The Return

[Thrym 188]

THE RETURN

 

The dwarf crunches onward through the snow, the trail of footprints behind him stretching off into the distance. Around his shoulders is a large bearskin jacket, his bare arms scarred and tanned from many travels. On his back sits a large scabbard and in his hand a sword stretches, old and worn but shining and sharp. A large braided white beard falls down his chest, the ends tucked into his belt. Shielding his eyes with his left hand he looks forward, a road visible to him.

 

"At last. By Yemekar, oi've found it." The dwarf sets foot upon the road and begins to walk, pausing to read the signs posted at intervals to catch his bearings. Once more he pushes onward, his legs pumping, carrying him towards the destination he has been looking for since he awoke. His journey has been long. He remembers nothing that may have happened in Asulon. All he knows is that he awoke in snow, Hanseti he think it was called. His journeys have been filled with nothing but snow and ice since then. He had found a small boat, small enough for him to handle, and had set sail. He washed ashore on some strange islands, snowy but with lava pouring from a mountain. He knew the work, could tell from the way the stone was worked. He was at a Dwarven hold but something horrible had happened. He restocked his supplies on the island, patched his vessel and set sail once more. When his supplies were long spent and he feared he might die a shore appeared in the distance, growing more and more clear as he went. He saw mountains, covered in snow. This was nothing new to him, snow was as familiar as his own beard, so, without much thought, he landed on the shore and began to walk, hoping that Yemekar had at last led him back to his people. He walked on for weeks, keeping his sword sharp and clean as only a smith could hope to do. And that is how he got to where he is now, walking down a road. Before him a bridge spans a frozen river, the architecture of it bringing a smile to his face. Rounding a mountain he sees where the road is taking him, sees a sight he had not dreamed of. Before him, looming up more beautiful than any gem, than any vein of carbarum is the gate of Kal'Azgoth. "By all t'e works ov Yemekar, oi 'ad forgotten da skill of ma people...." His steps continue him onward, tears dripping silently from his eyes, freezing on his skin. It had been years since he heard a voice, years since he had any other to speak to but himself and the gods. Breathing a prayer of thanks to the Brathmordakin and to Belka in particular, the goddess of travels, he walks up the steps, the great bars of the gate finally coming into view.

 

He comes within view of the gate and is hailed by a guard. "'ew goes dere?" the voice asks. The old dwarf sheathes his blade and raises his right hand in greeting to the guard. The skin of the hand gleams as if made of silver. "Thrym, Thrym Silverfist!" he says, his voice cracking and coming out hoarse from ages without use. "W'at is yer business 'ere sir?" the guard's questioning voice rings out once again. Thrym smiles. "Ta come 'ome at last lad...ta come 'ome." As the list of questions goes out, Thrym answers without truly paying attention. His eyes are locked on the other side of the gate, trying to get a better view of the city he had been dreaming to see. Finally the bars begin to rise up, his feet begin to move forward, taking him into the grand city of Kal'Azgoth. Walking to the balcony, Thrym looks down at the city and the tears begin to flow once more down his face. "'ome....'ome at last..."

[Salamandra 1136]

[[YES! :D ]]

[Kilgrim 361]

((yay!))

[Tethras 278]

((Woop!))

[chaotikal 2392]

Dormin looks upon Thrym as he arrives. A glimmering joy in his right eye is seen, as the runes in his cheek and body tremble with sheer amazement; he could have only wished to see Thrym Silverfist Irongut alive, and now he was standing before Dormin, old as he could be, and damaged, but there he was.

 

Dormin decided to take an approach, and cassually came onto him, starting;

 

" Hello Thrym Silverfist. I-"

 

His voice broke over the surprise and the fiddling confusing emotions. He then yelled in a harsh tongue, spit flying out of his mouth;

 

"I am so happy to see you back!"

 

Dormin didn't stop smiling for that entire day.

[Thrym 188]

Thrym is confused when he sees Dormin. Before he awoke in the snow his last memory was of Aegis and he has no knowledge of the Doomforged. However, from his beard and height Thrym can tell that Dormin is a dwarven brother and smiles as Dormin greets him.

 

"Why, 'ello yerself lad. Oi'm quite glad ta be back mehself."

 

Extending his silver hand in greeting he asks a question.

 

"Yeh seem ta know moi name, could oi trouble ye ta learn yers?"

[chaotikal 2392]

Dormin struggles to erase the childish smile, and keep a serious gesture, yet his cheeks seem to strain his mouth into a forceful smile. He does not resist no longer.

 

He answers.

 

"Mah name be Dormin, Dormin uv da clan Doomforge. Ah'm da grandsun uv Urir Ire'eart, and Ah'm an Ire'eart tuu!"

 

((The face of Dormin =    ))

[Thrym 188]

Thrym grins broadly at the news.

 

"Dormin! Glad ta meet ye lad! Are ye really Urir's grandson? Oi 'aven' seen 'im in years! 'ow is 'e lad?"

 

Thrym has no knowledge of the entire incident with the nether.

[chaotikal 2392]

" 'e... 'e's foin! Indeed!"

[Thrym 188]

Thrym's smile broadens.

 

"Gud news! 'opefulleh oi'll bump inta 'im as oi walk 'round dis place."

[SkyyoBee 249]

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