You find yourself sitting in a room inside Ankor Drakk before Knutti Helmbane, a mirthless ironbreaker. Half of the dwarf's face bears the scars of warpfire, which include a missing eye. Patches of rough, wiry, white beard jut out from his burnt flesh. He does nothing to hide his horrible injuries. This is a venerable elder if there ever was one. His fighting days should have been behind him, but he was far too stubborn to do anything but die in battle.

"So, this is what I have to work with, eh? Fook it. Guess we couldn't spare our best from the front lines. An' don't give me those fookin' looks. Ye gods-cursed elgi-fondlers, if ye were supposed to have feelin's then we would have bloody well issued them to ye!"

His tirade goes on. It includes such motivating gems such as "if I hurt your feelings just show me where and I'll stab ye. If I dunnae hit yer feelings it means that ye don't have any!" Eventually he gets on with the mission.

"...right in yer bum! Hmmph! Well then. Here's why yer here. What we found below is is Droskar's Forge. From what we've figured out, Droskar was a bastard o' a runelord from the days before Ekrund's fall. He drove his clansmen in joyless toil, stalkin' through the forges, forcin' them to work night and day. From the records, it looks like the early years produced some o' the greatest artifacts o' old Ekrund. Though Droskar drove his smiths past the point o' exhaustion, an' what they made became merely passable. Nay better than umgi work. Too stubborn to admit his fault, he took the poor work for laziness. We don't know what happened in the end. With the urk invasion, there is little more than is known about this place. The records nay be complete. Jus' somethin' about the place bein' sealed off due to a curse or somesuch rubbish. But regardless, we are goin' to send ye lot."

He paused in this exposition, glaring at everyone present. "An' we are sendin' ye now, because, can ye bloody well guess it? Our rangers have found bloody thaggoraki trails down there. Skaven! As if grobi weren't enough, it looks like there be some o' those rat bastards hidin' in the dark. It looks like it's not a proper warren. More jus' a group o' scavengers or spies. But regardless. Yer gonna go down there. Find out what kind of threat they may pose, an' loot the place o' anythin' o' value."

He took a deep breath, and concluded "But first. I've seen far too many beardlings die in me years. I won't send anyone who can't take care o' themselves. I dunnae care who recommended ye. Tell me ye name, an' why ye think ye are the sort to handle this."

"I am Ubba, of the Krakendow clan." Ubba says quietly when none of the others rush to respond. "I've served my thane as a ranger for many years. Now I've been dispatched to explore the darker corners of the hold while the armies secure the front lines. Lord Freyr is concerned that we may have missed a threat of some kind in our rush."

After Ubba of the krakendow clan presented himself Bjorn spoke up. " I am Bjorn Ironhammer sergent in thane Rakam Ironhammers army and his cousin. I have worked as a tunneler sergent in Barak Varr, i have been send here to look out for threats that can come from the deep tunnels of Ekrund, and to find lost artifacts and heirlooms to our kin."

"Th'name's Ulrik Alpsbane," The youngest dwarf present says while trying, and failing, to not smile as he went over the old dwarf's diatribe in his head again. "Ain't got any o' them fancy titles or ranks, but I did fight me way through a dozen o' me cousins an' o'er me brother t'get th'chance t'come here. I also know how t'cook a fair stew, so th'others won't starve."

He gets a thoughtful look on his face for a moment, a slight frown furrowing his bushily adorned eyebrows.

"So, these 'skaven,' they taste any good," he asks after a moment.

"I heard they taste just like an organic free range rat." Ubba contributes. "Not to bad with a little ketchup, maybe some mustard."

"Hmm, y'know? I've never been able t'tell th'difference," Ulrik admits with a shrug. "Always been a fan o' dippin' 'em in barbagi sauce meself."

"As long we got some Bugmanns we should be fine, and using barbagi sauce or mustard or whatever we prefer will make them taste better, herbs is also a way to do it" Bjorn nodded a little for himself. "Dawi brew is the only right thing for a dwarf to drink."

Knutti opens his mouth to speak, closes it...and then with a sight says "Ye know what? Ye beardlings be perfect for this. Jus' perfect. Gonna wait a few minutes for any other lads to show up. But afore them, are there any supplies ye be needin'? Ask now, 'cause when ye go below it'll jus' be ye an' whate'er he can scavenge."

Ubba slowly raises his hand again.

"I guess 1000 gold and a pension is off the table?" He asks carefully. "If not that, then a first aid kit, some lamps and oil, and some extra rope sounds good."

"Aye. I'll do ye one better." The wizened old dwarf hands over a cracked runestone. "It's breakin' anyways. Took an urk choppa to it, so the magic be leakin' out. It'll be useless to us in a decade or so anyways, so might as well get some use out o' it."


<ooc: Ubba now has a cracked runestone of Valaya. This functions as a wand of cure light wounds. It has 40 charges on it. Each charge heals 1d8+1 wounds. All adventuring parties need one of these. He will also be given lamps, oil and rope. Though I'll need to check, I think that he might already have some in his inventory already. Anyone else have anything to request?>