Episode 200: Of Diamond Dogs and Dwarves
Episode 200: Of Diamond Dogs and Dwarves
Despite having been taken by surprise, Sunset’s instincts and reflexes were so far above human norm that she’d already moved, struck with Hokori no Hikari in a shining arc, and appeared twenty or so paces back from the lakeshore all in the transition of a single microsecond. Her blade had met hard resistance, more than she’d honestly expected, but brackish dark blood coated her Zanpaktou’s edge as she looked at what what attacked her and she saw she’d left a deep gouge in one ropey tendril that extended from the sides of a monstrously wide face.
The creature resembled what one might get if a catfish was blended with a salamander and was then given entirely too many steroids, while simultaneously being dead and left to rot at the bottom of a lake. The creature’s entire body was coated in a thick sheath of slime that gave off an odor of death so pungent that it was like being slapped directly in the nostrils by decay. There were great open wounds on the beast’s side that showed dead innards and ribcage. Yet the eyes of the thing were a ghostly pale blue that glowed with awareness and focus, if not comprehensible intelligence. It made no noise as it ignored the damage Sunset’s first strike had done and lowered its body and shook like an eager dog about to pounce.
Sunset hadn’t felt any spiritual pressure of significance before this thing had struck from the lake, but now she did feel something, like a growing bubble in her spiritual awareness. She was starting to recognize Anima use when she felt it, a strange blending of spirit energy and the Beast Realm’s inherent magic, and she watched as along the beast’s back a series of light blue runes flared into existence, six in a neat row along where the creature’s spine would be. A part of her wanted to counter attack immediately before whatever this ability was activated, but Sunset was curious to see more of how Anima functioned. Without needing to speak her Zanpaktou’s release phrase, she turned Hokori no Hikari into their Shikai form, shield and blade blazing to flaming life in her hands. She would play this defensively for a bit, and observe how this thing fought... maybe she’d learn something about Anima in the process.
Her spiritual senses were focused upon the beast, whatever it was. For now she was mentally dubbing it the ‘Lake Zombie’.
Shining Armor had taken to the air, his bow aimed at the creature, but he’d held off on firing as he looked her way. Sunset could tell from his questioning look that he was asking her if she wanted backup on this or not, and she gave the smallest shake of her head, to which he gave the tiniest of nods back. He didn’t put away his bow or redirect his aim from the Lake Zombie, but he kept his distance to let Sunset fight her way. She appreciated that. A little trust would go a long way to making working with the Quincy go that much smoother.
From the runes on the Lake Zombie’s back emerged shifting masses of deeply midnight blue energy that looked very much like frothing and bubbling oil or slime. This masses gained definition and grew mouths, and twin pale wisps of light for eyes. Each remained connected to the Lake Zombie by small tendrils of energy, but otherwise the six beastly mouths all gurgled and roared as one and came flying at Sunset with incredible force and speed. It wasn’t beyond what she could handle, however, as she leaped up and forward at an angle, arching through the collection of hungry slime mouths as they flew past her. The impacted where she’d been standing, ripping apart huge chunks of stone that was pulverized by their very presence. Then the impact splattered bits of the slime-like energy everywhere, turning more stone ashen gray before it crumbled, as if these things were mobile bombs.
Sunset arced down towards the Lake Zombie itself, Hokori’s edge red hot with raw flame as she drove the blade towards its head. This creature’s own reflexes were fairly slow compared to her, so it didn’t have time to raise one of its bulging, slime covered limbs in defense, and even its attempt to side step in the lake was a labored affair compared to Sunset’s speed. However the things it had created with its Anima could move much faster, and it drew them back to it in an instant, the six mouth-like masses colliding together to form a rough shield that Sunset’s blade struck. Flames burst from her Zanpaktou and she sliced down through the mouths, and she felt the destructive and corrosive energy of them trying to sizzle Hokori’s very blade itself. Her Zanpaktou steamed but didn’t relent as Sunset’s reiatsu overpowered the Anima trying to melt her blade, and her flames burned hotter as she used her shield to guard herself from the splatter of energy her attack had caused.
The resultant expulsion of flame she directed like a wave to smash into the Lake Zombie and its strange Anima constructs alike, shoving it further into the lake as its thick flesh burned. The slime it was coated in along with all the water did ablate the flame’s effect a little bit, but Sunset’s fire could burn far hotter than what this creature could readily withstand. The only reason she hadn’t fully incinerated it yet was because she was still trying to learn. She wanted to understand the power that the Beast Realmers wielded, so that the next time she went toe to toe with Jormungandr she’d have a better chance of taking him down.
So far her observations told her almost all expressions of Anima created extensions of their users. Simurgh’s healing rain, or Asena’s blades that coated the wolf’s body, or Jormungandr’s draconic constructs, all of them were like direct projections. They weren’t separate objects like a Zanpaktou, but rather had more in common with a Quincy’s reishi generated weapons or even her friend’s Fullbrings. In fact, these Anima felt a lot like what her friends did with Fullbring, to the point that Sunset wasn’t convinced the two abilities didn’t share some kind of history.
Fullbrings were Hollow based, but since the Beast Realm existed as a neutral, in-between world connected to both the human realm and Equestria, presumably with some bleed over between them, who was to say at some point that Hollows didn’t acquire some small smattering of Anima, which then turned into Fullbring when mixed with living humans?
That was just the researcher in her spit-balling, however. Clearly there were enough differences that Anima was its own thing.
Wanting to test out an idea, she narrowed her eyes at the small strands of energy connecting the Lake Zombie to its collection of flying mouth constructs, and she flicked towards them in a burst of pure speed, blade held to her right in a fiery red line. The creature tried to turn its whole body to the side to make her strike difficult, one long, thick tail the size of a tree trunk whipping at her from beneath the lake. Sunset didn’t halt or alter course, slicing through the tail in a foul smelling spray of dark blood. She kept from gagging as she streaked onwards, and flew past the Lake Zombie in a line of hot red fire. Hokori sliced at the two nearest lines of energy connecting the Anima constructs to the Lake Zombie’s body, and upon her sword’s connect with them Sunset felt resistance not unlike when she’d sliced through the mouths themselves.
There was a hum and buzz as the lines severed, and the runes snapped off, dissipating like motes of dust. The connected constructs didn’t vanish, however, they just howled and flew about at random, until they impacted the lake and exploded in huge bursts of oily dark blue energy that destroyed whatever was nearby. Sunset swiftly wove between thick droplets of this destructive energy, and turned to look back down on the Lake Zombie as it looked up at her with a dead gaze. It still made no noise, perhaps incapable of even making sound as far as she knew.
She did see it start to reform the runes she’d destroyed, which made her frown. So she could use her own reiatsu to disrupt Anima abilities, but nothing stopped them from just re-using them? Fair enough, although she kept that as a mental note, since she knew damage to her Zanpaktou took longer to repair, and was especially problematic if she used Bankai. Seemed like Anima was a more durable power than that. Still, even being able to momentarily disrupt their use by severing their connection to the user might prove useful, if all Anima shared that trait.
“Alright, don’t think I’m going to learn more than this, and you don’t seem actually sapient, so not like I can talk to you,” she said, readying Hokori and letting her reiatsu flow outward as she powered up for a finishing strike. She also didn’t think it was possible for something this weak to have been a danger to the missing party. No way Clover, Asena, and Spike would have had trouble with this thing, if it had attacked them. Which still didn’t explain why they’d found traces of Asena’s fur down there by the lake.
Raising Hokori over her head, she turned its flames into a cascade of burning blue and started to strike forward with it, “Aoihi Sen-”
A piercing whistle split the air, shockingly loud and high pitched. Sunset halted in place, blinking as she saw a short, fuzzy yellow creature hopping along the bank of the lake, making the whistling noise, which soon dissolved into a chiding, commanding, and all together impish female voice.
“ᚱᚢᛏᚷᚢᚱ, ᚤᛟᚢ ᛁᛗᛒᛖᚲᛁᛚᛖ! ᛞᛁᛞᚾ'ᛏ ᛁ ᛏᛖᛚᛚ ᚤᛟᚢ ᛏᛟ ᛋᛏᛟᛈ ᛈᛚᚨᚤᛁᚾᚷ ᚹᛁᛏᚺ ᚨᚾᚤᛟᚾᛖ ᚹᚺᛟ ᚹᚨᚾᛞᛖᚱ'ᛋ ᛒᚤ? ᛈᚢᛏ ᚤᛟᚢᚱ ᚲᚢᚱᛋᛖᛞ ᚨᚾᛁᛗᚨ ᚨᚹᚨᚤ ᚱᛁᚷᚺᛏ ᛏᚺᛁᛋ ᛁᚾᛋᛏᚨᚾᛏ ᛒᛖᚠᛟᚱᛖ ᛁ ᚷᛁᚡᛖ ᚤᛟᚢ ᛋᚢᚲᚺ ᚨ ᛏᚺᚹᚨᚲᚴ ᛟᚾ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚾᛟᛋᛖ!”
Sunset tilted her head, not understanding a word of it, but recognizing the Beast Realm’s language. The Lake Zombie halted what it was doing and turned to look at the creature yapping at it, and Sunset had the rather surreal sensation of watching a massive, undead lake monster slump its shoulders like a pet being scolded. Which was even more disorienting because now that she was looking at the one doing the scolding, the woman for all the world looked like a three foot tall, humanoid dog with golden fur, wearing her similarly golden mane of hair in thickly brained buns and wearing a thick leather jerkin over her furry body. She had digitigrade legs, one pawed foot tapping in conjunction with her hands on her hips like an irate mother. Green eyes glared at the Lake Monster, speaking more in her native tongue and making a ‘heel’ gesture with one finger.
To this, the Lake Monster made no sound, but sagged its head and lowered itself in the lake, making bubbles like an upset child.
Sunset blinked, then looked at Shining Armor, who didn’t look any more like he grasped the situation than she did, only offering her a blank shrug. His posture remained tense, but he wasn’t aiming his bow at this new individual, which concurred with Sunset’s own conclusion that whoever this was they didn’t seem to be a threat. Why else would they have called off the Lake Zombie? Sunset was a tad mortified by seeing the undead, rotting fish monster adopting the mannerisms of a scolded pet. Even it’s Anima constructs were drooping, mouths downturned and sparking ghost eyes lidded.
Apparently this thing was more sapient than she’d given it credit for. Probably for the best she’d been halted short of incinerating it and the entire lake, then.
By now the... dog person, which Sunset assumed was likely a ‘Diamond Dog’, was waving her tiny and fluffy arms up at them and jabbering rather loudly in more of the Beast Realm tongue. Sunset wished she had Simurgh or Asena here to translate or offer up a spell like what Hel had cast. This Diamond Dog was able to shout quite loudly for her tiny frame, and from her gestures it was clear she wanted Sunset and Shining Armor to come down and talk.
“Might as well,” Shining Armor said, “Strong chance she’s seen our missing party members.”
“Agreed,” Sunset said, eyeing the Lake Zombie one last time before turning her Zanpaktou back to it’s sealed state and sheathing it. “Keep an eye out, just in case. Simurgh said these Diamond Dogs are good at ambushes.”
“Weird way to start an ambush, if it is one,” he said, but nodded agreement as he kept his bow out and joined Sunset in flying down to the lakeshore to stand in front of the Diamond Dog.
Up close Sunset could see the female Diamond Dog was remarkably ripped and fit under her leather armor, like a three foot tall, fuzzy body builder. A bushy tail wagged slightly behind her, and the woman’s canine face was shockingly expressive as her paws went to her hips once more and she looked Sunset and Shining Armor over with lips curled in an apologetic smile.
“ᛋᛟᚱᚱᚤ ᚨᛒᛟᚢᛏ ᛏᚺᚨᛏ. ᚱᚢᛏᚷᚢᚱ ᚨᛁᚾ'ᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᛒᚱᛁᚷᚺᛏᛖᛋᛏ ᛋᛖᚾᛏᚱᚤ ᛁᚾ ᛋᚡᚨᚱᛏᚨᛚᚠᚺᛁᛖᛗ. ᛏᛖᚾᛞᛋ ᛏᛟ ᛒᛁᛏᛖ ᚠᛁᚱᛋᛏ, ᛏᚺᛁᚾᚴ ᛋᛖᚲᛟᚾᛞ. ᚺᛖ'ᛋ ᛒᛖᛖᚾ ᛞᚱᚨᚢᚷᚱ ᛋᛟ ᛚᛟᚾᚷ ᛁᛏ'ᛋ ᚱᛟᛏᛏᛖᛞ ᚺᛁᛋ ᛒᚱᚨᛁᚾ ᚨ ᛒᛁᛏ. ᚨᚾᚤᚹᚨᚤᛋ, ᛁ'ᛗ ᛒᚱᚨᚹᚾᚹᚤᚾ! ᚤᛟᚢ ᛗᚢᛋᛏ ᛒᛖ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚠᚱᛁᛖᚾᛞᛋ ᛚᛟᚱᛞ ᚠᛖᚾᚱᛁᚱ ᚹᚨᛋ ᛏᚨᛚᚴᛁᚾᚷ ᚨᛒᛟᚢᛏ. ᚠᛟᛚᛚᛟᚹ ᛗᛖ, ᛁ'ᛚᛚ ᛏᚨᚴᛖ ᚤᛟᚢ ᛏᛟ ᚺᛁᛗ.”
Just about all of it went over Sunset’s head, but her keen ears did pick up the name ‘Fenrir’ amid the words, and she took an eager step forward.
“Fenrir? Little guy, big mech?” she gestured at the ground at about Spike’s dog height, then gestured much higher to indicate the Gunwolf’s size and made a few imitations of the mech’s mechanicals noises.
The Diamond Dog actually barked out a rather rich, feminine laugh, and nodded, still smiling as she turned and made a ‘follow me’ gesture with her paw, quickly making her way back towards the caves that Sunset and Shining Armor had looked at earlier.
“Guess they must know where at least Spike’s at,” she said, and glanced back at the lake. The zombified catfish monster had sunk back down beneath the water, even taking its severed tail with it. The waters of the lake were now placid and still, as if nothing inhabited them at all. She turned her attention to Shining Armor, “Alright, I’ll follow our fuzzy new friend, and you head back to camp, and let the others know what's up.”
His eyes showed a waver if disquiet, “Not sure I like the idea of you going alone.”
“I’d rather everyone know where I am and what’s happening. Worst comes to worst I can probably fight my way out, but I don’t think that’ll be needed. Not getting the impression of any hostility here.”
“An undead lake monster just tried to eat you,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, but that might’ve just been a misunderstanding. Got to remind ourselves we’re the strangers and intruders in this realm. Going to be on us to keep our cool and an open mind.”
Shining Armor huffed out a short chuckle, “Says the girl who was about to flash fry the entire lake. Alright, fine. You go play diplomat and hopefully find our people. I’ll go let camp know the situation. You got one hour before we all come charging after you.”
As he departed, the Diamond Dog watched him go and Sunset approach, having waited patiently at the cavern entrances for the two to finish talking. With Sunset now in tow, the short canine perked her floppy, golden ears and led Sunset into the cave. Sunset didn’t see anything she hadn’t seen before, unsure at all on whether or not this was just an empty cavern like what she’d first seen. The Diamond Dog didn’t even break stride as she marched right for the back end of the left wall, to the point that Sunset was sure she’d walk face first into the stone.
But there was no wall, at least none in the position that there appeared to be one. Sunset blinked as the optical illusion took effect and she saw that the “wall” was in fact an opening almost perfectly positioned and lit to appear like a wall, but was in face a tunnel that went further into the rock and bent to the right, leading to a longer passage the curved downward.
“Hah, I’ll be damned. Never would’ve seen it,” she shook her head as she followed the Diamond Dog down.
The tunnel was clearly dug rather than natural, and Sunset suspected the clusters of glowing crystals that started to appear at regular intervals that almost perfectly lit the way weren’t there by accident of nature either. Nor was the maze of branches, junctions, and quick turns the Diamond Dog took her on, almost dizzying in complexity.
Seemed like the Diamond Dogs had set this up to be one hell of a confusing mess for anyone to find them by chance. Which begged the question as to how Clover, Spike, and Asena had come across them? Had they really just been lucky enough to stumble on the entrance up top and had decided to investigate further? Sunset wasn’t overly tense at the moment, given how open and non-hostile this Diamond Dog appeared to be, but a part of her still wondered why her friends had been missing for so long if they weren’t in some kind of trouble.
The labyrinth of tunnels abruptly opened up into a large, trapezoidal shaped chamber with a ceiling carved into a point where larger formations of crystals hung down, glowing with washed out white light that reminded Sunset of fluorescent hospital lighting. The room was a few hundred feet at its widest side, directly across from where Sunset and her Diamond Dog guide entered. Upon entering, there was a chorus of barks and loud voices, as Sunset saw no fewer than three or four dozen more Diamond Dogs all gathered around several long tables of worked stone. The furry creatures came in a dizzying array of shapes and sizes. Some of the largest were easily a foot or so taller than Sunset, while the shorter ones shared her guide’s diminutive three foot height, although any shorter bore the cute countenance of children. And there were definitely children present, giving off tinier yips than their adult counterparts. All had canine appearances, but the influence stemmed from seemingly dozens of canine breeds. Sunset saw pug and bulldog faces right alongside long and slender doberman snouts, and the distinct black and white fluff of huskies right alongside the wavy furred faces of retrievers.
Some back part of her brain raised a hand and asked the question of why a race of humanoid canines in this spiritual realm had features mimicking living world dog breeds, but Sunset just told that part of her brain to shut up for now. Chances were that since animal soul went to the Beast Realm after death, plenty of real life dog breeds lived here, and for all she knew became Diamond Dogs. It wasn’t like she was an expert on spirit realm afterlife mechanics. She’d been a bit too busy fighting for her and her friends' lives to do much homework on anything other than how to better hit things with her sword.
This chamber appeared to be some kind of communal dining area, because she now noticed the back wall lined with cauldrons and cooking stoves carved out of the stone wall, and the air was filled with the scent of sizzling meat and freshly cooked food. In fact the tables were all piled up with rough stone dishes heaped with food that looked like the results of someone frying up some of the local population of giant insects, along with underground mushrooms and lichen. It wasn’t the most appetizing thing she’d ever seen or smelled, but the Diamond Dogs seemed to enjoy it, at least until all their attention focused on her when she entered the room.
“Uh... hi?” she said to the crowd, giving an awkward wave, “Don’t suppose any of you have seen my friends... or speak English?”
“Sunset! You’re here!”
A head of curly, dark green hair appeared amid the crowd, followed by Clover’s gray, smiling features as she elbowed her way past the pack of Diamond Dogs who’d been crowding around the table she’d been sitting at. Sunset breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing Clover was unhurt and clearly not bound up like some prisoner. She rushed over to greet her friend, while many of the Diamond Dogs either went back to eating, or continued to watch on curiously. The brawny, golden Diamond Dog who’d led Sunset here stuck close by, watching with an almost smirk as Sunset and Clover met.
“Clover, I’m glad you’re alright, but what the hell? What have you, Spike, and Asena been doing? We were worried sick about you and came looking,” Sunset said, not precisely upset, but wondering just why they’d been gone so long.
Clover’s face turned abashed as she grimaced and her cheeks colored, “Oh, um, there must have been some kind of mistake or miscommunication? I thought Chieftain Proudfang sent a messenger? I’m sorry, Asena is doing all the translating for us right now and I swear she told the head of this Clan to send a messenger back to camp to let everyone know we’re alright.”
“Huh... well we didn’t get any messenger,” Sunset said, glancing at the gold furred Diamond Dog, who just looked at them blankly, of course not knowing what was being said. “So what is happening here? I mean, who are these Diamond Dogs?”
Clover’s fingers went to rub her chin in thought, “Sounds like Simurgh must have already told you a bit about Diamond Dogs, then. I’m just learning about them, myself. They’re actually rather fascinating. Did you know that their Clan structure, while taking its roots from the Clans of other Beast Realm tribes, has a far more complex structure based around ten layers of castes... and you’re giving me that ‘stop babbling Clover’ look. Right, you see we ran into their sentry up by the lake-”
“Big ugly catfish lizard dude who’s a zombie?” Sunset asked, and Clover nodded.
“Yes, Rutgur. He’s apparently what they call a ‘draugr’, although I’m unclear as to the details of what that entails. At any rate, Brawnwyn here,” she indicated the golden Diamond Dog, who barked happily and held her head up with pride, “Stopped Rutgur from attacking us, and then sort of insisted we follow her here. I was skeptical, but Spike and Asena both agreed it was worth talking to them to get more information about the local area. As it turns out, that was the right call. Spike and Asena are speaking with Chieftain Proudfang right now, who’s the leader of this specific Clan, which is part of a larger alliance of Diamond Dog Clans. A kingdom of sorts, I suppose.”
“Right, following you so far,” Sunset said, “So why has chatting up this Chieftain taken so long?”
“Well we thought we had some time, due to the supposed messenger, but more to the point, I think the Chieftain is trying to entreat Spike, specifically, for help. They recognize him as Fenrir’s reincarnation,” Clover frowned a little, “Not that Asena tried to keep that a secret, it seems.”
Sunset recalled Brawnwyn having mentioned the name Fenrir earlier. She raised a curious eyebrow, “What kind of help are we talking about, here?”
A dour, more serious look crept onto Clover’s face like a rain-laden cloud, her arms crossing over her chest, “Tensions between the Diamond Dogs and the Dwarves have always been high due to competition over all the rich gem and ore veins all over Svartalfheim. It often means raids back and forth between their Clans. However in this particular region we find ourselves in, things have escalated into outright war. The Dwarven Clan that occupies the nearby fortress has a new leader who’s gotten a lot more aggressive and made a point of assaulting several Diamond Dog settlements outside his Clan’s territory. They weren’t prepared for it, the Diamond Dogs. The Clans closest to that Dwarf fortress we’ve seen, including Proudfang’s, have had to abandon their homes and go into hiding, while the rest of the Diamond Dog Clans prepare a counteroffensive.”
So that explained why this Clan was here, but not why they were asking Spike for help. “That sucks to hear, and doesn’t sound like it’s going to make our job of crossing this realm any easier, but what does Spike have to do with any of this? I mean, this Fenrir guy he once was has technically been dead for a long time, right? I also seem to recall Soul Society had some kind of thing about reincarnated souls not being treated like their previous spirit lives, right?”
The apologetic look on Clover’s face only deepened as she spread her hands out in a helpless gesture, “Soul Society’s rules and the Beast Realm’s customs and laws have very little to do with one another, I’m afraid. From what I’ve overheard of Asena’s talks with Chieftain Proudfang, Spike very much does retain some level of... authority? Importance? At the very least they’re treating him as if he is still Fenrir, to some degree. They want him to intervene on the Diamond Dog’s behalf to broker a truce with the Dwarves.”
Sunset felt a headache coming on. Setting aside larger questions of the long standing conflict between these Beast Realm Clans, which she somehow doubted Spike could somehow diplomatically resolve with a quick conversation, the fact of the matter was that their group was trying to pass through this region without attracting attention that would bring Jormungandr and his forces right to them. If they stepped into the middle of all of this, they might as well be lighting a signal fire to any and all looking for them. Intervening in a war was not keeping a low profile.
But at the same time, Sunset didn’t like the taste of those thoughts on her proverbial brainpan. If people, innocent people, were being hurt, wasn’t this exactly the kind of thing she and her friends were all about stepping into? It wasn’t as if they hadn’t already been meddling in inter-faction conflicts since practically day one of this whole, insane adventure, so why stop a perfectly good snowball from rolling even further downhill? If Jormungandr and his cronies did use this to track them down... then that just meant the inevitable fight between them would happen that much sooner.
“You’re thinking of just jumping head first into this, aren’t you?” Clover said, reading Sunset like an open book. There was a small, caring smile on Clover’s face, as if she had figured this was exactly how Sunset would react to this information. Sunset just flashed a smile back at her friend.
“Even if I didn’t, you can bet your Soul Reaper pension that Applejack and Rainbow Dash would be all over this. But yeah, I’m thinking if we’re about to lose the element of stealth, might as well do so in grand fashion. I’d like to talk with this Proudfang lady myself, and get the whole story, first. I mean, these Diamond Dogs seem like okay people, but we just met them, and from what Simurgh said this conflict with the Dwarves has been a long back-and-forth. Let’s get more of a lay of the land before we commit to anything... assuming Spike hasn’t committed us already.”
She was offered some food in the form of a plate of what appeared to be well cooked slabs of bug meat still sizzling in its shell, but Sunset politely declined. She didn’t decline the offered mug of what smelled like a fruity, fermented drink that was definitely alcoholic, and considering the day she’d had and was likely to continue having she was more than happy to down it. Hey, by Equestrian standards she was of legal drinking age. And she didn’t see any human police down here, anyway.
Maybe a bit of Chappy’s attitude had rubbed off on her.
Thus fortified and refreshed, she followed Clover into a side passage out of the dining chamber, with Brawnwyn hopping along ahead of them to take the lead. The halls here were less a maze, and more a simple and organized array of storage and sleeping quarters, and Sunset had to reevaluate her guess on how many Diamond Dogs were down here from a few dozen to at least a couple of hundred from some of the longer side passages she saw where many of the canine creatures could be seen moving about.
Sunset let her spiritual senses stretch out a bit, looking to get familiar with the Diamond Dog’s faint sensation of reiatsu and magic. She assumed they had to have some kind of equivalent of a ward in place, otherwise what would stop the Dwarves from sensing them down here? Then again, she and Shining Armor hadn’t sensed them either while searching around. Was Anima capable of such masking barriers? It still frustrated her she knew so little of this power inherent to the Beast Realm.
She didn’t really notice that amid her thoughts of frustration, there was a tiny flicker of flame along her hair, colored a vibrant rose hue, and that a few strands of her hair briefly transmuted into bright feathers of an identical color. Clover, having been looking at Sunset, spotted the change and gasped.
“Sunset, your hair...”
“Huh?” Sunset reached to the back of her head, feeling around, “What’s up? Oh...” She felt the feathers, only a few of them, but distinct, and her face paled as she paused in the hall, “I thought Simurgh said it’d take a bit longer for this to start happening.”
Brawnwyn had paused as well, glancing back at them to see why the two had stopped, and upon seeing Sunset’s hair, or the handful of colorful feathers that had appeared in them, gave a melodious and surprisingly happy bark. Her words spilled out quick, too quick for Sunset to remotely follow as the short Diamond Dog pointed with a burly arm at Sunset’s feathers, then made a strange gesture with her paws, index and middle fingers on both hands touching in front of her. Sunset felt that heady mix of spirit energy and magic flowing now from Brawnwyn which she now recognized as Anima use.
“What’s she doing?” Clover said, just as a rune symbol appeared in front of Brawnwyn.
The symbol vanished after a second and in its place a translucent image of a bird-like creature appeared in Brawnwyn’s now upraised palm, flapping its wings like a living, holographic picture. It was made of a rose red aura that matched the color of Sunset’s new feathers, and Brawnwyn held it up for Sunset to see closer. The bird had very wide wings, which trails bits of rosy hued flames, and a long, elegant neck ending in a fiercely pointed beak. Its eyes were a darker red hue, like pools of lava. Its tail trailed long behind it in seven different thick strands of interwoven feathers that held waves of rose hued flames.
Brawnwyn said one word that certainly held the accent and tone of Beast Realm tongue, but was instantly recognizable to Sunset.
“ᛈᚺᛟᛖᚾᛁᛪ”
Sunset took a deep breath, and repeated the word in an awed whisper.
“Phoenix.”
----------
Chieftain Proudfang certainly lived up to her name. The Diamond Dog woman nearly gave Asena a run for her money in terms of height and broad strength, although in Proudfang’s case it was contained in a body so wide and coated in rolls of dark gray, pudgy fur that she looked almost as cuddly as she appeared deadly dangerous. Pudgy or not, nobody would miss the thick slabs of muscle under the fur, either, nor think that the chieftain couldn’t properly wield the spiked morningstar she kept leaning against her makeshift throne of heavily cobbled together wood. She wore an iron breastplate backed by folds of leather that went down to a long skirt of metal chain, and had an amulet around her thick neck bearing what Sunset assumed was her Clan’s sigil; a dog’s claw ripping into a shield.
Proudfang had a mane of black hair, left unruly and long on her head, and a blunt, short snout with a broad, dark nose. Jaws made for biting out throats curled in a pleased smile as she looked upon Sunset and Clover as Brawnwyn led them into what was essentially a short, rectangular meeting room with a few chairs set up around a straight table in front of her throne.
“Hah! Good good! More allies! So the great Fenrir, even reborn as a pup, makes Soul Reapers his attendants!” Proudfang spoke in somewhat understandable English, but Sunset sensed spirit energy and magic in the air, and so assumed some kind of translation spell was working. A glance at Asena, the wolf sitting at one end of the table, earned a return look and nod.
“I see you’ve come, Sunset Shimmer. Lord Fenrir grew tired of my translations and so asked me to attempt a spell to further matters along. I am not skilled in such Runecraft, but it should... mostly work.”
Runecraft? Sunset had so many questions, but the last thing she needed was to get even further sidetracked. She was still mentally reeling a bit from the idea that her Beast Realm changes were already occurring, and somehow she was gaining the feathers of a phoenix in her damn hair. She knew about phoenix from Equestria. They were rare, beautiful, nigh immortal birds of incredible innate magic. Princess Celestia kept one as a pet and as Sunset recalled had doted upon the bird.
Putting aside some of the sad thoughts that memory brought up, Sunset looked at the room’s other occupant. Spike was out of the Gunwolf, the mech standing off to the side of the other end of the table while Spike himself sat perched on another chair, eyes wide, looking like he was beyond glad to see Sunset there.
“Whew, Sunset, thank goodness. I have been trying for hours to convince this whackadoo that I’m not freaking Fenrir!”
“Lord Fe-” Asena began and Spike snapped his head towards her with a pointed glare.
“You’re not helping, either! I get I’m some kind of reincarnation or whatever, but I don’t care about that! I’m Spike, and I swear on Twilight’s top secret ‘biological research materials’ video collection that the next person who calls me anything other than Spike is going to be the first one I test the Gunwolf’s Overdrive mode on!”
There was... a lot to unpack in that statement, most of it making Sunset offer up an amused half smile as she took a seat next to Spike, “Sorry Asena, but he’s right. I understand you and Simurgh are just trying to be respectful towards who you think is one of your realm’s big cheeses, but you’re way better off treating Spike like Spike. Trust me on this one.”
Asena tilted her large wolven head, her ears twitching a little, but what was probably her version of a smile slowly appeared on her face, which showed probably more fang than most would consider friendly but she still managed to make it look natural. “I see. As you wish, Spike. And Chieftain Proudfang, given he has made these wishes so very, very clear, I suggest you also follow suit, before our young lord declares an honor challenge. Given I have seen his magnificent war armor in action, I do not recommend giving him cause.”
Proudfang’s paw reached up to scratch her head, her eyes more confused than offended as she finally offered up a shrug, “As Lord Spike wishes. Long as Dwarves know whom they deal with, will matter little. Need the authority, the strength, not just the name.”
“And I also haven’t agreed to anything yet,” Spike said, giving Sunset a grateful look, “Was kind of hoping you guys would show up to put in your two cents, because I can’t really make heads or tails of this whole situation.”
Clover, who remained standing, but took up position next to Spike’s other side, cleared her throat politely, “I’ve done my best to try to bring Sunset up to speed, but we’re still lacking critical details. Also, it seems the messenger Chieftain Proudfang told us she’d send did not reach our party, causing Sunset and Shining Armor to come here under the belief we were missing.”
Asena growled a little, eyeing Proudfang, “Diamond Dogs shouldn’t get lost so easily.”
Proudfang in response just held up her paws in a shrug, “I send runner! If runner not find group, could be many reasons! Many monsters in Svartalfheim tunnels and wilderness. Some Dogs get unlucky, sometimes.”
“Hmph, I’m certain. Perhaps you didn’t want others here to give Lord Spike further council while you worked to convince him to aid your cause?” Asena asked, to which Proudfang growled back with narrowed eyes, one paw almost twitching towards her mace.
“Look,” Sunset said, interjecting before things could escalate, “Whatever the reasons, we’re here now, so you may as well lay it out for us what’s going on. Heard a bit from Clover, but I’d like to hear the full story from you, Chieftain.”
“And who are you?” Proudfang asked with a mixture of honest curiosity and a bit of suspicion as her eyes darted between Sunset and Clover, “Soul Reapers not come to Beast Realm in many ages. Treaty forged by the Peacebinder remains strong, and the Beast Realm does not interfere with Midgard, so Midgard does not interfere with the Beast Realm. All is balance. Why here and now? Why bring Lord F...Spike back to our lands?”
Spike looked to Sunset, clearly unsure how to go about answering this, and even Clover deferred to Sunset with a small nod that Sunset read as ‘up to you how much to say’. She appreciated the trust, even if she wished she had everyone here to consult on this first. She didn’t think it’d be the best idea to bring up Jormungandr or Hel, that was for sure. Sunset decided to mix a bit of truth with an otherwise vague answer. Not like she was Applejack here, with a penchant for pure honesty.
“Asena and Simurgh are guiding us to Alfheim for something called the Convocation of Clans. Heard of it?”
Proudfang’s eyes gave a furrowed twitch, “Yes. Big meet of most powerful Clans. Mine, not among them. Only one Diamond Dog Clan powerful enough to be at Convocation, Clan Shatterstone. Dwarven Clans also send one, Clan Allhammer.”
“Is that the Clan that’s attacking Diamond Dog settlements?” Sunset inquired, and Proudfang made a small whining sound, paws scratching her throne’s armrests.
“Makes no sense. Allhammer gains new Jarl, our version of Chieftain, and organizes big attack on Diamond Dog homes closest to Dwarf territory. We raid, yes. Done raiding of mines for many generations. Never more than competition. Never bad blood. Diamond Dogs and Dwarves not friends, but respect and offer fair exchange of prisoners and goods between raids. That is what’s normal. But now, now new Jarl Brogensmasher sends troops and Thanes to dig up and destroy our holds and homes.”
She picked up her mace suddenly and smashed the ground beside her throne, her throat rumbling in a deep, seething anger. “Proudfangs lose their home first! Two other Clans not long after. We run, we hide, and ask Shatterstones to help us! They say ‘yes, but not until after Convocation!’. Grrrr! Not want to wait! Need help now. Lord Spike, good Soul Reapers, you can help us, yes?”
Well, at least she was so focused on her own problems that she didn’t press Sunset too hard on her own story, as Sunset had feared that Proudfang might ask for more details as to why Asena and Simurgh had brought them here to Svartalfheim instead of straight to Alheim, or indeed why Soul Reapers were being brought to this Convocation of Clans at all. Perhaps Spike’s presence alone, as the reincarnated Fenrir, made Proudfang forget any further questions.
“Right, so just what do you expect us, or specifically Spike, to do to help? Was the plan to just have us drive the Dwarves off?”
Proudfangs huffed and her head gave a floppy shake, “Might be fun to watch Dwarves run, but smash their army won’t help. Need Jarl Brogensmasher to give up. Thought if Lord... Spike, demanded it, even mighty Dwarven Jarl would be forced to make peace.”
“Okay, Asena, I have to ask, just how much authority is Spike supposed to have here?” Sunset said while giving the big wolf a serious look, “Sure I can buy that he’s Fenrir’s reincarnation, at least partially if what I understand about how powerful souls like that work, what with the breaking into fragments... but does he really have the same pull and leverage Fenrir had way back whenever?”
“It is... complicated,” Asena admitted, wrinkling her nose, “He no longer serves as High Chief of the Land Tribe, for his sister Fenris rightfully fills that role, now. He also does not control the same lands and Clans he would have once held authority over. However he carries the... the honor accumulated by Fenrir in his life. He has rights, by that honor, to be treated with guest rights in any Clan holding, no matter the Tribe. He may also by right demand to treat with any Jarl, Chief, or equivalent Clan leader as a person of honor. This means he can make Jarl Brogensmasher deal with him as a fair negotiator at a bargaining table. Or... offer an honor challenge, as well.”
“The heck is an honor challenge, anyway?” Spike asked, to which Proudfang was very happy to jump in with gleaming eyes.
“A duel of honor between either the challenger and challenged, or their mightiest warriors! Challenge cannot be denied, not from one of Lord Fen...Spike’s level of honor! Challenge Brogensmasher and he must accept, and winner has right to place terms on the defeated!”
“Sooooo what you’re saying is, I challenge this Dwarf dude, kick his butt, and basically tell him to cut it out with attacking you Diamond Dogs?” Spike said, and Proudfang nodded enthusiastically.
“Hold up, so either Spike would have to fight, or...?” Sunset said, to which Asena clarified.
“Or one of his warriors who serve him. Which, I suppose technically could include myself or Simurgh at the moment, or any of you Midgardians who are part of Lord Spike’s entourage.”
“And either Brogensmasher fights himself, or chooses a champion. Got it,” Sunset rubbed her head in thought, glancing sidelong at Spike and Clover, “I mean, normally I’d say try the diplomatic route here, but we don’t exactly have the luxury of time. You think we can take this Jarl guy or one of his warriors, one-on-one?”
Clover gained a very and almost uncharacteristically intensive look of consideration on her face, “I agree we don’t have the time, or the leverage, to make an actual negotiation very feasible. Yet I have personally witnessed the effectiveness of yourself and our other friends in battle, Sunset. I don’t know the power of a Dwarven Jarl, but I do have faith in your own abilities.”
More quietly she added, “My own? I have yet to test my limits, and I know I must...”
“Clover?”
“It’s nothing, Sunset. I’ll defer to your judgment on this.”
“Well, I’m down to smack a Dwarf,” said Spike, “How hard could it be?”
----------
There were many mystical substances in the vast reaches of the Beast Realm, and in their raw forms were considered potent and valuable for a wide plethora of reasons. These substances became even more valued when utilized in crafting, and no species in the Beast Realm was more renowned for being master artisans than the Dwarves, especially in the area of smithing. Almost every stereotypical myth of a legendary Dwarven blacksmith that trickled its way over the ages into the popular culture of the humans in Midgard could trace itself back to the very real truth that none matched the Beast Realm Dwarves for their ability to forge anything in their powerful foundries. They excelled most specifically in creating alloys from ores and gems, combined with their Runecraft, that were unparalleled in their quality.
In particular, the alloy known as orichalcum was the most potent and treasured of Dwarven creations. It was a metal nearly as light as the more common but still fabled mithril, but ten times more durable and capable of enhancing the power of any Anima use that was channeled through the metal first. Hence why weapons, armor, or even simple trinkets like orbs, amulets, rings, and bracelets made from orichalcum were symbols of power and status. Dwarf Clans made an absolute killing on the trade of this metal, given they alone had the secret of forging with it. Other Clans of other Tribes might pull off mithril or adamantine forging, but if one wanted orichalcum, you had to go to the Dwarves.
And if you wanted good orichalcum craft, the best of the best, you had to go to Clan Allhammer.
Brogensmasher Allhammer only briefly contemplated this, his family’s legacy, as he stood in front of a ten meter tall obelisk made out of solid orichalcum that stood in front of him, nearly half as wide as it was tall. It was etched with runes meant to further harden the metal against any force that might come against it, these particular runes drawing on ambient Anima in the environment to keep themselves powered. Runecraft 101; size matters, numbers matter. More runes equals more power, and bigger runes... you guessed it, more power. Of course there still had to be Anima to fuel the runes, so runes that relied on ambient Anima were always going to be weaker than ones you powered up yourself, but those weren’t mutually exclusive concepts.
Hence why the obelisk wasn’t just sporting a few glowing runes like it normally did, but a set of runes that blazed with red hot power as a pair of Dwarven runemasters stood nearby, channeling their Anima into the obelisk to empower it further. Normally with Anima it would take one of two forms, the “inherent” form that was unique to each individual who tapped into Anima and granted its specific powers to the user, or the “primal” form that was raw Anima itself, without shape... but oh so handy for powering up runes.
The Runemasters were channeling Anima in the primal form to power up the obelisk, encasing it in a field of hardening strength that would make the neigh unbreakable object even more resistant to damage. Brogensmasher wasn’t really one for complex figures or mathematics, so he certainly couldn’t put a numeric comparison to how tough this obelisk was. He just knew that to damage it, nothing short of earth shattering, mountain splitting force was required.
Which of course was the whole point.
Brogensmasher spread his squat, furry legs, muscles bulging as thick feet broke into the stone of the training grounds and cracked the earth around him. The large yard on the western side of his family’s towering cliff-side fortress was the size of a battlefield unto itself, often used for the formations of Allhammer warriors to practice maneuvers and combat. Now most of it was clear, because nobody was dumb enough to be in the way when the Clan’s most hotheaded Jarl to date was training.
His barrel chest expanded under a thick fur cloak and gold breastplate, also orichalcum forged. What looked like steam began to pour up from his short but broad body, only five feet tall but damn near just as wide. Black fur covered most of his body in short, wiry tufts, doing little to hide his corded muscles. Like all Dwarves he had a face that was wide but sharp featured, what most humans would see as a humanoid mole’s visage if a mole also came sporting a beard of braids and gold bangles stretching nearly to his feet. Like all Beast Realmers, Dwarves were beast-like, and the Clans that weren’t mole-like tended to share qualities with other tunneling creatures. Brogensmasher was definitely a powerful example of his people, taller and stronger than most, save perhaps his now very dead father, who had been a giant among their kind.
His keen blue eyes narrowed and sweat dripped down his face from beneath a wide, crested orichalcum helmet. That aura of steam flowing off him grew in intensity and thickness, turning dark gray as he coiled the powerful aura around his cocked back arm and thick fingered fist. His Anima, forming in its inherent shape, became like digging claws that grew into four separate spirals around his fist, spinning faster and faster as the ground around him shook and all his focus hardened upon the obelisk in front of him.
With a guttural shout that itself seemed to carry a shockwave of power that cracked the ground around him, Brogensmasher punched with his right fist. The spirals of dark gray power that had formed there exploded outward, his Anima smashing forward in a conical cyclone of force that roared louder than a hundred dragon throats and ripped across the training grounds like the spear of a mountainous giant.
The obelisk of thick, Anima enhanced orichalcum was struck dead on in the center, and for a brief few seconds there was a titanic clash of conflicting waves of force that created a localized earthquake as the punch of raw Anima from Brogensmasher drilled into the seemingly indominable obelisk of unnaturally tough metal. But finally there was a horrific screen of bending, twisting metal as the whole obelisk not only started to bend inward, but was torn upward from the ground and twisted around like something caught in a whirlpool. It warped and bent, twisting more and more, and the Dwarven Runemasters nearby let out gasps as their primal Anima was stripped out of him from trying to maintain the breaking runes on the obelisk.
Then, torn and twisted and balled up like a crumpled piece of paper, the massive obelisk, or the remains of what it used to be at any rate, was thrown by the remainder of Brogenson’s Anima punch like a toy ball straight across the grounds to plant itself into, then through the encircling wall, which crumbled.
Brogensmasher looked at his handiwork, which now resembled a smashed and deformed piece of metal slag, and stretched his arms with an audible and satisfying pop.
“Eh, not bad,” he said, “Ain’t gonna be satisfied ‘till I can do it to one twice that size.”
One of the Runemasters coughed politely, scratching his smaller, but no less ornately decorated beard, “As my Jarl wishes. However, that obelisk cost around two hundred thousand marks. Perhaps my Jarl would consider finding less economically draining methods of training?”
Brogensmasher spat, “Costs shmosts. We’re Allhammers. We decide what things cost. Now, I expect another one of those prepared for tomorrow.”
“Yes, my Jarl,” said both Runemasters together, not looking particularly pleased, but knowing better than to argue with their new Jarl. Brogensmasher watched them go with a hint of disdain, wondering if they’d ever have given any backtalk to his father. The thought alone gave him an acidic sensation of anger in his gut, but that only lasted as long as it took for him to notice that someone was approaching through the new hole he’d made in the training ground’s wall. He’d have to tell someone to go get that fixed.
His sour mood only lightened somewhat when he saw who it was, but he still managed a grin as he stomped over towards the tall, notably cold creature breezing into his Clan’s home.
“G'nash! You sonuvabitch!”
The sizeable ice troll sported a fang filled grin as Brogensmasher slapped out a meaty hand, and responded in kind with his own thickly muscled, cold blue limb. Hands locked with a meaty smack, and the pair grinned at one another as they took a few second to silently test one another’s strength. Muscles shuddered and strained as G'nash and Brogensmasher pitted their mettle against one another... and slowly G'nash started to push Brogensmasher’s arm back.
“Getting soft on me, you pampered rich kid?” G'nash asked, and Brogensmasher’s smirked, almost sneered, pushing harder as the dark gray mist of his Anima rose.
“Not on your life, you crazed icicle on feet! Been only gettin’ stronger!”
Brogensmasher almost managed to start pushing G'nash’s arm back, but the ice troll just grinned deeper and tapped into a bit of his own Anima. A rime of blue light flowed from his body, and ground frozen over for meters around them, and Brogensmasher found his arm nearly twisting over as G'nash got a tad serious.
“Gah! Alright! Alright! Dammit all, you still got it, Enherjar!” Brogensmasher said, taking his hand back and rubbing his arm with a glare, “Gotta remind me every time you show up that Jormungandr only picked the strongest?”
“Could’ve been you, too, boy, if you’d taken training more seriously,” G'nash replied with his usual, relentless bluntness, “But not like you ever cared for our cause anyway, yeah? Too married to your luxuries to think ending the world’s a good idea.”
Brogensmasher’s face turned stony, “Jormungandr still ain’t giving up on that, eh? Hah, never figured why you went to work for the serpent. Always seemed like you liked living too much to toss it aside.”
G'nash breathed out a thin hiss of laughter, icicles dripping from his fangs, “Love living. Can’t live if you’re not putting death on the line. Yggdrasil gets tainted any more than it already is, and no life will be worth living. Jormungandr gets that. Doesn’t matter to me if no one else does, you included, much as I like you, kid. So, hear your pa up and kicked it. You’re the big Jarl now?”
It was a natural reflex to grow guarded, his eyes glancing around the training grounds. He always had an honor guard not too far off, but that collection of ten or so Dwarven warriors had stayed well back while Brogensmasher had trained, and now that G'nash was here more than a few of them were watching warily but still from a distance. Their Jarl hadn’t called them over, and most of the Allhammers knew that Brogensmasher had past dealings with this ice troll. It’d been a point of sour contention between him and his father, the late Jarl Gagansmelt.
“He did. Taken by a cave in, inspecting our deepest and newest mine.”
G'nash gave him a knowing look, “Dwarf that powerful, that skilled, killed by a few falling rocks?”
Brogensmasher felt his jaw clench, “Cave in opened up a hole into a chamber filled with Tearful Goodbye. Nobody knew it was there. Surveyors must have missed it.”
Tearful Goodbye, a rare and exceedingly deadly plant native to Svartalfheim that produced toxic spores so lethal that very few could survive breathing them in without some manner of protection via Anima. If you weren’t ready for it, no matter how powerful you were, it’d be a sure ticket to a quick death. Tragic that Jarl Gagansmelt had fallen into such a place, when many had expected him to still live for many, many centuries to come.
G'nash, still wearing that irritatingly knowing look, simply shrugged, “Like I said. Life ain’t worth nothing without the risk of death. So, long live Jarl Brogensmasher. What’s your plan, now that you wear the big man pants around here?”
“Hmph, I’ll tell you in the moment, but let’s get somewhere more comfortable, first.”
The pair had started to walk together back towards the fortress of the Allhammer Clan, Brogensmaher’s honor guard respectfully starting to fall in beside them until the Jarl gave them a look and nod that told the collection of warriors to give him some distance. He saw his honor guard captain, a notably rotund but no less physically powerful female Dwarf with auburn fur and a neatly combed head of red curls under helmet, give him a less than pleased look. Frigrune had been his father’s closest confidant, and was a Dwarf of impeccable honor. Hence why she’d done nothing but argue with him ever since he’d decided it was high time they dealt with the Diamond Dogs in a more heavy handed manner. But he was Jarl, and Frigrune was just honorbound enough to follow commands even against her own better judgment, which was just as well because he genuinely didn’t want to have to get rid of her...
“My Jarl, I do not impinge your choice of companion, but must remind you that this one is an ice troll of Niflheim and serves Jormungandr,” Frigrune said simply, hand almost unconsciously on the head of the magnificent, orichalcum warhammer strapped to her hip.
“Your talent for informing me of what I already know is greatly appreciated, Thane Frigrune,” he stated, dry as stone, “G'nash has walked these halls before, even when my father still ruled. Clan Allhammer remains in his debt for past deeds.”
“But High Chieftain Fenris’ mandate-”
“Does not apply in the depths of Svartalfheim, in the halls of our own home!” Brogensmasher declared, all but kicking open the gates built into this side of the fortress wall that faced the training grounds.
For one who’d lived his whole life inside the walls of Clan Allhammer’s seat of power, Mattugeirr, the ‘Mighty Anvil’, the splendorous sights beyond barely registered. The immense walls of riveted adamantine that rose a two hundred feet at an angle, spotted with metal turrets bearing countless deadly Dwarven weapons ranging from rune enchanted bolt-throwers to colossal multi-ton cannons with barrels fashioned into the faces of fierce beasts, were just background to him. Beyond the walls were even taller, square shaped spires of black metal, clustered against the monolithic northern cliffs of Svartalfheim’s largest underground cavern region, with courtyards running in a circle around the formation of soaring towers. Each tower was a bare minimum of three hundred feet, and the central cluster rose higher still to near twice that, all hugging the cliff wall like spears planted against a weapons rack.
From the sides of these towers large metal rails were built into the stone cavern wall, rails that bore enchantments that rang large metal elevator cars, each one large enough to carry hundreds of Dwarves, or dozens of cargo containers, up and down at impressive speeds. These elevators, a grand feat of Dwarven Runecraft and engineering, were the lifeline between Svartalfheim in the region, and the surface of Vanaheim and Alfheim. Clan Allhammer controlled this gateway between the Beast Realm’s regions, and while others existed, those passages to the surface were far more treacherous than the elevators of Mattugeirr.
As a young boy, Brogensmasher had watched those gigantic elevator cars fly up and down those elevator rails, sailing up into the darkness of Svartalfheim’s cavern ceiling with fascination and awe. Now he barely looked up as one such massive metal box descended from above, its ghostly metallic whine mixing in with all the other noises of the highly active fortress. He walked with G'nash across the courtyard between the defensive walls and the nearest tower, and passed a bridge of solid metal that ran over a smoky recess in the floor. This recess descended hundreds of feet more, revealing that for all the great size of the fortress towers, Mattugeirr was larger still in its huge underground chambers. Down there the raw heat of the fortress countless forges rose like a comforting blanket. The steady clang of hammers that gave the Clan its name was the ever present heartbeat that was mirrored in any Dwarven Clan.
The only thing that was not normal was the steady march of metal shod boots as a large detachment of warriors, some two hundred, came marching across another courtyard out of one of the other towers, heading for the main gates for deployment. Brogensmasher briefly looked at the unit, noting the golden pips on the detachment’s flag to tell which regiment it was. Looked like a relief unit heading to replace one of the new garrisons they needed to maintain after taking three of the Diamond Dog’s nearest settlements.
“Busy, busy,” G'nash noted, and Frigrune, whose lips had stayed pressed tightly closed after Brogensmasher’s reprimand, let out a gruff huff of air that might’ve been a humorless laugh.
“An understatement, troll. I trust your master understands that no matter how much time passes since his ill-fated attempt at assaulting Yggdrasil, no Clan of the Tribe of Land shall be caught unprepared again.”
G’nash let out a long, hissing laugh of his own, grinning wide, “I remember. Yggdrasil has roots not far from here. This fortress was a prime target during the war.”
“You led more than one assault upon it,” Frigrune said with a cold stare, but this only amused G’nash more.
“Bawhahah! Sure did! Back then it was Gagansmelt’s grandpappy Burincleave who was Jarl of the Allhammers! Ah but he was a damn fine warrior to trade blows with! Why do you think I decided to keep coming back, even after the war was over? Told old Burincleave I’d always keep an eye on his bloodline, and ain’t broken that word since.”
“Hmph, watching us because you like us or because one day you’re hoping the war starts up again so you can fight someone half as good as Burincleave?” Brogensmasher asked, already knowing the answer, his voice more joking than serious. Quite frankly he enjoyed watching Frigrune fume at his familiar tone as G’nash laughed again.
“Can’t it be both, kid? You ain’t at Burincleave’s level yet, but you’re getting there. Maybe another century of two of healthy eating and training. Still kinda runty right now.”
“Tch, I’ll make you eat those words, one day,” Brogensmasher promised, to which G’nash only nodded, as if that was the only appropriate answer to give.
Once inside the fortress towers proper, Brogensmasher made Frigrune and his honor guard wait in one of the grander halls while he led G’nash up multiple flights of stairs to an enclosed den, one of his private lounges to meet with honored guests. Metal furniture that was still somehow luxurious and ostentatious with their embedded gems and thick leather padding provided spots for the pair to sit as Brogensmasher poured a big, frosty mug of ale from a wall-hung keg and offered G’nash a drink, which the ice troll accepted.
“So, you going to tell me what in Surtur’s flaming arsehole one of Jormunganr’s Einherjar are doing here?” Brogensmasher asked bluntly once he was sure they were alone, “You may still have guest rights here due to my great grandfather’s friendship, but lips will be wagging before nightfall that you’re here. That word will pass to Vanaheim, and then to Alfheim. I might not give two burnt turds what ‘Lady’ Fenris thinks of you or Jormungandr, but that won’t stop her from sending her own Einherjar from sniffing around.”
“With luck, I won’t be here long,” G’nash replied simply, quaffing his drink quickly and tossing the mug aside without care, “Jormungandr has sent us all to search for a certain group of not-so-lucky folk who we know are in the Beast Realm, and Jormungandr wants them.”
Brogensmasher snorted, “Oh, he just sent you and your fellow Einherjar to search all the Beast Realm, eh? Glad to hear the Serpent has reasonable expectations of his servants.”
G’nash flashed a fang-filled smile, “He knows what we can do. And I know what the Allhammers can do. Jormungandr gave me Svartalfheim to search, and the fastest way to do that was to pay you a visit and see if you’d put feelers out. The Allhammers are connected to every Dwarf Clan in Svartalfheim, and Dwarves gossip over drinks as a matter of course. Figured if the group we’re looking for shows up here, it’d only be a matter of time before they’d get spotted by some Dwarves.”
“Hmm,” Brogensmasher unconsciously touched the bangles in his beard, clinking them together, “You ain’t wrong. I’ve got to wonder what this group is that’s got Jorumungandr’s attention? Sending his Einherjar out of Niflheim is a ballsy move, likely to piss off Fenris and Quetzacoatl both. Why risk it? What makes this group so important to find? And this wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with that damn Convocation of the Clans that got called, would it?”
“That’s a lot of questions I suspect Jormungandr would prefer I don’t answer,” G’nash said, and Brogensmasher frowned.
“Jormungandr ain’t here. I’m no friend to that proud wolf bitch or the featherbrained rainbow dragon, but the Allhammers can’t afford to totally alienate two High Chieftains. Yet. Also, fond as I am of you, G’nash, I know damn well Jormungandr’s goals are not aligned with my Clan leading a long, prosperous existence. My friendship with you buys you some of my time, maybe even a favor, but you’re going to need to give me something more than just empty air.”
G’nash regarded him, those icy eyes inscrutable in the dim lighting of the enclosed den.
“Still can’t tell you much. This group is an odd bunch, for sure. A mix of Soul Reapers, Midgardians, and Beast Realmers.”
That got Brogensmasher’s thick eyebrows rising high, “Midgardians and Soul Reapers haven’t come to the Beast Realm since... forever. This is only making me more curious about what Jormungandr’s game is, here.”
“Gets better. It’s Asena and Simurgh that are guiding them.”
That got the Dwarven Jarl rising up in his seat, “No joke? The heralds to Fenris and Quetzalcoatl both? Then that would mean these Soul Reapers and Midgardians were being brought to the Convocation. No other reason to send those two if that weren’t the case.”
As his mind mulled over that information, G’nash leaned forward, long and clawed hands resting on his knees, “I’ll level with you, Brogensmasher. Help me or not, I’m going to find them if they’re anywhere in Svartalfheim. Need be I can twist arms, or heads, until I get Dwarves talking. However, you help me out, help me track these folk down and bring them in... then I’ll lend you a hand with your Diamond Dog problem.”
The Dwarf’s snout twitched, his beard bangles rattling, “I have that under control.”
“Heard enough to know you managed to catch the dogs off guard and snag a few settlements, but you know damn well that won’t last once they mount a proper counterattack. Worse, they’ll start barking for help from Fenris. You’re both still Tribe of Land, and you know Fenris will step in to help the dogs. Help me, and I’ll deal with whatever trouble Fenris sends your way so you’re free to handle the dogs however you want.”
Brogensmasher wanted to take the offer. Impulsive as he was, a part of him didn’t want to think about it too much. For one, he knew G’nash was right. The moment Fenris heard about what he was doing down here, she’d probably try to strongarm him into backing off on taking more Diamond Dog territory. But it was well past time the dogs learned their damn place! They were thieves and crude ones at that. It wasn’t right that the Dwarves had to put up with this ‘friendly rivalry’ that they’d had going on with the Diamond Dogs for so long. Never mind that most of his warriors grumbled about being ordered to occupy Diamond Dog settlements. The other Clan Jarls would pipe down once the extra wealth started to flow in from captured gem and ore veins that always should have belonged to the Dwarves in the first place!
And if Fenris wanted to growl from the top of her high mountain about it, well... G’nash was an Einherjar, and wasn’t joking when he said he could handle most trouble Fenris would send Brogensmasher’s way. And once Brogensmasher got strong enough, who’s to say he’d still need the ice troll, or be concerned about the damn Serpent’s goals? As if Jormungandr would ever succeed in destroying Yggdrasil. If he really wanted to start the war again, Brogensmasher could make sure the Dwarves were powerful enough to stop him dead in his tracks before getting to the World Tree’s roots.
Had Frigrune been present the far more level headed Thane probably would have brought up a dozen holes in Brogensmasher’s thinking, but the hotheaded young Jarl was only seeing future wealth and glory for himself and his Clan as he offered G’nash his hand in a mirror of their meeting in the training grounds.
“G’nash, sounds to me like you’ve got yourself a deal.”
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Murphy's law has just been involved
A highly poisonous flower that can kill you if you're not ready, and sunset getting Phoenix feathers and figuring out how animal works, I smell the power up coming along
This is it. The story hit the 200ch mark! All of them about 10k words and still going strong.
And today we're dealing with (cuddly) Diamond Dogs and Dwarves. Can't wait to see what awesome stuff they craft. Hope they have Golems! All manner of Golems!
Damn, I hoped for a dragon. Dragon Sunny would be cool. Can't deny it makes sense, tho. And who knows, maybe she'll get an extra life. Worked out for Rarity. Sort of.
...I have questions.
Ahh, yes. Rare and magical minerals. Makes me wonder if Zanpakutō can be reforged and/or strengthened by a blacksmith (any that isn't Bowtie, that is). Hihi'irokane would be the perfect metal for Sunny.
Does calling Diamond Dogs "Bitch" or "Son of a Bitch" count as an insult?
The or Their
Or
200 chapters is indeed crazy. Almost as crazy as Brogensmasher thinking he knows what he's doing. His training method is a huge tell; it doesn't matter how strong you are if you can only hit stationary targets.
Okay the Phoenix should have been obvious
I wonder what the others will be
11766979
Guessing:
Rainbow: Rainbow Crow (she actually met them) , Thunderbird or Raijū (which range from canines, rodents, insects, fish etc.). Though the two might be redundant...
Applejack: Maybe a Bull. Then she could be a real cowgirl. Maybe a wolf (or timberwolf).
I am just waiting for it come out, probably via Fluttershy or Sunset that Jarl Asswipe murdered the old Jarl and be outed as honorless which in Germanic culture, which this seems to be very influenced by, is the most serious accusation along with Kinslaying. Plus if Spike taps into Fenris memories he could also denounce Jarl Asswipe as a shortsighted idiot since it seems even his own people don't like what he's doing.
So, I had assumed the main 7's beast forms would be grounded in their "Pony-up" forms. Since they do take on beastial/pony traits. With them finding themselves in a permanently ponyed up state before acquiring unique bestial changes.
I'm really liking what Vex is doing with the Beast Realm. It's pretty much a complete unknown in Bleach so I'm looking forward to what Vex comes up with
So Sunny is turning in to a fire bird. Wonder how that will turn out.
The Dwarven Jarl is making a major mistake. Also, I'm betting he was responsible for his Dad's death.