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The distance was covered in only a few minutes, each and everyone of them felt by the biting cold that nibbled at the heels of Lucian. He could see Nightshade, his beast who had carried him across these slopes, breathing a cloud from its nose like it was a chimney. Lucian had heard that the horses of Bretonnian Knights were something other, but to think that Nightshade had gotten this far without even a complaint about the cold air around them only demonstrated the breeding that had gone into such a mighty beast.
Looking up Lucian saw that what was once an odd speck upon the mountain was indeed many times larger than he imagined. It was the entrance to the Mountain Home that was roughly the size of a manor house, but smaller than the Bretonnian Castles that Lucian had seen across the mountain side.
Such a thing made sense to the Knight. If he understood the world that Dwarfs lived in was underneath this gate. While it looked like a small fortress at the top there was an entire civilization below it.
It was then, as Lucian gazed at the ramparts while standing at the head of the party a horn was sounded. It was a mighty one that caused a rumbling in the snow underneath Lucian’s feet.
“Halt!” Declared a Dwarf who was wearing the silver armor of the Dwarfen people. While not large in stature it did not rob the Dwarf of the beard whose length was close to the floor he stood upon. Upon his back was a mighty waraxe that was the length of his person, and Lucian knew that the Dwarf could cut a man in twine with a single strike by it. He spoke in an accent that reminded Lucian of Adolf Wigmar’s, “You have approached Karak Ziflinn in troubled times. State your purpose or face Grimnir’s wrath!”
Lucian looked towards Adok, the Dwarf keeping his head close to his chest and covered by the scarf. His song had died out but there was no movement to answer the call of the Dwarf who stood above them. As the Lizardman was not expected to talk to these people Lucian brought Nightshade forward.
“I am Lucian the Durand of Verac, Knight Errant of Bretonnia! We have come to the Grey Mountains seeking a path northwards away from the turmoil of the Lowlands.” Lucian shouted at the top of his lungs, making sure that his chest showed to their judge, “Can you grant us entry from this icy wind?”
Lucian noticed it near instantly. He could hear the chatter even from his spot as the Dwarfs caught a full glimpse of the symbol emblazon upon his armor’s chest. Lucian did not know the spoken language of the Dwarfs, but he knew that the rune was causing an uproar amongst the soldiery.
