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A Grand Finale For A Grand King

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Goldrim

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Credit goes to Lordbobby for the video. :)

 

 

Grand King Hodir stands with warhammer in hand, a dim mist lurking over the silent ocean as the Dwarves eagerly waited in anticipation of the battle. The peace was quickly disturbed,  fully armored men leapt into the foreign waters and swam towards the Dwarven steam boats, tearing at the planks and piercing the hull with their arrows.

In a moments time they made it onto the deck of the ships, a glorious battle ensued which led to Oreneners overrunning the Dwarven forces. What Oren did not know is that the Dwarves purposefully overloaded the ship’s boilers, causing a grand explosion where many perished. Hodir decided to stay, for a captain goes down with his ship.

Bloodied and beaten he slumped down, breathing heavily as he braced himself for impact “Yemekar akbar”, he muttered. The initial blow so loud it left a sizzle in his eardrums. The second blow, much closer to him, simply sent him flying off into the dark waters below “Yemekar akbar!”. Completely numb he looked towards the surface with a grin, the ember glow in the old Doomforge’s eyes faded along with his last gasp for breath.

 

drowning.png

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Odin chuckles as another King is gone. "Owh fer fawks sake... weh realeh cant keep a King..."

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"Urguan must be tha onleh nation t'at nae'body wants tae' lead."

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Publius blinks at the news that the Grand Kingdom must choose another king.

 

"Didn't they just vote that poor guy in? What was he doing there in the first place? I'm sure any sane man cleared out when they heard the war-cries..." he slowly turns to the sky filled with fireworks, sipping his drink before he whispers,

 

"Barmy army, oi oi."

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Bolo Irongut weeps openly as the first black president of Urguan, Hodir "Wetbeard" Doomforge is super soaked.

 

"He dindo nuffin'."

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*Hears the news weeping a single tear before standing amonst his oren brothers "THE GRAND KING Hodir Doomforge is DEAD we celebrate knowing the war over the north is nearly over. I'm paying on the drinks tonight's lads! *The crowd cheer as we march home.

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Finnvard reclines back in his seat in his Hall, having a younger member of his Clan scurry up to him and tell him. He frowns slightly, gripping the arm rests of his chair tighter and tighter at each passing moment, he'd mutter somewhat under his breathe, staring into the fire pit, "And so the Halls beckon.."

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It seems the general is dead. Perhaps his deluded army will follow suit.

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