Despite Barak Varr's reputation for being a more open minded and welcoming Dwarf Hold compared to its more conservative brother holds, King Byrrnoth Grundadrakk is a staunch traditionalist, and there are still many roads the traveling manlings (and Grungni forbid, Elgi) do not know of, nor ever would know of. To any non-Dwarf, the approach to the hold by land looked nondescript, as if the roads led straight into a rise in the rock. However, any Dawi would see the the faint signs and cuts in the rock, along with the imprints in the stone that would designate these roads as well traveled and that the cliff was far more than it appeared.

Even standing upon the cliff's edge, if one were to see a ship sail into Barak Varr, it would seem destined to crash upon the walls of the rocky shoreline. However, be it by the water's current or Dawi hands (probably both), a massive cavern connected to the sea houses one of the largest port cities in the old world, where even non-Dwarfs are met with famous hospitality as long as they have coin to spend and business to deal in.

It was within the vast cavern of Barak Varr these brave few found themselves, having answered the call of a notable and honorable Longbeard known as Malgrim Copperbeard. One of the merchant thanes of the hold, who set out couriers to the four corners of Dwarfdon claiming he had a map of the lost hold of Ekrund, and would share in the spoils and honor of all who sought to aid him in this quest, a bloodoath his great great great great great grandfather had sworn when the hold had first been taken by the foul Urk.

Copperbeard's headquarters was within the wall of the cavern, as many prominent buildings were, on the east side of the hold. The rock had been carved at the fore to be perfectly straight, like a readily built stone wall, with torches meticuliously placed every dozen feet, and a massive carving of a helmeted Dwarf's head and beard overhanging the entrance to create the arch of the 'archway.' Both of the Dwarf's eyes were lit aflame.

Within, the Dawi would find the elder sitting atop his hearth chair, ornately created with intricate carvings so cut to perfection only a Dwarf could achieve. Malgrim Copperbeard's name was very accurate, his beard a bright hue of reddish blonde. An agate jewel was placed within the socket of his left eye. He wore a resplendent gromril chain hauberk with a waistcoat made of fine goat hide. Framing the raised platform he sat upon, were two Dawi warriors encased in fine plate and gromril axes. Next to them was a plump Dwarf with a blonde beard and an extravagant mustache, studiously holding a miniature Book of Grudges.

"Hail and well met, brave Dawi. Step forward and announce who ye are." The scholarly Dwarf said, gazing through spectacles.

Karlig descended to Barak-Varr's hangars with Master Engineer Phorkinsson with much interest in his eyes. Of the Karaz Ankor he had only seen Karak Hirn in his life, and a new hold was as much a sight to behold as the first one. He was very much interested in the unique architecture, the chosen designs of arms and armour, and all sorts of mechanisms employed. He wondered if the culture of Barak-Varr would differ significantly from that of the hold he lived in before. He knew he still didn't even fit in completely down South, would he be simply seen as an outsider, or perhaps recognized as a Dwarf from the manling cities?

Only time would tell.

As Karlig wandered about, looking for the Engineers guild in some futility, he tapped a passerby on the shoulder. He asked the kinsman where he could find what he was looking for, but did not expect the response he got. His counterpart seemed like an ordinary miner, but he informed him that his skills could be used elsewhere. He gave Karlig directions to a place that certainly wasn't the Engineer's guild, before scurrying off on his own business. Bewildered, the Engineer still didn't know where the guild was and on the basis of 'why not?' decided to go see what this ordeal might be.

When he got to Copperbeard's headquarters and came to see this Copperbeard himself, it seemed that he wasn't alone, other Dwarfs also present. Most of them had some sort of martial bearing, and the small Dammaz Kron held by the fair haired Dwarf gave him a slight foreshadowing of what was to happen. He knew he wasn't a fighter, but when you've got gunpowder and brains on your side, he didn't really have to be.

Seeing nobody else was, Karlig opted to step forth. "It's an honour to see you, Lord. Me name's Karlig: Karlig Azmarand, Engineer."

"I'm sorry!" Came a wail of regret that reached the rafters of the dockside tavern, "truly I am...please, you're crushing my skull!" There was another shriek and a sound of cracking teeth, all other voices having fallen silent only moments after the 'incident' began.

"I cannot hear you, manling..." responded a voice like gravel grinding together, "...some sort of apology?"

"Yes! Aaah. I am so sorry I asked where your beard was, please, I-I did not even know there were Dwarf women!"

Aina looked down at the foppish human fool once more, her ham-sized fist continuing to exert pressure on one side of his head - the other pressed tightly to the solid wooden bar top of the establishement - and the sneer that had been plastered on her face the entire time now moving ever-so-slightly into a slightly narrower sneer.

"Take your friends," she said, waving her other hand leisurely toward the trio of battered and bruised manlings, "and get out of my sight."

There was a thump as he was released from her grasp, allowed to slide to the floor, his companions nervously helping him up and leaving the tavern as fast as their stupidly long limbs could carry them.

Far from a thunderous applause, or indeed any form of congratulations, the bearded patrons of the tavern turned away from Aina as soon as the 'fight' was over. Some grumbled into their flagons about women and war, some simply went back to their pint, and others could not take their eyes off of the mass of furious muscle in their midst.

"Come on," she huffed at the casually staring bartender, "another ale."

"But you need to pa-" the words died in his mouth as the mid-bearded Dwarf looked into the eyes of someone that would think nothing of killing...possibly even another Dawi, "eer, I mean, here you are. On the house."

It was halfway through the fresh ale that a young Dwarf appeared, glancing about the place until his eyes feel upon the mohawked fighter and her drink.

"Greetings, I come with a proposition, one that might see you dead."

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I wonder how much that eye would fetch? Was all she could think as she stood among the group of Dwarfs, apparently all of them bought here for and by one reason or another, the Slayer focusing on the agate jewel and not much else.

Once she may have appreciated the craftsmanship of the place, the fine architecture, the armour of all those present, but now...now she saw only an opportunity to die.

"Aina, daughter of Jyris, Slayer."

Barak Varr had always been a sort of 'home away from home' for Dathac. The place he often returned to for supplies, a real bed, and of course, a mug of drink only a Dawi could make. It was during the most recent of these visits that Dathac found himself wandering the grand halls and chambers of the Dawi city's public areas and places, looking for his next exciting bit of work in service to the peoples of the Borderlands.

It was during one of the many conversations Dathac was having that he was directed to Copperbeard's place of dealing. A strange Dawi, one dressed in an assortment of clothing that served only to obscure his given profession, a strange sight indeed. The dwarf spoke of a renowned longbeard, searching for any and all dwarfs brave and stout enough to take up the quest offered by this 'Copperbeard'. Dathac would thank the kinsman, and make his way down the halls.

Copperbeard's residence was built in a fashion that was distinctly Dawi in nature. Manlings and others would probably liken it to resembling some sort of fortress wall or other fortified structure, but Dathac recognized it as the abode of a dwarf of high stature. The torches lit the way in expert unison, and the armored head serving as the final grand display was expertly carved and crafted, a towering example of true craftsdwarfship.

Stepping into the hall, Dathac found himself part of a group of presumably similarly-minded Dawi, those looking for some sort of job or adventure.

After Karling and Aina had introduced themselves, Dathac chose to present himself to the elder. "Honor to you, oh lord, for allowing us to come before you. I am Dathac Metalcrest, a Ranger hailing from Karaz-A-Karak." Dathac's voice was quiet, but audible, his Khazalid bearing an accent that, while still Dawi, had a hint of the tone used by manlings of the Borderlands, showing Dathac's time spent away from home.

Those that had stepped up were already a fascinating bunch... None more so than the slayer. She saw vast amounts of herself in the dwarf woman in front of her, and it gave her pause. Perhaps that could have been a fate for her. Perhaps that was her fate, if she could not avenge the deaths of her family. No dawi wished to share the sad fate of an oathbreaker, but Sadwe knew that she trod that thin line, every step teetering her this way or that, threatening to topple her over the edge and into the abyss of a ginger mohawk and those blue tattoos. Clearing her throat, she stepped forward, brushing away a stray clump of dust.

She was wearing the finest clothing that she could muster. A simple silver necklace hung around her neck, with her hair braided with her normal gold loops. Her gromril ring had been polished until it gleamed (although that was hardly a tricky feat,) and her shoes had been neatly shined. In fact, the shoes were what gave her away. She had only a single pair of boots. They were sturdy and warm, with the top rimmed with wool, but they were the shoes of an adventurer, not of a courtmonger.

She wore a thick woollen dress of a deep forest green, ringed with white. A brooch in the shape of a two-headed axe clasped against her throat, and she walked with a deliberate yet delicate step. "Greetings. It is always an honour to approach one of Grungi's children held in such high esteem." Her voice was light and even, clear and projected so that it would not get lost in the grandness of the room. "I am Sadwe Braybreaker. Thunderer of Karak Norn, taken leave."

Darin had fallen in with a group headed to Barak Varr. They climbed the road, making their way around the rocks to enter the hold. It was the same architecture he had grown accustomed to in every other Dawi city; one complacency denied him appreciation. It was Dawi, something he had grown accustomed to throughout his life; familiar and bland. He needed excitement in his life. Everything around him was bland.

Upon entering the hold, the group split up with Darin heading to seek out Malgrim Copperbeard. It had been a few years since he’d stepped foot in the Dwarven stronghold, but he remembered the way. He made his way through the vast cavern within Barak Varr, remarking the merchants and store fronts. They were fascinating. He heard the familiar din of hammers working at the forge, accompanied by the usual hiss of hot steel being cooled in water. Eventually, Darin found other Dawi preceded him to the the merchant thane, propped upon a throne with his reddish blonde beard. A beard he admired giving off a copper colored hue.

Upon inspection of the other adventurers who arrived ahead of him, Darin felt self-conscious about his own attire. The others were more immaculate in appearance. Their armor was beautiful, well maintained and brilliantly adorned. Darin’s was spotted with mud. His feet were covered in dust from the road. Places remained in disrepair from an attack along the road. But he was here to fulfill his quest to the Slayers of Karak Kadrin.

When it was Darin’s turn to speak he stepped in front of the Thane of Barak Varr known as Copperbeard. Darin also wore red hair, but much darker than Copperbeard. It was a fiery red that would normally be wild and crazy representing his personality, but today held tightly in four braids descending down over his shoulders. His dusty and worn banded armor made of leather with iron bands and studs spoke of someone who has spent much time in the field. His banded leather and iron armor covered his chest, legs, shins and arms. Even covered in armor, the sinews of his overworked body were rippled and evident. He wore a steel helm adorned with horns, he removed before stepping in front of the Thane of Barak Varr. Upon his back was strapped the two-and-a-half-foot battle axe, yet to be named. It had been blooded but remained nameless for the time being. Strapped to his belt were a hand axe and dagger. Around his neck he wore a necklace in honor of Grungni and a clasp pinned to his cloak in honor of Grungni’s brother, Grimnir.

Darin bowed when he stopped in front of the Thane, “I am known as Barbarossa of Clan Holzheim of Karak Kadrin, me lord. I am also known as Darin Torblad, son of Doldrun, son of Londrec, son of Fodrunn, son of Thurrik currently setting on the mining council of elders at Karak Kadrin. I have made a personal vow to the Slayers. This quest to the lost hold of Ekrund is me personal quest before taking th’ next step and swearing me pilgrimage to the Shrine of Grimnir. Consider meeself an apprentice Slayer, me lord.”

"Baziral," Malgrim Copperbeard called, pointing to the plump Dwarf. "Writ their names in the Damaz Kron." Not to record a grudge, but oaths to fulfill. The yellow bearded Dwarf immediately began to scribble on the archaic tome as if he was powered by an engine of steam. Malgrim nodded and then placed his thick fingers together as he contemplated. As all Dawi know, it takes a solemn moment to speak further of matters of import.

"As you all know, King Belegar Ironhammer has been at war in Karak Eight Peaks for many years, fighting for his birthright, long may he reign." The Dwarf Lord intoned. His guards banged their axes upon their shields thrice. "However, we have recently discovered tunnels of the Underway that connect the mightiest of Holds to Ekrund. The most Honorable High King, Thorgrim Grudgebearer-" the guards banged their shields once more. "-has gathered what throngs he can, for an assault upon the lost hold of Ekrund is imminent. We will not be part of it..."

He took a strong grip of his throne, and slow, steady step after steady step, the longbeard making it to his feet. He seemed to be between the age of the longbeard and the elder, the breaking point between the strong Dwarf body and the deterioration that occurs rapidly with Dawi when they sufficiently age. He seemed older than the stone around him. "We go by another road..." he said. "We go underground. We move south by the coast, until we reach the surrounding peaks of Ekrund. There is a secret way within."

He motioned for the scholar to produce the map. The yellow beard reached into his robes to produce a scroll lined with Khazalid and a map of the badlands. There was a low thrum of power from when it was gripped. "All who wish to stay, we can mark your name out of the Dumaz Kron, though I will require 20 gold coins for wasting my time in recompense."
@Gunther@Lady Selune@ReedeThe23rd@Jbcool@Andreyich

Karlig listened to the words of Copperbeard with much interest. The mention of Belegar Ironhammer brought a curious raising of the Engineer's eyebrows. But it seemed the mighty Ironhammer was not the one they would be fighting for on this day, no it was the very High King himself! A Dwarf born in the lands of umgi having such an honour bestowed upon him, it was unprecedented to be sure. Still, he did not put forth his excitement. Dwarves were an emotional folk even if the emotion was typically hate; he could not look like an excited beardling and so simply put forth a solemn nod.

"I shall go to the ends of the earth by the will of the High King, elder. But, what exactly shall we do in Ekrund? I don't think less than a dozen Dawi even if all great daemon slayers could retake the hold, so our cause must be something else." Karlig rubbed his own beard thoughtfully. Was there perhaps the blueprints of an invention? Or some Tome of Runelore? Perhaps a jewel so grand it could buy a mercenary armada of the manlings to march forth in the name of the Karaz Ankor? These were not these thoughts to have, but he did have an interest in them simply because it would make the quest better thought out.

Despite his seeming doubts of Copperbeard in voice, the Engineer stepped forth with his steam axe drawn and upraised in salute, smoke lightly puffing out as the blade revved. "But, elder, for the Karaz Ankor I shall do anything if so called upon. You have my axe, my heart, my soul."