The Horn Sounds

[Fimlin 1997]

 

 

 

 

 

“It ‘as been suh lung.”

 

Fimlin Grandaxe walked down the streets of Kal’Omith, his dark armor gleaming by the firelight. He peered about each corner, observing its innards and judging them as he moved his eyes across each in view. He had contributed to the city’s build effort, laid his own plans alongside the others but he felt little satisfaction in his work; the city appeared grey and without color. He strolled into the main square, walking past the markets and stalls prompting its onlookers with ores and finely cut gems, as it was in all dwarven cities. Taking a right, he came upon his home, and reached into his beard to retrieve a rusting iron key to open the door. A smell of must entered Fimlin’s nostrils as he walked past his empty living room and trudged up his stairs. After shifting around a number of chests and crates filled with whatever wealth had actually stayed with him through the ages he reclined into his bed, and both sank to the floor below. There, he looked up towards the ceiling. It was tall and the house large itself, but it gave no comfort besides a place to rest and ponder what little each day had to offer. After a lengthy staring contest with the roof, he leaned over and blew out his lamp before falling to sleep in his armour.

 

-={}=-

 

What followed was a rather restless sleep, as a dream entered his mind like a plague from the old times. The dwarf watched as he saw his past, an image of the mighty city of Kal’Azgoth and its condemnation by the fallen Aengul, Ondnarch. He drifted, now seeing through the eyes of Kal’Ithrun, groups of young dwarves including himself eager to fight the equally ferocious humans on the other side of the gate. The picture shifted again, a mighty coalition headed by his cousin, Wulfgar fights in the desert against the enemy, a house is toppled and the scene fades into different colors of another time. The picture turns towards the city of Kal’Arkon, a thriving Grandaxe clan is met with a rising Starbreaker clan, grudges thrown already. The color in the scene changes, the grass dries up and the crops spoil, and all life abandons the land for a new one. The next image is in the heart of the Kazradin Mountains, a mighty city with himself as ruler upon the obsidian throne, soon faced with the innumerable enemy his great ancestors had fought before. The city burns and the dwarven people flee, the halls of the Grandaxe are desecrated by the Starbreaker and the Ironborn. In the North the dwarves gather, the fortress of Hiebenhall prepares to retake the mountains, and so they are seen marching off back south to do so.

 

 

 

 

The scene moves to what was Kal’Agnar, and the unholy stronghold is purged and remade, not that he would enjoy it long. It shifts to corrupt councils, scheming and contriving against he and his clan. He sees himself and his brothers in the throne room, the council removing the King, and expelling his clan. To the north his kin returns, denying the council their rule and draining the city of its dwindling populace. There, his clan shines, holding a torch to guide the dwarven people away from false councils. The north does not last long, the opportunity is seized by the enemy and the clan is pushed back out of the north, to reunite in the south once more. Balek, the builder of the city he now rules lets the clan a place of its own again, reminiscent of what they had done to spare the people. The lands of Athera fade away however, and the new lands of Kal’Akash and Avar come. The great hold of Kal’Valen rules over Avar, being a vanguard to protect the dwarven strait and keep the enemy away. The great island becomes the Jarldom of his own and his clan and is charged with keeping the lands. The enemy returns and Avar is lost, the clan falls to disunity and stagnation. The vision blurs and Fimlin becomes more and more aware of himself before he wakes up.

 

-={}=-

 

Fimlin looks out his window, it hadn’t been more than ten stone minutes. He brings himself out of bed, out of his house and up the steps to the clan hall. The hall was not even finished, but at this point it no longer mattered. He walked into the piles of storage until he came upon his goal. He had seen too much of recent failure, too much of the outcome relied on him. With a flirt of euphoria and determination he took a mighty breath and gave it to the great structure.

 

The horn had been sounded, the Clan of Grandaxe is called once more.

 

 

-={}=-

[ThumperJack 927]

Vosirk Grandaxe walks through the forests within Urguan's mountains, hefting an axe over his shoulder and a heavy travel pack hanging from his back. At the sudden sound of a horn all to familiar to him, his smiles and makes a sharp turn in the snow covered path, "Home I go, once again."

 

[Ayevia 141]

Freyja Grandaxe, the ex Grand Queen, stands beneath the shades of Urguan's trees. The sound of the horn sends a shiver down her spine, and a smile stretches across her face. "'Bout toime." She pats down the creases on her coat, before trudging through the snow  -- to home once again. 

 

[ryno2 1285]

Officer Grudgebeard, while patrolling the streets of Kal'Omith, hears the horn blowing. He lights a cigar, rolls up his sleeves, and writes some words in a little notepad tucked in his back pocket: 

"Keep an eye out for troublemakers coming in." 

[Galendar 631]

Agor would let out a quiet sigh, contemplating. 

[spartanred 58]

Heus smiles, and whistles a slow tune, while recollecting his kin's past, and his own future.   

"Home calls me. Tae my kin, and daugh'er, shall ah go."

[wolfdwg 2677]

Far off the northern coast of Tahn lies a small fishing ship. Virim lies slumbered on a reclined chair, but perks as he hears the far off distant blast. "Ho, ho! O'im comm'un 'ome boyos!" With a newfound vigor and haste the ship would move from it's anchored home towards the hold of Kal'Omith

[Guest]

"For teh Gran' Kang." remarks Grungron D. Ironborn.

[DeletedUser 169]

Darain Grandaxe, a veteran hardened through many battles and experience makes his way towards the clan. It has been too long since Darain had seen his brethren, Darain misses them deeply. Darain cries some nights. 

[TEEbrown 348]

Like stone old and forgotten, a dwarf sits in solitude. Quietly sipping ale, the old dwarf shakes off the dust that has gathered around him. It has been many long years since the failed expedition into the ruins of a old dwarven city. Many cave goblins fell by the hands of the dwarven explorers, but in the end it was the crippling infrastructure of the city that betrayed the group. A massive cave in buried the dwarves cutting them off from any chance of escape. During this time, Bazian Grandaxe was apart from the group drinking ale from centuries old casks of beautiful dwarven ale stored in casks that preserve it perfectly. It was this type of technology that Bazian was studying when he felt the rumbling of the hall. Dust flew from the opening of the hall. Once it had cleared, a massive pile of stone blocked the exit. Instantly Bazian realized that there would be no chance of escape for him. So this is where he sat, drinking ale and collecting dust.

 

It was not until the new city being formed that Bazian began to hear the noise of excavation. The sound of picks on stone was so faint, but Bazian knew the sound of digging well. At first it began faintly, but it steadily became louder. With new found vigor at freedom, Bazian picked up his pickaxe and began working his way through the endless pile of rubble at the entrance to the hall hollering for the excavating dwarves to hear him.

 

"'ere! I be down 'ere! Lo' lads, ah be trapped!"

 

Rethinking his tactic, he began shouting different words.

 

"Ale! Free ale! Soo much ale ye cannae drink it in your lifetime! For ah know, ah've tried!"

 

This went on for several more stone days. Each day Bazian regained most of what he lost. The old dwarf retied his beard, gave thanks to his ancestors, prayed again to Dungrimm for strength, he even gave his axe a nice sharpening. Eventually, Bazian popped his bald head out into a dwarven mine shaft that ran right through the rubble of the caved in city. Giving a wide smile, Bazian felt years younger, he even attempted a jump! Running down the mine shaft the old dwarf yells with joy.

 

"Lo lads! Ahm comin' 'ome!"

[Daisy 9738]

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

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.