The Fall of the Giants-Doom

[bromadan 368]

Spoiler

 

 

Ireheart Honor.

 

That is what was in question this day in Urgruan.

 

   Kilmar Ireheart, the Giants-Doom, stood at the base of the Ireheart Throne reading over his Documents as he was catching up on duties of his new position as Clan Father, thinking on what to do and what needed to be changed in his own mindset and that of the Clan. However in mid thought the doors to the Clan Hall was opened and a fellow Ireheart walked up towards him. He called out Kilmar for being disloyal and being a False Ireheart, for backing down from a fight when the Kingdom needed it most. And to be honest, Kilmar understood where the Dwed came from, but he made a decision, and stayed to his opinions. The Dwed proclaimed he was hidden under a different name to watch the Clan, and claimed to be a son of Gror. He would bring honor back to the Irehearts as they were known as. Kilmar smiled somewhat, at the thought of an old friend. However it seemed to matter little in the moment. Words were said between the two, and the gauntlet was thrown. They would settle opinions and matters with hammer and steel. The Ireheart way. A duel was to occur between the two.

 

   They progressed to the Clan hall’s training arena, donning armor and warhammers of equal make. The Duel will be of pure skill and capability alone. The Brathmordakin was to guide the hammers of this fight. Kilmar donned his armor and grabbed hold of his warhammer, taking a deep breath as he watched the similar armor-clad Dwed. They both said a few words, wishing each other luck as they were still Family afterall, even if they had different opinions.

 

   They stared down eachother for a few seconds before they charged forward with their Ireheart battle-cries, and thus began the duel. Whack, whack, ping! The clashes of hammers against armor sounded throughout the Clan Hall, the Dwed fighting tooth and nail in the sandpit. However, Kilmar was slow with his attacks, striking once where the other Dwed would hit with three. It wasn’t long before Kilmar took several hits to his chest, knocking the wind out of him and perhaps breaking a few bones in his chest. He couldn’t recall the hit that did him in, but he remembered losing his breath and realizing he stared up at the stone ceiling, back in the sand. The Dwed stood over him to help Kilmar up but he couldn’t bear the pain of moving. Kilmar gasped a final breath of air through his broken body, muttering a single sentence to the Dwed before the the air of life left his lungs. His eyes stared up at the stonework of his Kinsman.. Remembering his times of fighting alongside Gror.. Speaking with Aldal about anything that was on their minds.. Drinking with fellow Irehearts and sharing a laugh, speaking with Frosties to understand them, to speaking with any Dwed that cared to listen about what can be done to mend hate and tensions.. Always a talker.. If only he had the chance to drink one more ale with his family, with Aldal, the father he never had. His vision grew dark quickly, his mind readying himself for his final moments. He then met darkness, and Darkness greeted him.

 

((Much love <3))  

[Pancakehz 2279]

Gror Ireheart welcomes his old friend into the halls of Khaz'a'Dentrumm.

[HortonHeardAWho 243]

"Lat kud blah dat he was... Duumed tu fall." The goblin smirks at his not-so-clever joke.

[Legoboy7984 3155]

Agnar Ireheart would fold his arms giving a nod to Gror's son.

"Gud job, fellow dwed.."

[sneakybandit 1650]

Kror Ireheart stands by his nephew shedding a tear at the loss of a great dwed.

[Fid 566]

 

It is a quiet evening in the Grand Capital of Kal’Omith, and nowhere in the great stone city more-so than the Clan Hall of the Emberhorns. There, among the calm stone pillars and gnarled roots, Lodbairn stands before a thick oaken feast-table, broad arms folded over his braided auburn beard. A letter writ in runes lies flat before him, and the Clan Father’s characteristically solemn emerald eyes fill with wrothful fury like a glass poured with vitriol. “Imrid amrâd ursul!” he roars suddenly, causing dust to tumble from the rafters. With a brutal side-ways swipe the dwarf-lord casts the page to the floor, slamming his clenched fists unto the table with nigh-unbridled rage. “Tuh teh foires wit’ ye fer t’is idioceh. ‘As t’is war turned yeh all stark-mad?!”

 

His massive, meaty fists slam down upon the table again with a clamour, upending a nearby plate as he continues to bellow. “And WHU es t’is feckin’ “Dain Ironspoine”? Sence w’en does som’ streetwoise mongrel pup ‘ave teh roight tuh challenge ah Clan Fat’eh? Foind meh Aldal Oire’eart!” he roars, in the direction of any dwarf unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity.

[Soggy365 162]

 

Having heard the commotion as he strode into the Ireheart Clan Hall, Aldal knew instantly what had happened. The metallic clang of hammer meeting armour, the barbaric roars, the crash of body into sand. He side-eyed the entrance to the fighting pit, wincing as he watched, as though in slow-motion, some unknown dwed deliver the finishing blow to the dwarf that was his most trusted kinsman. He could not save Kilmar now; his son in all but blood was gone. He had to act fast. As Dain cleaned himself off in the fighting pit, the old dwed rushed to Kilmar's workshop, withdrawing the sacred objects which the pair of them had hidden there together in the fear that something of this nature would occur. Bundling up the relics in a large burlap sack and unsheathing Grimforge using his right hand, the former Clan Father returned to the main gate of the Clan Hall, though Dain was nowhere to be seen. Returning his trusty short-sword to its housing on his belt, he disappeared into the inky blackness of Kal'Omith's night. 

"Yeh're comin' wif me," Aldal commanded the Irehearts he met in the Tavern. A flurry of nods and confused looks were exchanged, but before long, a small party of Irehearts had formed behind their former patriarch. "Weh 'ave work teh do."

The squadron of furious clansmen, having by now been informed of that which transpired, made its winding way to the Clan Hall of the Emberhorns. "Ah believe Lor' Emberhorn would loike teh speak," Aldal explained to his followers, "One o' 'is servants sent fehr me."

With that, the elderly dwed threw open the doors of Lodbairn's Clan Hall, meeting his friend's anguished, emerald eyes with his own pair of sapphire ones. "Where deh croime is found," he growled, "Deh axe shall fall."

[Chorale__ 2147]

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

 

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