: Thane Riak Steelheart

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High above, a great and beautiful Mountain Peak suddenly explodes with the force of a detonating star, unleashing a catastrophic clap of thunder as a result. The shards and debris, however, soar away to the west in a cloud of whirling rock and dust.

A short interim later, a bright coiling band of energy like a tendril of fire from the sun itself sears it's way to the place where the peak once stood, and flashes blindingly. Once it fades away, the peak is seen to be restored, save that it is bare of snow that once covered.

These strange events are like a beacon to any adventurous soul in the region, daring them to investigate the origins of such oddities.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Torggrim Argaald Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Elder Kardal Steelheart Character Portrait: Thane Riak Steelheart

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Malad followed dutifully behind his lord replying to the golems, "The march of advancement is neither peaceful nor warlike. It moves impassively in all directions."

His gloved hands reached up to slide a magnifying lens down then pulled a lucent note canvas out from his journal. Hasty scrawls of notes on the shape of the golems appear under his darting finger. The place before him more interesting than dragons likely fighting somewhere from the shaking underfoot. Golems at least were something more closely understood the dragon magic was still unattainable.

"Your front doors make for an impressive bulwark," the inventor commented to Riak.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Torggrim Argaald Character Portrait: Jorn Gareif Character Portrait: Malad Aethmak Character Portrait: Elder Kardal Steelheart Character Portrait: Thane Riak Steelheart

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#, as written by Marcus
Impressive, very impressive, to think that all this time that such a fortification was sitting quietly beneath The Stone Lords Empire was almost baffling at best. The golems craftsmanship was also commendable, though dwarven hands could have created something more eloquent, the arcane work however was something beyond his kin in some regards.

"Well put Malad." Jorn retorted only to allow his gaze to fall more intently upon the constructs that offered as guards for Thane Riak's hold. The Dwarf Lords eyes began to fall towards the arcane as auras and lights filled his vision allowing him to decipher the spellwork which bound these soulless automatons to their eternal duty.

It was only when Malad offered his next words that Jorn turned his attention to the massive doors before him. Indeed it was impressive work for a defensive door. It must have taken a bit of time for the construction if it was something more than a simple door. "Yes." Jorn muttered only to stroke his beard slightly only to jump at the sound of a loud explosion.