A short Dwarf slowly walks into a large arena.
As in the middle of the Arena, a large Olog awaits.
The Dwarf takes out his hammer, closes his eyes and gives a short prayer to Dungrimm.
"O' Dungrimm, Guide mah 'ammer"
"O' Dungrimm, Guide mah 'ands"
"O' Dungrimm, Guide mah Weapon"
"O' Dungrimm, Guide mah Soul's"
Full of hope, the Dwarf charged forward.
The Olog grinning and lifting his axe.
Weapons clashed, and curses are called.
But the Olog is victorious. . .
Under mountain, beneath the cavern. Come home my son, come home.
The day is done, your time has come
You battled hard, the war is won
You did your worst, you tried your best
Now it's time to rest
Now it's time to rest
Written by Dhaen Grandaxe
Ulf Frostbeard, Bhafrec Emberstone, Throtgrarlum Chainborn, Hargrom Noblebreaker, Koghar Metalcoat, Razaek Ashbreaker and Kronoic Stormgrip. Different Souls, all in the same body.
Freedom in Vuur'dor or Khaz'a'dentrumm. That is what Bhafrec wanted for the Many Souls of the Troubled Dwarf, so that is what he got.
After speaking to Falk Irongut, he came to the conclusion that death was the best thing for him.
After meditating on the matter, he came to the conclusion it was the best for everyone.
And so he did. He went to Krugmar, challenging the biggest Olog he could find to an Honour Duel to the death, in the hope to either come out victorious, or die in honour.
The Olog that accepted the challenge would be no less than the Papagoth of Clan Ungri himself, Drekür'Ungri, and he would be the eventual killer of the Troubled Dwarf. Taking him out of his misery and freeing the aforementioned souls into the infinity of Khaz'a'dentrumm.
As expected, each of the Souls in the Frostbeard Body experienced their own death, and for each it was different.
Let's start with the ones in control, Throtgrarlum and Hargrom.
These two experienced their deaths very differently, though both tried to fight it.
The Souls
Nothing, thats what he saw, felt and experienced.
Throtgrarlum, the one in control when the body was stabbed to death tried to fight his descent into The Void.
He fought, trying to claw his way out, fighting to stay in the body.
He cried out in pain, but no sound came out.
It was as if he was forgotten, banished to the emptiness.
Too evil for Khaz'a'dentrumm, too honourable for Vuur'dor,
this soul would remain in limbo until it could claim a new body.
Hargrom was the next one to go.
He felt as if his soul was ripped from his body.
He was in agony, in extreme pain, but it ended quickly.
His soul easily entered Khaz'a'dentrumm.
He entered the large Gates, and looked up towards the Gods which sat before him.
One god stood up, his face covered by an Iron Mask.
Hargrom recognized this god as Dungrimm, and was honoured to be chosen by the God of Death.
After being chosen, this Soul was selected as one of the Defenders of the Khaz'a'dentrumm.
He was tasked by defending the entrance, guiding Souls into the Hall.
Razaek was the next to enter the Hall of Gods.
When entering, he looked around, his hand moving to his waist.
A deep laugh could be heard from one of the Gods.
Razaek nodded, understanding this, and relaxing somewhat.
Each of the gods looked at him, looking into the Soul.
The silence stayed for a few seconds, in which he saw every action he ever took flash before his eyes.
Finally, one the gods stood up, a beautiful women dressed in earthy tones.
She looked down at the Dwarf, speaking to him with natural authority.
He was chosen by Anbella.
Next was a well dressed, well educated Soul.
Bhafrec looked around full of curiosity, seeing the gods and going over into an elegant bow.
Looking back up again, he allowed the gods to look into his soul, opening it up like a book.
The gods nodded, and all looked at one of them.
The god asked him, looking down at the Dwarf.
Bhafrec nodded, staying silent in the presence of these mighty beings.
The god smiled, looking at his brothers and sisters before waving his hand.
Bhafrec was teleported to the Library of Ogradhad, the greatest collection of knowledge of all the Realms
Koghar was next, and he stood before the Gods, seeing them in their ceremonial armours as he would have made them.
This Dwarf was a special case, as he had never fought, and had never really interacted with others.
The only thing the Brathmordakin could do was letting him show what he could do.
So they did. . .
They gave him the recourses and tools to craft a tool or weapon.
And he did, with incredible speed and skill.
Due to the magical fire and anvil he got provided, he could work on the weapon without having to wait for the metal to cool down.
And within an incredibly small timeframe, he managed to fashion a beautiful Axe.
Something that could be both a tool and a weapon was exactly what was needed.
It impressed the gods, and it was clear who the Dwarf should belong to.
But there was one God that fought the decision.
This god was Grimdugan, who argued that the dwarf should be his.
He told the Gods the skill of the Dwarf should be used to fill the vaults of Khaz'a'dentrumm.
But he wouldn't get his way, the soul of Koghar being claimed by Yemeker himself.
Only one more soul seemed to be awaiting the judgement.
This soul was the original soul, being Ulf Frostbeard.
This soul had lived the longest, so there was the most for the gods to review.
It was visible he was a fighter, but he also was a very troubled Dwarf.
The gods decided that, once clear how he lived his life,
this soul should be allowed into the Halls of Khaz'a'dentrumm, no matter the god that claimed him.
Anbella however spoke up, telling her Kin that, if no one took him, she would.
She announced, waving her hand, and sending Ulf to her chambers for further study
A small boat lied on the coastal region of a broken and rotten city.
A small Dwarf stepped out, looking up at a large and armoured figure.
The figure looked down, an aura of power and might around him.
The Armoured figure spoke, a deep, intimidating voice coming from inside the helmet.
Kronoic Stormgrip looked up, an amused expression on his face.
He nods slightly to the God in front of him before looking around at the ruins of the city.
The dwarf chuckled as he followed the God inside.
As Khorvad smiled behind his helmet.
A powerful soul was his to use. . .
