Matthew
*It was the elves of Felfatheas that often told stories of the northern mountains, namely those adventurous travelling bards and artists venturing through the Lilac Forest and into that frigid vista. They sing of constant icy chills; snow and hail blanketing all that could be seen; hardy beasts both vicious and steadfast. Songs of the Firebeards and their resplendent Rougemont, of which deep secrets are hidden behind their ornate doors and locks.

But few sing of the desolate wastes beyond, Khalvir Range and the treacherous mountains that kiss the world's end. Nor do they tell tales of the Ironhammers, and their solemn Hearth.*
Manuel
*It was this long-forgotten citadel that Gitroki called home - at least *Had* Called home years ago. A coming-of-age tradition turned special assignment, the dwarven marksman had not had a true homecoming since he was embedded in Miller Dale on his 19th. There had been short returns for supplies, and hushed exchanges near the border of his family's 'projects', but with the raid on Miller Dale by Nerdrat and his cohorts... He had much to report.*
"Agh, the trail's frozen over this year... Gonna need to send a party out."
Stanley
Llew boots crunched on icy ground. A tattered brown cloak blowing in the wind to reveal his recently patched farming clothing. He had stayed in town far longer then he thought he would, what happened was... Exhausting. He shuddered, terrifying even. He could of died?! He frowned, then smiled, on the other, the town was still standing. He got to rest on the most comfortable of beds and feasted for a bit. Most importantly they were safe... What he was most proud of, he would of done the same for his homeland, and hoped his farmstead never faced such horror, and if it dead, others would be there as he was to save it.

He then sighed, alas, back on the road, pie in hand. He did SUCH a good job delivering the first, that someone wanted this pie delivery service to some keep. His teeth chattered as a cold wind blew by, tightening the pie to his back in its own little satchel. He was getting payed to do it, and he sure as heck was going to, but after this? Straight home, this was enough adventure. Surely Mum and Da would allow him back? His dreams kept getting more vivid, swirling colors and raging elements, it was probably all this adventure. He snorted then raised his brow, who was that up ahead?

He came to a stop, eyes up, a dwarf?! Was that a remnant of those bandits and ransackers? He stared for a moment, then brows went up in recognition, wait, that was the one that Old Mister Lir introduced him too. He smiled and kept walking, glad to be safe, and tipped his hat down. Best not bother the mister, he was a grumpy sort last he saw. He fell in behind, staying about 15 feet behind. Funny how they were traveling the same path... Perhaps he too was going to this keep. His eyes looked about the path, or at noises that came at random, pausing at those, then started back to moving. Sometimes humming as he walked.
Manuel
*It didn't take long for Gitroki to notice Llew, he wasn't a stealthy sort. A moment of panic washed over him, hoping he hadn't been tailed from the raid a few days back... He unslung his crossbow, winding it tight and stepped over one of the snow-blighted hills.*

"Hey! What're ya' doin' this far from Miller Dale, son? Is that a pie?!"
*He barked down with rising confusion, brow furrowing as he began his slow descent from the incline.*
Stanley
*Llew kept his march, crunch crunch. You know, he thought dwarves would move slower, but no, Master Gitroki was marching right long. He sighed, keeping his pace, it was harder then he thought. He looked down, then up, as he walked. Then up and he was gone. He paused for a minute, head tilting and looking about... D-did he just vanish?! His brows slowly went up, oh no, it was time to go. He went to turn around when he heard the words. He put his hands in the air, which also were holding the pie. He may die, but he sure wasn't going to let his employer down with a lack of PIE.

He nodded hastily. *"Y-yes Mr. Gitroki sir, M-misses Pumpkinbottoms was a wee bit delighted at me work ya see, wanted me ta get ta hoofin anotha pie ova before I went yonda."* He explained very quickly and motioned toward the road where he was going... If that was the right direction? He sure hoped so.

*"Go ova ta some keep, n-nay ment ta follow ya, vary sorry."* He stated and bowed, arms still up above his head, but hand flipping the pie so he didn't spill it, Pumpkinbottoms wasn't his Mom, but his Mom was good with a spoon, he had a feeling Pumpkin was quite the same despite her being half his size. 

He looked up nervously *"P-pumpkin pie."* He resisted the urge to smile, his lips twitching, keeping a neutral gaze besides for having wide eyes of fear
Manuel
"Pumpkinbottoms...? Ah. *Her.* You're headin' to Hearth's Keep. That's where I'm goin' too, so you're walkin' with me anyway. Stick by me, you'll be safer."
*His confusion turned to knowing amusement at the mention of that name, the young dwarf chortling to himself as he muttered the name and about delivering pies to himself.*

"Pumpkin pie... Done this before, farmer?"
*He would ask after a few minutes stroll, glancing back to his reluctant companion as he replaced a bolt in his weapon.*
Stanley
Nodded as he spoke, blinking, that was the name? Hearth's Keep? Guess so, he nodded a couple more times. Eyes widened, he nodded then brows furrowed slightly. He was happy on the other... Mr. Gitroki seemed a grumpy sort, on the other, he would be more grumpy to any that tried anything.

After a moment he relaxed and shrugged, he smiled and put his arms down, and jogged a little to file in more behind the dwarf. He grunted and bobbed his head.

*"Aye Mr. Gitroki sir, came ova to the Mill ye see ta deliver a pie for the festival... Seems impressed the old miss and she strong armed me ta deliverin more o' 'er goodies."* He stated with a lopsided smile, he dared not speak of the threats Old Miss Pumpkinbottom threatened him with telling any young woman with a daughter about his age that he was single. He knew too well that game, his Mother played it back home along with every other Farm mother like a bunch of hens, and after the events and his 'heroics'? It was enough of a threat to get his legs pumping quickly out of town. He shuddered, woman were devious, not to mention the other threats, like writing too his family to hire him permanently. He wanted to go home! Not be a pie deliverer!?

He frowned with a big breath in, then a sigh.

*"If ye ask me though, tink it more of an excuse ta book town, them generous folk and make me feel bad ta stay any longa, abusin thar poor good will."* He said frowning, another truth, how long could he lollygag about without a job? Needed a few days rest but after, already itching for work, or something to do, either work in town or get out of it. 

He was quiet for a few minutes, silence wearing on him, nor did he want to be rude, he swallowed and motioned forward.

*"Why ya headin ova to that far yonda?"* He asked curiously, examining a far off peak with wide eyes of wonder
Manuel
"...I caught pie, gettin' strong-armed into deliveries an' somethin' about goodwill? I'd guess most'd be stayin' inside after what happened, maybe helpin' out with the rebuildin'. Yer' a brave one, son - some o' those Ironhammers escaped, ya' know? They could be on this road."
Gitroki smirked, raising eyebrows at Llew's story about his recent endeavours. He expected there was something more to this particular delivery, especially if Llew's benefactors had hurried him along as he seemed to believe. 

The path began to widen out once more, the stark cliffs rolling into a shallow valley. A sea of dark green bordered the sides of the basin, evergreen trees feather-dusted with long settled snow. As the valley rose once more, it stopped short upon the horizon - the looming black shape against the pale sky impeding the landscape.*
"There it is. I'm headin' home, you see. Gotta report that occurence in town with the warlock and his compatriots. I ain't interested in their plans o' hurtin' the innocent folk, an' if this was sanctioned by the Grandmaster... I'll be havin' words, to put it lightly."
Stanley
Llew nodded as Gitroki spoke, knee's bending more up and down the slopes. He could imagine his old man complaining about his knee's already.

*"Aye Mr. Gitroki sir... Aye, that they did, gotta get home sometime, Ironhammers or not..."* He said then swallowed.

*"Some otha's back then a wee bit more scary, nay wanna meet them on these parts still... Nay got much but this here pie."* He said motioning to it with a nervous chuckle, smile fading, he really, really hoped he was wrong. He had enough of adventure, yet it was seeming to find him now, scary thought.

His neutral expression broke to a smile at the view, at least adventure had its benefits. Beautiful sights. He stopped to marvel a moment, cloak flapping in his face didn't even bother him as he stared across the valley, and a the black shape in the distance, eyes peering, but darn it was bright up here with all that snow, squinting barely helped. Then eyes widening.

He looked back as he listened, face paling. Gitroki was one of those Ironhammers?! He stared a moment, a grunt.

*"Ya be an Ironhamma then Mr. Gitroki... Sir?"* He asked looking him over warily, perhaps he should be more careful, he held the pie closer, well, he could of shot him and taken the pie, and Mr. Gitroki was around to help. He frowned he relaxed a little, that would be a bit rude, and he was helping against such. He frowned as he looked at the pie. Dwarven lands were truly strange. Then back up to the keep.

*"Home..."* He muttered, a sudden pained longing at the word then nodding as he stared at the black shape in the distance, he had heard old stories as a kid, yet from all he seen, stories never did them justice. He got to walking soon as Gitroki got moving, he did have a pie to deliver afterall, no reason to be suspicious of one when he had only had a few silver in the pouch and a pie in his hands. Especially when he could of done such long time ago.
Manuel
"Aye, one of Nonika's faithful. I've heard the stories those Firebeards tell, of our sort driven mad from isolation an' worshippin' demons. Apparently Nerdrat's sort 'ave been givin' credence to those rumours... But we're not like that. The Firebeards are descendants of those who stayed, an' worked for the blood mages. They only get a pass now since they looked the other way when they were defeated."
*Gitroki nodded at Llew's question, half-expecting the man to run away at such confirmation. Seeing as he didn't, his tone turned bitter as he explained further. Spending so much time hearing the outside world's perception of them hadn't helped his attitude towards the surface dwarves improve, but at the very least he'd learned not to blame the residents outside of the upper echelons of their society.*

"Where's your home, son? Oh, what's your name anyway? Must've missed it on our first meetin'"
*The conversation shifted as Gitroki realised he was prattling on again, raising an arm and waving slowly to the looming structure. A small, long flagpole could be seen raised up, the flag of the Ironhammers slowly climbing it and waving back slowly.*
Stanley
Llew brows rose as he listened, demon worshipers?! His brow furrowed, he was going to jump to conclusions, but he highly doubted that if Mister Gitroki was one he would do such... Fire beards with blood mages? Weren't those super bad people? He looked up in thought then back down. Continuing his trek with the dwarf. Chewing his cheek in thought, dwarves had such a dark history... Did humans? He looked down at this.

He looked up as he was addressed, blinking away and banishing his day dreaming state.

*"Ah, ye know them golden fields mista? I be out far that a way on a little homestead... Well, was."* He gave a soft smile, a glance at the fort and homesickness hit again, eyes tightening as he continued *"Llew Mista Gitroki sir, sorry, taught I told, but a big mess it was eh?"* He stated, grin turning more sheepish as he bowed his head.

His gaze followed the motion, looking over the flag. He stared a moment, quiet... But if he stayed quiet, Mr. Gitroki would ask more questions? He was nice enough to let a poor farmer come along, best not keep the silence.

*"Did ye grow up in that thar fort?"* He asked with a bob of his head, eyes still wide as he got closer, it was massive, and getting bigger. Giants could of built that... Would that mean dwarves were just smaller giants? It was like a craft, could forts be a craft? He was once more lost in thought and fantasy as he walked along, sometimes stumbling in his day dreaming state. A smile of wonder on his face, he almost forgot he was holding a pie and being chilled to the bone on a mountain. He motioned to the flag too.

*"That ye flag?"* He asked just as curiously, giving it a look over of wonder, it was like an entire kingdom... And all he heard was that dwarves lived in the mountains, not at all, they RULED them.
Manuel
"Llew, eh? Ostian name if I'd ever heard one.. 'Aven't been that far out, Dark Ire makes the trip trouble. Still got your folks waitin'?"
*The mention of home softened the grumbling dwarf, a terse smile forming as he nodded along. While not near-immortal like the elves were, dwarves lived a very long time. Being without one's great-great grandfather was a rare occurence, meaning one was never far from family within these halls. But being apart from his society had taught him the loneliness that all mortal folks must feel. 

The flag slowly retreated behind the heavy walls, the impenetrable gates visibly rattling as their mechanisms unlocked and unravelled. A pair of dwarves shuffled out from it, barely visible from this distance.*

"Aye, I did. Helped maintain the walls, guard those palisades, hunt around these forests. If I could, I'd return to those halls permanently, but I've a job to do. That's the classic flag, represents our matron saint. We've got more threatenin' ones, with big grey towers and black backgrounds' 'n such, but the fireplace on a silver back is the original."
Stanley
Llew nodded at his name, a lopsided grin, a was a good name in his opinion, of course. It was his name, so a good name. His eyes tightened at the question. He shook his head.

*"Folks nay want me back... Not until I got me some stories ta tell."* He said simply, looking down, a sick feeling in his gut, then back up as Git started to talk again, nodding along. A sad smile, it seems, even others suffer his fate.

He looked up to the flag as he went. *"Why two flags?"* He asked curiously, slowing down as they got closer to the fort. He was right, massive, utterly massive, like a city... Maybe dwarf cities were forts. He swallowed and looked about, he mentioned forests...

*"Ye say job, wot it be? Ye a hunta?"* He asked curiously as he went along, eyes back to wide and watching.
Manuel
"Stories, eh? Got any yet?"
*A smirk formed on his frost-touched lips, giving Llew a once-over. He still looked the part of a farmhand, but the notion of a farmer's boy braving the harshest parts of the Northern Mountains to deliver a pie... Yes, that was a step in the right direction. The valley began to rise underfoot once more, the citadel looming further and further into the sky; soon to blot out the sun from above them.*

"One for peace, one for war. The war flag 'asn't been flown for generations, long 'fore I was around. Now its only used during skirmishes, hastily done."
*He explained stiffly, supposing that Llew had no interaction with his kingdom's politics in the slightest. It was only a small number of elite that handled it, anyway; unlike his hold where all citizens had their say.*
"...I'm a spy, in short. Livin' in Miller Dale to pick up intel on the Firebeards. Rumours, new developments. Got folks in the castle bringing more interestin' stuff to me, I pass along ya' see?"
Stanley
Llew glanced over, then forward, stories... He frowned. The goblins... Miller dale, a run in on the way.

*"I got one or two... Like travelin with a masked druid seekin 'er fellows, a goblin raid... Miller Dale."* He shook his head with a shudder, nasty business *"You Mista Gitroki got much more me tinks stories ta tell then a simple farmer as me, me tinks."* He stated with a grin, then looking to the flag as it was passed by, muttering what as told back to him, makes sense in a way.

His head whipped over, eyes wide, a spy?! The fire and Iron did not get along it seems. He nodded, brows going up slowly, that group of dwarves made much more sense now. Much more sense...

He nodded then looked at the fort again as they walked, a shudder as a chill wind passed by, but why... Halfling... That was why? *"M-Mr. Gitroki sir, 'ow are we ta get in?"* He asked as they got closer, bringing the pie to his chest, it was somehow warmer then him. He frowned, then shrugged, why should he worry if he's a spy? He was a human, dwarf issues were not his business, good to know though, nor would he betray that trust that was given. Bad manners that was. 

He came to a stop to shiver for a moment, then kept going, it was getting harder to see with how massive it was, blotting out the sun, THE SUN. He stared in awe.
Manuel
"...Not the fun sort o' stories, then. 'Cept that druid, elven I'm guessin'? I ain't got many excitin' ones yet, Miller Dale's a quiet town."
*The young dwarf grumbled back, waving a calloused hand Llew's way at his rising concerns around their entrance. The incline had petered out by now, the vaguely flat snow surrounding the towering walls lain evenly against their stark profile. The two dwarves were paler than what Llew would have seen of the usual roaming dwarves, a sharp contrast with Gitroki's ruddy complexion. 

He approached first, muttering something in archaic dwarvish and pointing to his farmhand companion. The taller of the pair gave him a once-over, furrowing his brow at the pie, but seemed to have no problems as he nodded to the other guard. The doors were rapped against with heavy knuckles, the pulleys squeaking under the strain of the looming gateway.*
"Follow me, and keep close. You got a name fer' that pie?"
*Gitroki barked, peering at whatever contained the pastry for any tag or marker of the intended recipient. He knew where it was supposed to go, but these sorts of rituals were important to the Ironhammers...*
Stanley
Llew shook his head *"Human... Short, about ye height and just as wide Mista Gitroki Sir." *

He stated and lowering the pie to his height to represent it before nodding. Eyes narrowing slightly in jealously, but no, here he was, stuck delivering pies... All in an attempt to gather enough stories to return home.

He had slowed to look things over, distracted from his darker thoughts, eyebrows slowly raised. This was like walking into a story book. He stopped as Git went to talk in dwarvish to the two other dwarves. He was so lost in amazement that he almost forgot to look over, pale, but most certainly tough looking. He blinked, realizing he was staring and wandered over.

He smiled and bowed his head to the guards. Holding the pie out for them to see. No intended marker save for a small tag on a frayed string that had 'FB' on it. 

Llew slowly nodded, mouth open in amazement at the gate, a smile forming, he couldn't wait to tell his dad about this. He blinked, didn't Gitroki ask about the pie. He looked back down then to the pie then back to Gitroki.

*"Oh aye Mista Gitroki Sir, Sir Forgebreaka."* He stated and motioned to the pie and giving a grin, then back to watching the door, then falling in line to follow Gitroki, otherwise, acting like a highly distracted child in his amazement in watching, and like a duckling in following close by. Mouth still open in shock. A real dwarven city... Wow, a small part of him was relieved of some of his anger at being forced to leave home... This was amazing!
Manuel
"Huh, that's a short man. An' I got big bones son, it's a dwarven thing."
*The marksman snapped, raising a finger skyward and drawing a circle twice, pointing through the slowly opening doors. The two wardens shared a glance, one smirking at the other as they passed inside, both pairs of eyes following Llew. A deafeaning slam of stone against stone thundered out from the entrance, the doors ceasing their grinding movement as they settled against their iron-wrought mechanisms. 

The pathway ahead of them was long; wide enough for three wagons to travel down in a row; and impossibly tall. Torch sconces lined the walls, barely lighting the runemarked stone.*
"Forgebreaker, hm? Didn't think that clan had any outside connections anymore... Eh, I'm sure they'll explain. Keep up, Llew! And congratulations, you're the first human in generations to pass through these halls. Nonika's blessings on ya'."
*Gitroki called as he increased the pace, glancing back with a bright grin as he raised a holy symbol on a thick chain for him to see - A golden fireplace on a silver coin-shaped backing.*
Stanley
Llew nods *"Errr, well, it be a girl Mista Gitroki Sir."* He stated, nodding a couple more time. He raised a brow at the finger, then looking from one guard, to the next. His brows furrowed, he did not like this stare... On the other, not like one could get much off of him if they wanted anything.

He as distracted by the slam, jolting a little, eyes widening. What were those marks on the stone? It was so dark, yet lit... Strange. He looked back to Gitroki. He nodded, coming to a jog to keep up then almost stumbling. The first human in generations?! GENERATIONS?! His eyes widened and mouth dropped as he tried to stamper a response and just bowed.

*"T-tank ye for the 'onor! Who be Nonika? Acceptin this blessin."* He looked about again, he was already appreciative, now even more so, the first in generations. He laughed, he was going to take in EVERYTHING.

*"Gosh Mista Gitroki Sir, first in generations? Thats... Wow."* He blathered on, following along but ultimately distracted and smiling, a shocked expression on his face. What more could he do but be awed and walk with Gitroki? Disappearing ever deeper into the dwarven hall, forgetting that the door would close behind him, forgetting that in a long time. He would be the first human in a long time to go where, likely, no other human has ever gone. He almost forgot he was farmer, just for a moment, what farmer walks through mountain halls anyway?
Manuel
"Gonna have'ta be more specific, son. Got a few women in tha' Forgebreaker clan. Younger or older?"
*Gitroki shot the question back, curious to how much the old woman had revealed to their new accomplice. The cyclopean pathway seemed to stretch on endlessly, the low torchlight revealing little. But a warm light far brighter than them loomed ahead, slowly opening up into a far larger space. The stifling air seemed to disperse in the transition, as if they'd stepped outside once more - but the chill didn't pick up, the temperature almost warming instead.*

"Behold, child of Ostia, our matron's Hearth."
*Speaking with far more pomp than normal, Gitroki waved a wide arm in gesture to the expanse before them. What lay ahead was a vast cavern, hewn from stone and iron instead of bare rock. 

Torches illuminated the thousands of outcroppings like fireflies amongst a mountain taiga, the tiny outlines of individuals traversing these ledges and doors making it clear just how many these numbered. 
Granite walkways connected these outcroppings, linked by risen towers that almost floated through the massive centre. Below was a similar sea of small dwarves, filing through the darkened paths below the islands. 

Homesteads, market stalls, smithies and banks... While a pattern could be recognised, at first glance it was a cacophony of civilisation; the low din of society that rumbled through them offering no help in deciphering it.*
"I'll explain lady Nonika on the way, it'll be clear as we walk anyway."
Stanley
Llew blinked *"Wot? Oh nay, the druid was a woman, the pie is for a couple, Mr. Blackstone Forgebreaker and Gemini Icetomb."* He stated with a couple of nods, then back back to his distraction of the pathway, totally entranced as he walked then back to Git.

*"Goes on for a bit eh?"* He stated, but grinning, excitement on his face as he walked. Then came to a stop as the two walked out to witness the cavern. Truely out of a tale... A tale, he was now in. He stared in wonder, even a tear to his eye, a chuckle or two.

*"Thats... Thats amazin..."* He said without noticing. This place was so different then his own, an entire race, buried under stone. Not even seeing the light of day. Not living in wood, or castles of stone, but houses of stone, and forts of iron. Path ways of iron, its liked the cavern was forced by their own hands, like they are the earth. He nodded dumbly, not walking yet though for a bit before he got walking.

He could already hear the rumbling, he had been to a human city or two, but never something like this, and it was... Incredible, amazingly fantastic. He laughed again, truely a mystical tale, he would have to thank his employer, this was a true gift, and something he would not be able to repay, or even put into a fancy song like one of those bards. Just to witness. Maybe speak of one day, of what lies under the mountains up-north and its beauty.

*"Thank you."* He spoke after a bit as he walked, almost dropping the pie in his awe before tightening it to him, his task much more important, pie or not.
Manuel
"Ah, sorry. Assumptions. I know the couple, aye. Young'uns, barely 40 years - not that I'm one to talk, I'm a babe in comparison."
*Gitroki chortled lightly, pushing through the swelling crowd as he made a path for his human companion. Most folks simply grumbled back and moved, though some noticed the marksman's company and glared as Llew passed. Hushed mutterings rose through the din, fingers pointed at the pair. 

But these sounds soon died away as they passed beneath one of the looming outcroppings, the warm glow replaced with shadows illuminated in patches by closer torches. Shouting and the rattle of coin grew loud, the source being the myriad of stalls and market fronts lining the sides and centre of the pathway. 

Llew would also notice something about the dwarves: Most were like Gitroki, deeply tanned and sporting jet black hair or a chocolate brown. But a choice few were like the warden at the entrance; pale-skinned with blonde or pale white hair. Some of these ashen individuals regarded Gitroki more warmly than the others, bowing and exchanging Old Dwarvish as they passed.*
"Eh? No problem, son. Ya' trekked all the way here, might as well show ya' the works. I'll get ya' somethin' on tha' way back, you'd never tried pastries like these."
Stanley
Llew shook his head *"Ye be fine Mista Gitroki Sir... Forty be young? Gosh golly, be almost dead at that point... And ye but a babe?"* He said with wide eyes, nodding at folk as he passed by, or gave sheepish smiles at the glares. It seemed he wasn't as wanted as he thought. He follows Gitroki to get through the crowd, it caused some anxiety it was so packed, crowded.

Llew let out a breath of relief at the shadows, he was beginning to sweat, but the breath out stuck half way, others were coming, the shout and rattle of coin. He thought it interesting, so close to home in a sense, yet so different...

He tilted his head at the pale dwarves that passed by, why were they friendlier? He was interrupted in his thought by Git speaking again. He smiled, which got wider as he coughed. 

*"Errr, actually, if nay mind Mista Gitroki Sir, I would nay mind takin a peak at the forges, I 'ear stories that thar great 'orks and would be 'onored ta see them if that would be ok? Pastries are fine and all and wouldn't mind, but ta see ye metal 'orks and crafts would be mighty fine."* He stated with a bow of his head as he looked about again, if they could shape mountains, then the stories must be true, he firmly believed they could shape metal just as easily.

His grin widened, and he would be the first in a long time to see... This was an adventure, more so then anything he's done before in some ways.
Manuel
"Dwarves live too long, boy. I'm only 23, barely an adult. 'd say I've got a hundred and spare years to go, but anythin' could happen... An' I can take ya' there, sure. First we'll stop by my clan's workshop, gotta get the finished product fer' this."
*The dwarf called back, tapping the long metal-and-wood cylinder slung on his back, beside his crossbow. Llew would have never seen anything like it, but recognised the smell of sulphur... 

Slowing his pace as they reached a crossroads, he glanced between their paths. One wound upwards, a stone ramp that connected to the tower above them; looming like a fruiting mushroom. The other continued along, inclining into a shallow cavern that gently spiralled. His eyes darted between them, quickly waving a hand to Llew and following the ramp.*
"Forgebreaker clan stays near the forges below, obviously. But the Icetomb clan are old - older the clan, the closer you're to nobles. So the couple live along the wall, near the mausoleum. My folks live below as well, so we'll head that way soon.*
*Gitroki explained, pointing along the path and towards the wall in question - focusing on the frost-ridden section near the back of the expanse.*
Stanley
Llew's eyes widdened and snapped to Gitroki. Twenties was barely an adult?! That would make him... Gosh golly. If he was a kid back home, he might as well be a babe here. He nodded and blinking, live so long... Wonder if it got lonely living that long? No wonder elves and dwarves and all the others seperate. He frowned, he could only imagine the pain of watching a friend grow old and dying, and on the other, growing old and watching your friend still be right as rain. He looked down in thought at this.

He looked back up at mention of product, looking to the contraption on Git's back, head tilting slightly, the quick sniff of sulfur... Was it egg related? He looked it over curiously, maybe it was an egg thing?

He didn't have time to ask, opening his mouth as Git launched into speaking, he blinked, realizing as he swiveled his head to look about, they were at a new section. He looked left, right, up and down. Nodding as he listened, age of family meant more nobility? The same back home right? Technically, great deeds, money, and amazing service got such too, was it hte same here? At least in stories it was like that... Though, he was a farmer, he didn't know much about it.

He shrugged and looked bakc over, looking over to the frosty section then back to Git.

*"Sorry Mista Gitroki Sir, ye mention Icetomb noble, yet Forgebreaka ain't, is it common for olda clans ta marry in'ta younga?" *He asks looking up to the frost ridden section for a moment then back down.

*"Is thar any intro'duction or fancy greetin I should do? Nay know me manners ya see Mista Gitroki Sir, and nay wanna offend, them noble folk also down below? Meanin, deepa below is whar more fancy folk are? Or it be opposite?"* He asks curiously then blinking, he forgot to ask about the device, he opened his mouth and closed it, but he asked so many questions, his brow furrowed, following along still, eh, he would get his chance.
Manuel
"Yeah, it's common. We ain't got proper lords and ladies here, just levels o' seniority. The Firebeards have their king and his nobles, try'na fit in with the elves and the humans. 
Forgebreaker have good smiths, an' Icetomb're accomplished frost mages. Since Icetomb's older, Forebreaker moves up. Ya' never lose yer' clan."
*As Gitroki elaborated, his brow furrowed at his words. Perhaps it was because he was raised in it, but the inconsistencies in their caste system was a lot to wrap one's mind around... It was hard to explain to an outsider. Probably one of the reasons they didn't take visitors often.*

"Hm. Yer' an outsider, so they'll enjoy any Ostian greetin's ya' know. If someone says 'Nonika's blessings unto ya' then say 'the Hearth warms you' or somethin' close. You'll be fine, that pie'll raise their spirits."
*The path continued to trail upwards, joining the outcropping against the wall and widening. A second stream of dwarves passed them, now moving in the centre of two currents of people. The cavern wall lightened in colour as they ascended, the size of the buildings growing and taking up more of the stone road. It was a wonder they could be held up like this, half built into the wall and half resting on the winding platform. 

The marksman began pointing out the more stately properties, naming various clans and their famous professions: Emberhelm and their enchanted weapons of fire, Kegfall and their world-renowned whiskey, Coppercloak and their warding armours...*
"Ah... Yer' thinkin' o' the dwarven holds. Nah, we don't do that no more. Ancient, ancient sort had that sort o' hierarchy. Long 'fore the Blood Mages n' that."