The Battle for the Hammer.

[Reece Nolan 996]

The Battle for the Hammer

[Music]

     It was as the city of Al-Faiz fell amidst the drums and screeches of the demonic legion’s advance that the lone Ireheart stood. Atop by his six foot bear Joff, he charged into the city attempting to rally the panicked warriors calling for retreat, but to no avail. Seeing that the city’s fall would spell the inevitable end of everyone he loved and cared for, he swallowed his pride as a living descendant and charged into the fray. Releasing his bear upon the front line, the Inferni soldiers were mauled by tooth and claw relentlessly as Durgar himself pushed on wielding no more than two Starbreaker forged steel knuckledusters crying “Narvak oz Urguan!” His advance split the fray in two, soldiers falling left and right helpless to fend against the rage of an inspired son of Dreek. A shadow cast by a gargoyle flew by, soon crushing several of its own infantry under foot upon landing. Atop the beast rode one of the Infernis Generals, Zekul’akudah wielding the Hammer of Urguan which was held in a red light as the sky soon blackened with his words.

 

     “You.” He stated, his body slithering forth as several snake heads plumed malflame around him. But Durgar was not phased, his onslaught continuing as he fought his way to the general. His eyes spoke of many trials and tribulations. Tales of grief, of disheartening guilt for his actions, stories of seeking redemption among his kin and loved ones. His eyes were filled with a bloodlust that showed not reckless abandon, but a righteous cause in his heart.

 

     “The only one that remains.” His voice slithered, coiling around the sand stricken battlefield as his soldiers obeyed mindlessly, surrounding the pair. “You deserve the bite of your ancestors.”

 

     “Spare me your words, I’ve come to ensure that the lives of my loved ones are not in vain!” Durgar spoke out, crushing the skull of an Inferni soldier under foot. “The hopes of those who have fallen, the dreams of those to come, they will not be extinguished!” He affirmed, charging with nothing more to say at the general in full stride. With this fatal mistake, the general hefted the Hammer of Urguan up and cracked Durgar upside the chin at full force using his own momentum to further the blow. With a sickening thud echoing through the air, Durgar flew into a spin and landed in the footfall of their arena with his jaw dislodged. But he felt no pain, he felt only his ancestors, including Yavok himself coursing through his veins to bear witness to this duel. Popping his jaw back in place, he rose once more.

 

     “You realize it too don’t you? I think I understand it now myself, I’m no hero.” He grunts with a lisp, charging forth again and putting all his strength into a blow with his stone golem hand, its olive rune flickering violently as it reflects his mental state. “I didn’t even stand a chance the moment you came off of that beast.” He utters, grinning as his eyes welled with tears. Hellfire raining upon the city behind him as he drops to one knee trying to gather himself.

 

     “Mine, agent of the betrayer.” The general said, as Vorukhan-Ur strode forth to the scene. The general now looking back down at the dwarf kneeling before him. “Choose your death.” He hissed, one of the snakes of his body slithering forth to lift Durgar’s chin so that he may behold his executioner.

 

     “I make myself known, now!” Vorukhan-Ur calls forth. “...As the one most fitting to destroy the champion of the Irehearts.” He says approaching the ring of Inferni soldiers guarding this sacred duel. “Grant me this chance to scorn the memory of Urir forever!” He begs the grand general.

 

     As the pair discuss his demise, Durgar’s hand lunges forth to grab the Hammer of Urguan, which resonates and glows with his sorrow and realizes shortly that his fate is sealed, the anguldaemonic runes only being able to glow to acknowledge him as his grasp was contested. “I’ll die a fighter then. If I could not teach my kin honor, I’ll teach them to be inspired!” He declares in one futile last attempt to free the hammer, mustering the last of his strength into repeatedly blows towards the general’s elbow yet again to no avail. “Navark oz Urguan!” Yet the generals snake like eyes watched, respecting his efforts yet fully understanding it meant little to change the face of the battle. Joff, finally breaking through the last of the infantry called out to his owner with one last roar before being gutted like a pig and slamming head first into the sand, lifeless. In Durgar’s heart, he knew his time was up. He knew he would not walk through the hall of heroes guided by Dungrimm’s hand as he had failed to uphold his blood oath.

 

     “Durgar Ireheart!” Vorukhan-Ur announced. “Suffer now the culmination of your forefather’s sins. You are, the descendant of the rapacious, the glory of failure, and the fear of the unguarded and meek. Never will I ever... Forgive your lowly kind.” He proclaimed, his spell now finished as a bolt of black crackling lightning struck down upon the Ireheart ready to annihilate his entire being, denying him any further chance of life and possibly existence in the afterlife. It was in this final split second that for him, lasted years, did Durgar lastly utter, “I love you mom, pop.”

 

     “Distasteful.” The general hissed as his kill was stolen by his lesser. Looking back upon where the valiant warrior stood, remained only a pair of Starbreaker forged steel knuckledusters atop a pile of ash. The general then looked out to the waters, seeing the last of the troops claiming to protect to city retreating with their tails tucked. His piercing gaze watching as the beasts of his army made comfort in their newly ruined home.

 

https://imgur.com/a/9MxrpxC

[Masouri 2735]

News of Durgar’s death would reach Durorn, who’d state in memory of his loved brother “Meh brotha’ brought honah tu t’e loine ov Dreek, ‘e will always beh remembah’d en meh heart. ‘N may his name beh remembahed by all dwed fer ‘is bravery ‘n sacrifice.”

[Cheezzy_Garlik 540]

When this news arrived to Aghuid, he returned the sender with a chuckle and a harty grin “ Heh, t’e basterd got wot ‘e deserv’d ef oim ‘onest “ he’d proclaim, the messenger giving him and eye of disgust. Once the messenger left Aghuid went on with his duties for the day, the normal smithing, but deep down he knew what he did was wrong. Later that night as all the Irehearts lay asleep Aghuid sat next to the burning forge, the magma furiously glowing. He sat there for hours contemplating what he was to do with the news he’d received, now with his veins bursting with rage and blood boiling, he took to the forge to make the greatest creation he will ever concieve. As he heated the metal to make daemonsteel, he drew his dagger from under his pelt and dragged it across his left palm, the serrated edges tearing deep in his flesh, he held his hand over the melting steel letting the blood drain from his hand, as he did this he shouted at the top of his lungs, waking up all of the Irehearts, if not all of Urguan “Durgar, oi wos worng, wrong to cerse yeh name, and wrong teh desown yeh, yeh well olways beh moi brot’eh. When t’e dae come t’at moi loife es stroken from meh. oi well nae walk wit’ Dungrimm alone, bot take yeh wit’ meh” tears now starting to fall down his face “ CAUSE YEH ARE MOI BROT’EH, AND OI WELL UP’OLD YEH ‘ONAH TELL MOi VEREH LAST BREAT ’ “He wipes the tears from his eyes.“ T’is is moi blood oat’, nae to Urguan, nae to teh Oir’earts, bot to Yeh.”

[BDanecker 867]

Yemekar’s Pick Dorimnur Goldhand would stand upon the half-built ramparts of Urguan’s southern gate, chiseling away at the stone when a mule-pulled cart of oak logs arrived, driven by a fellow dwed. He shouts down “Ye can jest leave et,” but the dwed would have dire news to tell. After the recounting of the duel, Dorimnur sits atop the ramparts, still for a while before sighing and saying “Let t’ese fortifications ensure t’at nae ‘appens again.” He turns to pick up his hammer and chisel again, off to continue his work, albeit faster paced. He mumbles to himself “t’at bastard sure did make t’a best breakfast...”

[Elite Snipes 3563]

Bakir Ireheart was actively tending to the Direwolves of Clan Ireheart, exchanging their dirty water for fresh clean water. Grabbing some fresh meat from the tavern, He’d go to throw a freshly killed boars leg to them, the Direwolves devouring the leg, tearing its flesh apart. As Bakir went to move on to the other Direwolves he was approached by another fellow Ireheart, bearing a saddened face ”Oi Bakir.” 

Bakir would turn around to the voice, raising a brow ”Aye Brothah, Wot can I help yeh wit?” The Ireheart with a saddened face broke the news to Bakir, clasping his hands behind his back, ”Yer brothah, our Brothah Durgar died en battle, tryen teh take back thah hammer ov Urguan.” Bakir Ireheart slowly nodded, a now saddened face coming upon him, realizing he’d never see the passionate Ireheart again. He went to put down his things, stepping forward he’d place a hand on the Irehearts shoulder. ”Weh shall mourn Durgar, togetha. Tank ye for tellin me this.” Bakir would then walk back into his room, sitting down in preparation for a festival in honor of Durgar Ireheart. As Bakir made preparations to honor his fellow Ireheart, his brother. He’d think to himself ”Durgar yeh will beh missed, yeh will be mourned, and oi hope, when my toime comes, weh get teh walk thah halls of Dungrimm togetha, as BROTHERS of Kjellos.” 

[DrHope 609]

  

Sat atop a grassy hill were a pair of dwarfs, their gaze on the sun that was due to set on the horizon.  One was younger, his tears running down his cheeks as he quietly sobbed in a hunched position. He wore the garments of an Ireheart, fur pelts and deep green marks that decorated his skin. The other was much older,  wrapped in brown robes with small patterns of golden linen interwoven along the fabric. “’ow ken ah do it...’ow could ah jus’ leave evereh thin...ah shouldn’t ‘ave med t’is blood oath” The Ireheart spoke in between sobs,  hands covering his face. 

“Its too late now my dear boy, you’ve made your choice” 

“have you ever regretted killing another life?” Durgar asked in curiousity, brown eyes lingering on the mans yellow one. 

 

“Aye I did and I’m not proud of the deeds I’ve done. So I promised myself to never wield another weapon again...” 

His tone was gravelly and steady, carrying a sense of ease as he continued to speak. “This is a perfect opportunity to retake your clans honor in places far beyond the borders of the mountains...” He raised his sleeve, a grey hand pointing to the open road that softly called. “Don’t look behind you, instead look forward and fulfill your oath...move on from this dark chapter and turn the page to something more” 

Listening to his words the sobbing dwarf sniffed his sorrow away and with a renewed vigour, he gazed down at the stone brick that formed the path to his redemption.  “Kazrin”  He placed down his crossbow at the cave dwarfs side, a small smile appearing over his features. “thank you...”

 

It wouldn’t be for many months until a letter came at Kazrins doorstep.
"I am headed to the front lines of Al-faiz. Should anything happen to me I wish you to know that your wisdom has not gone unheard." – Durgar Ireheart

For the next several hours after the battle, the halls of the Remembrancers fell silent. No quill upon parchment or the feint whispers of readers audible as a clear ringing of steel echoed from the library. There in the deep end of Kazrins forge, stood the elderly Starbreaker, hammering away the softly hued metal that bent with every swing. His blows were a steady rythm, yet they held the fury of the elder as sparks flung from the anvil. Rested aside his forge was a small crossbow, its body illuminated briefly by the embers of orange that flickered.  Finally, the rhythm ceased as the Cave dwarf raised his newly forged axe, the edges of the blade still glowing orange. “Seems my promise will have to wait...”

[Puglord 192]

an enraged dwarf heads over to the city that was taken by the demons, going to ask where the ash of his fallen brother is, knowing that he may die in doing so but not caring.