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[Galathan]

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"Alright, we have the final revision of the plan done. We will need an uncomprehensible amount of ore for this." The thickly bearded man stated, taking a long drag on his wooden pipe, bellowing out a small cloud of smoke.

I took a long look at the man, assessing him. He had the look of a man who had been dragged through the dirt for days. I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, "Just how much ore?"

The man shifted, neverously almost, and stated, "At least two hundred-thousand stones worth of ore. Two hundred-thousand...and the need to export the materials, so access to a waterway would be crucial as well. There are very few unoccupied places that fit that demand."

I closed my eyes, thinking of a place that would satiate the needs, "Minoc. The mountain nearest the town is not used by but a few miners, and the northern mountain range will be very useful as well. Make all necessary preperations." I began scrawling orders down on pieces of parchment, to be sent to the workers.

"What about the residing powers-that-be in Minoc? Wont they mind that we are using their land without permission?" The bearded man asked in concern, before reaching the door out.

"If they have a problem with it, they can talk to me. Don't let yourself be pushed out of Minoc, this is far too important, and we need that ore. Now go." I commanded to the man, and he turned and left. "Hmm...now to figure out how much of everything else we need..."
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Galathan
"Survivor of Ormus"

[Dof the Daft]

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Three figures stood upon the stone face of a mountain, short legs wide in a proud stance with knobby hands on wide hips. They stood roughly above a child's height but from their grave faces, greyed with soot, rolled locks of beautiful beards down to their plump bellies. However much their appearance brought to mind tales of children's fancies, their eyes were stoically affixed like dead men's upon he who took stock of the Mountains of Kendall. The dwarf on the right hand had quietly unslung his war axe and took in a deep breath of chill mountain air. Before the bellow his deep war cry, he in the middle placed a hand on his chest and bid him be watchful. He on the left hand, tongueless, hung his head low so that his beard swept the foothold on which he stood and the figures of three Dwarfs, once sworn to the now dead Thane of their kinfolk, watched.