RP: Drag Mining?

Summary

To complete a ritual to restore his shape-shifting Scandal journeys to Craughmoyle to retrieve some gold dust for his sisters Lanara and Talyara. Determined to work for his Gold Dust Scandal meets at first some resistance from the Dwarves, but also establishes some friends. Enlightened to the refining process for gold, Scandal returns victorious to his home, but also to return to Craughmoyle with a mysterious and relatively more pure than average gold sample.

Part of the Dragging the Dragon Arc

Roleplay

Scandal sat at his desk in the Adventurer's Guild Museum. Formerly he had used an office, but since the office space was not large enough to have previously suited his needs, a runic portal now possessed the room in which he had formerly used as his office. Having direct access to his home via the portal Scandal now had taken advantage of the scarcely used former broom closet as his office at the guild. His desk was neat and clean with various drawers each labeled by a single glowing rune. His house had provided him with a human guise as he now sat at his table, his feet up on his desk his nose buried in a book about Lithrydale Prospecting Records.

Scandal had been reading up on the every prospecting book he could find, in order to find the details or the reason as why his sister Lanara had told him that the next item on the list was gold dust, and why it had to be Craughmoyle grade. “It is any more significant than ore found within frostmaw, nor is it any grade less. Perhaps the trick lies within the impurities?” He asked aloud, even though no one was present. He shook his head. Here he was the Guild’s Lead Researcher and his research had come up with nothing to counter or affirm the item in question. “Gold Dust, by its own definition is ground up therefore it is a merely the dust of larger chunk as a whole.”

Scandal put down his pen where his notes had been laying and then rapping on his desk with his knuckles he pulled open the drawer on his left, with the rune shaped as a y and x pressed against each other. Putting the items in the drawer, including his pen. He then rapped the desk again with his knuckles, pushed the drawer closed and set the book down on his desk. Leaning back his chair, he allowed his eyes to close. “What am I going to do? Craughmoyle, Venturil, Frostmaw, Xailous, or Rhynvale?”

Scandal understood the concept of trust, but like any dragon of Uldenbraug, curiosity was often the killer of dragons. Scandal was no exception to that, in fact he might have been a little more susceptible to it than he might have led on. When he wasn’t out, meeting with friends, or family or exploring hollow, he was at home, reading, cataloging, and organizing, he consumed every book he got his hands on, and while he did find writing a tiresome task, he had to enjoying the comfort of servants and scribes, and thus had begun detailing his own notes. They were only notes of course, Scandal was no mage, he was no witch, and he was certainly no illusionist or spellblade, he was a fighter without a code other than his own, but he was not illiterate. Rather reading and writing and arithmetic came naturally or rather, watching the school grounds and teachers of Uldenbraug back when he was dragon chick, was certainly a different experience.

Removing his feet from the top of his desk he turned his body to face the doorway. “Why not attain all, analyze, compare and record?” He wondered out loud. “Surely there is no harm in attempting to discover the differences between the samples.” Rising from his chair, he stood up and opened the door to the broom closet, and closed it, then opening the door to his old office the portal warming up, as he entered, as it should, the spiraling vortex of crimson and violet energies spinning forth until bursting into an illustrious blue. He paused but a moment, his thoughts residing on the itch in his mind. Why not just go to Craughmoyle and be done with it? Why go to all the trouble of going everywhere and examining every single source of gold? His thoughts were present for a but a moment, and then he stepped into the gateway. His arrival at his house would be imminent, and he needed the support necessary.

Day 4: “So Lemme get this straight, a dragon of all beings comes down to Dwarves mine and says, hi there, I am need of gold dust, and i am willing to work for it. Now excuse my rudeness but isn’t that beneath dragons dignity. Aren’t they supposed to take and kill anyone who gets in there way, is not beneath dragons to work for their coin?” The Bald headed dwarf said pointing a finger around a room filled with other Dwarves before returning his finger to the chair in the center of the council, where Scandal sat in his draconian form, blood splattered on his mouth, and bruised eye. “Well, to be honest, I am not exactly a dragon, I hail from Ulden…” Scandal was cut off as a dwarf bashed his hardened fist against his snout. Scandal winced from the blow and spat the blood and a tooth from his mouth.

‘You have no right to speak here, lizard, not when my ancestors were burned in your fires, and their gold taken from them, you are a dragon, and because of this you are to die, beneath the dignity of dragons, like a common mortal!” The bald dwarf dictated.

“A question, Thane Thelgrim, the prisoner in question, did he or did he not attack the mines in question.” Spoke an Elderly dwarf male, who sat at table above the prisoners chair.

“He did not, but that is besides…” Thelgrim started until he was interrupted by the elder.

“If he did not attack the mines, did he attack any of the miners?” The Elder inquired.

“He did not. B..” Thelgrim answered unable to finish his statement revealed his anger as the blood filled his face.

“Then on what grounds, by law, was this traveler arrested for, and this meeting called for?” The elder inquired resting his hands on the table.

“The dragon was a danger….”

“If we are to begin arresting travelers simply because they are not of our race or one of our allies, how much better are we than those who sit upon Larkets throne?” the elder said his voice rising as he stood up from his table.

Several Dwarves around the room, mumbled their words of agreement.

“Thelgrim, we cannot justify an arrest simply because our ancestors suffered under a race which has very well been eradicated but for a few who remain. Did not they suffer too, were not their children gutted and their blood splattered against the flesh of their mothers who we tied down, if there sins are many, then how are we better than them if we do the same!”

The voices of agreement in room rose in voice and in numbers.

“Elder Tormor, you forget that these animals have proven themselves to time and time again only bring about more pain and suffering, Rhynvale as you all well know is plagued by these monsters on daily basis! Like them, we should exterminate all we can, even in they come to doorstep to ask for our help, can you not see there cunning, they intend to make us trust them, while they eat our infants, and gut our women, and burn our sons!” Thelgrim shouted, and smiled as he heard the sounds of others in agreement about the room. He cast his steel colored eyes in the dragon’s direction, hell bent gaze on seeing Scandal’s execution.

“Thane Thelgrim, its seems you have forgotten that as of now there is a dragon who has ruled justly in the laws of the north, to which is Frostmaw, I speak of Queen Hildegarde, how can we be certain that there are not more like her. Dragons of moral character who seek to bring peace and stability to these lands, whose is to say that this dragon to whom has asked for honest work to one day prove to be just like her, rather than the monsters of old, By our laws, I find this traveler to be exempt from the accusations laid upon him!” Elder Tormor stated with finality and struck the table with his gavel.

The room was uproar, some in favor, others against but in the hour Scandal was seated on a stone throne being washed up by other Dwarven servants, as the Elder Tormor looked on.

“I apologize for your first day in Craughmoyle to have gone so poorly, Thane Thelgrim I can assure you is the only the very most anti-dragon dwarf here.”

Scandal shrugged, as the one of the Dwarves scrubbed across his left shoulder where the he had taken a spear thrust, and had dried blood etched over the scales. “I am not sure I am surprised, I have been on the receiving end myself of other dragon’s cruelty, I can only understand that a people who were forced to fight against the dragons for so long and so long ago, would still pass on the distaste for them, it is only natural.”

Tormor took a seat across from the Scandal as he was being scrubbed down. “I did notice that you do seem to be different than most dragons I have met. You speak like a commoner, a human perhaps, not a dwarf sadly, but not a dragon either.”

Scandal winced as the one the Dwarven servants moved the sponge along his bruised right side. “Uldenbraug very much like other kingdoms and their nobility, any emergence of scandal or bastard child, and it is the offspring who suffers.”

Tormor indicated with the nod of his head. The Tormor was old easily approaching his seven and tens. His hair was white, and his skin had begun to wrinkle. He already was bent slightly with his age, he walked with staff, under closer examination which was in fact the shaft of his war-hammer, with the hammerhead having been shrunk to fit the top of his cane. “Such is the common place in every kingdom. I am sure you will need some time to recover from your ordeal, my house is open to you, as is my table.” Scandal leaned forward as the servants worked on his back. “Thank you sir.”

Tormor nodded. “Do ye have a name?”

Scandal nodded, though he chose to refrain from using the name he was commonly recognized by. “It’s Ashiouz.”

Tormor reflected on the name. “Well then Ashiouz, welcome to the House of Tormor, I hope that when you are well, we might re-discuss the business by which you came to our mines.” Tormor rose from his seat, and moved towards the entrance to the great hall of his house, my servants will alert you when dinner beckons.

Scandal watched the elderly dwarf leave, his eyes already feeling heavy from the fighting, and the trial that occurred today let alone the brutal beating he had experienced under what presumed to have been members of the House of Thelgrim. As soon as the servants had cleaned him, and had presented him with some guest robes, which ended at his knees because they were made for Dwarves, even if perhaps that Tormor or at least the members of his house were above average for a Dwarves, Scandal was shown to a stone bed with comfortable mattress and warm fur blankets while a fire at the end of the bed was having the grate to be placed upon it. As he leaned his head against the pillow he thought to himself. “What day it has been.”

Later that night:

It was the sounds of merriment that caused Scandal to awake from his sleep. Sound of feasting and no doubt brawling’s as he heard from beyond the large bronze doors. As he sat up he felt the blow he had taken to his shoulders only earlier that morning, and he winced as he sat up. Briefly putting weight down the back of his tail. A most uncomfortable position so he turned his body to the side allowing the weight to be taken off of it. As he turned his body allowing his feet to touch the stone cold floor, he was surprised by its warmth. Even back at Scrathulclaw hall despite its heating by columns of lava, its floor had remained cold. Slipping off the bed and moving down, he pressed his right against the floor feeling for the source of heat. Sure enough, heat was rising from micro lines of metallic bronze woven between the stone floor. Beneath surely was either a fire, or something or other. “Ingenious.”

As he rose from his crouch by the floor. He moved toward a wash bin. An assorted amount of cloths that were laid out along with a bar of soap, and a kettle to pour out hot-water into the bole while a pitcher sat nearby with condensation clinging to its metal shape, clearly very cold. Mixing the two he prepared a hot but not boiling bowel of water and prepared to wash his hands and arms as and face as he prepared, to join the party outside. As he finished washing his hands he pressed the hot cloth to his face and breathed. The cloth warmth felt like a refreshing wave of calm expanding out from his face and to his head. As he turned to leave the comfort of his guest bedroom, and moved into the guest wings living quarters, he was surprised to see a pair of fine clothes folded over the chair. A note was attached and has he reached for it he opened the note and read it aloud. “Ashiouz, my extended family chose to drop by, and i have been forced to prepare a feast for them and to entertain them, you are welcome to join as you are a guest in my house, but please be aware that not all my family is so relaxed with dragons, if you are able to shape-shift, the presence will be most welcome, for human is more palatable in our midst than a dragon, however do not feel forced to take this form, if you wish i can have my servants provide food and ale within your quarters, and you may continue to rest, however if you should choose to join us, please be aware that, not all share in my patience of you.”

Scandal glanced down at the clothes and then back to note. Then not willing to disappoint, he took the clothes and stepped in front of the mirror. He was surprised at first how well they fit, all accept for the boots and and the hat. Turning the note over he discovered that when he had been in a holding cell a day prior, a tailor had taken his measurements for the prison garb, and now those same measurements had been used to produce these garments. He let a small smile tease at the corners of his mouth. “Something bad exchanged for something good.” He said trying to place the fur hat on his head, as he moved toward the doors that separated him from the great hall, and thus also the banquet hall.

As he entered the Great Hall he took note that much like Scrathulclaw hall, Dwarves despite their size seemed to enjoy vast open rooms, with high ceilings. Granted those within this house were not nearly to same scale as Scrathulclaw hall was, but he did smile at the feeling of not being crushed into a small space.

As he opened the door on his right he tried to slip in unnoticed. But as with most dragons, slipping in unnoticed is relatively impossible.

Day 5:

“Haha, Fireworm ya may be, but if ya can out drink ole Strosout, you’re mighty fine in my book.”

Scandal sat on his bed, his bare feet against the hot grate he wore a the robes he had worn to the party the night before, his eyes were tired but in his hand the massive tankard continued to slosh with mead. Across from him at a table six Dwarves three of whom had since had passed out from the mead, with two on their route to dream-land and lastly a large blonde bearded dwarf, with bright blue eyes and wide grin across his face, as he continued to drink away the meade.

Scandal was seeing in a mild blur his vision swimming from the meade. What had started out awkward and full of expectation of distrust, had for while at first been met with a begrudging tolerance and exchange of words intolerance, had spun around when the dwarf Strosout had challenged Scandal to duel of drinks.

By his 37th tankard Scandal had remained standing, while the Dwarves had begun to bet, and as far as gold was concerned, if they could make some money off the two drinking, they would. As Scandal had grown more loose tongued from the meade, he begun to poke fun in the direction of of Dwarves who had only just three tankards before started to poke jovial fun at the dragon.

“How do you walk around with that big tail of yours, does it trip you much?” One dwarf had verbally taunted with a laugh.

“I dunno, does your beard trip you?” Scandal had replied with snort.

“Never could tell a dragon from being male to female, how do they know which is which?”

“Oh we know, i just not sure how you can tell your males from females what with the beards and all.”

Scandal had enjoyed himself, as well had the Dwarves. In some ways he had astounded them with his openness to discuss what other dragons would have been tight lipped about. In return for his transparency it had seemed that those of the House of Tormor, had returned with a transparency of their own. His thoughts returned to the moment at hand as the dwarf spoke.

“So, if ye not be to slurred of tongue and thought, what was this manner of you come down to our Craughmoyle?” the bearded dwarf asked taking yet another drink of his meade.

“Oh i can still think, sp’eak maybe “hic” not so much. I wanted to get some gold dust, so i thought I would try my hand at working for it.” Scandal said trying to shake the slurred speech from his jaws.

“A dragon, wants to work for his gold?” The dwarf said, and then silence. Then the dwarf fell out of his chair laughing. “Dragon mining for gold, ha ha hah!”

The doors swung open and Tormor entered, “Grab your pickaxe then let's do some digging, before breakfast.”

1 hour later:

Each swing of the axe made scandal feel that he was striking his own skull. The headache of drunkard, was a mighty one, typically quenched by consuming more, but at this point he had had his fill of mead for the week.

Every swing of his axe broke away large sections of the wall. It was all he could do to keep them rocks from falling or collapsing on his feet or his tail.

“I am not a dwarf, I am not a dwarf, I am not a dwarf, i am a dragon, and dragons have tails to keep safe.” He mumbled to himself just as one of the Dwarves rang in his ear. “Oy give us a minute to put support beams in place or you libel to start a cave in.”

Scandal’s grimaced, as the sound set off his headache again. “Hard enough to work when your always in pain from shape-shifting failing to work, but having a headache with it…” He shook his head resting his pickaxe as Dwarves were allowed a minute to carry away the stones, and place support beams in the tunnel, he had carved, almost 15’ beyond their support. 45’ covered in just under an hour.

As the Dwarves cleared the rubble and put in the supports. Scandal moved toward the water bucket. Taking the ladle in his hand and lifting it to his mouth to take a drink from the cool water, he turned his gaze towards the miner’s refinery.

Rubble was loaded onto to a moving platform which would send the rocks through a series of grinders. As the rocks were ground up into a fine dust, they were then dispensed into a large vat where the powder was melted down. A team of Dwarves would be hand working a large blowers, and forcing the slag powder to separate from the raw materials, the molten metals would then be sifted of the remaining impurities.

“If I might ask, how pure is the gold when its been finely processed?” Scandal asked one of Dwarves overseeing the refining.

“Twenty four karats, that's 1000 parts per thousand refined gold.” the dwarf said.

“So that’s pure gold, the most pure right?” Scandal asked in regards for verification.

“Yes, and no. When measuring for a thousand parts per thousand yes, it is pure gold. But this process is used virtually anywhere there is a mine, back when dragons did the refining they used to do it in the 10 thousand parts per 10 thousand for even more refined quality, but that method was lost to us, and the gold became much to soft to even work with.” The dwarf said after some time. He then motioned back towards the house of Tormor, and Scandal followed as the breakfast bell had likely already been rung.

“So what would a sample of such gold even be worth?” Scandal inquired as they walked.

“Such a quality has not been seen in over hundred thousand years, I could argue a sample as such would go be traded for the same price as any other gold unless it was being traded to someone who knew its value. Then of course the value of that sample of gold would be many times the exponential value of regular gold. But even then the process to make that gold, and that sample, would make anyone who had the single wealthiest being in the last hundred thousand years.” The dwarf continued but then looked at him strangely. “Why you think you found a sample?”

Scandal stopped for a moment. Thinking for a moment. Then smiling. “Yeah, I think i have, but before I give it up, I am going to need some gold dust.”

Day 7: Scandal walked back to his house. Over his shoulder of sac of refined Craughmoyle Gold Dust ready to be used in a ritual to heal him. He would write to his sisters, and then he would would to return to Craughmoyle with the sample. Scandal had a future again, and this time, he’d have some fun making it.

“It's going to be so much fun, doing this the traditional way.” Scandal laughed to himself as he opened the door to his house.