Kark Moraine
A broken Dwarf bends over his oar. Yet, there is something in his eye. Like an ember waiting to be fanned and awakened.
Backstory
It was an hour after sunset, by dark reckoning, the Shovel and Axe was filling up with young miners and masons getting off of their shifts. Of course, old Uncle Hafner and Uncle Bygone sat at their places of honor at the head of the regulars' table. Hafner had a beard that stretched down past his knees, completely grey. He had a scar across his forehead that he claimed came from an orcish scimitar, but Bygone said was simply from a bump in the head dealt by a pesky stellagtite. Bygone enjoyed a pipe of fine tobacco—a luxury in these parts—while he stroked his neatly trimmed beard, which, like the hair on his head, remained jet black. “Uncles, tell us again about Kark Morraine, the owner of Dangerous Battlehammer,” asked a few of the younger dwarves together. A few of the older dwarves rolled their eyes; they had heard this story many times. The barkeep came over with a couple of black porters in huge mugs. On the house of course. You couldn't pay for entertainment of this sort, which brought dwarves in from all over the mountain. “Well,” said Hafner, taking a long draw from his porter, “it all starts with his father, Vernerous Morraine. He was a piece of work, let me tell ya.” “Greedy as a devil, they say,” added in Bygone, eager to tell his part. “Venerous came up with the idea to drive a shaft through the northern arm of Mount Imbini, as they call it. It wasn't a bad idea and he got the backing of one of the Barons, I don't recall which one, and they started digging.” “It was Baron Tylan, as ye well know,” said Bygone. “That was where the trouble started.” Many of the older dwarves shook their heads. Dealing with the Barons was always a bad idea, as they were tricky and treacherous. “Tylan waited until he was half finished and then opened a road over Bashful pass, which completely undercut the potential profits of the tunnel.” “Which Venerous would have known, had he done the math,” interupted Hafner. “Ya gotta do the math, when you are dealing with above grounders, lads, as they are all a lot of cheaters, as is well known.” “Anyway, Venerous was left utterly broke, with dozens of workers and tool costs. He had no way to pay. The workers stopped digging and the shops came and took their tools back, leaving Venerous completely destitute,” said Bygone. Again, lots of head shaking and even a few sighs. “As I said, Venerous was a piece of work,” said Hafner. “He sold his wife and son into slavery to pay off his debts and left Ibini for good, never to be seen again.” With this, there was shock. Those who hadn't heard the story before let out an audible gasp. “But Kark, he had an Aunt. Not really a relative, but his godmother, you understand. She was somehow tied up with Kark's mother's family...” “She was a weirdling...a witch,” Hafner broke in. “Now, she was more of a wise woman. You know, a midwife and a healer,” said Bygone. Here there was intense interest. Witches and magic users generally are objects of fear and facination among the Dwarves. “You can slice the bread however thick as you want, it tastes the same,” said Bygone, taking a long draw from his pipe. “A witch says I. A powerful, secretive Magi of the Forest." "It was not that way at all," said Hafner, "And ye know it." "All I know is that she laid a powerful GEAS on young Kark," said Bygone. Hafner shook his head. Bygone was a zealot and there was just no getting it into his head any other way. "Anyway, she told Kark of the Dangerous Battlehammer, which, though shattered by the Orc Lord Karavosh, would be found and lead dwarves to victory over the Orcs and help them establish a Kingdom above ground and fully in The Light.” “Anyway, it was while he was in bondage he was called upon by The Light. He learned masonry and smithwork and became a valuable slave.” And that is where our story begins...Chapter 2
Kark was led through the camp in thumb-cuffs, which were painful and specially made to prevent the free use of his hands. In his mouth was a kind of brass bridle, which kept him from forming words properly. He was chained to five other wretches who looked as though they were unlikely to survive the trip through the camp, much less on a sea voyage afterward. His ownership was being transferred. Once the Grand Arch was finished, and his stone masonry skills unneeded, he had been put up as stakes in a card game. Now, he was on his way down to the pier, a new chapter in his servitude to begin. He followed the law of The Light and accepted his station in life without complaint. The steward of the ship saw his handlers approaching. He counted. Ugh. This lot looked pretty worthless. "Not the bloody lawn ornament!" He shouted at the handlers as the approached the quay. "He's the best of the lot," cried back the handlers. "We've got no use for dwarves," the Steward shot back. "A dwarve at sea is just balast." "Take the five then," said the handler. "It's all the same to us." "How long will it take to get a replacement," asked the Steward? "Three hours at the pub and then a five hour walk back to Carbon," said the handler. "We'll be back in a couple of days if the boss doesn't have something to say otherwise. "The bloody hell," yelled the Steward! "Leave him on the string. I'd rather drown him than waste two days in this fetid gardarobe of a village." "Do what you want," said the handler, turning the chains over to the sailors. "But mark, if any of them has any value, it's this one. He's a stonecutter and smith of remarkable ability." The handler removed the thumb-cuffs and the bridle and let Kark go along onto the ship. "Here now, what's that," the Steward asked? "Ah, he has the way of The Light, but don't worry, he's harmless as a lamb. Does naught but heal the other slaves and such," the handler explained. "Well, then leave them on 'im," said the Steward. "I'll not have him cursing the Night Horse on the seas." "The boss said specifically to bring these back," the handler said, tossing them up and catching them for emphasis. "He'll be no trouble." The steward simply waived his hand, motioning the slaves aboard. He loosened his dagger, thinking seriously about gutting the dwarve here and now, but decided to consult with the captain first. Don't destroy the captain's property without permission, he decided. But in a moment, he went back about his duties and the dwarvish slave simply vanished from his memory as less important than his dozens of other duties.
Current Location
Species
Children
Sex
Male
Aligned Organization