To Help You Forget.. [Apprentice Engineering]

[Colt Kinslammer]

Darkening. Snowfall. The Thirty First of Pontius in the Season of Winter, Era XIV Post Fractum


Downing the last sullen lapse of ale from the bottom of his mug, Colt Kinslammer wiped his gob and turned away from the bartender's gaze. The lighting was dark and crisp in it's aquamarine hue, while contrasted by a warm orange glow given off from the offending fireplace beyond. All had gone to bed, but still the Dwarf sat in thought while gently pulling on a smooth oak pipe. His boots dried near the flames aside the house mutt, as the tired innkeeper of the Winter's Fast bolted the front door before giving Kinslammer one last drink on the house. "To help you forget.."

Looking up the bearded warrior snorted and then smiled.
"Aye, but it's remembering that I be wanting.. My thanks innkeep, now off to bed with ya. I'm sure o'r puppy in me 'll keep the thieves from descending.." He took a fresh swig then watched the aged human depart with a nod, his eyes becoming unfocused as daunting and ancient memories took hold.


Some time ago...

The light thundered through his senses, an explosion of astounding proportions blasted rock to gypsum shard leaving the troop of Dwarven sappers covered in mire and dust. With the shattered citadel walls breached, a plague of orcs, goblinoids, dark armored spawn and black veiled mages cut through the last remaining defenses that the Clan had to offer. His brothers lay swathe or dead to either side; the ancestral halls becoming stained with the taint of blood and magic. Another rippling explosion of flame and chaos dropped the young Dwarven stalwart beneath a spray of violent shrapnel. Feral claws reached downward, tearing at flesh from every direction.. Please dear Father .. No.

[Colt Kinslammer]

Farther Back.

Young Colten Kinslammer swung a pickaxe with deft skill. He was assigned to lay a new tunnel following the development of a gold vein that had surprisingly run dry several shafts above. His cousin, a new beard by the name of Grimm laughed lightly while notching a support beam a few paces back. "With the way your digging Colten, Grandfather forty feet up'll be out of work and on his backside by cavelight tomorrow.."

Grandfather was the chief excavator, a clansman of notable distinction formally titled Dain Kinslammer. This was an older dig but one of history and distinction, as even the pair's forebearers before them had worked it in their youth. Colt smiled briefly between swings, dislodging rock with an even tempo. He had been learning the path of stone and the ways of earth.. how it flaunted and hid it's supply of fresh water, jewels, minerals and resources. Like a bloodhound the young bloodline was taught how to search and estimate for certain types of stone and seek out gold, silver, ardentium and iron. They knew how the earth bonded together rock, and deposits of quartz or pyrite would hold their much sought after color.. Free flakes would be richer, carrying placer deposits of oxided nuggets and larger grain. Right now it simply came down to removing the excess granite to get that one strike closer to their prize.

Colten was also learning the proper creation of airflow, support structures, rail, crane, cart preparation and maintenance. Measurements and exaction had been ingrained into his learning as an absolute must, taking priority over the end result in it's breadth and depth. He had learned a wide variety of ways to extract mineral such as panning, sluicing, dredging and hard rock mining. Then there came the processing and refinement which the dark haired Dwarf was only now becoming accustom to.. He'd have time. Cycles of time from which to learn and hone his craft and wisdom.. or so he hoped.

[Colt Kinslammer]

The Ages Passed..

An immense cavern hall stood tall and proud like a smoothly carved fortress overlooking fields of vast plenty. Instead of grain lay the staggered levels of a rock quarry, it's flat ringed plateaus pulling forth igneous stone of quality. Roughly hewn granite slabs were raised above an earthbed of dauntless workers, winches and cranes carrying the objects up and away to the near highest levels of it's expansive volume. Stacked just below the angular ramparts of an outer citadel wall, the stone was lowered to meet the chalky shoulders and chisels of craftsmen. Here the stone would go through other processes beyond heat and cooling cycles before. Diamond tipped saws were used to shave these rough blocks into cubes by the thousands, then lifted, rolled or pulled into the halls of their ancestors.

Colten had done it all, starting as a quarry laborer to a strong fisted cutter. Hell.. he'd even spent several years in the crane. What interested him now was the pulleys, winches and leverage of such powerful tools.
Beyond that, he'd been put on banking and carving detail.. filling in occasionally on fixing the final product into the foundation measured from the design and scheme that another Grandfather Dalin had in mind. It was to be a temple. A new temple to the tireless god Cetheron, it's praise bestowed in the form of mathmatics and astute precision, blessing the god with the wisdom and ingenuity of his children.

Wiping the grind from his eye, Kinslammer the Bold adjusted his straight edge square along the rim of a stone stab. He'd been cutting and sanding all brightening and now it was time to feel the satisfaction of success. The piece fit, and even more precisely then his master had specified. "Grand." Was all the Dwarf would offer, lifting his body off the massive chiseled cube to the sawing grounds below.
He patted a nearby relative on the shoulder then made a signal to the crane operator above. They quickly embedded a lifting hook or lewis into the foremost center of the stone, forgoing a roped binding as the angle was to be layered and sealed. Standing aloft his work, Colten locked the heavy winch in place and let the crane lift himself and the granite slab an additional level upward in a labored and magnificent swooping arch over the pit to the entry bay beneath towering arches of the stronghold walls. It was a Grand Brightening indeed.

[Colt Kinslammer]

Reaching a staggering leveled peak to the plateau, the bright eyed dwarven youth landed proudly with a gentle thud. The crane operator had placed his stone of choice onto a massive flatbed rail cart and now several other brethren prepared the piece for immediate transport. It was not alone in it's destination, as half a dozen or so more slabs of cut granite were tethered longside. Being called to the halls of bank cutters and carvers, Colt snapped the supports in place as gridlike grooves blanketing the long cartbase allowed ancillary structures to be locked anywhere along it's metallic surface. It was a timeless method, making the joke of surface excavation that much more laughable. Careening at a vertical slant through ridged dwarfmade canyons of layered stone and sharp foundation, the horizontally railed cart ascended smoothly. Tucked into Colten's heavy leather belt were tools of every sort.. chisels, hammers, trowels and rulers. He took a swig of water then stared up towards their rising destination.. the cutter's workcamp. It was only one stop on a long line of rails, cranes and transport which would get these stones through the nethermost halls of the Kinslammer stronghold. The Zerdargian Empire was vast and deep as the Telath herself.. holding innumerate factions and bloodlines. So deep in fact there lay kingdoms beneath it's very door amidst the bowels of sheer darkness and falls of free flowing magma. Kinslammer was a bloodline of nobility and forged respect. At the time of Colten's youth they were considered still a lesser clan with backing and weight beyond their station. The Clan name crowned it's halls in the glory of their craft, wealth and martial prowess. .. Now...

The firegazing Dwarf emptied his last tankard, destroying the wooden bough under five fingers of enraged grip....
Now they were nothing more then a residual memory. His temper eventually cooled a degree .. lingering lost to stone and chisel.

[Colt Kinslammer]

Under the froth of mead could be seen memories that blissfully fell upon the sourness of a Dwarf. He dosed the heat of idle visions in the tankard of a long darkening.. his bed seemed to call but stubbornly Colten refused, continuing to wade thoughts through the cinders of this Tavern Hall. Scratching measurements into the table with an idle fingernail, the Craftsman feinted pleasure at the thought of calculating the width of support structures once used to house monuments devoted to Faith and Kin.
No more.. Adjourned to the tide of dark arts that crippled his home and murdered his closest blood cold. Another wave of nausea hit him in the gut like mule kick. Now was not the time for such self imposed fodder .. No, kinder devotions would serve his vigil. More Strident Thoughts.

The Halls of Kinslammer called, through ram's horn and pipes they begged him to forget.