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Post by City of Khaldaruhm on Jun 5, 2017 17:35:16 GMT -8
The dwarf shopkeep showed no reaction to the books disappearing, former adventurer that he was, he had seen far stranger things.
"Of course madam, do tell your friends as well, and I shall see you in a decade."
Dwarves lived a long, long time, and 10 years was nothing to one as old as he was.
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Uncle Redding Roarin Fletcher
Dedicated
He is going to punch you in every orifice you own.
Roleplay posts: 178
Age: 52?
Physical Description: "Roarin" Redding Fletcher is 5'9 of pure muscle, pure hard drinking, hard fighting, hard living muscle. He used to have a beard he burned it off in a tavern brawl he grew his white hair out to compensate. He is almost as wide as he is tall and many people have confused him for a dwarf. Many people have also been beaten half to death for suggesting it. He has an eye patch though there does still seem to be an eye underneath it.
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Clothes and Equipment: A pair of iron gauntlets adorned with spikes. Two wine skins one filled with ale, the other filled with something that will "Make you roar." A surprising amount of gold from questionable sources.
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Registered: Nov 13, 2015 19:19:21 GMT -8
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Post by Uncle Redding Roarin Fletcher on Aug 30, 2017 10:48:58 GMT -8
Roarin rolls up to the gates Khaldaruhm and feels pretty good as he eyes the guards. He was short, short enough that some people mistook him for a dwarf considering his broad shoulders, so it was nice to see people that he was taller than. Well, actually he couldn't help but notice he wasn't taller than every single dwarf but still.
"Ahoy, I be Redding Fletcher seeking entry ta yer fair city." He says not waiting for the guards to ask him to announce himself. "I be looking ta procure some dwarven spirits." The old drunk, alchemist, and former mayor was looking to get dwarven wasted.
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Post by City of Khaldaruhm on Sept 1, 2017 6:05:01 GMT -8
The Guards look at one another in an amused fashion. The gate was wide open, with traffic freely passing through the gate in both directions. The man was clearly wasted, but the cheerful guards decided to play along.
"Of course ye do, OPEN THE GATES." they shouted. Someone made a noise approximately similar to a gate opening before waving him on.
"You are free to pass through, Mr. Fletcher. We recommend the Giant's Club for your ale needs."
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Uncle Redding Roarin Fletcher
Dedicated
He is going to punch you in every orifice you own.
Roleplay posts: 178
Age: 52?
Physical Description: "Roarin" Redding Fletcher is 5'9 of pure muscle, pure hard drinking, hard fighting, hard living muscle. He used to have a beard he burned it off in a tavern brawl he grew his white hair out to compensate. He is almost as wide as he is tall and many people have confused him for a dwarf. Many people have also been beaten half to death for suggesting it. He has an eye patch though there does still seem to be an eye underneath it.
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Clothes and Equipment: A pair of iron gauntlets adorned with spikes. Two wine skins one filled with ale, the other filled with something that will "Make you roar." A surprising amount of gold from questionable sources.
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Registered: Nov 13, 2015 19:19:21 GMT -8
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Post by Uncle Redding Roarin Fletcher on Sept 2, 2017 14:44:00 GMT -8
Damn lax security in these parts if they were just letting people walk in unopposed. Roarin reflects as he wanders through the gates, sure he was drunk but this was the first time he'd seen city that let wandering drunks in unopposed. Still, he wasn't one to complain as he thanks the guards and heads to this Giant's Club, wherever that might be.
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Post by City of Khaldaruhm on Sept 2, 2017 20:02:07 GMT -8
A Dwarven city that didn't let drunks in was a dwarven city that slowly lost its population. The Dwarves of Khaldaruhm sought maximum efficiency in all things, and in no category did they excel more than in the ancient art of getting drunk. The Giant's Club was at the foot of the mountains, and had two giants almost as large as the building to serve as bouncers. The columns were made of solid gold, with platinum inlays depicting a major war, culminating in the signing of a treaty following the Cataclysm.
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Uncle Redding Roarin Fletcher
Dedicated
He is going to punch you in every orifice you own.
Roleplay posts: 178
Age: 52?
Physical Description: "Roarin" Redding Fletcher is 5'9 of pure muscle, pure hard drinking, hard fighting, hard living muscle. He used to have a beard he burned it off in a tavern brawl he grew his white hair out to compensate. He is almost as wide as he is tall and many people have confused him for a dwarf. Many people have also been beaten half to death for suggesting it. He has an eye patch though there does still seem to be an eye underneath it.
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Clothes and Equipment: A pair of iron gauntlets adorned with spikes. Two wine skins one filled with ale, the other filled with something that will "Make you roar." A surprising amount of gold from questionable sources.
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Registered: Nov 13, 2015 19:19:21 GMT -8
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Post by Uncle Redding Roarin Fletcher on Sept 3, 2017 7:53:26 GMT -8
By this point, Roarin had pulled out his pipe, stuffed it with potent herb, and started to puff. The smoke helped keep his muscles relaxed and keep the shaking at bay, just as the alcohol did. Looking up at the giants he scowls but he decides that if they let him into the city no problem they'd let him into the bar as well. So he pushes past the two to try and get inside.
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Post by City of Khaldaruhm on Sept 4, 2017 7:48:01 GMT -8
The giants don't make any motion as Roarin pushes his way past them. Inside the Giant's Club was a cacophony of drunken revelry and a haze of cigar and pipe smoke. Bottles were being smashed, brawls were happening, members of all races were passed out on the tables. It was quite clear that the guards outside were to prevent the mess on the inside from spilling out. A bar could clearly be made out on the far side of the building.
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Uncle Redding Roarin Fletcher
Dedicated
He is going to punch you in every orifice you own.
Roleplay posts: 178
Age: 52?
Physical Description: "Roarin" Redding Fletcher is 5'9 of pure muscle, pure hard drinking, hard fighting, hard living muscle. He used to have a beard he burned it off in a tavern brawl he grew his white hair out to compensate. He is almost as wide as he is tall and many people have confused him for a dwarf. Many people have also been beaten half to death for suggesting it. He has an eye patch though there does still seem to be an eye underneath it.
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Clothes and Equipment: A pair of iron gauntlets adorned with spikes. Two wine skins one filled with ale, the other filled with something that will "Make you roar." A surprising amount of gold from questionable sources.
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Registered: Nov 13, 2015 19:19:21 GMT -8
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Post by Uncle Redding Roarin Fletcher on Sept 6, 2017 15:48:16 GMT -8
Rolling across the bar room floor like there was nothing happening at all Roarin comes to the bar. Slamming a heavy fist down on the counter he waits for the bardwarf to come and serve him. Brawls didn't really bother him at all since they made up like fifty percent of his life at one point.
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Post by City of Khaldaruhm on Sept 8, 2017 14:39:33 GMT -8
The bardwarf comes up quickly, slamming his own fist down on the counter equally as hard.
"Welcome to the Giant's Club young lad, what can I do ya for?" said the cheerfully old dwarf.
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Uncle Redding Roarin Fletcher
Dedicated
He is going to punch you in every orifice you own.
Roleplay posts: 178
Age: 52?
Physical Description: "Roarin" Redding Fletcher is 5'9 of pure muscle, pure hard drinking, hard fighting, hard living muscle. He used to have a beard he burned it off in a tavern brawl he grew his white hair out to compensate. He is almost as wide as he is tall and many people have confused him for a dwarf. Many people have also been beaten half to death for suggesting it. He has an eye patch though there does still seem to be an eye underneath it.
-
Clothes and Equipment: A pair of iron gauntlets adorned with spikes. Two wine skins one filled with ale, the other filled with something that will "Make you roar." A surprising amount of gold from questionable sources.
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Registered: Nov 13, 2015 19:19:21 GMT -8
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Post by Uncle Redding Roarin Fletcher on Sept 9, 2017 7:02:34 GMT -8
"Young!" Roaring guffaws at this since he looked at least as old as the dwarf and he was probably older. "Ye flatter me." The old man says as he fishes in his pocket and pulls out some coin. "I'm lookin fer sum proper dwarvin spirits!" The alchemist declares laying a fignernail sized nugget of gold on the table top.
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Post by City of Khaldaruhm on Sept 10, 2017 16:50:06 GMT -8
"I have been alive for two centuries laddie, you are young!" The dwarf laughed, scooping up the gold nugget. He examined it carefully to ensure its authenticity, then deposited it inside an apron pocket.
"Dwarven spirits it is! Or...with what you gave me, how would you like the Giant's Drink? Twice as strong as the Dwarven stuff, no human has ever had more than half a mug before passing out. Up to the challenge?"
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Uncle Redding Roarin Fletcher
Dedicated
He is going to punch you in every orifice you own.
Roleplay posts: 178
Age: 52?
Physical Description: "Roarin" Redding Fletcher is 5'9 of pure muscle, pure hard drinking, hard fighting, hard living muscle. He used to have a beard he burned it off in a tavern brawl he grew his white hair out to compensate. He is almost as wide as he is tall and many people have confused him for a dwarf. Many people have also been beaten half to death for suggesting it. He has an eye patch though there does still seem to be an eye underneath it.
-
Clothes and Equipment: A pair of iron gauntlets adorned with spikes. Two wine skins one filled with ale, the other filled with something that will "Make you roar." A surprising amount of gold from questionable sources.
-
Registered: Nov 13, 2015 19:19:21 GMT -8
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Post by Uncle Redding Roarin Fletcher on Sept 10, 2017 17:04:17 GMT -8
Roarin snorts again but doesn't correct the dwarf. He didn't want to deal with the questions that would come if a human declared himself to be well over three centuries old. They also might try and steal the philosopher's stone that had granted him such longevity. "I'll take the challenge. I've yet ta met da drink tha can best me."
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Cecélia
Established
Comandante
Roleplay posts: 13
Age: 27
Physical Description: Cecélia's body was cut out for battle, but still it remains a well proportioned piece. She has partly braided brown hair and calm brown eyes. She keeps her stature dignified and straight and her smile tells of duty before pleasure.
Clothes and Equipment: Wearing a very well made armor, beautifully ornamented rapier and dagger made from the hardest steel around her family's wealth is apparent. The armor is adorned by blue pieces of cloth, that mark her heritage and high position within the Rondón armé.
Registered: Mar 27, 2018 12:36:08 GMT -8
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Post by Cecélia on Jun 27, 2018 22:49:18 GMT -8
"The Dwarven City of Khaldaruhm..." Cecélia whispered to herself as the large - almost fortress like - structure appeared in the distance. "So typical the dwarves building everything so 'linear'." she commented with a slight frown. In some way their skills were admirable but on the other hand it was far from having any commendable aesthetic value Cecélia thought. As she slowly approached the city on her lean and athletic brown Rondón horse a small escadrón of seven skilled horsemen followed in her tracks. Cecélia wondered how to put it in a nice way. Normally it was nothing less than a general or the likes of rank who came to visit when picking out a potential weapons partner but the fact that the dwarven city was so far from Rondón and the comfort and shade of the officers' casas meant that Cecélia as young commandante had been picked for the job. Not that she doubted she was probably far more skilled for the job than most of her higher ranked brethren who used a butter knife more often than their sabre, but it just so happened that some people wanted the jirafa instead of the caballo despite the latter being the most useful. Approaching the city gate Cecélia quite nimbly - considering wearing her armor - jumped off her horse and with her usual straightened back and dignified attitude she approached the guards. "I am commandante Cecélia de Amar of The Kingdom of Rondón, sent by her majesty Queen Xiomara de Rondón to discuss trade with your kin." Cecélia stated bluntly, though she considered her direct approach with people she didn't know a courtesy on her behalf.
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Post by City of Khaldaruhm on Jun 28, 2018 5:17:11 GMT -8
The Guards offered the newcomer a salute. Though they were clad in heavy armor, the motion seemed uninhibited, plates moving efficiently alongside the wearer's motions.
"Greetings Comandante." Replied the armored Dwarf, waving over another dwarf, this one unarmored, with naught but a hammer at his waist. The guard whispered something to the dwarf, then resumed his position.
"Comandante Cecilia of Rondon, an honor. Welcome to the great and ancient city of Khaldaruhm. I am Tangdul Steelfist, the Master of Metal's representative at this gate. It is he who will be officially sponsoring your visit to the City. If you would care to follow me?"
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Cecélia
Established
Comandante
Roleplay posts: 13
Age: 27
Physical Description: Cecélia's body was cut out for battle, but still it remains a well proportioned piece. She has partly braided brown hair and calm brown eyes. She keeps her stature dignified and straight and her smile tells of duty before pleasure.
Clothes and Equipment: Wearing a very well made armor, beautifully ornamented rapier and dagger made from the hardest steel around her family's wealth is apparent. The armor is adorned by blue pieces of cloth, that mark her heritage and high position within the Rondón armé.
Registered: Mar 27, 2018 12:36:08 GMT -8
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Post by Cecélia on Jun 28, 2018 9:19:45 GMT -8
Cecélia suddenly blushed as he was welcomed by the dwarf, and though she knew it was just a small mistake in the wording, she had to correct it in front of her men as to not appear as if she is taking credit for something she was not. Even in jest it was highly impolite trying to put yourself on the same level as the queen.
"Thank you señor Steelfist. I have to correct you on that though, I am "from Rondón" not "of Rondón", putting it like that would mean I was in the same family is that Queen - something I would never claim." Cecélia said and tightened her lips.
"However let's not linger too much on such things, it is my honor too to finally see this great city I have heard so much about. If your would lead us through the city to the place we are staying I would be most grateful master dwarf." Cecélia said hoping to rest a bit before commencing with the business at hand.
However she couldn't help admiring the craftmanship of their armor. It looked more rough around the edges than her own finely ornamented armor, but seemed almost impossibly easy to move around in. "I can't help but notice the armor your wear. It seems effortlessly worn, what kind of material do you use for that?" she asked curiously.
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Post by City of Khaldaruhm on Jun 29, 2018 5:55:30 GMT -8
The dwarf looked flustered for a moment as well, taking a second or two to understand his mistake.
"Oh..oh! Okay, my apologies Comandante. I shall not make the mistake again." He said, turning to lead them into the heart of the city.
While she was right that very little of what the dwarves (and giants) made was intended for purely aesthetic purposes, they seemed to take great delight in perfecting the functional, so while it may not be the most artistic architecture, its craftsmanship was superb, and bore the hallmark centuries of age with pride.
"Dwarven steel Comandante, and its exact recipe is a closely-held secret. It does not lend itself well for anything ornate, but other then the Guild of Jewels most of us care little for such things. Though we do understand that many of our trading partners do, particularly the elves. As a welcome gift, if you like, we could have a suit made for you and your guards."
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Cecélia
Established
Comandante
Roleplay posts: 13
Age: 27
Physical Description: Cecélia's body was cut out for battle, but still it remains a well proportioned piece. She has partly braided brown hair and calm brown eyes. She keeps her stature dignified and straight and her smile tells of duty before pleasure.
Clothes and Equipment: Wearing a very well made armor, beautifully ornamented rapier and dagger made from the hardest steel around her family's wealth is apparent. The armor is adorned by blue pieces of cloth, that mark her heritage and high position within the Rondón armé.
Registered: Mar 27, 2018 12:36:08 GMT -8
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Post by Cecélia on Jun 30, 2018 10:58:06 GMT -8
"Thank you." Cecélia said to the dwarf quite content that this small thing wasn't going to get in the way of their business.
As Cecélia and her followers moved further into the city it became apparent how much effort the dwarves had put into making the city practical and robust. Although they were words often used by Rondón artists about the simplest of designs, Cecélia was able to enjoy it's purpose in being the most reasonable thing to do with a city - and especially one that seemed to cater so many different races as Khaldaruhm did. Giants, elves, humans, dragonborn... and a lot of races even she didn't know that names of roamed around.
"And I see why it would be such a treasured secret." she commented impressed. "While the aesthetics of the armor and weapons you make here in Khaldaruhm hardly could be further apart from hours, I believe I can see common ground. The finesse my own armor carries in its lightly curved design that easily deflects most weapons that hit from a sharp angle your own armor seem to equal this with its great attention to the ease with which it is carried and hardness of the steel." Cecélia commented.
"A welcome gift? This is intriguing..." she said with a faint smile as she eyed the dwarf's armor curiously. "I couldn't say no to trying out dwarven armor - and perhaps in relation to our business a sample might make the choice that much more easy." she said and shrugged her shoulders.
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Post by City of Khaldaruhm on Jul 6, 2018 6:18:19 GMT -8
"Of course, foreign dignitaries are always welcome to sample our wares free of charge...within reason of course." He said, chuckling.
The dwarf came to a stop before a massive iron gate set in a steel wall that surrounded an enormous tower seemingly constructed of metal.
"Welcome to the Tower of Metal, Comandante, the Home of the Smithing Guild." He ushered the group inside the gate, leading them up its wrought-iron steps and into the tower.
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Cecélia
Established
Comandante
Roleplay posts: 13
Age: 27
Physical Description: Cecélia's body was cut out for battle, but still it remains a well proportioned piece. She has partly braided brown hair and calm brown eyes. She keeps her stature dignified and straight and her smile tells of duty before pleasure.
Clothes and Equipment: Wearing a very well made armor, beautifully ornamented rapier and dagger made from the hardest steel around her family's wealth is apparent. The armor is adorned by blue pieces of cloth, that mark her heritage and high position within the Rondón armé.
Registered: Mar 27, 2018 12:36:08 GMT -8
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Post by Cecélia on Jul 6, 2018 13:43:39 GMT -8
Cecélia lifted her brow and gave a faint wry smile. "And I bet 'within reason' is measured by the amount we're planning to invest in." she stated humorously before she would soon be let to a huge tower made completely out of metal.
"That's an impressive structure, master Steelfist - and a very telling name." she said and sized up the tower with a quick gaze. From what she had been shown until now, the dwarves focus on utility and practicality were naturally also inherent in their naming of things and places. And perhaps of their family names too? "Master Steelfist, if the name of this tower tells about its properties, do your family name attribute its name to something akin to that too?" Cecélia inquired curiously.
As Cecélia and her men were being led into the tower and climbed the iron steps she once again addressed the dwarf. "The smithing guild you say. Are they and independent organization as the name would lead me to believe, or are they funded and controlled by the city and your regent?" Cecélia asked as she relentlessly climbed the stairs with an ever straight back and lifted chin.
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Post by City of Khaldaruhm on Jul 10, 2018 7:11:35 GMT -8
Inside the tower was a surprisingly bright and cheerful interior. The light from the sconces danced off a variety of metals, creating a host of colors across the steel floors.
"Very perceptive Comandante, I see why the Queen chose you to deal with us. My name comes from a long ancestral tale, which I would be happy to share at a more opportune time. The City itself is ruled by the Council of Guildmasters, each representing one of the guilds in the City. The Master of Metal is the current Chairman of the Council." He said, pushing open another set of doors to reveal a smaller room, with a single fireplace and a large dwarf, clad in what appeared to be ceremonial armor. He possessed an impressive and well-maintained black beard and smiled warmly as the group entered.
"Comandante Cecilia, may I present to you Master Forgehammer, Lord of Metal and Chairman of the Council of Guilds."
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