Surface Words

Created by Adam Tingley // Wreckerdwarf

Pladeholder Dwof by Katy Smith

"There have been rumours spreading of late regarding Bakan’Grod. The city appears to have shut down contact with us and the other cities in the local cluster. We’re attempting to establish the routes again as quickly as possible and have dispatched reconnaissance teams to uncover what is happening. Relations between us and Bakan’Grod were in good stead and the truth of what is happening WILL be obtained. Let it be known that we will be there for our kin and they will be made to know that we have not abandoned them!"
— High Dwaroness Valin'ka

The posters of Valin'ka’s visage are pasted all over the walls surrounding the locked shut entrance of the city of Thror’van. When a city is in distress, there are a number of ways that they can communicate the issues to the nearest in the local cluster. Cargo trains can be sent with urgent messages on demand. Usually, the issues that arise are around shortages of supplies or ramped up goblin raids. A city going dark is unheard of and especially a city such as Bakan’Grod. It’s a bustling capital with millions of inhabitants and that’s not even including the above ground trade settlement. It’s a key link to the outer world and all of their trade ties are here in the crust. “There is no sensible reason as to why they have cut off contact. At least, that’s what we used to believe. Until the clawing at the main gate began three nights ago. Not the usual waves of goblins crashing into the walls haphazardly or the odd ratbeyir wandering around outside. Our guards have been ordered to only protect the inner walls instead of moving out to face the potential threat. Bakan’grod stopping communications and the loss of our reconnaissance parties has caused our great city to have its siege defence protocol activated. The doors are shut but somedwarf must know something. Whatever is out there seems to wait for the middle of the sleeping hours to start its haunting racket.” The thoughts rattled around in Kvor'ir’s mind. His home lies very near to the door and his trade or fine woods was dependent on the routes set up between Thror’van and Bakan’Grod.
“I have to know. My livelihood depends on it.”
Later that night, Kvor'ir heads out of his home. With a cloak over his head he slips past the small group of soldiers guarding the entrance and makes his way up to the mid-level of the entrance wall. It doesn’t take him long to locate the mechanical wheels in the wall next to the crossbow firing slits.
“Now I’ll know what’s killing my trade.”
The clawing at the gate abruptly stops but he was too close to knowing the truth of it all. Kvor'ir turns the wheel just enough to peer out of the slit and into the large open cavern at the front of the city. A sea of thousands of dwarves standing silently turn their heads to lock eyes with him.