The Harbinger

Glod had little idea of this madness, as he trekked onwards through the jungle. The target was nearby, and vulnerable, as he loaded up the Parasol, and prepared for a fight.

*an old, old farmer swung his coop stick, knocking one high into the air as he grunted.* THASS WUT YE GET FER MESSIN' WITH ME CABBAGES!!!

Let the past be forged anew!

"DEFILIN' THE DEAD?" A voice roars from the forests, as a cry calls out. "AH'LL SKIN THE FECKIN' WAZZOCK!"

Glod decides to vote for Alaric, finding his promises and rulings to be favourable, as he nodded at the attempt to make peace, and finally letting Heffrum have its own army.

"Hmm. Coupla policies I might wanna enquire 'bout, but 'part from t'at ets a good argument!" Glod would say.

upon a rocky crop in the North, Glod Grimgold stands, as he stares upon the oncoming Ragnarok. He sighs as the call is heeded. "And so it begins... The great battle of our time." He declares, as he nods to the encroaching blizzard.

I like it, +1

Glod smiled for both of his friends. "Ter charsi an' garedyn."

Glod rolled his eyes. "Took 'em long enough." He'd toss the missive aside and continue his vigil

Glod would sigh, as he tried to comfort some of the oddly more emotional dwarves around. "He's wit' his mates now... Dunnae despair."

Glod sighed. It was sad for the ancient hero to pass. He'd done so much in his life... And now he was gone. He'd only hope he himself would pass with such grace.

Glod shook his head. How else could he help revenants if he didn't speak to them and try help them pass?

Glod sighed. He'd miss those leaving, a good number were good friends. "Gods guide ye all..." He'd mutter.

Glod would sigh. "Ter ire'earts? The fuckin' dumbarses... Of all Tae clans t'ey choose Ter 'uns 'o literalleh are a fookin' war clan?

"FOR KARL!" a dwarf would shout as he joined up with the Haensetti soldiers.

Glod would look in horror at the poster, then rage. "Tae better fuckin' pray I Dunnae find 'em..." He'd mutter angrily. They would pay. THEY WOULD ALL PAY.

Glod would sigh. "Yer did yer duty well lad. Yer've earned yer rest." He'd say with a smile.

Glod sighed. More of this madness.

Glod froze as he saw this missive... As rage burned away... Alaric was back. *Alaric. Was. Back.* Hope filled the hole left by anger, which eventually turned into joy.

Glod sighed. Politics be fucked, Alaric was getting a mention.

Glod sighs bitterly. "nae rest fer tae wicked." he muttered as he rode out.

Glod shakes his head sadly. "Bastuds 'll try wipe 'em out..." He sighed.

Glod shook his his, silent in rage. He could have stopped this murder. He had both blades in his hands... Norli right in front of him... And he didn't take the chance... He sighed. "Everywhere ah look... Sin commited in yer name, meh lord..." He muttered. So much sin committed in the name of Yekemar...

Rage. All Glod felt was rage.