"Hello lad. I've a bottle of Hruljthan Amber collecting dust, if you'd like something a bit more invigorating than tea. Might be you'll want it, for what I've got to say."

He snaps his fingers and his invisible butler drifts off, returning with a stoneware bottle that is as dusty as advertised, though invisible hands wipe it down before pulling the cork and pouring a bit into two glasses that are brought over on a tray and set down between you and the elder dwarf.

"Have a seat lad."

He strokes his beard in contemplation. "I remembered, or had remembered for me, where I'd heard the name on those axes. Balador. Wild god of werebears. Not much of a religious sort myself, tend to think the gods and I are traveling different roads.", he raises a hand to forestall any objections.

"Not that I don't think they and those that follow them are due their respect, I just expect them to earn it, same as I would any mortal folk. Anyway, like I said, the name rung a familiar tone, and I made the connection that your Lady and he have a shared enemy in Malar. Think your church has had the more visible hand in that, but that stands to reason. Did a bit of star gazing for answers, looking to make a connection, and well I came across some concerning things that I think concern you."

"Be easier if I show you...", he says, standing up and moving to a side table, "how do you feel about drugs?"

When you enter Kreldoran's study, he's pacing back and forth, gently slapping an envelope against one palm. He doesn't notice you right away, but eventually turns and gestures to a chair, a considering look on his creased features. 

"Debated whether I was supposed to give this to you now or not, I think I might be a bit early... but don't think it'll cause any harm... I'm sure whenever you open it will be the right time. Just hold off on opening it until you're on your way, if I made myself forget writing it, I'm sure I had a good reason."

He hands across an envelope, the front sealed in wax and the back of which is addressed in his handwriting to "General Buckthorn".

"You aren't already a General, by any chance, are you lad?"

"Good morning lad, have seat. You familiar with the story of 'Kchuvik the Talented Fool Who Got Into More Mischief Than He Could Get Himself Out Of Without Help From Wise Elders'? I promise the title flows better in the original dwarven. It's not really that good of a story if you aren't so no big loss there... The sort of overly cautious drivel that the elders want instilled in the youth so they listen to them, but here I am, trying to caution you about your dalliances with forces unknown."

"I'm not privy to the details, mind you, didn't feel it was my place to pry... but I've seen many signs pointing to a change coming... a change the magnitude of which hasn't been seen in millennia, and if you'll pardon my saying so, and I suppose even if you won't, it's clear you're dabbling in something unusual, powerful and probably unusually powerful."

Dornikal looks to the liquor then to Kreldoran as he lifts it from the platter. In their native tongue he asks cautiously,

"You have news of the Greystones?"

Ulmwin considers the question for a moment, then shakes his head.

"Nah, can't say I've heard that one before, must be mostly a dwarvish tale. I'd add it to my repertoire, but I feel like I can get a plot summary from what you're about to tell me," he says, before feigning at least some surprise as the old dwarf continues. Still, as he seems to be finishing up, it appears the gnome respects the wizard at least enough to not act completely innocent.

"I think you'd be right, honestly. Big changes are occurring, and I feel like we've only scratched the surface, and what we've done to help may just be putting a bandaid over a gaping wound. It's a scary thought, but I'll try to do my due diligence as a bard to record it all."

"...I'm a bit surprised to hear you say that I'm dabbling in it, however? I'd figure you have heard some talk concerning this matter from Randy, given what he's told all of us. I assure you that I'd not seek to delve into whatever power seems to be upsetting the balance of the planes. But," he starts, hesitates a moment, then continues.

"To put it in the terms of an allegory, based on my understanding and belief... If there were a great storm brewing somewhere upon the endless sea, it is not unlikely to think that the lighthouse keeper, from upon their high tower, notices the storm long before others do, and could act upon it. Naturally, depending on their demeanor, such actions could shift... But if it chooses to aid the ones that continually try and slow the storm down, I would guess their disposition would at worst count as 'neutral'."

The gnome offers a slight smile, hoping that placates the old dwarf a bit.

Kreldoran knocks back his dram of spirit before giving a rumbling cough and throat clearing.

"Less news now, and more that it'll be news later, but touches on the now... that didn't help did it."

He rubs at his beard, absently pouring another measure, but sipping this one more slowly and thoughtfully.

"Ah... perhaps an analogy." He gets up and rummages around on a pile of papers, eventually exclaiming in success as he holds up a fist sized chunk of granite that seems to have been serving as a paperweight. He lobs it to you and returns to his seat, waiting silently as you inspect it.

The granite is wrapped halfway around a chicken egg sized garnet, the red gem winking in the lights of the study.

((Give me an Investigation check, with Advantage and Proficiency due to it being gem related.))

"I think we share that desire, recording things...", he gestures to the bound tomes lining the walls of the study, and the nearby desk where even now a mage hand scratches with quill on parchment. "Though I dare say yours have more potential to find an audience of more than one."

"Dabbling was a dismissive choice of wording, I apologize. How did I put it...," he rummages about in his robes and pulls out a scrap of paper, reading from it, "'Interfacing with powers outside mortal understanding'?"

He shrugs and stuffs the note back into his pocket. "I didn't leave myself many details, so if I knew them, I didn't think I needed to know them for this conversation." 

"As you say, young Randerwaith in many ways is a herald of change to come, and 'interfacing with powers' of his own and all the burden that comes with that, but I believe he is up to it, as are you. If it helps to put the two of you at ease, my notes don't indicate animosity between the forces who have inserted themselves into your lives."

He listens to your allegory of the lighthouse keeper.

"And this lighthouse keeper is your... friend? To expand on your metaphor, does that make you the villager who brings them smoked mutton and casks of ale? If the relationships is purely transactional, coppers left on the empty cask by the door, and no warm words passed, does the neutral light keeper warn the villager who brings them goods, or is their focus on the ships out at sea? After all, even if the villager's hovel is swept out to sea, there can always be a different villager to bring what is needed. But a friend. One who has shared a mug of ale, and swapped stories, surely the light keeper warns their friend, perhaps even lets them weather the storm inside the lighthouse? I don't know if such a thing is possible, or even advisable, but I feel that you've accorded yourself a rare opportunity, and feel that taking the opportunity to learn as much as you are able cannot be a bad thing. Not warning the village isn't the worst case with a neutral observer... I think a worse case would be that we and all we are is viewed as sand grains on the beach, to be scoured and eroded before the storm. That neutral observer may note the new formations and deposits of sand, but in way detached from any connection to what it means to the sand."

"Or I've just become overly maudlin with age.", he says with a wry smile.