A Frozen March[!]

[Dreek 1633]

As the days grow on, and the set date comes closer, a depressing mood settles over the city. They had suffered more in the past Elven week than in the entire Orenian-Dwarf War, and the final challenge was still to come. The city portrayed the dark mood of it’s inhabitants perfectly, shops were closed, the tavern empty, and citizens huddling by the warm fires. Fast winds whipped by the gates, buffeting the sole guard who watched over the courtyard of the city. This mood was especially intensified within the Clan hall of Clan Stormhammer. Members mourned and prayed for their clan father, and hoped for his success.

 

Meanwhile, Igor Ireheart sat at his desk, pouring over his diary and recording his recent happenings, a few drops of tears spilling into his large beard as he recounted the story of his mutated brother. Dreek’s face was seared into his memory, representing the full ability of Ondnarch’s power and hatred towards the Dwarves. Slowly, he turned his head towards the hammer that sat in the corner of his room, radiating it’s immense power. As he stared at it he recounted the stories of his life, and what he had done and left for his kin to remember him by. As he begins to get up and leave his room, he remembers his most recent nickname, and gives a slight chuckle, ready to see his brother and ancestors in the afterlife.

 

It seemed that the only person in the entire city that was happy was Darenth, and he radiated the feeling. The Dwarf practically bounded around the halls, radiating a sense of joy and general happiness. As he bounded around a thought came to him, that of the Broodmother and her threat to the Dwarves. Quickly, he scurried his way towards the Lord’s council chamber, his shadow flickering into inhumane shapes every few seconds. By the time he reached the lord’s chamber, his shadow had returned to Dwarven state, and his grin and changed to a face of stern seriousness. Slowly, he entered the great meeting hall of the governing body of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan. As his eyes connected with those of the Grand King, Darenth spoke up, "King of Kinsmen, I am nearly ready to reveal the true name of your guide, but I have a warning. Inside the caverns of the Deeproad, you will meet Ondnarch's Broodmother, she who’s silk can trap a man for eternity, slowly dissolving him for decades. Needless to say, a slow and horrible death. She resides very close to the gates of Kal’Azgoth, and thus is unavoidable when approaching the entrance. I wish you luck when fighting her. One last thing though, when facing Ondnarch, the Hammer Wielder known as Igor Ireheart and myself must be the only two to enter the Castle, where Ondnarch resides. I have a special piece of iron that i was born with, prophesied to assist the Hammer Wielder in his or her final quest. I trust that your soldiers will abide by these terms. Have a good time preparing for this final battle, remember to call on me for further consultation.” As he finishes, Darenth turns on his heels and leaves the meeting room and returns to his darkened room.

Slowly, the hours passed as the city’s inhabitants mulled around, preparing for the final fight, morale was low among the Dwarven Citizens. However, unlike many of the citizens, Darenth sat in his room and meditated, small flames appearing around him as he summoned them from the void, and as the flames popped up, a strange occurrence happened. Inside the rooms of those Dwarves who held the Shallmandril’s Weapons, a slight glow could be seen. The weapons had taken on a glow of their own, exerting a stronger chill towards the owner of the weapon, forcing the chill into their body and enveloping them in the chilly mist. Soon, however, the mist dispersed and the weapons dulled down, returning to their original state. One thing had changed though, Darenth’s eyes had turned from a deep brown to a pearly blue.

 

The Sun’s crest had just crossed the horizon when Kal’Ithrun exploded into action, soldiers ran about gathering their equipment, Lords and Commanders shouted orders, and Lord Igor Ireheart prayed, in front of the Face of Dungrimm, alongside the High Prophet, Aldal Ireheart. It was around noon that the army had gathered outside, with Lord Igor, Lord Zahrer, Grand King Wulfgar, and Darenth Verum at it’s lead. The army was ready, and the battle was to come.

 

((This is the last of the three RP posts before the Final Event in the main plotline for the 3.0 Dwantag. Reminder: Sunday 23rd 3pm est))

[Fimlin 1997]

Fimlin Grandaxe is a happy dwarf why does Darenth get all the fun?

[Vulkin Frostbeard 58]

*Vulkin Frostbeard sends word to all the frostbeards to meet him in the clan hall for an important meeting. As his kin sit in their seats waiting for the meeting to begin, Vulkin enters the room and sits on his throne looking down at the rest.* "Oi lads weh are tuh prepare for battle. Oi want all ye lads tuh beh fully armored and prepared for a long march tuh meet our enemy and send t'em tuh teh darkest pits of hell." *Vulkin stands and the clan hall echos with the shouts of the frostbeard clan preparing for battle. As they leave their clan hall the men walk in a perfect line following Vulkin to the entrence of the city approaching Wulfgar. Vulkin looks at Wulfgar with a big smile and eyes full of fire and says* "Me and meh lads readeh to cover teh fields in blood."

[Dreek 1633]

War Horns sound throughout Dwarven Lands as the army prepares to march.

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.