Maybe an eye untrained for art would not notice it, but, naturally, that is not a problem for . Granted, it did take about a decade of being locked away underground to truly co to this realization although now that I see it, it is obvious. Irinika also agrees with .
The dwarven Holds and the dwarven Highways are interconnected only insofar as that the Holds are excavated into the Highways. The signs are subtle, the dwarves themselves are skilled artisans but it is obvious once one sits down and begins analysing the architecture. Firstly, the Holds are built in a rather sensible manner. They have supports, they have columns, bridges, hidden entrances and so on. They are effectively underground cities, down to having housing for the rich and poor and being separated into districts. The touches of dwarf-kind that are there are also obvious, the paranoia and defences, the fall-back lines that are seemingly endless. One may dismiss the fact they use tal for doors as the fact that wood does not grow underground, yet what reason is there for these doors to be at least an inch thick and made of the sa alloy that they use for armour?
The Highways, on the other hand, are rely Highways. They are massive tunnels that are largely uniform in height. It is rare for any of them to stray from the rough two hundred and sixty three tres in height. The number, seemingly random, also does not crop up in Dwarven mythology, traditions or wives tails. Even the dwarves’ own asurents, at five hundred and seventeen of their ‘Daraks’ does not co up. They do not have hidden tunnels, any caches, storerooms, lighting systems and highway-side inns excavated into them is the work of the dwarves themselves. The carvings in the sides is also dwarven, made to fit in with the closest Hold’s own arts and patternry. There are no pillars, no supports, no grand gates of separation, nothing.
A race that is so paranoid it fortifies their hos leaves their main logistics routes terribly barren. In Epa, it is impossible to walk for more than a dozen miles in any direction without coming across a fortress to safeguard the local populace from banditry, or the ruins of one. The dwarves themselves make it a point of objection to try and colonize the Highways or treat them as living space. Even my proposition of using the Highways as farms for mushrooms has been rejected by the majority of Holdmasters, they only agree to turn the Highways that are entirely explored and relatively short, such as those that connect the Core-Holds of the Underkingdoms, into mycelium plantations.
A layman may speak to their innate fervour in their traditions and customs. Here, I would like to remind all that I am Malam, Goddess of Hatred. I doubt there is another being on this entire planet that is so well versed in this art than . The Empire stood with a foundation so fanatical it faced three worlds and no chance of victory. I very much know the power of tradition and custom and I know exactly when to push and when to break.
There are individual fanatics up above who would starve themselves to death rather than break their own morality, but there is no such thing as an entire society doing so.
More investigation is needed.
- Excerpt from the private “My ti in the Underground”, written by Goddess Malam, of Hatred.
Kassandora skulked along the crenulations of Levhen’s Western Gate. She rembered being here a thousand years past, back when Levhen was operational. She had been talking with Fer here, the Great War had just been declared, Imperial Legions had been laying siege to White Pantheon castles, it had been before Tartarus or Paraideisius had co here. Kassandora blinked the wetness in her eyes away. She was certain she wasn’t crying, no one had told her she had been crying. She doubted anyone would. Still, though, she rembered hugging Fer right here. Had it been a real hug? From Fer, Kassandora was sure it was. But were hers?
The thoughts were compartntalized and sent off into whatever dark, shadowy reaches of Kassandora’s she didn’t want to touch. Now wasn’t the ti. She turned to the Highway proper. A massive tunnel, now strewn about with different barrels of various poisonous tals. It wasn’t everything that Levhen had, but it was most they could get out with the help of dwarves, their skeletal ancestors, mages and modern engineers. Barrels of cinnabar and rcury ready to spill, tals that had been shaved down into dusts. Even ground uranium to make sure they would be bleeding after the Hold fell. Tartarus had a playbook, they flood up to the gate with their approaching ashfront, sends troops close and then collapse whatever magic they were using. That ashfront should be enough to superheat the materials into a poisonous smog and… This wasn’t the first ti. Kassandora had stood here, a long ti ago, with her sister.
The Goddess of War turned around and searched across the wall. Maybe the dwarves had filled it in. Fer had jokingly made the markings eye-level to Kassandora, hoping that they would not notice it due to how short they were. Kassandora knew she should get back to planning at this point, running through different scenarios but… All of them had been ran through already. She found sothing on the wall and gasped.
User Comments
0 comments from readers