17th Opal, year 550.
Somewhere in the Planes of Destiny, deep into the dwarven mountains sits a king in his throne, proud monarch of the Mountainhomes. His name is Urdim Avuzkivish, a dwarf memorable for his wise decisions and his red, braided long beard. His eyebrows are long and his long moustache is braided. His sideburns are cleanshaved, and so is his hair. Over his head lies Anilatesh, or, as it is called in the common tongue, the Glorious Radiance: a golden crown, decorated with cobalt and sapphire gems distributed around it. Anilatesh is adorned with hanging rings of Abshoth, the forgotten beast, slain long ago by the army Urdim himself led into battle.
Urdim has, in his years, made many acquaintances, friends and relationships. His wife, Kogan Avuzkivish, queen consort, died years ago, and since then Urdim has tried no further luck in romance. Many of his friends have betrayed him, all envious of his power. However, people of good faith have always existed, and Urdim made sure to have them stay in his life. Yet, today was an important day for Urdim, and for the whole Mountainhome of the Urns of Healing. The wars with the elves were constantly a worrying matter for the dwarves, and Urdim was no exception.
A knock on the main doors was heard, and seconds later, the ashen wood, giant hall doors opened. Two men of his trusted Royal Guard entered the throne room, accompanied by a scout. "The messenger is here, Master Urdim." said one of the guards. The stout man in leather armor and an emerald cloth cloak stepped forward and delivered the news. "Skirmishes with the elves continue up to this day, and not with good results. We have lost very important battles recently in the north and the northeast, and the elven armies are moving closer and closer to our Mountain." The scout lowered his head in shame.
Urdim leaned sideways on his throne, his left arm holding his head as he was deep in thought. "Bad news. The elves are becoming a serious problem to the dwarven society. We are the only ones of our kind that are left. Thank you for your information, scout." After a pause, he continued. "Guards, give him food and some of our best drinks, as well as a good place to rest. This dwarf here has proved his courage."
And with those words, the three men left the throne room. Alone again, Urdim rose from his throne and, deep in thought, left the throne room himself, signaling another unoccupied guard to follow him. He walked towards the statue gardens, where he always went whenever he needed to think clearly. As always, the statue garden was void of people, with exception of the King himself and his guard. The statue gardens were arranged as a curved hallway that formed a semicircle, in the middle, an ornate walkway with a checkerboard pattern, specifically built with obsidian and granite. Near the walls and columns rested statues of great ancient dwarves that had served the Urns of Healing in the past as heroes. Urist Rolunnabid, Bogsosh Ushangtharnas, Gansit Ralsalul, and many other names and faces lied there, forever sculpted in stone, the gray skin and face loyal to the ancient appearance of those famous figures of past, to be always remembered.
If the Mountainhomes fell, what other mark would be left of the Dwarven Civilization in history? If the elves sieged the fortress of Letmosathnir, who would be left to tell the tale of the dwarves? Such questions filled Urdim's head, waiting for an answer. He looked at those before him, encased in stone. What would they have done in his place? As expected, there was no answer from the statues. No, these men have already proved their worth. Now it was his turn. Looking at the ceiling, he closed his eyes, thinking. What could be done? What could possibly give the dwarven civilization a second chance, a second plan, an alternate route? It would only be a matter of time until the elves reached the closest duchies and baronies. The dwarves needed an escape route, a way to assure their race would continue existing after a possible worst-case-scenario. Then it struck him. He would send a group of dwarves to embark a new land. He would trust an entire civilization into a group of men sent into the wild. Such a trust was too big for him to give alone, yet he knew he was the only one who could make such decisions. He would not be able to elect himself for the group. He must stay and remain in the Mountainhomes, loyal to his land. He would defend the Mountainhomes to the very end. But on who, on what group of men would he put such responsibility?
He continued his walk along the gardens, and stopped to look at a particular figure. Murak Kithaltarmid, also called 'Izual'. A dwarf that was known for being the one to deliver the final blow to the abomination known as Abshoth, the forgotten beast. A tale told by dwarves and tall men alike. His only son, Cerol Kithaltarmid, was a great friend of the king and often enjoyed his company at dinner or royal parties. Although Cerol was very distant and reserved, he was a loyal and honest dwarf, proud to be one of the gears that moved the Mountainhome's fruition. He would be the perfect choice. Yet, he alone wouldn't succeed. Cerol would need an entire company, a group of settlers, to succeed in his quest, and even then it would be no easy task.
Cerol's company would need dwarves with skills, survival being the main priority. A hunter or a ranger would do the trick nicely. He'd have to talk to Feb, the leader of the ranger guild. He would surely choose one of his best. Maybe one of the farmers, to help with the foraging and growing. The company would surely need a woodcutter, or someone who knows the crafts of wood and nature. The Taremtun family has always been full of success and glory in the carpenter guilds of the Mountainhome, they would surely suggest someone with skill.
And so Urdim muttered, already reaching the end of the gardens. Pleased with his musing, he returned to the throne room and dismissed the guard. He went to his bedroom and clothed himself to resemble a commoner, then walked out of the throne room. His footsteps echoed through the busy stone hallways and corridors, his cloak hiding an indubitably recognizable face. Urdim stopped, then looked to his left. He read a sign next to a doorway that read "The Ranger's Guild." He entered and saw a room furnished with wooden chairs and tables, as well as cabinets and chests. A weapon rack lied on the wall next to the door, where two iron short swords laid.
Without telling a single word to those present in the room, he slowly walked towards the office where Feb would be found and knocked the door twice. A voice was heard from inside the room. "Come in." Opening the doorknob, he entered Feb's small room, where he found him sitting in his masterwork granite chair. "Good day, how may I help you?" he said, just before Urdim sat in front of him. "Oh, something very important. Glad to hear I can still hide myself from most people." he mentioned, showing his face covertly and surprising Feb.
"But if it is my king! Honored to have your presence here, great friend. What issue brings you here, of all places?" "I am in need of your best ranger, for a task most important that concerns not only the Mountainhomes, but the whole dwarven race." Feb looked seriously at Urdim for a second, before sitting comfortably on his chair and looking up, scratching his beard. "Hmm… my best ranger. I know who might do the job. May I know what are your plans?" Urdim hesitated, but decided to reveal his intentions, about the company of Cerol and the elves.
"It is a brave idea, and I will do my best to help." Feb stood up from the chair and walked towards the door. After opening it, he called someone in with a gesture and then left the door open, sitting back down. Seconds later, another dwarf came into the picture, by the name of Led Cogkilrud. Led bowed appropiately after noticing the King's presence, then closed the door gently. "It is an honor to see you here, my King." she said. Feb then introduced her. "This is Led. She is by far our most skilled ranger and surely the most capable for your intentions." Urdim glanced at her. Led was a dwarven ranger with jade eyes and light brown skin, with medium-length black hair.
"Led, you have been chosen by me to join a company, with the mission of going into the wilderness and building a new settlement that will assure the existence of the dwarven race for generations to come. Do you accept this responsibility?" Urdim asked, seriously, taking off his hood. The stout ranger took a second to understand the gravity of this mission and then bowed again. "Yes, my King."
Led Cogkilrud was just only one of the dwarves Urdim had recruited for the company. Along her, the king had recruited five other. Their names were Onul Vushalath, Kogan Arrostirist, Nish Taremtun, Lor Asteshokol, and Udil Almoshlimul. In order, the company was composed by a ranger, a miner, a doctor, a farmer, a jeweler and mechanic, and a swordsman. This last addition was a bit controversial in the King's opinion, as Udil had commited a severe crime earlier and his punishment was to be exile. But the Sheriff had better plans for him, and Urdim was smart enough to agree.
These six dwarves were all called into the throne room, and all stood in a semicircle, with the king in the middle. Then, Cerol Kithaltarmid was called into the room, escorted by two guards. Cerol was not informed at any time of his task, but he soon would. The king's voice echoed across the room. "Cerol Kithartamid, son of Izual, you have been brought here for a most important task. The wars with the elves have been threatening the very existance of the dwarven race. You are here to change that. The mission I'm giving you is to move out of the Mountainhomes, into the wilderness, and march towards the cold lands of The Hills of Pricing, to the south, and settle there. You must build a home worthy of the dwarves, and assure once again that our civilization and race will last through the years and eras to come. These dwarves will be your company. You will lead them into the darkness, and all seven of you will shine as heroes." Urdim paused briefly, stepping up from his throne.
"Cerol Azureblade, do you accept this responsibility? Do you consider yourself worthy and capable of such a task?" he roared, the halls remaining silent. Cerol looked around, memorizing the faces of every dwarf around him. Some faces he had seen before, others he had not. But he already felt something connecting them, and connecting him to them as well. Finally, Cerol lowered his head and bowed towards the king. "I accept this task that you give unto me, my King. And I shall sacrifice my life if so means bringing it to fruition." After those words were spoken, everything went too fast for Cerol from there. Everyone was dismissed, and was told to prepare themselves for the journey began tomorrow. Whatever was left of the day would probably be used to say goodbye to their families and close friends.
18th Opal, year 550. Day of the Farewell.
The seven dwarves of the company, escorted by the King himself, walked down a new hallway that had people instead of walls, for everyone in the Mountainhomes had come to see this moment. Everyone was silent, pushing each other in order to give space for the Seven Chosen to come through. The Irrisen Zanos (for so was named Cerol's company) stood upon the great main gates of the Mountainhome. The king turned around to face his citizens, and delivered his final speech, his voice roaring through the main halls, reaching everyone's ears. "It is today, 18th Opal of the year 550, that these seven dwarves will leave the Mountainhomes in search for glory and greatness, but most importantly, of longevity. It is them that will decide the fate of the Dwarven Civilization as we know it. We all pray that they reach their destination safe, and that their settlement grows to be a hall worthy of the Mountainhomes' respect. Their tales will be told for generations, by dwarves, men and elves alike. It is them, who we owe our respect today, as well as our final farewell." He turned around once again, to face each one of the dwarves.
"Led Cogkilrud, the prodigy of the Ranger Guild. You will aid this company in its harsh task, one of survival. I wish you luck in your quest." Led kneeled before her King, nodding. "Thank you, my King."
"Onul Vushalath, the most efficient miner that we can provide. You will carve upon the mountains of The Hills of Pricing the cornerstone and the very base of this new settlement. I wish you luck in your quest." Onul kneeled as well, his loyalty undoubtable. "Thank you, my King."
"Lor Asteshokol, an engineer and jeweler famous for his craftsmanship. You will be the one behind the gears and the one who will make the Dwarven Craftsmanship last along the ages. I wish you luck in your quest." Kneeling, Lor answered faithfully. "Thank you, my King."
"Nish Taremtun, son of the Carpenter Guild's master. You will be the one to burn the wood that will keep the company warm in the cold days, and your wood will be the one to support the very mines of Diamondfloors. I wish you luck in your quest." Nish, although a bit shy, kneeled and answered. "T-Thank you, my King."
"Kogan Arrostirist, famous for her medicine and medical skills. You will be the one to bring sanity and well-being to the Company in times of need, ensuring their success. I wish you luck in your quest." The medic gently kneeled before Urdim, and answered. "I thank you, my King."
The king paused for a bit. "Udil Almoshlimul. You have been brought here to pay your respect to the Mountainhomes after your crimes. Jail will not be your punishment, but rather, exile. However, your task will not be to roam around the wilderness and beg for mercy, no. By the power my crown gives me, I demand you to follow these dwarves and, with the power of your sword, you shall allow no harm to come to them. Only then your redemption will be obtained, and only then your name will not be a bitter memory in the tales of the dwarves. I wish you luck in your quest." Udil lowered his head in shame, and kneeling, his hands wielding his sword, struck on the ground, he muttered. "Thank you most highly, my King. I will not fail you a second time."
Finally, it was time to say goodbye to a friend. A decision hard for every dwarf, regardless of the regalia on their heads. "Cerol Azureblade, son of Izual. You are one of my most trusted friends, and it is you who I have trusted to lead these dwarves. You will be the leader of this expedition, and not only I, but all those who are present here… We are counting on you. I wish you luck in your quest, Azureblade. May our paths cross again." Cerol kneeled before his friend, and felt a cold, sharp object resting on his shoulder, then on his other shoulder. He looked up. "This, Cerol, is the Arothab. It is a sword of excellent craftsmanship, adorned with cobalt gems and sapphire incrusted in its handle. It was forged in the deepest levels of the Mountainhomes, where magma bubbles and hisses, and it is comparable to adamantium. I trust you to wield it, and trust that it will aid you in your quest. A present from an old friend, if you must."
Cerol offered his hands, and Urdim slowly placed the sword upon them. "It is your responsibility now." he said. "You must go." Cerol stood up, then looked back at his six companions, then nodded at them. "I will lead these people to a brighter future. I promise you, my King." After those words were said, the crowd stirred and shouted in chants of glory and celebration. A smile went up Cerol's lips, and sheathing his sword, walked towards his Company, standing in the middle. The seven watched closely as the hall doors of the Mountainhomes opened slowly, letting the sunlight come inside, blinding everyone. The doors finally opened, and the members of the company started looking at each other, nodding in approval. Then, they started walking, slowly but surely, towards the wilderness. The crowd echoed behind them, the faith of the whole Dwarven Civilization upon them. They could not fail. They would not fail.
They would not allow it.