Chapter 1
A Hole in the Ground
"That was the last of the weed,"
After a brief silence, Zulhan shrugged: "I'm good."
Alias and Mebzuth nodded. "Everything's alright," they both said, then looked at each other and giggled.
Likot looked at Urdim. "How far is it yet to The Glaze of Clams?"
Urdim took a map from her backpack and looked at it. "We'll get there in a few weeks. End of Felsite, I guess."
Erib gave Urdim a hard stare, then snatched the map away from her. "Who do you think you're fooling? We're not even halfway, with luck we'll get there before winter at this rate. You should always tell the truth!"
Urdim looked away, fidgeting with a braid.
Then Logem said: "If that's so, plonk wil run out before we get there." The Dwarves looked at each other and went quiet for a while.
It had been a dark and stormy night, but now a bright and lovely day had begun in The Emancipated Hills. On the top of a slight rise of the land, hardly a hill, a few dwarves squatred in a loose circle, a small cloud of pungent smoke above their heads. The land was lightly wooded, green and fertile. To the south, sunlight glittered in the mist rising from a small waterfall, where a brook emptied into a river. The air was thick with birdsong and the buzzing of bees.
After a while, Likot spoke again: "That would be unbearable. No. Just no. Won't do at all."
Taking her map back, Urdim said: "Perhaps we can make some shortcuts, get there while the booze lasts." She was pulling a braid again.
"Always when you try to bullshit us, you give it away by playing with your braids," Erib said. "Your last shortcut was more of a detour. That is how we got to this place."
"I like it here," Zulban said.
"On second thought, let's not go to The Glaze of Clams. It is a silly place," said Urdim, still blushing with embarrassment over Erib's words. Alias and Mebzuth broke into laughter, falling back onto the grass.
It is indeed lovely here," Erib said. "I name it Sunbright the Hazy Misty Shrubberies of Intoxication."
"No! Too long!", Alias said, still giggling. "I'll never remember all that. How's about we just call it 'The Hazy'?"
"Alright, we will camp here, at least until we have better supply," Urdim ordered. "The Hazy it is, then! Let's do this properly in case there are any unwelcome surprises. Might as well do some prospecting while we're here. Logem and Likot, dig us a shelter! Alias, kill us some timber! The rest of us, pen the livestock and start foraging! Metalheads, strike the earth!"
And that is how, on a spring day in 420, Kelser, or Metalheads, of The Constructs of Reasoning founded Mis, 'The Hazy', right where The Shriveled Ditch falls into Lullhoney the Shriveled Growls on the southern outskirts of The Emancipated Hills.
The group had formed by happenstance over the years, as like-minded spirits met and found they enjoyed being together. They all valued stimulants, partying and the arts, especially noisy music. The early 400's found them touring the holds of their homeland, The Constructs of Reasoning, in search of parties and festivals. One day, someone referred to them as Metalheads, and the name stuck.
It was a good life, yet sometimes people crave more variety. And so, in the Fall of 419, the Metalheads decided to go visit the Other Dwarven Civilisation in the far Northeast of the World. They would go to The Glaze of Clams, rumoured to hold big festivals for weird music.
Urdim became their leader, more on account of her ability to synthesize the sentiments of the group than because of her smarts. This was a major reason their journey had gone somewhat off course and taken longer than originally estimated. And so here they were, a group of close frineds in the middle of nowhere,
Logem Mountainduty was a miner, who happened to enjoy working. He became The Hazy's work manager. During that first spring, he ans Ast 'Alias' Paddlestilled became lovers, the first romantic affair within the group. Now, Alias was more spritually inclined than the other Metalheads, devoted to Avan Stylesubmerges the goddess of inspiration, poetry and oceans.
Not that Alias cared anything about oceans, she hardly knew what an ocean is. But she was a lover of poetry, perhaps in part because Alias herself found words difficult, though she recited poetry well enough. She was much better at playing music, in which she claimed that Avan inspired her: "Avan Stylesubmerges speaks to me through the weed", she often said. But as already told, the weed was now gone, and as the months went by, Alias increasingly missed communing with Avan.
Thus, on a fine summer's day (in fact on 20th of Hematite, 420), Alias claimed a small room in The Hazy and consecrated it to Avan Stylesubmerges as "The Cathedral of Luxury". Which is a rather silly name for a dug-out sandpit down in a hole in the ground. And Alias was happy.
About a month later, a handful of Dwarves arrived from the south. After the obligatory welcome-drinking, council was held.
"There is a new King in The Constructs of Reasoning, Dodok. When he heard of this new settlement, he sent us to help out. This is Cilob, Fikod, Nomal and Rakust," said one newcomer, "and I am Reg."
"Dodok wants the site secured and prospected," Cilob said, "in case the stone holds anything useful."
"Did you bring any weed?" asked Erib.
"Nah, we thought it would be like you folks to have brought plenty," said Fikod.
"Nothing to be done about that," said Erib. "As for prospecting, there has been some delays. There is an aquifer, but stairs through it have been secured. Then, just ten floors down, we found a cavern. Not that we spotted anything seriously bad in it, yet. Still, armed Dwarves will be needed to claim it. So we walled it off and worked around it."
First cavern at breach point, with workarund stair at lower right.
So far, there is iron and coal," Zulban said "and draltha."
"There's a primitive well all set up", Urdim said, "only we have no rope or chain."
"Rope!" muttered Reg. "I knew I'd want it, if I hadn't got it! However, the king said he'd send traders, they should be here in a month or two."
"Good news!" Urdim nodded. "As for securing the place, we have no armed fighters, nor can we support trapmaking yet. But we can turtle. We should set up a troop."
"Rakust and me know all about fighting, said Nomal, "We're married."
Rakust hit Nomal over the head with her goblet, laying him flat out on the floor. The Dwarves all laughed.
Urdim immediately appointed Rakust militia commander.
"OK," said Rakust, "Are there any threats on the surface? This place looks peaceful."
"We know about goblins and humans a bit to the east," Urdim told her. "We're laying low and hope the gobbo's don't know about us yet. Travellers tell us that The Emancipated Hills are almost unpopulated. Whenever a small group of people come together, they go and join human villages in the east. Other than that, there are giant wolves and ditto cougars, occasionally causing trouble."
Rakust answered that she'd form a squad from among the newcomers, and it was decided they would do training and hauling.
Then, on a fine day in Galena, Logem, who was a miner, came running to Urdim, all out of breath, excitement on his face. He whispered something in Urdim's ear. Urdim became all business. Dropping her planting tool, she ordered the fort (such as it was) closed up and for everyonwe to gather in the dining hall.
When all were present, Urdim looked at Logem:
"Tell them what you just told me."
Logem looked around. "We just struck marble," he said."The Hazy has all ingredients required for steel making."
"Steel? Then we must make steel instruments!", Alias exclaimed. She stood up, eyes shining in excitement. Her voice rose to a shout:
"I shall have a STEEL SARUTH! AND MAKE THE VERY BEDROCK SHAKE!"
The saruth is a large stationary metal musical instrument which houses fifty-three metal strings. The musician uses a glass keyboard and a pedalboard to select which of these strings are struck. The instrument has a six-and-a-half octave range going from a very low to an extremely high pitch. At all pitches, the instrument has a round choppy steady timbre. It has two registers. The low register has a vibrating nasal rough timbre. The high register begins at middle pitch and has a delicate wobbling vibrating timbre.
The other Dwarves looked at Alias in stunned silence, This was not her usual manner.
"Is...is she often like this?", Cilob asked.
"It is rare. But Alias is our devout Metalhead," Mebzuth said. "She sometimes receives inspiration from Avan Stylesubmerges, though this is the first time I've seen it happen while we're out of weed."
Alias, now quiet, had sat down again.
"No other sites that we know of has every component needed to make steel," Urdim said. "Riches and fame await us."
"That may be," Rakust said, "though as militia commander I must declare it a Mis-tional security matter that we keep this to ourselves until we can defend this place. But I agree we need to build a permanent fortress here, or at least have it endure until the ores run out."
"I take it we're not continuing to The Glaze of Clams anytime soon,", Logem said, "Then let's kill our horses and eat them."
"Right! But first, we celebrate!, Urdim said. Then they broke out the wine, and the fort remained closed for several days. And there was much rejoicing.
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Topic: Stonedhenge with The Life and Times of Ast "Alias" Idenisan (Read 1317 times)