TheWaffleEater2

Bdanecker did it better

"Boot lickers...." The dwarf grumbled under his beard. Asking one of his sons, to take the missive and toss it.

Yes. Yes it was.

A Lak shomo, yelled through the swamps as he had received an issue from his messenger toalak "MI LUB KAKTUZ WEEKLIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Vollok 'The Seared' wandered with a band of dwarves, a sense of warning and fear filled him... But the Frostbeards continued none the less.

shit got me groovin fr.... GG's Guys!!

A Blind Dwarf. The halls of Azwyrtrumm were filled with laughter and cheering from revelling kin, the sounds of mugs being clashed together and axes clinging to their owners' sides. It was just another night within the Elder Clan’s hall; echoing with the sounds of bickering elders, chanting their old stories while young dwarves caused mischief within the hall, which has become the norm. One Elder, Vollok, sat within this ancient hall, laughing and lounging around. The dwarf told his stories and attempted to wrangle the beardlings, but he could not match the ever expanding clan’s numbers. He slowly slumped within his chair, hiding behind a fake smile and cheery mood, so as to mask the growing sadness of being unable to see with his own eyes the growth of the clan… The years continued to pass, straying further from the fight at the Black Church, the fight that took Vollok’s vision. As the halls began to simmer, Vollok’s desperation began to consume his mind. Soon, the sounds of laughing and talking began to die with sorrow and desperation. The halls began to grow quiet and the echoes began to bounce off the walls, reverberating across the hall. As he began to look around, all Vollok could see was darkness. It surrounded him like a wildfire in a dense bush filled landscape. His senses began to get accustomed to only hearing sounds and the feeling of things. Vollok had accepted his condition for sometime, as if he saw it was a gift from Yemekar; rather than taking his life, Yemekar decreed that Vollok must lose his sight. But after many countless years of living in the dark, soon acceptance turned to defiance. The empty halls began to turn to chattered whispers, the distant sounds of metal bashing against metal from the blacksmith's forges grew louder and louder after each hit, almost as if a nail pierced further and further into Vollok’s ear, growing more painful by the day. His memory continued, fixating on a particular day..: as any typical day, it was as cool and bright as it was within the mountain, with the roaring of the wind through the mountains. His Clan had just finished trekking through the mountains of Rimeveld following a gathering expedition. The party of six dwarves rode away atop of their mountain goats, trekking through the snow and onward back to the Clan hall of Kal’Baraz… Vollok was behind the leader, riding atop of a mountain goat of his own. Within the clan was only him as elder, while the rest were newer clan members, some even from the lands of Aevos. But the rest were beardlings. He remembered as such. The leader would clench his teeth before saying “Weh only have a fuw mere ‘ours till we are back!” The shout echoed to the rear of the clan, and carried further within the valley. Groans and bantering was heard as the leader informed the group.. Vollok clenched his teeth and thought to himself “Dem beardlins, nea patience at ahl!” the thoughts echoed through the chamber of his mind, the only place he found solitude. The leader shouted “Bah! Quite yer gripin! If weh hurreh we will may-” As fast as he spoke, the sound of a crack and boom shot through the valley, interrupting the peaceful serenity the clan traveled through. The fjord overlapping the trail had split,like glass shattering under the foundation. The stones and ice had grown weak from the weight of the lapping snowfall over the season, causing pressure and erosion to eat away at the foundations of the fjord, constant wind flickering and nibbling at the foundation for centuries. The fjord had met its fate; with a crack and boom, the sounds of rocks splatting across the earth were heard, carrying onward past the clan and through the valley. As fast as it had happened, it ended just as fast. But now, a rocky situation had turned the clan's adventure back home, into an adventure lasting more than a couple hours. The clan stopped dead in their tracks, watching the fjord fall to the cradle of the valley. The leader looked behind, staring at his members, then to Vollok… The elder could not see anything, but he was covering his ears, the sounds piercing through his skull as if it was a ballista bolt plowing through his skull. The leader shook his head and said to the dwarf behind him in a mumbled tone “Woy did teh bring the cripple wif us?” he asked and the dwarf would respond with “‘Who knows, he is just a liability he can't see nothing! His hearing is becoming more acute by the day, and is starting to hurt him!” The dwarf behind the leader nodded, motioning towards the leader notifying him the clan was ready to move on. Vollok has begun to slowly uncover his ears hearing the booms finish. He would hear the last dwarf answer to the leader. He would ignore it for now, the tension grew tighter within but he kept peace… The clan would eventually find another route, but wouldn't make it back to the city as night began to creep over the horizon. They had found an abandoned bear cave, and the clan settled within it’s mouth, , making camp for the night. A campfire rested within the middle of the cave, offering warmth, and a fake feeling of safety to the dwarves. Five out of the six clan members surrounded the fire, the odd one, sat by himself wrapped in bear hides and wolf pelts, keeping warmth from the fur of the slain animals. It was Vollok of course, while the other 5 clan members huddled around the fire in hushed whispers. “Heh a’ elder! That's absurd!” a voice rose but quickly fell silent and more followed “Leave him, he will get us killed…” seeped from their huddle in a hush voice… “Nea!” a hiss was heard “T’ey woul’ have our ‘eads!” another said. “He doesn't see who we are, for all he knows we could have been killed!” a voice fought the disagreement. The conversation lasted through the night, whispers of evil escaped louder than the defendant, from the huddle of dwarves warming by the fire. Soon it was Vollok left with the stillness of the cave, and the feeling of silent prayers from the fallen filled the elders head. Feeling the pull of weary body and mind, he drooped his head and fell to a deep slumber. It was still for most of the night forward, except for some rustling and quiet murmurs that filled the cave, but these noises quickly emptied the stone walls, and the night grew quiet once more. Birds had awoken Vollok as he rose from his blankets of hides and skins. He got up, feeling his way through the room. It was quiet, quieter than when the clan was here. As he felt his way around the room, he tripped over something, bruising his hands and knees on the hard cold earth. He would move himself from where he tripped, feeling around. The ground became warmer, and squishy. He moved his hands up, feeling the pelt of something. Then, he felt armor of iron and leather. A sense of dread consumed the elder. Something terrifying had happened. The dwarf quickly moved his hands up, feeling the bushel of hair, beard hair. Then came a ferrumknot, found in dwarven beards to hold the large bushy beards from being crazy. The ferrum knot had engravings lined around it, and he moved his hands to the supposed face. As he moved his hands towards the top of the head of the supposed dwarf, his hands grazed through a thick liquid, and then a deep gouge within the top of the head. A gouge deeper than any being would be alive from. Vollok froze, his hand feeling the liquid substance. He knew what it might be, the dwarf that was defending him, but he couldn't see who the face of the dwarf was. He slowly brought the liquid on his hand towards nose, smelling the unknown liquid. The smell of bitter iron filled his lungs. He would plant his hand against the fallen dwarf. The realization came to him now, as Vollok realized what had happened the night before. This was no dream. He dipped his head to the fallen kin, and he roared, fueled with rage, echoes bouncing off the cave reverberating through his bones and exiting through the mouth of the cave “YEH TRAITEHS!!! YEH LEF’ A BLIND DEAD ALONE! YEH PANSEHS, YEH BETRAY YER KIN AND KINSLAYED!!!” It was drowned by the towering evergreen trees, only for the birds and the rodents to run away in fear. He pounded the dead body releasing his anger, but the slain kin offered no solace, nor rebuttal. Only an empty, cold feeling, and slick, sticky blood. It had only been a few hours, from what Vollok felt. But in reality it had been nearly twenty hours and a day since Vollok continued to sit alone within the cave, accompanied by only the sounds of his mind, his dead kinsmen, and the imagination of what lurked in that invisible dark. After many attempts at trying to find the exit, Vollok could not locate the mouth of the bear’s abandoned cave in which he had set up camp, gaining nothing except bruises and scrapes, and rodents nipping at his shins. He huddled in a spot within the cave, covered in dirt and cob webs. The fake smile he so often wore disappeared now, killed at the discover of his own kin being slain to be frozen and left within the cave. Soon Vollok would join him, the Elder thought, but if only he could see: he could make it back! He continued to think, his aged mind whirring with darkening thoughts and maladaptive beliefs. “LET ME SEE!” he cried, planting his hand on his failed eye and pressed, but only causing more pain than sight. All that was caused was the thoughts that bounced around in his head, and the pleas that tumbled off of the cave’s walls. He heard the sounds of owls cooing and wolves howling, far in the distance. Only a matter of time before the owner of the cave returned and would consume both he and his fallen kinsmen. He cried out, desperate for his vision, before falling down into the stone’s seldom-tread floor. He cradled his body with cut animal hides, and inched towards the dying embers, the only remainder of his kinslaying party. Even these coals would die, leaving the dwarf with no warmth beyond his own, alone in the frozen tundra he was abandoned in. Once more did Vollok find slumber, not from fatigue, but from woe, and sorrow. The Elder prayed once more, reaching out in his faith to anything that would listen, beseeching with his thoughts for his vision to return. _________________________________________________________________________ Vollok awoke. He couldn't tell if it was a dream or not, but it felt all too real. He attempted to look around, and for the first time in years, his sight had returned. It stood only as fuzzy splotches and mottled distortion, but it was sight. What the Elder had not realized was he was not in a mere tundra, but a frozen wasteland, windswept stone with craggy ice cliffs and chasms that cracked the earth. Even with his sight had partially returned, the dwarf was filled with sorrow and desperation, as he looked upon the treacherous terrain that towered over the dwarf. Soon the thunderous flapping of wings was heard in the distance; was this a bird? Or something more ancient? He got up, and broke into a jog; when fear caught up with him, he began to sprint. There were trees sprouting up from the ground, as if a magic fertilizer was making them grow. Tripping over a root, the Elder falls to the ground. He fell through the snow, and it consumed him, wrapping him in a cold blanket. Seeing nothing but white, it would spit him back up as if nothing happened, tossing him in the opposite direction towards the wasteland. Rising once more, Vollok ran, in any direction that would have him. Coming into view then were two crescent ice swept cliffs, towering as if they were kings of the frozen plains. In the distance a thunderous snap and crack was heard. Vollok snapped around, seeing an ancient dwarven catapult had launched its artillery, as a great boulder was lobbed into those crescent hills. Or so they seemed as such. As he followed the boulder, a mountain erupted through the ice, splintering and throwing the shattered ice across the wasteland. Then, from the shattered remains of what he thought were crescent hills formed the face of the Mountainhome. Vollok was yanked by a power that was not his own, and sent spiralling towards the eastern vault of the valley. The sound of tens of thousands of dwarven legionnaires marched through the wasteland. Armies upon armies of unknown dwarven lineages marched for war,, their footsteps booming as if two of the Brathmordakin had set out to meet upon that day, determined to clash for those frozen lands.. Vollok fled towards the Mountainhome while the winds raged on, running through the snow, slipping on hidden ice beneath the snow blanket. Vollok almost reached the gates of the hold, but an unbearable force forced the dwarf to his knees, his emotions drowning him with sorrow and fear. When he looked up, he realized he was in the middle of the two armies. The legions of armies marched towards him, chanting in ancient dwarven which boomed through his soul, tugging at his spirit, dragging it down. He wept. “Woy! Go! Oi ahm nea yer enemeh!” he pointed away towards a false army. But the multitude of armies continued on. The heavily plated armored armies grew louder and louder as they closed the gap between him, and the Mountainhome. As they got closer, Vollok would begin to hear the ancient chants in clarity: “BARUK KAL’VARAKUL!!! FULUGAI THARKÛN” It continued, snapping the air and piercing Vollok’s ears: “BARUK KAL’VARAKUL FULUGAI THARKÛN!” The chants bashed and pounded at the chest of the dwarf, with a sadness and desperation so strong that Vollok wept, scared and desperate. He scratched at his eyes wishing he would see something else. But as he drowned in his despair, grumbling came from the mantle of this wasteland. A low reverb shook the grounds, and he could see the dwarves struggling to stand within the snow. Something bigger was coming. Soon a SNAP filled the air of the land, as the blade of a titanic sword pierced through the frozen ice, towering over the dwarves. A black tempered steel unknown to Vollok was it’s make, standing still as the ancient dwarves were thrown and tossed across the wasteland as if simple dwedki toys. The blade stood still, towering far above the armies. As everything settled, the only sound would be the low reverb of the ice below. Silence and fear swept the battlefield. What was this? An ancient beast unknown to their kind, long lost to the tombs of history? Soon the silence ceased, as the blade began to drop, crushing the army beneath the weight of it, bringing anything with it below the ice. Cries of tens of thousands of dwarves now filled Vollok’s ears, as the sword ripped and crushed through the army. A cry was heard, sounding “Gabilgathol!” But was soon cut off, as the sword cut through legions and legions of armies. Soon the blade cut the wasteland in half, leaving a giant canyon through the frozen tundra. Bodies of mashed and ravaged dwarfs lie bloodied and mattered, even filling the trees of the frozen wasteland. Though the frozen landscape was littered with dwedmar refuse, the majority of the armies had fallen down into the bowels of the earth with the sword. As Vollok watched with rapt attention, a cracked helmet was ejected onto the snow before him, rolling and rolling until it stopped just a few feet within the snow. Walking close, he picked it up and inspected the ancient runes, foreign to his tongue. The dwarf suddenly felt his ears ringing from the sounds blasting through the air and puncturing his ears. As he stared at the helmet, he felt a gust of wind racing through his face. Looking up, that titanic ebon blade had risen, falling down upon the land once more, directly in his direction. He ran as fast as his little legs could, though he wasn't fast enough, and he yelled “AHHHHHHHHH!!!!” Vollok lept as far as his legs would allow, as the titanic blade ripped past him, splitting the Mountainhome in half. In the rubble Vollok found himself, falling down into the titanic chasm along with those frost-bound armies. His descent continued for such a time that all light left his poor vision. Expecting to fall onto something soon, he continued to brace himself, but the dwarf still continued down into the darkness. Large titanic hands appeared out of the darkness, clad in that same ebon metal of tempered strength. They did not seek him out, but rather clashed with each other, flying far past him. In the clash, the enormous hands would loosen their grip with one another, and then disappear into the desolate abyss, leaving Vollok to his impending doom. After a time that felt like an age for the Elder, a floor of frost met the dwarf, with a resounding CRACK that sundered his consciousness. He awoke atop not ice, but rough stone bricks. Grand pillars towered over him, holding what seemed like the sky itself. He rubbed his back, needles pierced his skin, as if thousands of years of back pain collectively attacked him, at once. Or was this his imagination? He couldn't differentiate from it, and with a crane of his thick neck he looked up, spotting a statue of himself. Beneath, it was written “FRAIL FORGOTTEN IGNORANT BURDENED BLIND” The statue's eyes had been opened, eyes created by a golemancer had been made and installed in his eye sockets. He had his arms cross as if he had been laid to rest. Vollok stood, walking towards the statue. But as he did that, sounds of wings flapping filled the foggy brick chasm. Something white had entered the corner of his eye. Whispers filled the room, following the flapping of thunderous wings. The elder spun around seeing a tail, it disappeared into the distant fog of the chasm. Then his statue began to crumble, he turned a claw that had torn his status head off. A whisper was heard “NOT YOUR LIFE!” Another hushed “NO EYES!” Then the ground shook and grumbled once more, with Vollok falling and the sight of the white creature’s claws going to grasp his eyes, he closed his eyes and he heard lastly “CLOSE YOUR EYES FOREVER, LISTEN TO US! Let the white dragon guide your sight to greatness.” Vollok would succumb back to the dark chamber, the dream had finished its tale or gift. Awaiting for Vollok to awaken. _________________________________________________ Credits - You know who you are... Appreciate the grammar corrections.

The Frostbeard elder carefully listened to his kin, as they told him the missive... "Balin, will learn teh consequences of his actions... But he will grow better with these trials." The elder nodded, as he spoke to the other elders of the clan. "If heh sees teh error o' his ways, dis lad will come out 'trongeh dehn anneh beardling weh have in teh clan..." Vollok would tap his cane, waiting for Balin to complete the first of his trials.

Brakaz'Lak nodded at this missive... "Lup'Bugduga'Dhaar"