Thrym

"Oi'm Thrym Silverfist, son ov Braum Longsword, son of Draco Irongut. Oi've always been an Irongut! An oi'm sayin' nuttin' worse den ye've said ov me ancestors."

Thrym stands up, the large bear hide about his shoulders fluttering majestically in the wind from a mine shaft somewhere that just happened to be blowing to make his bear hide aswell as his bear flutter in this majestic manner. He walks up to Kjell, a red rage beginning to glitter in his eyes. His bronzed muscular arms shine in the torchlight as strides forward.

"Ye think oi'm any less a dwarf den ye, Kjell?! Oi've forged da weapons ye Ire'earts use so much but are too thick'eaded ta know 'ow ta make well an oi've used dem in battle too! An' at least oi dun't need ta foind me self a sheep w'en oi'm feelin' lonely!"

((Kjell, you make me laugh. Enjoyed the read!))

((  GRABTHAR OH MY GOD, WE HAVE MISSED YOU, THEY SAID YOU DIED! The dwarves pretty much died out, there are a few of us around, but with school and such starting now, I and many others barely have any time. ))

((This basically sums up my situation. You can check to see if I'm on when you are though, always willing to RP!))

Your Name: Thrym Silverfist of the Irongut Clan


((MC Name)): NoobCrafter14


The candidates:

Igor Ireheart ((Lefty_Bojengles))

Dominic Irongut ((Doom6153))   X

Dizzy Irongrinder ((Dizzy771))

Thrym sits silently, refusing to take a side between his biological son and the one he adopted and raised as his own.

Thrym hears of the death of Thorik while at his forge. As the tale of the death reaches his ears his hand grows numb about the handle of his hammer and it slips from his hand, banging loudly upon the blade resting on the anvil before him. Oblivious to the now ruined sword, he sits against the wall and thinks back to the days in Urguan. He remembers working as the Forge Lord under Thorik as Urguan grew to new heights under his reign. Sitting up with new resolve he grabs the ruined blade being forged upon his anvil and throws it into the fire, melting it down. Thrym begins the work of forging a new, finishing the blade with more care than he has given for many years, working as carefully as if it were his first blade, not one of thousands. When it is completed he begins inscribing upon the face of the blade with a chisel. Grabbing the blade he heads to the tombs, bowing his head in greeting at Wulfric as he comes into the Grandaxe crypt. He lays his blade beside the pipe on the tomb of Thorik, a blade with all the mighty works he completed in his life etched upon its surface, the final insribing telling of his fight with Ondnarch's minions. He spends a time at the tomb, paying his respects before turning to leave the tombs. As he reaches the stairs he says one thing.

"Farewell, ma lord."

EDIT: ((#Thorik4Paragon2k13))

Thrym sees his Farren's work and walks up to him as they watch the king adjusting. Leaning in he begins to talk.

"Farren, oi must say oi'm impressed wit' wut ye've dun 'ere. Truly spectacular smiffen." He pauses a moment, as he watches Thorin walk, his stride not as sure as it once was. "But oi 'ave ta ask lad, do ye tink ye've really given 'im back loife 'er merely prolonged da agony before 'e foinalleh dies?"

I love it. Simple, to the point, perfect.

((So....I'm going to apparently be the odd one of the bunch here and congratulate Tortek.))

Thrym walks up, a large grin on his face. He embraces his son warmly and pushes him arm length away, still smiling.

"Oi'm so proud ov ye son. Oi 'ave faith in yer abiliteh ta represent da gods."

After congratulating his son, he turns and flashes a momentary glare to everyone calling Tortek a traitor. Once done with this he strolls off to do some old dwarven smith stuff somewhere.

7/10. Really cool but it seems a bit blurry to me

Thrym is walking through the halls of Azgoth when the decree catches his eyes. Walking over, a pipe in the corner of his mouth, he begins to read, stroking his beard thoughtfully with one hand while a small cloud of smoke slowly begins to appear about him.

"Vereh gud," he mutters to himself. "Seems da kingdom is movin' along"

8/10

Doctor Who, awesome.

That's what GM Aboose is for. :P

A lone figure strides up to the gates of Kal'Azgoth, a small cart following behind him. Two dwarves step to bar his way. He lowers his hood, and says to them "Got lore for that air?"

The two dwarven guards look at him in confusion, then discover they're asphixiating.

 

The figure strides down the hall of Kal'Azgoth, various completely innocent and harmless items shrivelling into Non-Lore-Approvedness as he passes. He walks up to a throne and bows before Grand King, ettiquette must be obeyed, after all.

 

"Grand King Thorin Grandaxe, you find yourself at war with creatures from beyond the Fourth Wall."

"Wuzza fourth wall?"

The figure points at the inside of the computer screen.

 

"Um, currently unnamed figure, that's a pillar," says the Grand King.

 

"You cannot see it for it is not part of your world, any more than you can see the veil to the Void from which magic comes. It is the barrier to the realm of OOC."

 

Thorin calls his guards over to arrest the figure. What happens next is far too edgy to describe, but the guards are gone, Thorin's jaw has dropped to several floors below and the figure is surrounded by 500 dead butterflies and a very much alive kitten.

 

"T'e 'ell did yer just do?"

"I used the Powers of OOC. With them I can break all physical laws. Do you remember August Flay? Karl Frostbeard? Mirtok DeNurem?"

"They're all dead guys."

"But first they were suddenly vanished guys, until the universe explained away their disappearances with deaths. OOC bleeds into our world all the time. It grants people superhuman "anime" abilities and then makes people stand still during fights while OOC bickers with itself. It makes orc heads fill with puppies and kittens when they try to fight in the Cloud Temple. Wait, no, I've fixed that last one, haven't I? Paxdire Aura or something, although I swear that was only Asulon...

Anyway, back on track, these 'GMs' come from across the Fourth Wall. They have the full power of OOC, as I do, although to a much greater extent. They defy all the physical forces of the universe. You and I know that there is no carbarum in the world and Iron Golems are impossible, yet their vault is full of carbarum blocks and guarded by iron golems. Invade them directly and your men will die under a hailstorm of chickens."

"So what do we duh?"

"How you fight them is simple. You make them..."

LORE COMPLIANT!

 

Grand King Thorin Grandaxe stares up at the rainbow text that has appeared above him, shuddering in horror at the soul-destructive power of Comic Sans. He turns to the figure, considers his words carefully, and then says:

 

"What t'e fek are yer on about?"

 

"It's quite simple. Destroy all the GM houses and signs and the rollercoaster (But not the graveyard! The graveyard's awesome!), all signs with "GM" on them, everything that proves the village exists in OOC. Then the village will return IC, that is to say, back into your world, and the GMs will return to the OOC realm. All that will be left is a tavern with anonmalous economic output. Then you all get drunk in the tavern and go home.

If you try to attack the village like you would an orc settlement, then you will be blown to pieces."

 

Thorin is quiet for a moment. Then he says, "How do ye know all of this?"

The figure upends the cart, and a few flowerpots and the head of Cakeman tumble onto the floor.

 

"Because I'm from over the Fourth Wall too."

The figure freezes for a moment, then the words "Lagomorphia has logged out" are plastered unseen across Thorin's vision.

 

Thrym, standing near by, has his mind completely and totally blown both IC and OOC. He proceeds to supposedly wander Azgoth in a daze while OOCly he walks away from the computer to make sense of this.

((Lago, you just managed to invent OOC evocation))

((Nrubb doesn't exist. We changed the name to Grunkk))

Thrym strides into the Smithing District where he hears far too few anvils ringing for the many dwarves whose names are upon the roster. He frowns, sad at the lack of roaring fires, bubbling metals, and the sizzling sound of hot blades releasing steam as they are plunged into water.

"Oi tink it beh toime ta try an' call a meetin' ov da guild's council."

Continuing such mutterings, Thrym turns and looks for Farren.

((So, yah. I think we need to have a guild meeting to discuss stuff))

Whoa. Crypt again. Talk about a flash from Aegis.

[[MC NAME]]: NoobCrafter14

Character Name: Grunkk'Lur

After chasing the running pig for a while Grunkk finally manages to tackle it so that it will stop moving long enough for him to find a gobo to read it.

"Ukke den....Mi gu blah wit mi popo now."

He walks off to go make sure Gronkk knows he is one of his cubs.

Hiebe stands there thinking how this was his idea WAY before even any of the other dwarves came to Anthos and chuckles thinking how Tortek suggested it and how it could profit from it

Thrym sees Hiebe and shrugs. He has thought it a good idea ever since then and is willing to help get it done, regardless of who is suggesting it this specific time.

Thrym doesn't say a word to his son. He simply gives him a nod and raises his pickaxe a bit.

((Current tally is:

Bael - 26  Rona - 8

Lathros - 12  Farenhal - 2  Thorik - 20))

((Current tally is:

Bael - 24  Rona - 8

Lathros - 12  Farenhal - 1  Thorik - 19))

((Current tally is:

Bael - 23  Rona - 8

Lathros - 12  Farenhal - 1  Thorik - 18

This is without alts. So, unless I counted wrong, this is the correct tally))

((Current tally is:

Bael - 22  Rona - 7
 

Lathros - 12  Farenhal - 1  Thorik - 16

Current tally, now without Bael's alt as well :P ))

((Current tally is:

Bael - 22  Rona - 6

Lathros - 13  Farenhal - 0  Thorik - 15

This is the count if I'm doing it right))