A missive left unsigned.

[IvIorwenna 148]

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Deep within the heart of the Grand Kingdom's valleys, far underneath the mountain, various notice boards across the city of Kal'Baraz were dotted with missives writ on vellum, penned in the traditional runes of Dwedmarrum. Devoid of any signature, the leaflets seemed to be some sort of anonymous words of encouragement.
 

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ᛟᛉ·ᛞᚨ·ᚨᚾᛟᚱᛟᛊ·ᚲᚨᛞᚨᚾ·ᛖᚱᛟᚾ·ᛒᛟᚲᚲ,·ᚦᚨᛗᚨᚱ·ᚦᚨᚱᚠᚨ·ᚢᚾ×·ᛞᚨ·ᚨᚱᚨᛜᚱ×ᚹᚢᚷᛚᛁᛗ·ᛈᚢᛚ·ᛟᛉ·ᛒᛁᚦᛃᚨ·ᚦᚨᛗᚨᚱ×ᛟᚲ·ᛖᚲᛟᛊ·ᛊᛁᚱᚲ·ᛞᚨ·ᛟᚦᚱ×ᚹᚢᚷᛚᛁᛗ·ᚺᚢᚾᚲ·ᚦᚨᛗᚨᚱ·ᚲᚨᚢ·ᚢᚾ×·ᚦᚨᚱᚠᚨ·ᛞᚨ·ᚹᚢᚱᛟᚲ·ᛟᛉ·ᛒᛁᚦᛃᚨ·ᚦᚨᛗᚨᚱ×ᛟᚲ·ᚦᚨᚱ×ᚾᛁᚱ·ᛞᚨ·ᛊᛃᛟᚱ×ᚠᚱᚨᛗ·ᚢᚨᚱᚨᚲ·ᚲᚨᛉᚨᚺᚨᚱ·ᛞᚨ·ᛊᚨᚢᚱᚱ·ᚦᚨᛗᚨᚱ·ᚦᚨᚱᚠᚨ·ᛚᚨᚱᛖ·ᚦᚱᚢᛗᛗᚨᛉ·ᛚᚨᚱᛖ·ᚲᚱᛟᚾᛟᚲ·ᛟᛉ·ᛒᛁᚦᛃᚨ·ᚦᚨᛗᚨᚱ×ᛟᚲ·ᛟᛉ·ᛖᚲᛟᚾ×·ᛁᛟᛚ×ᚦᚨᛗᚨᚱ·ᛒᚨᚱᚨᛉ×ᚨᚾᛟᚱ·ᛁᚾᛞ

 

ᛚᚨᚱᛖ,·ᚦᚨᛗᚨᚱ·ᚨᚦ·ᚦᚱᛖᛁᚾ·ᚾᛁᚱᛚᚨᚲ·ᚨᚾᚨᚱᛏ×ᛟᚲ·ᚾᛁᚱᛚᚨᚲ·ᚨᚾᚨᚱᛏ·ᚨᚦ·ᚦᚨᛗᚨᚱ·ᚦᚱᛖᛁᚾ·ᚾᚢᚠ·ᛁᛟᛚ×ᚦᚨᛗᚨᚱ·ᛃᛟᚱᚦ×ᚾᛁᚱ·ᛗᛖᚱ·ᚠᚨᛁᚱ×ᚾᚨᚱ,·ᛟᛉ·ᚢᚨᚱᚨᚲ×ᚾᛟᚷᚨᚨᚲ·ᛁᛟᚦ·ᚦᚨᛗᚨᚱ·ᚨᚦ·ᚦᚱᛖᛁᚾ·ᚢᛇᛊᛁᚾᛞᛁ·ᛖᚲᛟᚾ×·ᚦᚨᛗᚨᚱ·ᚨᚦ·ᚢᛇᛊᛁᚾᛞᛁ·ᛖᚲᛟᚱ×ᛞᛟᚱ·ᚦᚨᛗᚨᚱ·ᚨᚦ·ᚦᚱᛖᛁᚾ·ᛖᚲ·ᛁᛟᛚ·ᛞᚨ·ᚢᚨᚱᚨᚲ·ᛖᚱᛟᚾ·ᛞᚨ·ᛒᚱᚨᚦᛗᛟᚱᛞᚨᚲᛁᚾ

 

ᚲᚺᚱᚢᛗ·ᛖᚱᛟᚾ·ᚨᚾᛖᚲ·ᛁᛟᛚ·ᛟᛉ·ᛊᚨᛁ·ᚨᚾᛖᚲ·ᚾᚨᚱ·ᚨᚾᛖᚲ·ᛖᛁᚾ×ᛟᛊ

 

ᛞᛟᚾ·ᛞᚨ·ᚱᚢᚲ·ᛖᚱᛟᚾ·ᚲᚨᚢᚷᚨᚱ·ᛊᛖᛏᛃᚨ·ᚲᚨᛉᚺᚢᚾᚲᛁ×ᛞᚱᚢᛜ·ᛟᛉ·ᛁᛟᛚ×ᚦᚨᛗᚨᚱ·ᛖᛞᚺᛖᚲᚨᛚ·ᛞᛟᚾ·ᛞᚨ·ᚢᚾ×ᚨᚾᚨᚱᛏ×ᛟᚲ·ᛖᚱᛟᚾ·ᛞᚨ·ᛟᚱᚨᛗᚨᚱ·ᚷᚱᚢᚾ×ᛟᚲ·ᛞᚨ·ᚷᚱᛟᛒ·ᛖᚱᛟᚾ·ᛁᛟᛚ×ᚦᚨᛗᚨᚱ·ᛞᚱᛟᚢᛖᚦ·ᛞᛟᚾ·ᛞᚨ·ᛗᛖᛜᛁ·ᛖᚱᛟᚾ·ᚲᚺᛟᚱᚢᚨᛞ·ᛊᛖᚷᛃᚨ·ᚲᚨᚨᛞ×ᛖᚲ·ᚾᛁᚱ·ᛞᚨ·ᚨᛁᚾᛞᚨᚱ·ᛖᚱᛟᚾ·ᚲᚱᚨᛉᛞᚱᚨᚾ

 

ᚦᚨᛗᚨᚱ·ᚨᚦ·ᚲᚺᚨᛉᚨᛞᛗᚨᚱ·ᛖᚱᛟᚾ·ᚲᛁᚱᚲ×ᚢᚨᚱᚨᚲ·ᚾᚨᚱ·ᚲᛁᚱᚲ·ᚦᚨᛗᚨᚱ·ᚨᚦ·ᛞᚨ·ᛞᚢᛖᚱᚷᚨ·ᛖᚱᛟᚾ·ᛞᚨ·ᚲᚺᚱᚢᛗ·ᚦᚨᛗᚨᚱ·ᚢᚨᚱᚨᚲ·ᚨᚾᛁᛗ×ᛏᛁᚱᚨ·ᚲᛖᛉ×ᚠᚱᚨᛟᚲ·ᛞᚨ·ᚲᛖᛉ×ᛚᚨᚲᚺ·ᛖᚱᛟᚾ·ᚲᚺᚱᚢᛗ·ᛖᚲᛟᚾ×·ᛒᛃᛟᚦᚨ·ᚦᚨᛗᚨᚱ×ᛟᚲ·ᚲᛟᚱᚦᛟᚾ·ᚲᚨᛉᚾᛟᚲ

 

ᚨᛏ·ᛞᚨ·ᛁᚱᚱᛟ·ᛖᚱᛟᚾ·ᚨᚾᛖᚲ·ᛒᛟᚲᚲ·ᛚᚨᚲᚺ×ᛗᛖᛜᛁ·ᛞᚨ·ᚲᚺᚱᛟ·ᚲᛟᚢᚾᚲᛁᛚ·ᛁᛟᛚ·ᛒᛃᛟᚦᚨ·ᛞᚨ·ᛗᛟᛊᛏ·ᚺᚨᛏᛏᚱ·ᛖᚱᛟᚾ·ᛞᚨ·ᚲᛖᛉ·ᛖᚱᛟᚾ·ᚦᚱᛁ·ᛚᚨᚱᛖ·ᛖᚠᚾᛁ×ᛟᚲ·ᛖᚲᛟᚱ·ᚲᚨᚢ×ᛁᚱᚱᛟ·ᛞᚨ·ᛊᛟᚾᛊ·ᛖᚱᛟᚾ·ᛞᚨ·ᛒᛟᚲᚲ·ᚦᚨᚱᚠᚨ·ᛊᛏᚨᚾᛞᚨ×ᚠᚱᚨ·ᛒᚨᚱᚨᛉ×ᚦᛟᚱᛟᚲ·ᛟᛉ·ᛞᚨ·ᚲᚨᚦᚨᛁᚲ·ᚦᚱᚢᛗᛗᚨᛉ×ᚨᚾᚲᛟᚱ·ᛖᚲ·ᛖᚠᚾᛁ×ᛟᚲ·ᚢᚾ×·ᛖᚲᛟᚾ×·ᛊᛖᛏᛃᚨ·ᚾᛁᚱ·ᛞᚨ·ᛒᚨᚲ×ᚲᚺᚨᛉ·ᚾᚨᚱ×ᚠᚱᚨ·ᛗᛖᛚᚲᚨᚾ·ᚾᚨᚱᛟᚲ·ᛞᚨ·ᛟᛗᚢᚱ·ᛞᚹᛖᛞ·ᛏᚨᛚ×·ᛞᚨ·ᛚᛁᚲᛁᛚᛚ·ᛟᛉ·ᚱᛁᛗ×ᚢᚨᚱ

 

ᚾᚨᚱ×ᚠᚱᚨ·ᚦᚨ·ᛇᛊᛏᚨ·ᛟᚦᛟᚲ·ᛖᛁᚾ·ᛁᚱᚱᛟ·ᚲᚨᚱᚷᛟᛚ·ᚢᚨᚱᚨᚲ·ᛟᚦᛟᚲ·ᛊᛏᚨᚾᛞᚨ·ᚠᛁᚱᛁᚱ·ᛟᚦᛟᚲ×ᚲᛟᛊᛊ·ᛞᚨᛊᛖᚾ·ᛊᚲᚢᚠ·ᚢᛚᚱᛟ·ᚲᛁᚱᚲ·ᚾᚨᚱ·ᚲᛁᚱᚲ×ᚢᚨᚱᚨᚲ·ᛁᛟᚦ·ᚲᛟᛚᚢᚾ·ᛟᚦᛟᚲ·ᚲᚨᚢ·ᚦᚨᛗᚨᚱ·ᛊᚺᚨᛚᛚ·ᚺᛚᛁᚦᚨ·ᚢᛚᚱᛟ·ᚢᚾᚾᛁᚱ·ᛖᚱᛟᚾ·ᚨᚾᛖᚲ·ᛖᚲᚱᚨᚾ·ᛞᚺᚨᚱᚷ·ᚲᛖᛉ
 

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((for those fluent in Dwedmarrum, a translation:))
 

Spoiler

 

To the true sons of stone, we need not the weathervane to tell us which way the wind carries. We do not need the carp to tell us where it is that  the wave will greet the sand.  We need not a  King nor a  Master to tell us to who our loyalty is paid.

 

No, we are born into duty, into honour are we born. Never shall our place be to wonder, nor to wish. For we are born knowing who we are, knowing why we were born. It is the by the will and the grace of the Brathmordakin.

 

 

All of this is to say this and only this:

 

 

Let the rot of undead lay siege to our gate, let the dishonourable cur of the Empire lay flat the grass of our valley, let the spawn of Khorvad reveal themselves on the stage of war.

 

 

We are Khazadmar of conviction and faith, we are world’s order.  We will outlive by ages all who call us their enemy.

 

 

At the end of this stone week, the Iron Council is called to assemble. The most important of the Age of Silver. No matter what happens, the sons of the stone must remain loyal to the Grand Kingdom. It matters not who sits atop the throne, so long as the common dwed holds the keys to power.

 

So I ask you one final time: Will you stand alongside your kin? Fight with faith and conviction? For if you do, we shall prosper free of these small dark years.

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[Riot 743]

Dorin Starbreaker stood within the city and read the missive aloud for those gathered, first as it was written, then again in the common tongue, so none would be excluded by language alone.

He did not add to its words.

He did not soften them, nor sharpen them.

Through long study and constant use of the old language in his craft, Dorin translated the missive faithfully for his brothers and sisters, ensuring its meaning was understood as intended.

When he finished, he said only this:

“Remembah t'ese words. Remembah t'em well. Teh Dwedmar ah Yemekar will endure, teh mountain will remain, but onleh if we do nah fractur' et ours'lves.”

With that, Dorin stepped back, allowing the people to decide what came next.