Grothmag stepped into the royal chamber, in front of the throne of the king of Khazador, in the great capitol city of Khazad-dum. Carved out of the great mountain Khazarok, Khazad-dum was the largest and most glorious Mountain Dwarf city in all of Azmenaal. With its sprawling tunnel network and large, vaulted halls, spreading miles into the mountain, it was the greatest example of Dwarven engineering and architecture. In the center of it all, was the Harkthum Hall, where the King's throne room was located.
Grothmag entered the throne room, dropping to his left knee immediately, and bowing his head. "Rise, brother Dwarf," the king commanded, and Grothmag quickly stood up on both feet, staring straight ahead at the rather large dwarf sitting on the ornate iron and gold chair in front of him. The king stared back. They held this look for a good minute, before a grin began to creep across both of their faces, eventually exposing itself as a true smile. They couldn't hold it any longer, and both dwarves began to laugh that hearty laugh that only dwarves can make.
"Grothmag Ironhelm," started King Arthendain, "what a pleasure it is to see you. What have you brought me now, cousin?" he asked, knowing that if Grothmag came in good spirits, it could only be with good news.
Grothmag continued to grin, reaching for the large brown canvas bag tied to his belt. He pulled the bag free, reached inside, and quickly threw the contents of the bag out onto the ground in front of the King. The severed head looked blankly up at King Arthendain.
"I believe tha' deserves a pint!" he exclaimed, holding his hands on his hips triumphantly, as King Arthendain looked in wonder at the Centaur Lord's head.
"A pint? Hell, tha' deserves a whole bloody barrel!" the king yelled, while snapping his fingers. One of his assistants quickly ran up to his side, bowing, and then standing ready to receive his orders. "Bring our friend here a barrel of our finest mead, on the double!" he said, pointing to Grothmag, who still stood in front of the king.
The servant bowed again, then rushed off to do what he was told. "Let it be known," the king started, standing up from his throne, "that tonight we celebrate this great victory for Khazador! Break out the mead, tonight we shall party!"
The rest of the night was mostly a blur for Groth. He remembers dancing to music, feasting on boar as well as roast, and drinking. Lots and lots of drinking, but nothing in particular stood out. It was one of the best times he had had in his life, and he would be pissed at himself if he had allowed himself to not drink enough to forget the whole evening.
But that night, after the celebrations had died down, and Grothmag had stumbled into bed, he had a dream. It was a very strange dream, an oracle of some sort came to him. The strange voice, for he could not see who was telling him these things, gave twelve cryptic clues, speaking of artifacts and gods. What was the meaning of this? He did not know.
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Early the next morning, dwarves never got hangovers, you see, Grothmag went to visit the king again. As he walked down Harkthum Hall, towards the throne, he couldn't get the strange voice out of his head, though he was able to push it to the back of his mind, for the time being.
"Cousin, what brings ye back to me this marning?" King Arthendain asked, as Grothmag entered the throne room. He bowed, as was customary, then proceeded closer to the king, so that only he could hear him talk.
"My king, I have to leave." he said in a low whisper. The king looked saddened by this, but didn't interrupt. "Our business with the Centaur are not done. Though we may have taken out one of their leaders, a new one will surely take his place. We cannot face their threat alone. We need allies." the king nodded, and Grothmag continued.
"I have decided to travel west. To the Human lands of California. I think tha' I may be able to show them the true threat of the centaur herds, and convince them to aid us in our campaigns against them. I am all ready to leave now, but not without your blessing."
The king rubbed his hand across his chin in contemplation. "I am saddened to see you ready to leave so soon, Grothmag. But I also understand our position here." he paused for a moment. "So, it looks like I have no choice. I give you my blessing, you may leave for the lands of California. But remember, the deserts between us and them will be harsh. Bring plenty of supplies, and make sure you stay out of trouble, understand?" he raised an eyebrow at this last part, waiting for Grothmag's response.
Grothmag bowed his head to his king. "Aye, Sir, I understand." he said.
The king nodded. "Good." Grothmag looked up, as if he was about to leave, but a look in the king's eye told him he wasn't ready to dismiss him, not yet. "There is one more thing, cousin. Were you approached by an oracle in your dreams last night?"
Grothmag looked surprised. He nodded to his king. "As I had thought," King Arthendain said. "I was pretty sure I wasn't the only one to receive the message, just as I now believe we two aren't the only ones, either. No, what ever that message was, I now believe all of Azmenaal has heard it." Grothmag nodded in agreement to this. "So, my friend, I'd like to hear your thoughts on this matter."
Grothmag thought for a moment. He wasn't used to sharing his thoughts to the king, even though they were friends and kin, it wasn't his place to voice his opinions to his master. It was a while before he figured out just how to say it, but in the end, he decided to just lay it out there, and let it be known. "I believe it is a farce. I believe some powerful magician somewhere, or perhaps even the god Lowkey himself, is trying to play a trick on us. I will not put much stock into these strange messages. Perhaps they are real, but wouldn't you think people would know about such powerful artifacts, forged by the gods themselves, by now? No, it seems much more likely tha' it is just one giant practical joke, to get men and dwarves and all living things to spill blood over false dreams. However, tha' is only my opinion, my king."
The king nodded. "I believe you may be right, Grothmag, though I am a bit more open minded about this business then you, it seems. I'm not asking you to go out of your way to find these artifacts, but should you stumble upon something interesting, please, by all means investigate. However, don't go out of your way from your main mission here."
Grothmag nodded, and bowed again to his king. The king nodded his head to the dwarf before him, and dismissed him.
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Grothmag had been traveling for weeks now. The sun was high above his head, beating down on him with its energy-sapping heat. He was still well supplied, had hit all the little streams and ponds he could find to refill his water supply and refresh his donkey, but by the gods was that sun driving him crazy.
He still had a ways to go before he hit the mountains between Khazador and California. He knew the trail, though he had only traveled it a few times in the past. Taking a swig from his canteen, he crested a small hill and was blinded by bright light reflecting off of a giant lake.
"Oh thank Crezth!" he proclaimed, wiping his brow and gazing out over the lake. The water was as blue as the sky, and the light from the sun danced upon its surface. It was a magical sight, and it was only about a mile away.
"Come on, Vicker, move your lazy ass!" he yelled at his companion, pulling on its bridal as he lead it towards the water, but once it had caught sight of the dazzling blue, no more encouragement was needed.
They made good time to the shore, where he quickly reached his hands down, cupping as much water as he could, bringing it up to his mouth, and drinking it all quickly.
"Eyugh!" he yelled, spitting the little of it that he hadn't swallowed out of his mouth. "Tha' is the foulest water I ever tasted! So salty, I am even more thirsty now then before I took that drink!" he quickly pulled his donkey away, preventing it from drinking from this false paradise. He looked up at the sky, shaking his fist, knowing that somewhere out there, Lowkey was rolling with laughter at his latest prank.
He was about to turn around and lead Vicker away, when, somewhere out in the water, something caught his eye. He couldn't see it before because of the light coming off of the water, but he could see something out there now. What it was, he didn't know, but suddenly he was intrigued. He lead his donkey over to a large boulder, tied it up, and then went to investigate.
