BDanecker

Clan Father Dorimnur Goldhand grins profusely as his clansmate shows him his newest invention. "Oh I could make a killing off of this!" He says, already thinking of how he would use this to increase his stores.

Let’s Goooooo

The Power of the People (Dorimnur Goldhand's perspective of past events.) Dorimnur Goldhand, Clan Father of the Goldhands and Yemekar’s Pick of Urguan, pried his matte black daemonsteel spear from the Inferi bowman that had failed to retreat from the dwarven advancement. His right pauldron would clink as he marched, from where he hastily put it on back on after doctoring the arrow wound from the same bowman. But on that day, blessed by the light of the Aengul themselves, Dorimnur was untiring. At the dawn of that blessed day, as the war machine of the dwarves churned for war, Dorimnur was apathetic. He donned his new custom-tailored plate armor, crafted himself of course for his new clan, and set his cold helmet over his face. Taking heavy steps from his bare-bones abode he called home, he took a deep breath. The smells of fire and steel and sweat were abundant, even overbearing, but Dorimnur couldn’t smell; he inhaled to clear his mind for the task ahead. His footfalls echoed along the walls of the cold masoned stone to the forges of Kal’Mugdor, barking orders within the minute of leaving his home to those who were finishing their work from the night before, and to those who were picking up the mantle of ensuring the day’s operation was successful. The forges of Kal’Mugdor did not rest, nor did Dorimnur, granting himself minimal rest for the entirety of the war itself, which had spanned decades thus far. He did not care what the stakes of the battle was, nor for his personal well-being, he simply ensured everything was squared away to perfection. Every blade, every bolt, was accounted for and had its own place in the fight to come, as it always had with Dorimnur as Yemekar’s Pick. Each dwarven soldier adorned with the crafts of the dwarven blacksmiths, made with tightly kept guild techniques and innovations pioneered by the ambitious dwarf leading them all. Dorimnur trusted in his steel to meet his goals, but it was up to the fate of that day to test whether dwarven steel was enough. And with Dorimnur’s helm of responsibility donned upon his thick head of jet-black hair, he too joined the Dwarven Legion, to test what his hands had wrought first hand against the fires of hell. They rallied at the gates of Al’Faiz, and organized themselves into crews like a well oiled machine. The center sigil above the Korvassa melded into a single horrific mass above the camp ahead of them, the continent shuddering from the force of both descendant and Inferi forces. The night sky was filled with anomalies, blue tendrils merging with an abyss above as creation itself mourned for the desecration that was to come. Then they marched. As the dwarves' footfalls reached the damned landscape, the atmosphere was palpable. Corpses strewn around them, gore and viscera littered as far as one could see, even filling the bay. But the dwarves marched on, unfearing of even death itself as they made their presence known. Dorimnur went through the motions, carrying a siege ladder, each rung a nearly mature cut of heartoak to support the mass of steel-clad soldiers. They march deep into the battlefield before laying it down to bridge across a crevice filled with corpses and bubbling magma like an infernal alchemy. His fellow dwarves were upon it the instant his ladder was laid, as was their enemy: The Infernal Horde. Mangled bodies of unholy origin with the only similarity to the descendants being their humanoid shape and the common ground they stood upon, they fought to repel the dwarven tidal wave that came crashing on their doorstep. Dorimnur was at the front of this wave, immediately taking up his tower shield once his ladder was lain, and stood vigilant against an onslaught of blows, but not without a sharpshooter of an Inferi to pierce the mail of his right shoulder, sinking deep within his muscular frame. Adrenaline flowed through his body now, his attention garnering as he realized his steel would need to be accompanied with an equally strong focus to the task at hand. He permitted himself to be treated by the dwarven medic, but bore the treatment little as he was eager to get back into the fray with his kindling passion rising within him. Their foes fell in droves as they were routed underneath the dark sky, the screams of the Inferi beyond echoing throughout the black plains with wardrum accompaniment and lightning melody. The dwarves pressed on undeterred by their losses, fast feet falling upon the gore of the wasteland without remorse. A few suicidal Inferi tried their luck and took potshots at the dwarves behind hills as they passed, but the Worker’s Guild’s steel ensured each and every one of the bolts found no entrance to the dwarven bulwark. The roar of dwarves crying out in the night for blood as they marched to their bagpipes incited fear in the hearts of their adversaries, dwarves singing in unison glorious tunes of those brave men who came before. They were unbreakable, incorruptible, unyielding. The dwarves' perseverance was rewarded by heavenly assistance, as the skies ripped asunder, heavenly intervention for the honorable in the form of Gazardiael, Aengul of New Beginnings. Dorimnur knew not of who or even what this figure was, but blessed with his favor, Dorimnur didn’t need too. The entire dwarven host’s gear was bathed in a holy light, fallen from above in a golden rain. Dorimnur’s sight was now set on indescribable glory without end; his steel would not fail him in this battle. He marched on with the dwarves as they all were bristling with newfound vigor, pressing on to the foreboding encampment, and whatever foul torment was housed within. Dorimnur was at the front of the shield wall, pushing back the Inferi forces with his imposing tower shield, and skewering grunts as the spearhead of dwarves marched on. Each dwarf with their shields raised high, standing shoulder to shoulder with their brothers and sisters. Each giving their all, and more. The legion of dwarves laying waste to well over twice their weight in Inferi, the divine glow of their weapons and armor striking fear in the foul hearts of the hellspawn, each going up in a wind of golden dust. The dwarves were ever unyielding. And Dorimnur began to savor every passing moment. Tempered by the fires of hell, his steel resolve remained steadfast, and he would die before he faltered in his cause. The dwarven legions marched upon the ungodly ballista encampment, pillars of fire along it’s walls and in the trenches, bathed in a blood-red light and a fire with no warmth. Another ladder was called for, and the war machine of Urguan answered swiftly. A great lob of malflame was hurled at them, but the dwarves bated it not as the unholy flames crashed harmlessly over their steel. Dorimnur took immense pride in this feat, and marched on with increasing vigor. Screaming demon officers attempted to rally their forces in the center of the encampment, preparing for a final stand, as both flanks thus far had fallen. As they charged within the entrance provided by Gazardiael by manipulation of the Inferi weapons, the dwarves overtook the encampment, with tactical commands shouted over the din of battle from the dwarven officers and Grand Marshall as they commandeered the great weapon for themselves. With a plethora of stout dwed all cranking the chain to ready such a devastating weapon, the oversized bolt was sent to the main camp’s exterior, a sickening crash echoing across the Korvassa as splinters fly, towers collapsing within and creating an entrance for the flood of dwarves to pour through like an unstoppable tide. Dwarven Valor was as integral to their power as was their steel, for each fallen dwed was replaced with another, every replacement to the line empowered by the sound of dwarven warchants and eager to lay down his life for those who had done so before to ensure their continued future. Dorimnur found himself planted on the bridge between the main camp and the ballista platform, and ensured no cursed neverborn was granted passage. Each step Dorimnur planted on that field fostered more passion, and with each spear thrust he became more enthralled in the battle of ideals, in the song of war, of steel against steel. First it was just the simple eagerness to fight, but as each combatant flew at each other with ravenous fury, each fighting for their own cause, Dorimnur fully invested himself into the fight, roaring in the face of hell as he skewered Inferi after Inferi. Each tested themselves against Dorimnur and his steel in a deadly dance, seeing if both his physical and mental steel was enough to continue his existence more than his assailant, but each and every one failed at the cost of their life. He let the hard exterior of his usual persona go and embraced the fury of emotions that came to him in the gruesome fight, emotions he had not felt for decades. It made him feel alive. In the battle of steel and tongue, many dwarves nobly declared their intent to strike clean the ledger, righting the wrongs of the past with their own hammers. Dorimnur? He fought because he could. Not for King and country, but for self-agency, and he found that fulfilment on the battlefield. Dorimnur felt truly alive on that battlefield. It forced a new train of thought to enter his one-track mind, one to replace his brooding thoughts that always hung as a dark cloud over him. The stakes at hand, the fate of the world, were almost therapeutic for him, opening up a box of emotions he had kept bottled ever since arriving in Urguan half a century ago. And as gods and demons collided overhead, clashing in a symphony of violence and blood, Dorimnur felt emotions of passion, of selflessness, of honor, but most of all, brotherhoodliness. The Dwarves made it to the interior of the main camp, but not without a final fight before them. The remnant Inferi forces had regrouped, and gained some morale back as they pelted the dwarves’ worn shields with javelins and arrows, managing to push them back into disorganization. But with a quick sounding of the bagpipes and the barking of orders from the Legion Command, the dwarves did not falter, reinforcing their vanguard with more men and pushing the final wave of hellspawn back. Dorimnur slammed his thick tower shield into an Inferi troop, throwing it off balance while Dorimnur planted his foot, sending a piercing blow through the foul carapace, it disintegrating in golden ash. The dwarves had made it to their goal, battered, bloodied, and bruised, but unbroken. Their king had been taken off by the hand of the Aengul of Courage, but the dwarves carried on by the command of their officers. They heeded the words of the Aenguls above, and did what dwarves do best: hunker down. Tearing the encampment and utilizing it’s goods for their own gain, they fortified their position in a breakneck pace of a few hours, digging trenches and erecting barriers from torn palisades which they positioned comandeered cannons over to prepare for whatever came next, with the light of a white pillar illuminating the dark night from the unknown object in the middle of the camp. And in this time of waiting, as greater beings far from his understanding wielded the power of creation, and glimpses of the past and future flashed across the sky, Dorimnur allowed his mind, freely for the first time since he could remember, to wander. He looks back to all the good his Guild had done. Dorimnur almost lost faith in his goal. Not that he had much faith to begin with. He figured no one could ever come close to THEM. Even his faithful Workers could never reach the expectations he had for them. He was always pushing them too hard, or so he was told, seldom appraising them for good work. He had a reason for this, beyond the veiled answer he gave of “it’s forging them into a better person.” They answered with what they could, however, and from the fruits of his harsh labor sprouted innumerable creations, including the Daemonsteel ballista bolts which were chilled and weaponized against the Inferi during the Siege of Vitenna. One bolt was even sent in a freezing arc to sever the leg of a demonic mammoth, sending it tumbling to the ground in a single blow, which Dorimnur was fond of telling to others. He dwelled on all the things his leadership has wrought, all of the battles his men had worked long hours to prepare for. Without his driving hand forcing them to go, his men were willingly at every battle against the Inferi, and had even conducted espionage on their Doghouse encampment. They had built entire forts for the war, their stonemasonry carving the southern gate with their own hands to fortify their lands. He thought of the times long past, of him joining the Worker’s Guild as a simple miner, as he was always one for self-betterment. He mentally reenacts the Passing of the Pick ceremony which led to his current position. And of all the hard, grueling nights no one but himself subjected himself too. Dorimnur feeds his cannon with the worm, him and his two other cannoneers, all the while thinking of how his Guild had invented such creations of war for the dwarves. The Guild had reinvented the cannons of yore, with their own twist, which brought a new age to dwedmar firepower, blessing all their future conflicts with resounding success from unparalleled Dwarven marksmanship. Each step of their invention came from the Guild, from concept from some miners, to drafting with the Siege Master, to production and testing at the Grimgold firing range.The Guild had serviced Kings and Queens alike, producing wares the likes of no other seen in the land, and of rare and valuable materials. But this was not enough for Dorimnur, nor was it truely what he wanted. The war effort itself was simply the best distraction to the matters which lay at Dorimnur’s heart. He remembers the immense effort that went into getting things working for The Worker’s Guild, scouting for resource deposits, many failed inventions of protection in dangerous environments, and even going as far as defying his Clan Father’s orders at the time to ensure the Guild was unhindered to grow. Oh how the times have changed he thought, as now he stood as Clan Father. His recollection was derailed by the drone of the Hive, sounding closer than they were due to their sheer numbers, drew close. And as the bugs assailed his position, the dwarves, always a prepared folk, fired their cannons in line, their iron shot flying through the night sky splattering husks against their iron. But it was not enough, each bug slain replaced with two more as the swarm enveloped the camp. As he combatted both direct attacks and acid spray, Dorimnur’s thoughts were on those who had stuck with him to this day. Elves, humans, and orcs had all tried their hand in learning the ways of dwarven work, but all had failed to uphold Dorimnur’s impossible standards, and only dwarves remained. There as he stood amongst his fellow dwed, defending whatever laid behind them, the smell of sulfur and demonic bug viscera abundant, a slight glimmer of optimism began to crawl its way through Dorimnur’s mind. As the descendants and Inferi pushed against one another, Dorimnur pushed hard enough that the light broke through the clouds and the world beyond the war glimmered. The war is the world and the world is the war. But behind each helmet was a descendant. They were jaded, they were naive. They were honorable, and they were criminals. They were bound for legend, and they were lost to history. As he traded his spear for smashing bugs with his tower shield, this realization resonated deep within his inner being. He quickly set down his green-stained shield and lit the fuse for his final cannonshot, plugging his ears while he looked over to the rest of the warring dwarves. His gaze landed on his greatest success in the Guild, Kragdin Starbreaker, as he was knocked to the ground by an insect. Kragdin quickly rebounds with a swift strike through the bug, clipping through its abdomen to its wings and flinging the twitching corpse on the ground. He then blasts another creature with his crossbow, and draws a damascus black ferrum sword with both hands, challenging all who would try their fate against his. Whether it was the noble thoughts pressed to his mind by the Divines, the raw emotions he was feeling from the heat of battle, or brotherhood that is forged in those who go through the hardest times, Dorimnur knew not. Was it pride? He was unfamiliar with the emotion, as he had neither had someone proud of him nor was he proud of anyone else for over a century. As much as he bore alone, subtly Dorimnur was depending on his fellow dwarves. But, a single idea, in the shape of a thought came to his mind. Maybe all this work wasn't for naught. But, in the blink of an eye, off of the ramparts flew a wretched insect, and flew at the dwarf deep in self-revelation. Despite Dorimnur’s ability to guard himself from multiple direct attacks thus far, without Dorimnur’s utter concentration at hand, this bug was able to slip past his guard and latch its mandibles on his arm, to which Dorimnur then jerked his arm back, ripping the mandibles down his forearm before it latched onto his wrist. The Hive-born dug its sharp mandibles close around his wrist, cutting through plate, tendon, and then finally bone as Dorimnur pulled away desperately, his shredded hand going with the bug. His fellow Cannoneer Falk Irongut was able to slash the swift creature out of the air, but the damage had been done. Dorimnur groaned in pain, falling to his knees and cusping his arm in his lap as he keeled in anguish, the crimson blood flowing from his shredded stump. And as he kneeled, acid washing over his plate armor in a searing rain and a sapphire comet flew overhead with a silver trail into the shores of Arcas, the entire world trembled as the Aengul of New Beginnings finished his incantation. Dorimnur mentally receded into himself as he did physically, and as he pressed his stump into himself to stop the torrent of blood, a single thought throbed in his head just as hard as the blood pulsing through him. I was wrong. He sat there for what felt like eternity, blows bouncing off of his plate armor and waves of acid pouring to his side, leaving permanent etchings into his steel exterior. Sweat poured from his helmet onto the soggy ground below him mixed with descendant and Inferi blood, and with his own hand and bone adding to the viscera. The Clanmother of the Grimgolds came rushing to his aid, and he rised as any stout dwarf would. He gave her a jesting remark about having had worse on his eye, but his attention was drawn to the lightshow beyond them. He stared blankly to his left as the greater beings did untold deeds; of Aenguls shrieking of fear as a flaming form and stone spear glistening with golden ichor pierced a heavenly body while creation itself screamed. Gazardiael had been pierced through the chest, and molten gold flowed out of its cavity into the void below him of its own making, with a haunting cry emerging from its lips, audible to all things alive. And swiftly would Gazardiael’s life be ended, by the swinging of the Dwarven monarch, the spear sent by Krugmar’s Rex, and the holy blades of Malchediael. The blow sent Dorimnur tipping over, and he ended flat on his back, coughing blood up from the impact and the pain from his stump. He was jostled around as both the sky and land rattled, together in a lightshow of colors and power. The very continent splits in cataclysmic fashion, and the descendants swiftly make their leave, having done what they came to do: Ensure their own fate. After the silent trodding back across the scarred continent, the sounds of crying could still be heard throughout the god-forsaken land. But this time, of descendants. Even their monumental victory and the nature of events they had experienced was not enough to remove their minds off of the blood they had shed and the people they had lost. Many men worthy of life found themselves dead upon that day. Men of great promises, to their children, to their wives, to their kingdom. Men of great honor and courage in the face of no greater foe almost all of them have never fathomed. Some of them Dwarves, but all of them descendants. No matter the circumstances each found themselves on that cursed ground, each had a reason for being there. But reason alone was not strong enough for some to keep their lives. Brothers in arms who had grown up together in training found themselves missing parts of themselves, corpses of their superiors, their brothers in arms, their sons, all strewn on the very ground they walked on. The stench of death reeked, and the smell of burning flesh assailed their senses as they trod home past the crevices full of magma, and bodies. And so, Dorimnur ended his day as he started it. He stumbled into Kal’Mugdor, his entire body aching from the miles he had walked, the blows he had taken, the sights he had seen. He sat alone in his tavern, in the Guild of so many dwarves that called him Leader and undoubtedly looked up to him. He locked the door behind him and sat with a heavy sigh, never being foolish enough to let himself be seen with weakness. And there he sat, motionless for a bit, in absence of thought, shell-shocked. His vulnerable state allowed his mind to drift once again, and it landed on the sight of Kragdin Starbreaker fending for himself in the prior fight. Dorimnur settles on the emotion he felt during his audience of Kragdin’s feats, the slight emotion of pride, or so he believed to be the identity of this foreign emotion. A feeling he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Not since… All he could think of in that tavern beyond this was the chilling, gut-wrenching fact that all of this bloodshed wouldn’t bring them back. He threw the thought out of his mind, along with throwing back his ale. Dwelling on the past had never profited him anything, plus it was what lost him his hand. Besides, everything he had been working towards the last four decades had reached a culmination, and one that ended in a victory. So, with a long line of ales to finish and a kicking of his feet, he reclined, and offered himself rest, true rest, for the first time since this entire war started. For even he would say he had earned it after decades of unrelenting work. All it took was the near rebirth of the universe and the closing of the gates of hell. But, it was a start.

Clan Father Dorimnur Goldhand stews in Kal’Mugdor, forcefully brushing crushed silver ore into a crucible as he thinks to himself “I should have won, I made a lass spill her ale on herself!” He places the hefty daemonsteel crucible full of silver ore into the furnace as he has done a hundred times before, shuts the large ferrum doors with a slam, and leans back against against the cold stone walls as he waits. He mutters to himself “No one understands.”

I think this is much needed for the server. It will open up all new kinds of avenues for RP. Specifically, gang wars.

Dorimnur Goldhand stops his daily smithing in service of the Brathmordakin and dwedmar-kind to read the missive. He glazes over most of it, but stops to finely read the section towards himself. He sits back and thinks about it for a moment, and then throws the paper into the fire, picking up his hammer and going back to work, thinking to himself as he orders his faithful workers to shovel more coal into the forges “How quickly He was to run to the Demon Traitor Githiac’s defense over and over again at me and my Guild’s expense. Telling me to ‘Listen to your elder’ as he leeched our supplies and stole our inventions, giving them directly to the Inferi scourge to be used against the dwarves. And even in this cursed missive he puts the blame on the ‘Kingdom of Khorvad,’ but denounces me for their supposed wrongs. Shows how I was nothing more than a resource to exploit to him, and a pawn to try to subdue. No longer.” He strikes the hot steel on the cold anvil, sparks flying to the cold stone below his feet. “And damned be Dor too. Uldraek Anvilaxe never shut up about that bastard.”

Dorimnur Goldhand fawns over his signature. “Ah practiced at least twice fer t’at one, et’s t’a best’un ah’ve signed in all me years in Urguan.”

Can we get back to the roots of burning homosexuals at the stake because of the church? That’s a much simpler time tbh. Joking aside I’ve seen many flamboyantly homosexual characters on this server and the fact that they’re not burned on a constant basis gives me the impression people are too scared to RP for fear of people OOC’ly attacking them, with things like “Bro LotC is my safe space” and “lol just don’t rp with gays lmao it’s a big enough server they’re not bothering you.” Which is sad that people can’t RP their characters properly because of someone on the other end feeling personally attacked.

Dorimnur Goldhand would be rather sour when he comes across the tavern board on the few occasions he goes into the city. “Suppose that’s why he’s Clan Father, the first Irongut nearly broke his poor little wrist in the competition!”

I always had good experiences with Bandits. People are too safe on LotC, maybe it’s time to change that. I remember getting bandited by two guys in the library of Dragur last map, and right as they were about to attack me the constables pulled up and saved the day.

I want demons forever it’s so great

🤤

Hobo the GOAT

The Brotherhood of Bruv

Worker’s Guild of Kal’Mugdor For large swaths of our history, the dwed have gone unpaid & unappreciated for their essential labor for the Grand Kingdom of Urguan. From the rubble of the past, Kal’Mugdor, the City of the Mine, erupted to forge a new way of life for the common Dwed. The city’s name coming from it’s founder, Mugdor-Dharok, who rose to the title of Yemekar’s Pick purely by hard work and dedication, proving that nothing can hold back a Dwed from piercing the top. Following the trend of hard workers is the current Yemekar’s Pick, Dorimnur Goldhand who runs a tight ship and keeps a watchful eye on the horizon of dwarven innovation. Now it is time for all the laborer Dwed to prove themselves in the eyes of Urguan, and to reap the rewards of their crafts. Come all ye miners, blacksmiths, artisans, and more, as your expertise is in high demand in the Grand Kingdom of Urguan. Miners: Supplied with the finest and most exclusive mine in all of the land, our sole job is to provide the Grand Kingdom of Urguan & Urguan’s Worker’s Guild with authentic Dwed ores and minerals. From ferrum and manganese to Carbarum and Volatite, dwedmar miners know how to mine them all, coaxing the bounty from the ground under the blessing of Grimdugan. Miners are allowed to enter the mines for free, without a mining permit. Upon completion of your quota, you will be rewarded with a payslip. Exchanging the payslip at the payment building will reward you with 2 Karzul, a steady wage to advance yourself in Dwedmar society. Blacksmiths: The world remains jealous of the superior blacksmith ways of the Dwed; it is what gives us the most valuable competitive advantage in war and industry. To ensure the Grand Kingdom of Urguan remains at the top of equipment quality, the sole job of the blacksmiths are to forge exceptional armor and weapons. Metal will be supplied by Worker’s Guild Miners, free to use by the blacksmiths. Upon completion of each weekly quota of 5 forged goods, blacksmiths are rewarded with 2 Karzul. With time, your smithing abilities will become renowned across the land, and others will surely be begging for your gift. Artisans: While many Dwed may have sausage fingers, we have a limitless amount of beautiful metals and crystals to work with. Supplied by Worker’s Guild Smiths and Miners, artisans who work within Kal’Mugdor will be given supplies to create amazing crafts and jewelry that people all over the land will be dying to obtain. With each stone week that passes, artisans that complete their weekly quota of two tailored clothes for other professions will be awarded 2 Karzul. By slowly chipping away imperfections from your craft, perhaps your work of art will become an heirloom of a kingdom one day. Engineers: Dwarves who wish to push the frontiers of industry at a more direct pace do so through Engineering! Gadgets and Gizmos made of screws springs and steel abound for those in the Worker's Guild Engineering wing. They harness their natural tinkering and ingenuity to hone their problem-solving skills and creating applications to solve issues dwarven society faces with their own ideas! Their quota will consist of 5 Engineering parts for beginners so the higher ranking Engineers can create functioning products, for the pay of 50 minas per product, and 2 Karzul for 5 parts. How the Guild Works: GUILD DAY Currently, most smiths and artisans just hammer away at the forge alone, for no one to see. The Dwed’s strength as a people is when they come together, and this rings true when it comes to blacksmithing and artistry. It lacks the social aspect that brings the guild together. The same can be said for mining. Although it can be relaxing to go into the mines with your pickaxe and mine away, humming your favorite war ballad, you don’t grow with the combined knowledge of the other’s who may have developed unique mining, smithing, or artistry techniques. Participating in the Guild’s very own of Guild Day, this would change. Once a week, smiths, miners, and artisans all gather to craft, mine, or work. The workers give pointers and show off their own techniques to one another, each dwed having their own personal experiences to tell and teach. This would also be the time for lessons to be taught, should a worker be contracted to teach someone outside of the guild, or to help those of lower rank than they. The Guild can gather on a preset day, and concentrate their efforts to get the most out of it, rather than everyone working to themselves. Most promotions are held on Guild Day as well, but promotions can be scheduled other days. The Worker’s Guild is open to all races, but, for an outsider to work for the guild, they must work like a dwarf does. If you are a dwarf, you can enter the workforce without any prior experience. If you are not a dwarf, you cannot enter unless you have skill coming into the job, and must work out a deal with the Yemekar’s Pick. Hierarchy Regulars: The backbone of the workforce. Those who show up and get the job done, regardless of how well they do it. Those who have shown a desire to grow begin to see results here. Those who consistently hit their quota each week can expect to move up the ranks quickly. A regular is expected to rank up in three stone weeks, after submitting three quotas, and taking their three lessons. They are able to deal with ferrum and aurum, and that is all the Guild is willing to trust them with, unsure if they will be able to withstand the labor of dwarven industry. The crafts of a Regular are characterized by a high likelihood to crack and warpings of their works, and miners know which end of the pick to swing. Proficient: This is where most non-dwed stop in their skill level. Those who know the in’s and out’s of their craft make up this rank of workers. Proficient workers can deal with semi-precious gemstones, not quite ready for the likes of gemstones like emeralds rubies and diamonds. Now available to them are the alloys of the world, and all mundane metals and minerals. They can craft with/mine Kulia Crystals, as well as all of the previous minerals, and can deal with Meteoric steel. They also have the skill to work with any potential alloys, so far as the alloys contain the materials the workers have the skill to work with. Also with this rank comes the benefit of using guild forges and materials for personal commissions, at a 25% commission rate. They also are allowed to teach Regulars so they can both progress, and are required to at least once before they become Professionals. They are expected to be promoted to Professional after 8 stone weeks, five of which are of them submitting quotas of their rank, and the final one being a submission of a work of Meteoric Steel. The crafts of a Proficient are characterized by a fine result, not being particularly efficient about it, but being quality work. Professional: These workers have made their craft their meaning in life. They show utmost dedication to what they do, and it shows in their nearly unparalleled crafts. Professional ranked workers are able to work with precious gemstones that are too fragile and too expensive for Regulars and Proficients to have access too. They are able to work with/mine the dangerous Volatite and Blighted Steel, Azhl, and are required to submit a quota of both before they can be promoted, as only a professional worker could be trusted with such valuable and dangerous materials. The crafts of a Professional are characterized by nearly perfect, ornately crafted and with attention to detail. It would be expected for a Professional to be promoted after 12 stone weeks, or 4 weeks at the rank of Professional, as they have to submit the two dangerous metals, in addition to teaching a Regular their three lessons. Who learns what is dependent on the Professional workers. Master: Those who have attained full mastery of their craft. They have shown exceptional work with all of the previous materials available to the guild, but most importantly, they can work Carbarum, the most fabled of minerals in the land. Due to this high responsibility, and the rarity of Carbarum, there will be only ONE Master rank worker per profession. The crafts of a Master are characterized by being unparalleled. Nearly flawless would be their works, and they would make them with ease. Grand Master: The pinnacle of Dwarven mastery and craftmanship, those who attain this titular rank are known throughout the land from their deeds and accomplishments achieving this rank. Works made by Grand Masters would be recognizable, and their name would bear assurance of utmost quality, for there would only be one in the Guild. A Master worker attains this rank by submitting a work of Carbarum, as well as taking up the mantle of Foreman and leading those under them. Grand Masters would orchestrate the efforts of their sect of the Guild, leading projects with the Masters below them for the Yemekar's Pick. Progress through these ranks is shown through attendance to Guild Day, meeting quota, fulfilling orders, and exceptional work as deemed by the Forman and Yemekar's Pick. Those who are permitted for moving up must show their craft to the Foreman or Yemekar’s Pick. Examples are: A smith showing an ornate sword; an artisan crafting an oil urn; a miner showing his ability to mine Volatite without exploding. At higher ranks where there is a limited number of jobs, a worker looking to advance to a position that is already filled may Challenge the one holding the position through a contest of craftsmanship. The winner takes the position, and the loser is demoted. The general form for promotion is showing up to a set number of Guild days, and delivering the profession specific quota for a set number of days, and then finally for the promotion, you have to show some of this craftmanship to the Yemekar’s Pick or the Foreman. Teaching another craftsman will expedite this process, as teaching counts as two quotas. Regulars have to teach with the Yemekar’s Pick present, while Proficient and above do not, and can teach at their leisure. This teaching quota can only be applied once per rank. APPLYING TO THE GUILD Application to the Guild is simple: send a bird to Dorimnur Goldhand. (BDanecker, and BDanecker#1120 on Discord) ((Should there be any questions or clarification on what each tier is allowed to do with the current Techlock or what’s available beyond what is on this post, shoot me a PM on Discord))

Dorimnur Goldhand takes a seat in the tavern of Kal’Mugdor, looking weary, bags under his eyes. He sits alone, and drinks of a glass poured by himself. He takes a long drink, and gulps for air after clearing half of the ale, saying with weight “et looks loike ah can offeh meself ah little rest afteh all t’ese years, knowin’ t’ere trueleh be securiteh in t’a marvel ove dwedmar ingenuity.”

Dorimnur Goldhand scoffs when he hears of the gruesome message. “Tough talk fer ah fellah w’o nae defended ‘is own damned elephants!”

LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOO

MC Name: BDanecker RP Name: Dorimnur Goldhand Discord: BDanecker#1120 Which part of the tournament do you wish to participate in (PvP/Archery/Both): PVP Timezone (EST, GMT, etc.) CST

Yo I love all of these

This is hot +1 I like the different types of golems

yes yes yes yes yes +1 +1 +1 i likey One question tho, why is it excluded from those with lesser souls? I might have missed the reason tho.

I’ve further refined the concept, and I believe the kinks have been worked out that @Quavinir_Twiceborn brought up as good points. Let me know if the new additions make sense! I added changes to the entirety about a fire weakness, and quantified the force needed to shatter it. Also changed up the refining technique, and clarified whether it was living, and decided upon aluminum bronze as it’s comparison.

-=- Saldorsite -=- The Living Metal Material Name and Description (Raw form) (A dense core chunk of a Saldorsite deposit) Saldorsite, more commonly known as Heart-iron, Plant-metal, or Green Gold, is a natural ore in the sense that it is found where nature abounds. Places of high floral concentrations such as thick forests would harbor Saldorsite deposits below the surface. Some would even believe that Saldorsite makes up the heart of a forest, seemingly being alive itself. However, its moniker “The Living Metal” would be misleading, as Saldorsite would not be alive, merely of organic origins. The ore forms in tendrils from a central point, growing from the heart of the excess natural energy. A normal deposit would have a lighter green core, with verdant tendrils sprawling out from it. After decades of detritus and mulch decomposing on the forest floor, the dead organic material breaks down and sinks below the surface, infusing the rocks below with natural essence. The pure natural energy the ore contains causes it to glow with bioluminescence, bringing in all kinds of small insects drawn to the soft green light. The cave below the forest floor where it could be found is often coated in moss, as there would be enough light for moss and small plant life to sustain themselves, but not enough for a thick brush. Saldorite would not be particularly hard to find, but rather there would only be one deposit for miles, as it forms from the excess energy of the ecosystem above it, generally under the largest trees in the middle of the forest. Evergreen Kulia Crystals would often grow on top of or alongside Saldorsite nodes, both forming from great natural energy. There would also be a variant of Saldorsite, deep below ocean waves. (A chunk of exposed Reef Saldorsite) Known as Reef Saldorsite, this variant of Saldorsite ore would be found under coral reefs, propagated in the same fashion as green Saldorsite. Identical in all ways except color, Reef Saldorsite would still have the darker veins running through the ore. It often would have coral colonies directly on the mineral itself. It exists because of the excess of natural energy, same as with Forest Saldorsite, decomposing coral and aquatic life breaking down and infusing the stone below. Applications (Raw Form) A remarkable feature of Saldorsite is its ability to act as a superb supplement to fertilizer. Simply grinding it up and adding it to any fertilizer would enhance any fertilizer’s results. Red Lines (Raw Form) Harvesting Method (A surface cave leading towards a deposit of Saldorsite, surrounded by moss and vines) Mining of Saldorsite is similar to that of other ores, with the main difference being that of striking the ore. Should one strike directly on the ore, it would sink in like a sponge, and harming the deposit. The method for mining the ore would be to light a small flame on the area of excavation, enough to heat up the mineral. This would seem counter-intuitive, but the flame surprisingly does not set the ore aflame. Once heated up, the mineral would stiffen, allowing the miner to collect it as normal. Over-harvesting should be of high concern, as should one harvest more than just the tendrils of the deposit, the forest above would slow it’s storing of excess energy in the Saldorsite deposit, causing the deposit to regrow slower, and then eventually not at all. (A coral mound covering a Reef Saldorsite node beneath, hiding it’s bounty below) When attempting to mine Coral Saldorsite, one would need a means of excavation underwater, such as a diving bell, and a means of thermal energy underwater. The issue of the ore being covered in coral is apparent, and one would have to break through the coral. This would in turn harm the reef, slowing the growth of more Saldorsite, meaning Reef Saldorsite would be less common than Forest Saldorsite. An experienced miner knows that one has to respect what they do and not take too much Saldorsite, lest the deposit not rejuvenate. Harvesting Red Lines Material Name and Description (Refined Form) Refined Forest and Reef Saldorsite would simply become more mute in color than its native form, a dark green and dark blue respectively. They would both have a glossy sheen to them. Applications (Refined Form) (A Serrated Saldorsite Saber) Saldorsite has been made into arms of war, valued for its strength and dark-green beauty, but it’s main feature, it’s unnatural ability to not break under great stress, sees it more applied to industry and trinkets. It is light as well, and with enough practice a blade made of this material would feel nearly like an extension of one’s arm. A Saldorsite longsword would weigh just under a pound and a half, the average weight of an iron shortsword. It would be a great feat to break an object of Saldorsite make, as it would not shatter under great deformation and stress, merely bending and turning. Saldorsite would be as easy to deform it as say an tin bronze item of the same make, but what makes it unique is its nigh incomparable resistance to continued stress. Should one go to bend a metal rod of Saldorsite, it would continually turn, not shattering as a normal metal would when it reaches its breaking point, as Saldorsite would seemingly be able to be bent forever. It would also not become more brittle and stronger as normal metal does. This leads Saldorsite to being bent into beautiful structures supported by woven rods reminiscent of a tree, the Saldorsite not loosing it's strength when stretched and turned. It would have a plethora of industrial applications, being great for anything that undergoes an average amount of stress. For example, if a pillar of Saldorsite were to be hit with a force of a battering ram, it would simply deform rather than crack and shatter like a marble pillar. Things with longevity in mind would be ideally made of Saldorsite such as watches, pickaxes, as it doesn’t rust. A Saldorsite weapon would be able to be deformed and beat back into shape ad nauseum. It is not unheard for someone to keep a Saldorsite blade with them for their entire lives, beating the blade back into shape as if brand new each time it is deformed in combat. There could be comparisons to Ironwood drawn by its nature, but Saldorsite would not be as stiff as Ironwood, being as strong as tin bronze, whereas Ironwood is as strong as steel. It would also be more ductile than Ironwood, and very durable. Another very useful property of Saldorsite is its seeming immunity to fatigue, meaning it can take repeated stress without progressive damage. Most metals will break way earlier than usual when they’re hit over and over, breaking over time. Saldorsite however has the unique immunity to such forces. A Saldorsite item would essentially not bend under any circumstances unless the force was equal to that which would bend tin bronze. For example, an iron sword constantly hit by a load well under its breaking point can still break if hit long enough due to imperfections in the metal, whilst Saldorsite will miraculously stay tough for seemingly as long as one tries to break it. Many would try to break swords of Saldorsite just to see if it could be done, to no avail, their efforts only bending the sword. Pillars of Saldorsite that never fail to unforeseen errors in its production, extremely accurate testing apparatuses that can help measure forces in a medieval setting, and other things that people cannot afford to break. However, not all things are as good as they seem. Saldorsite, in all of its physical attribute wonder, would have one glaring weakness: flame. As a remnant of the initial natural energy lies in the refined state, it is vulnerable to heat, but rather with an opposite effect its native form has. A man clad in Saldorsite armor would rightfully fear a pyromancer, as one blast would leave his armor as good as gold, his armor loosing all color as the energy is expunged out. Refined Reef Saldorsite would be similar in appearance to Refined Forest Saldorsite, but with a blue color scheme, dark blue veins running throughout. (A Reef Saldorsite Shortsword, reminiscent of the ocean waves) Red Lines (Refined Form) Refining Technique (An Adunian smith working on shaping a Saldorsite axel going on a royal carriage.) The smithing of Saldorsite is a delicate art. The main issue that arises with smithing Saldorsite is that refined Saldorsite becomes irreversibly weakened once hit with extreme temperatures, and this would certainly be the case if a smith were to reforge a Saldorsite object with the heat of a forge. Rather, reforming and reforging would consist of a mild heat, below 600 C, and hot working the piece, careful to not overheat the work, lest the natural forces be expunged. When it comes to refining, Saldorsite differs from normal ore in the fact that there is a lot of slag during refining, as well as the smelting process. For the slag, removing it would be necessary for the metal to be it’s best, as Saldorsite’s property of being immune to fatigue relies on its purity. The less removed, the more the result is essentially stone. Bellows and flux would be of utmost importance for a pure Saldorsite result. This aspect of the forging is not a rare technique, just hard to perform, and requires a lot of stamina to do so, more so than smithing already does. Those not fighting-fit would be exhausted after completing their refining, and those of little stamina such as advanced voidal mages would not be able to keep up. Once the slag has been adequately removed, the focus of the smith should be that of timing. Initially, the molten Saldorsite would glow a bright green, indicating the ore is still full of natural essence. The goal of the smith is to remove the right amount of this to ensure a strong product, as too much energy leaves the resultant metal as spongy as the ore, while too little energy leaves the resultant metal brittle and weak. Once the mixture glows a dull green throughout, ensuring it has been mixed properly to homogenize the energy remaining, it is time to cast it like you would gold. Should a smith heat the Saldorsite ore for too long, and let too much of the energy dissipate, the result will be a dull green metal as strong as gold, and moderately fragile. The smith has to know when to stop heating the metal, as the right time is when there is a dim glow of green. Reheating it to a workable condition would not cause the energy to leave the metal, as it would not be as hot as required to melt it. Refining Red Lines Purpose (OOC) Citation

Dorimnur Goldhand, Yemekar’s Pick, leader of the workforce of Urguan, stands upon the ramparts of the southern wall. Not far from the bridge connecting civilization and damnation, he strikes a hammer against a monumental cannon, listening to it’s resounding peal for defects. A messenger treks to deliver the news Dorimnur already knows, the Return of the King. Dorimnur continues working as he listens to the news. He doesn’t slow from his work, keeping up his diligence as he responds with “Aye, so ah’ve heard. T’is gud t’at king es back, fer we can ralleh Urguan easieh fer t’a war effort.” He sighs, loosening his grip on his hammer, sliding slightly out of his hand, but he grasps it before it falls to the ground. “In ah war loike t’is, our continued survival es victoreh.”