Lohner's Chronicle - Ancestral Claims

An absent-minded man of mysteries, Franz Lohner relies on his bulging journal to keep track of occurrences, intrigues and arguments around Taal's Horn Keep. Sometimes his notes are even useful, believe it or not. The Franz Lohner Chronicles are extracts from that journal.

You’ll never believe it - because I don’t quite believe it myself - but we find ourselves in something of a landlord’s dispute. I know what you’re thinking: Taal’s Horn Keep has been abandoned for ages, with all of its possible owners long since dead, mad or otherwise unavailable due to affairs of a magical nature. And that’s true. As far as I’m concerned, the building’s mine … what’s left of it.

So far, so good. The problem arises when a grim-faced dwarf by the name of Boldur Grundhar enters the picture. Claims to have been a merchant by trade, running caravans up and down the Altdorf-Nuln road. Seems a nice enough fellow, if one of few words. Sadly, several of those words, when translated, parse out to “get off my land”. Seems his ancestors have a claim to this patch of mountainside, and naturally he’s got the documentation to prove it. 

I had Bardin look over the relevant pages. He just shrugged and muttered something about cold-blooded notaries. At least, I think I’m translating that right. My Khazalid’s a bit rusty … as indeed is Boldur’s wargear. It’s fair to say his throng’s fallen on hard times, and with everything that’s going on we none of us should be terribly surprised at that. Not that I’ve mentioned it. Dwarfen pride’s a terrible thing, and I don’t want to stir up anything nasty. Even with Bardin in residence, it wouldn’t take much to turn this little contretemps into something a little bit more … aggressive, and Boldur looks like a fellow who’s working the end of his last seam, if you take my meaning?

When times get tough, dwarfs return to the mountains, and the way they’re leaving the Imperial lowlands right now it makes even the most worthless scraps of peak into prime territory. Sigmar alone knows how desperate Boldur’s become to find this worthless reach appealing. So far as I know, there’s not a scrap of smeltable ore for miles around, but then maybe he knows something I don’t? Never argue with a dwarf over matters mineralogical, that’s my motto. Well, one of ‘em. I find it pays to have plenty of mottos to hand, so perhaps that’s my motto?

Anyway. idiomatic intrigues notwithstanding, this leaves dear old Franz in something of a pickle. Boldur was polite but firm - I don’t think there’s any negotiation to be had on the matter. I’ve sent one of the lads down Karak Azgaraz to ask for arbitration from King Thuringer Orc-Hewer, but that’s gonna take a while, and there’s no guarantee it’ll work itself out in our favour. I’d better start working on a Plan B. You know, put out a few feelers for a backup base of operations. Maybe sweet talk Rosalinde into helping out. 

I can’t go back to camping in the great outdoors. Not at my age.