RuneScape Forum Archive | Nildi of Keldagrim

Aug

2003

Dreamweaver

Posts: 3,790 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

Greetings, reader!

You have stumbled across one of my longer tales. This first post outlines the chapters for easy reference. I have written it in such a way that each chapter is bite-sized, because I believe that it makes for an easier read in a forum setting such as this.

Talking of bite-sized, you can also find a thread containing various short stories of mine at quick-find code: 49-50-691-49415905. It is entitled "Dreamweaver's Assorted Tales."

I invite you to please feel free to post any comments you wish.

Many thanks and I hope you enjoy the story!

Page 1, Post 2: Prologue
Page 1, Post 3: Abroad
Page 1, Posts 4-5: Over Steaming Mead
Page 1, Posts 6-9: Terror in the Mines
Page 1, Post 10-Page 2, Post 3: Into the Guild
Page 3, Posts 5-6: An Unfortunate Entry
Page 4, Post 3: A Shadow in the Dark
Page 4, Posts 4-7: A Wild Party
Page 4, Post 10: The Apparition from the Sea
Page 5, Posts 4-7: The Hunt Begins
Page 5, Post 8-Page 6, Post 1: Trouble on the Road
Page 6, Post 9-Page 7, Post 1: A Woodland Attack
Page 7, Posts 5-7: Riding the Waves
Page 8, Post 1: Harvest Cut Short
Page 8, Posts 2-5: A Meeting in the Cellar
Page 9, Posts 2-4: Escape from Port Khazard
Page 10, Posts 3-4: Blood on Stone
Page 10, Posts 9-Page 11, Post 3: A Meeting with the Necromancer
Page 11, Posts 4-6: The Parchment is Read
Page 12, Posts 2-5: The Skin Traders
Page 13, Posts 1-4: A Plan is Hatched
Page 13, Posts 8-9: Darkness Unleashed
Page 13, Posts 10-Page 14, Post 3: The Focus
Page 14, Posts 4-5: The Aftermath
Page 14, Posts 6-7: Homeward Bound
Page 14, Post 8: Epilogue

Total number of posts: 68

Dreamweaver

09-Oct-2006 06:07:15 - Last edited on 10-Aug-2007 05:28:12 by Dreamweaver

Aug

2003

Dreamweaver

Posts: 3,790 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

NILDI OF KELDAGRIM
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***Prologue***
"The stone of time offers deep stability.
The stone of time offers deep understanding.
Haste begets chaos.
That is the way it has always been.
That is the way it will always be.
To hasten the stone is to hasten the end of the world."

A Warning to the Tribes, from "The Deep Ages"
Sulamor – Dwarf philosopher of the Elders.

09-Oct-2006 06:07:26 - Last edited on 19-Sep-2008 01:59:31 by Dreamweaver

Aug

2003

Dreamweaver

Posts: 3,790 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

***Abroad***

Aged and stooped, an old Dwarf shuffles slowly along the dusty road. Sensing your presence, he gazes up at you, revealing a deeply creased brow and a long ragged beard. Yet his eyes are bright and deep like diamonds in the dark.

"Ahh, well met my friend. Fear me not, for I am neither armed nor dangerous. I am a stone-master, not an axe-wielder. Nildi of deep Keldagrim am I, though I am known to some as Crystalweaver. I seek the town of Yanille. I have been abroad for many months and am weary beyond my years. Pray tell, do I draw close to my destination?"

Surely this is not a Dwarf of Keldagrim? A stone-master he surely must be, as the handiwork of his long kindred history can attest. But the Elder Dwarves seldom range far from their homes. What matters can be so pressing and urgent as to drive Nildi Crystalweaver from his ancestral city?

09-Oct-2006 06:07:35 - Last edited on 15-Nov-2006 07:38:08 by Dreamweaver

Aug

2003

Dreamweaver

Posts: 3,790 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

***Over Steaming Mead***
A few days later, on a blustery Autumnal evening, the front door of Yanille 's inn swung ponderously open. A small, hunched figure shuffled in, followed by several whirling leaves, until the door closed out the elements once again. Glancing about the almost-deserted room, he made his way to the bar and motioned over to the barman for service.
“Good sir, how might I help you?” the barman, a middle-aged, clean-shaven man with short black hair and a warm smile, asked.
“A warming mead would not go amiss to ease my joints. The inn is quiet tonight. Is this to be expected?” wheezed the hooded stranger.
“It is early and the wind is strong and biting. We will be busier later, but such nights start slow. Please take a table and allow me to warm a flagon for you,” the barman replied.
“I am most grateful.”
With that, the figure slumped onto a wooden bench at a corner table and sat still, seemingly asleep.
He jolted awake with surprise.
“Your mead sir. I did not mean to startle you,” the barman said.
“My apologies. I must have drifted off for a second. Ahh, that smells good. Will you join me for a flagon yourself?”
“You tempt me, kind sir. I shall accept.”
~continued~

09-Oct-2006 06:07:43 - Last edited on 19-Sep-2008 02:43:00 by Dreamweaver

Aug

2003

Dreamweaver

Posts: 3,790 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

The barman disappeared behind the bar and emerged a few moments later with his own brimming tankard. Then he made himself comfortable opposite the hunched figure, who suddenly laughed!
“So here I am, sitting in a tavern in Yanille, talking to a human! Were my kin back home able to see my position, their beards would curl up with surprise!” he grinned.
“I knew you to not be of these parts, but did not wish to seem impertinent with questioning. Yet will you tell me from where you hail and what brings you to our town?” asked the barman, returning the warm grin.
“I hear no impertinence. I have come here for knowledge, and in order to gain that, I must trust my hosts enough to impart my tale first.”
The stranger 's face turned grim as quickly as it had previously turned jovial.
“I am…”
“Crystalweaver?” interrupted the barman.
The figure stopped in surprise.
“Why yes! How… I mean…”
Now it was the barman’s turn to laugh.
“You crossed paths with my cousin last week, on the road to Khazard. He was trading up that way and gave you directions, I believe. News can travel fast when outsiders are concerned, and of course it is my job to stay informed, as the barman of this town.”
“Oho, small world! News travels fast indeed. Yes, I am Nildi Crystalweaver and, as I previously stated, I seek information. The seat of the Elder Dwarves has come under a grave threat which none of us understand. Perhaps if I tell you part of my tale, you can assist me in knowing who to turn to.”
“Speak of your mission and I will do what I can to help,” the barman agreed.
Nildi the Dwarf settled lower into his seat and took a large draught from his flagon. Then he began to speak.

09-Oct-2006 06:07:52 - Last edited on 19-Sep-2008 02:45:19 by Dreamweaver

Aug

2003

Dreamweaver

Posts: 3,790 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

***Terror in the Mines***

“It all started eight months ago, in the dead of winter up in the far northern plateau where only the hardiest of Dwarves still dwell and seek their fortunes. Yet those that inhabit those parts are ambitious and tough, an intrepid and dangerous combination of qualities, as will be tragically proven.

“Word came to us in Keldagrim that some plague or affliction of an unknown type was massacring our brethren, yet whenever we sent an emissary for details they did not return. After the third brave messenger had been lost to an unknown fate and we were in a serious dilemma as to what best to do, we finally received some news from the North. A lone dwarven miner from those parts had finally escaped to us, though we did not recognize him as such, and it was only by the grace and foresightedness of our outer guards that he was not shot as he approached our stronghold. He was so gnarled, disfigured and bloody that they mistook him for a raving straggler of a Goblin tribe at first.

“As we accepted him into our city and gave him what relief and attention we could, I was immediately called to his side. His injuries were so severe and his story so horrific it had to be told while there was still time. One arm was missing completely, as was most of his left side. He had tied leather straps around his tattered body to keep his organs from literally spilling to the ground, but his face… his face was the worst of it. It had been shaven of all hair, then laced with cruel cuts and scars in the straight-lined figures of the Troll Speech. Yet our scholars could not read what was written there. The poor unfortunate soul was so near death that all we could do was listen anxiously as he told us his story, daring not to interrupt him for a moment. This is what he said.

~continued~

09-Oct-2006 06:08:01 - Last edited on 23-Nov-2006 09:17:53 by Dreamweaver

Aug

2003

Dreamweaver

Posts: 3,790 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

“‘We had mined deep... deeper than before... far north. Then suddenly heard booming and rustling. Somewhere, all around, yet nowhere in our tunn... our tunnels. Not scared, we dug towards the noise, investigated... got louder. Days passed, still did not find the source... louder though... now heard snuffling and grunting. Still booming, louder, ever louder.’

“He needed water and rest, and he had to stop for a time while he drank and coughed. Every breath was ragged and labored, but finally he continued.

“‘Then a wind, a strange underground wind... Strong, pulling the air through our tunnels. Somewhere the rock had been breached between our networks and another void. Something was... was coming. Air was howling down one of our deep shafts, a hole was there... something was coming up.’

“He winced with memories as painful as his physical wounds before continuing, gasping and breathing quickly now.

“‘Death, death rained on us. I did not see what it was... could not see. Booming, growling, screaming in my head. Blood, dust, ash, rock pulver... pulverized, Dwarves crushed faster than they could run. A high... a high terrible scream sent the roof crashing down ahead of us. I was half-trapped. Head and arm inside, legs outside... and a weight of rock and corpses atop of me. Dwarves running, screaming, yelling, dying. Then all quiet. All dead. I could not see. Something ahead of me, coming for me. I was dead too. I willed it. Growling, breath on my face. I could not see!'

"The miner was wracked with anguish and fear. What was this terror? What had happened to him? He broke down for a while and could not continue. We were scared we were going to lose him right then, but he finally opened his eyes again, fierce and bright. He gathered what little strength remained in him and continued.

~continued~

09-Oct-2006 06:08:11 - Last edited on 18-Nov-2006 09:07:24 by Dreamweaver

Aug

2003

Dreamweaver

Posts: 3,790 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

“‘Then pain. Fearful pain on my face. Burning, cutting, I was being skinned alive! I wanted death, but I was denied. I could not pass out, I could not die. The pain! And I could not see! Hours... hours it seemed. Still the cutting on my face. Terror... pain. And then my arm. Ripped off, side gashed open. I was forced through the rock to the other side. Alive!

“‘Why me? Alone of us all. Had to get out... Had to move. Crawled, knew the way, crawled to the surface. Finally vision slowly returned. Day felt like night. Slept, wanted to die, but had to tell what happened. Bound my side, forced myself to walk... to crawl, fall, stumble. Seven days it took, to reach you. Seven days. And I do not... do not know what it was. Was blind... blind!’

“And then he died. We know almost nothing. Something, or things, came from a void, under our deep shafts in the frozen plateau. We do not even know which mine network it was and have heard nothing from our northern brethren since. Just one of them survived, forced into an unwilling messenger. Why was he kept alive? Was it a trap to lead more Dwarves to that forsaken place? To understand that, we will need to read the cruel carvings on his face, and that, my friend, is why I am here in Yanille.

“Our embalmers took the gruesome task of removing the miner's facial skin, preserving and mounting it, and our scholars have been studying the marks ever since. We have nothing of help in the hallowed halls of learning in Keldagrim, and our contact with the Seers of northern Kandarin also bore no fruit. The text does not match that of any Trollish script known to us, and we have had much experience with their crude culture. Our only thought - admittedly guesswork at best and deeply troubling in its implications - is that this is an older, fouler demon script from the ancient days.

~continued~

09-Oct-2006 06:08:19 - Last edited on 19-Nov-2006 01:11:29 by Dreamweaver

Aug

2003

Dreamweaver

Posts: 3,790 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

The Dwarf and the barman sat still and silent in the dark room for some time, each deep in their own thoughts. Finally, the barman stirred.

“You will want to speak with Zavistic Rarve, Senior Secretary of the Magic Guild. I will take you there in the morning myself. But for now let us clear the heavy air and turn to lighter things.”

He arose, lit some additional lanterns to chase away the shadows and warm the room, and then replenished both flagons. As if a veil had been lifted and a signal had been made, the door opened and a couple of locals entered the room, talking and laughing loudly.

“Two of your freshest Greenman’s, mate!” yelled one, and the inn began to fill up.

09-Oct-2006 06:08:28 - Last edited on 24-Nov-2006 09:43:54 by Dreamweaver

Aug

2003

Dreamweaver

Posts: 3,790 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

***Into the Guild***
Peering anxiously at the preserved skin of the deceased Dwarf’s face for what seemed like the thousandth time, Nildi blinked and rubbed his tired eyes in confusion. The skin was crawling with something… no, the incisions were moving across the stretched, disfigured skin. How could this be? The marks were moving, merging, massing together in a hideous tangle. How could the evil script be read now? The quest was for nothing. Desperately scrabbling for his knife, he tried to quickly copy some of the remaining figures in the floor with crude slashing strokes, but everything was a jumble. The jumble was fading. His ears were pulsing. No, it was drums beating. A steady drumming. The skin was melting into nothing and the air was filled with drumbeats. He dropped his knife, clattering to the floor. He clapped his hands over his ears and groaned. The skin fell too, but vanished into motes of dust before it reached the floor. The drumbeats were getting louder. Nildi cried out…
…And the knocking on his bedroom door woke him with a start.
He sat bolt upright in bed and shuddered. His knife was still in its pouch. His possessions had not been moved. And the barman was hammering on his door from the other side.
“Ahoy, Nildi! Arise good sir, arise!”
He dragged himself from the bed wearily.
“Alright! I am awake!” he called out. “I will be out in a minute.”
“Very good. Breakfast is already warm and waiting.”
A few short minutes later, Nildi emerged from his room, dressed and ready. He descended the stairs to the common room, where he was beckoned into the kitchen.
~continued~

09-Oct-2006 06:08:37 - Last edited on 11-Feb-2010 06:07:23 by Dreamweaver

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Nildi of Keldagrim