The Day the River Burned

[Riot 743]

Dorin Starbreaker had not set out for war that day.

 

He roamed the wilds with friends, searching the land for ore and herbs, following stone and soil as he always had. Shouting in the woods drew them aside, where they found a lone man being mauled by a ghoul. The man was no soldier—only a simple farmer of the Empire, half-dead and clawed open, too weak to lift even a branch.

 

Dorin and Sa’Maku, a Kha’, drove the creature off.

 

And then Dorin made a choice—one that tasted bitter, but true.

 

He did not take the farmer himself.

 

The roads had become the kind of place where a dwarf aiding an Imperial could be mistaken for a threat, or a traitor, or a prize. Dorin feared what would happen to the man—and to himself—if he was seen carrying an Imperial through tense lands with war on everyone’s tongue.

 

So Dorin pressed what aid he could into the farmer’s hands, and he had Sa’Maku take him back—fast, discreet, and with the steadier chance of reaching an Imperial clinic alive. Dorin stayed to the wilds, watching them disappear between the trees, jaw clenched as if the decision could be hammered into something cleaner.

 

The day remained kind after that.

 

They encountered lost Umri along the roads—humans without homes, without direction—and guided them toward places of shelter. A strange woman laughed and asked to pet Dorin’s goat-steed, and he allowed it. Children watched with wonder. For a time, the world felt whole.

 

That evening, Sa’Maku invited Dorin into his home for tea with the community. Orcs, Beastfolk, traders, soldiers, families—steam rose from cups as laughter filled the air. It was peaceful. Too peaceful, perhaps. Later, the village gathered by the river for a fishing contest, the prize set at one hundred mina. Nearly the entire settlement came.

 

Mothers held children on their hips, soldiers rested on spears, elders sat in the shade. The riverbank was alive.

 

Dorin began strong, pulling a trident from the waters early and earning cheers. When the fishing hole grew quiet, he moved farther downriver, toward the docks where trade vessels passed in steady rhythm.

 

That was when he noticed it.

 

One ship drifted low in the water—too low. Heavy with cargo. No crew on deck. No voices. No banners he recognized. It moved like something dead, carried only by the current.

 

Dorin fished from the river’s edge when a Kha’ came sprinting toward him from the village, eyes wide, mouth open in a warning Dorin would never hear.

 

Light consumed the world.

 

Then sound tore it apart.

 

The explosion shattered the riverbank. The air itself became a weapon. Market stalls vanished in flame and splinters, and the village was thrown into chaos. Dorin was flung end over end through wreckage and bodies, past screaming mothers, crying children, and soldiers whose orders died in their throats.

 

He struck the ground hard near a shattered bush, the ringing in his ears so violent that the world went silent.

 

When his vision cleared, the village was gone.

 

Homes lay in ruin. The market burned. Beastfolk, Orcs, traders, guards—some lay still, others crawled through ash and blood calling names that would never be answered.

 

Children screamed for parents who did not rise. Mothers clawed at rubble with bare hands. Soldiers staggered in shock, searching for an enemy that had already fled.

 

A massive shard of the iron gate screamed through the air, missing Dorin’s head by inches.

 

Earlier that day, Dorin had been idly handling a rusted chestplate found in the market—worthless scrap, or so he thought.

 

It saved his life.

 

The gate punched through his arm instead, metal tearing through flesh and bone, severing it cleanly. At first there was no pain—only pressure, brightness, and the sickening sense that the world had shifted wrong.

 

Dorin tried to stand. He failed.

 

He tried to shout. He could not hear his own voice.

 

Two orc shamans reached him through smoke and fire. They attempted to mend the arm, to restore what was already lost. Pain came then—white, sharp, consuming—and Dorin realized how fragile he had become, how close he stood to death.

 

He screamed at them to cut it off.

 

They did.

 

When the final healing spell was cast, the screams across the village had not yet ceased.

 

Nearly five hundred souls perished in the blast—soldiers and citizens alike. The river carried ash and blood downstream as flames consumed what remained.

 

Dorin Starbreaker was taken from the ruins and placed upon the road to Urguan, his severed arm cradled beneath the other—what was left of him carrying what he had lost.

 

Behind him, a village burned where tea had been shared and laughter had filled the air only hours before.

[KeiaTypeBeat 3277]

Spoiler

I don't have any characters who could react to this, but ur posts rock 

 

[Riot 743]

4 hours ago, RezRatKeia said:

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I don't have any characters who could react to this, but ur posts rock 

 

Quote

thank you. i try

 

[Arianthe22 242]

The little girl heared the adults talking about it. Mister Dorin had been gravely injured. Something about an exlosion, the news bringing memories of a different blast which had left another child without a hand. Dianthe wondered if mister Dorin too had been in equal pain, enough to make him cry out much like her friend had. The small elfess looked at the twin blades the dwarf had crafted for her, a commission she cherised beyond belief. She decided to visit the dwarf and see how he was doing.

 

Spoiler

Awesome post! <3

 

[Riot 743]

1 minute ago, Arianthe22 said:

The little girl heared the adults talking about it. Mister Dorin had been gravely injured. Something about an exlosion, the news bringing memories of a different blast which had left another child without a hand. Dianthe wondered if mister Dorin too had been in equal pain, enough to make him cry out much like her friend had. The small elfess looked at the twin blades the dwarf had crafted for her, a commission she cherised beyond belief. She decided to visit the dwarf and see how he was doing.

 

  Hide contents

Awesome post! <3

 

Spoiler

<3

 

[ArmouredSkelly 57]

Spoiler

Finally got to reading it fully, I doubt Ashe would know this happened. Thus no reaction other than my own very nice post, I like what you did with the gradual shift from white to red, getting more and more grim, more bloody.

 

[ArgentEra 459]

The musin king learned of the events not days after, nor weeks. But nearly a month. And not by one of his scouts, but by the dwarf himself. Dorin still donning his legion armor, serving his people, even while injured.
It seems, in the hubbub of preparing for the dangers that lie ahead, that the musin had turned a blind spot for a short time, and one centered on friends no less.
Learning that the young dwarf was well in the end did little to calm the fury in the mouse's heart, some semblance of self doubt burning brighter than it had in decades, having lay dormant from the seeming rush of tasks that occupied his every thought.

'You need to be better.'  It said, burrowing once again into the front of his mind, nesting itself someplace between justice and ambition.

'You cannot fail your friends. Your people.

...Not again.'

 

Spoiler

Another fantastic post from Dorin! Awesome as always!

 

Edited January 5 by ArgentEra

[Hungy 66]

The Cerulian guard had read the missive of the event, only a day prior to finding out that a friend of hers was caught in the blast. 

"Chance or destined; it matters not." - "You still live, that is what matters most." 

She spoke with him in the capital's centre. 

The young dwed before her; clad in Urguani armor, missing a limb at his age.

". . .Terrorists. . ."

Is the only word that repeated in her mind.