The Hub.

This was it, Forgrim thought as he and the others were "asked" to appear before the patriarch. A part of him felt fear as to what may occur, but another felt relief. Relief that the torment that he and the others have had to deal with these long weeks will finally be at an end!

Forgrim and the others marched what was likely a death march. The looks on their faces matched his own, fear, uncertainty, but also a measure of relief as they too felt the end in sight.

Even the rest of the Hub could feel it in the air and more than a few paused their work long enough to cast a pitiful glance their way or bow their head in farewell. But nothing more. Even they knew what Forgrim and his cursed lot awaited them and it would be a grim affair indeed.

Then at last they arrived. The door to the quarters of the patriarch, his kin, and the small army of gnomish busybodies that seemed constantly at work within. The grim plated guards glared at them as they arrived. Despite the time it took for things to finally come to those in power, word spread fast once it did. Though he was unsure if that wasn't more out of pity for them and not just pure fortune.

Either way, it mattered naught now, as the door was opened and his small group of eight were led within. Even Orn was dragged from the care of the rune priests to attend what they were sure was a gallowed sentance. The poor lad was crazed in the eye even now as he stared at every shadow like it would come alive.

They were led through the mess of gnomes that ran this way and that as they carried the administrative work on their backs, literally as they all carried large packs bursting with all manner of charcoal sticks, quills, and no small amount of parchment and whatever else they used in their duties to the clan.

Not a single one looked up from their work or even seemed to acknowledge their presence other than running around them as they were led towards the office of the patriarch himself.

The door opened and revealed the patriarch of the clan, his brother the head rune priest, and the patriarch's ever present gnomish busybody that notes down anything and everything involving the patriarch on matters of import.

The patriarch and rune priest glared at the gathered dwarves that were half led half pushed into the office space that was only just big enough for them all to gather and little else. Even the grim plated guards were forced to remain on the other side of the door.

The patriarch glared at them and spoke in his deep rumble of a voice.

"Do you know why you are here?"

Before any of them could even think to answer the rune priest barked out in annoyance.

"Stone Father's Beard, Ulrin! Just be done with it already! There are more important things to do!"

The patriarch glanced at his brother with a quirked brow.

"Was it not you that suggested this?"

"I suggested action, not wasteful words!"

The patriarch grunted and turned back towards Forgrim and the others as they shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Very well. Forgrim. Son o' Ungrim. Son o' Argrim. You and those beside you stand here ta account fer yer actions o' late."

Forgrim swallowed.

"And what actions be th-"

Before Forgrim could finish he was struck with a might backhand of the rune priest that sent him to the floor. Forgrim could feel more than see the hateful glare being bored into him as the rune priest spat at him with venom and righteous anger.

"You DARE even try and attempt innocence?! If you have any pride left you will submit and account!"

Part of Forgrim wanted him to fight. A dark part of him that desired vengeance at being struck for something that was out of his control and not his doing. But he smothered it for he knew it was just. He forced himself into a kneeling position and kept his head down and his voice low as he listed the actions that he and his kin have taken. Or not taken.

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"I, Forgrim, and mah kin have dishonored our clan. We have dishonored 'em by refusin' ta bear our share o' burdens. We have shirked our duties in tha mines, forcin' others ta walk alone within tha dark where they would find kith and kin at their side otherwise. We have dishonored The Stone Father by not workin' nor sleepin' within his hallowed domain. And we have dishonored ourselves by not takin' actions ta correct these despicable things ourselves, forcing our kin ta bear even our own judgement now."

None of those beside him contested his words for they knew they were true. They should have sought an honorable death, but instead they carried their burden and gave the rest of the clan even more hardship than it deserved because of it.

The rune priest spat onto Forgrim and turned to the patriarch.

"You are head o' tha clan, brother. And so punishment is yers ta deal. But it is by mah opinion and right as not only head rune priest but as a dwarf that they be shaved clean and their beards burnt, that they be whipped for their transgressions, that they be crushed by stone for their sacrilege against The Stone Father, and their names struck from all clan records!"

There it was, Forgrim thought as a sense of grim peace came over him. Things would finally end. Their pain and torment would be at an end. Or so he thought.

In the growing silence of the room, broken only by Quintus furiously scribbling away every word and action for the records, the patriarch finally spoke but only a single word.

"No."

Forgrim's head shot up at the word. Even the head rune priest looked taken aback.

"What do you mean no?!"

"I mean no. That is what I mean. We've already suffered much loss and I will not see yet more even by mah hand this day."

"Brother-"

"I have spoken! As head o' this clan mah word is set and law!" Ulrin declared to all gathered.

The air was tense as the rune priest and the patriarch met steely glares at one another. But as honored as rune priests were, even they had to ultimately submit under a clan head's ruling.

"Very well brother. But mark mah words, no good will come o'-"

"I am not finished Ogrin." The patriarch interrupted and turned his gaze back towards Forgrim and his lot.

"You will not be shaved. Nor whipped. Nor crushed with stone. But mah brother is correct. You must face punishment."

Forgrim and them gulped as they waited for their ultimate fate.

"Just north o' here along tha tracks is an open bit o' ground. There we are ta facilitate trade with that godlin'. It is there that you and yer kin are banished ta."

Dread and terror replaced the grim peace and even anxiety that has claimed the dwarves. Forgrim tried to speak but it was as if a hand was clasped around his throat.

Ulrin continued regardless.

"Yer punishment is this. You will go there. You will create an outpost. You will facilitate communication and trade with tha godlin'. You are barred from returnin' ta dwarven society and shall not purchase property owned by dwarves. Any attempt to circumvent this will be met by immediate execution. You will be given tha supplies afforded ta all banished. Either an axe or pick o' yer choice, and three days worth o' food. After that is none o' our concern. All interaction with other dwarves is barred save by me and mah kin or those I deem fit, trustworthy, and bearin' a mark o' authority. Should you live or die out there is up ta you and tha ancestors that watch over you. But as far as the records are concerned you will be listed as deceased and all immediate holdin's or possessions other than dress and provisions will be seized and turned over ta next o' kin. Any spouses will be made tha offer ta follow you but they too will also be marked as deceased and their own property also seized, otherwise they will be marked as widowed and eligible for re-sealin'. If none are available then they will be claimed by tha clan ta pay fer funerary expenses."

"Please no!" Forgrim shouted and threw himself toward the desk between him and the patriarch.

"Please don't send us out there with that thing! Execute us! Exile us far away! Anythin' but-" Forgrim's voice died as he found two sets of eyes glaring into him.

No, he thought. The patriarch was right. They aren't fit to be executed and the patriarch is too much o' a businessdwarf to just let them leave without proper punishment. Instead they were outcast. Doomed to forever remain at the edge of dwarven society, doing things that they found distasteful or too dangerous. Such as dealing with the fickle whims of deities. Such a fate is usually reserved to criminals that have proven too bothersome to keep imprisoning yet not enough to execute them.

A fate that Forgrim and his lot now found themselves in. He was numb. This was the last thing he and his kin wanted. They wanted peace and relief. Yet not they would be facing their terror face to face soon enough.

"As the patriarch commands."

The patriarch grunted affirmatively and turned towards his brother with a quirked brow. The rune priest huffed but remained silent. Ulrin turned back towards those assembled as they all tried to keep their emotions in check. Some failed to do so and quiet sobs could be heard.

"Good. You leave at dawn. Tha last things you will receive from us are yer supplies, an axe or pick can be chosen upon leave, as well as a single gnome ta document and record all dealin's with tha godlin'."

At the mention of gnome, one of them seemingly appeared from nowhere and stood beside Forgrim. Ulrin gestured to the fidgety gnome.

"This is Odeas. All interactions between you and the hub will go through him. All others will be ignored unless done by those with proper authority."

The fidgety gnome in question muttered constantly under his breath and gave a small gesture towards Forgrim and his lot. Forgrim bowed his head as Ulrin dismissed them.

Forgrim and his lot left the building while Odeas was being outfitted with the same gnomish kit as the rest of them did and were no doubt preparing him for what to expect seeing to outcast dwarves out in the wilds. The rest of them trudged towards their homes to retrieve their bare possessions. What little they had would fit the criteria of being outcast, the only things to be taken from them were the "dugouts" that they barely used anyway.

The other dwarves were quickly informed of their sentance and acted accordingly. They ignored them. What few times they heard others speak of them they used the past tense. Forgrim was. He were. Though he walked among them he may as well be dead as far as the clan was concerned.

After packing what few things he had, he returned to outside the main building, where the others also waited with their own supplies. It came to no surprise to Forgrim to see not a single spouse among them. Though some had some prospects before that day on the hill, afterwards courting was the last thing on their mind. Though they may be exiled, they all had the good sense to go evenly with axes and picks. Forgrim himself carried a pick, the same one he's carried since the attack on the hub. Odeas was nearby and fidgeting. But unlike Quintus or the other gnomish busybodies, he did not mark down what they said and did. After all, as far as the records were concerned they were dead.

They waited all night until the sun began to crest the mountain to the east. A single day without sleep wasn't anything to a dwarf. Though for some this wouldn't be the first day without and it showed on some.

Finally, the patriarch emerged from the building and glanced down at them. Without a word, he gestured a bejeweled finger towards the tracks heading out of the Hub. Their exit declared, they packed up their things and made their way down the tracks. No dwarf said goodbye to them. No dwarf saw them off. None even looked their way as their forms were hidden as they rounded the bend and the hub disappeared from sight.