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 Post subject: The Far North
PostPosted: Nov 5th, '05, 20:54 
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Location: TOOOOLSET!!
Part one: The Forgotten Mountains

Rugged mountains and heavy winds, the cold biting into the skin on the hardy faces covered by beards now turning pale with frostbite, and harder to press on by the minute. Step by step, the small men and women took an occasional gaze at the one leading them, a spirit not broken by the odds, not torn by the miles.

The small group of travelling dwarves, battered and torn not only from the beasts and the harsh weather of the north but also the fact that they are utterly lost, have been on their way for over three weeks now, across the unknown mountains. Starving, tired, and in fact; lost. A fact which their leader Mórin Morinsen would not admit to and argue to the death - which , they thought would surely come at them at a very soon date - being determined to find a place where his people would live and thrive happily for eternity. One better than what his cousin, Nuili Morinsen found several miles to the south.

They settled in a small gap under a cliff, away from the deep snow and the white wolves, the huge beasts and the white bears. Mórin took his seat on a higher rock in a gap proudly defying the tiredness taking its toll on all of them already, pondering his next move.
"Oi, king!" - A dwarf called out to him, standing in front of him as tall as a dwarf can. "Did ye brong us ov'ere ter die or ter live eh?!" - Korin Dronn Threehorn knew where this confrontation could lead but he saw many fall on the way and was determined to die himself or slay the king now. Morin stood up and took his axe. Morin stood up taking his axe and holding it with both hands firmly. "Ye dare'n oppose me ?! Me word's law an' I said we press on!" - He struck the wall behind him to strengthen his word, and a long crack spread out , to the ceiling. The rock that came crumbling down struck Korin prone , and the cavern system opening with tunnels and chambers behind the surprised king seemed to appear as if miracle happened. The dwarves stood there, marveling at the eons old lair and with a cheer from among the many, they all raised their axes and torches shouting their praises towards their king.

Mórin regained the respect he'd lost long days ago, and Korin returned to his small family with a few broken ribs and the realization that no matter how hard it is to keep our hope , fortune favours the bold.

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"There is no Sparta.
THIS. IS. SPOON!!"


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PostPosted: Nov 5th, '05, 21:14 
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Location: TOOOOLSET!!
Part Two: The Vault

Mórin stood on the elevation near the centre of the main cavern, commanding his people with loud words and encouraging them with his charisma, one he's always been known for, one that made him the leader , the king of dwarvenkin.

"Ye saif now 'lest ye lazy! Pull'em ropes thar, Kimli! Stand stroight wit'at pillar ye oafs!" - Mórin was short even for a dwarf, one of his legs even shorter than the other and was practically blind to his left eye he always kept in a direction away from whoever he was speaking to, making it difficult to fathom who that was , when his troops were standing in a line.
He had a rowdy voice , even deep by dwarven standards and a silvery beard so well kept and impressive that even the elders envied him for that secretly. A huge nose and some missing teeth, missing his left ear he claimed to have lost to a dire giant and six fingers on his left hand.

His people knew that he was determined to lead them as a just king , yet with an iron hand, and were often grumbling against his decisions but they seemed to abide by his law well , regardless.

That day he decided to start digging, to go deeper and to find treasures he decided to surely exist within the countless caved in tunnels of his new kingdom. They dug and dug for days , finding a few metal and gem veins , but they wanted more. As they went deeper and deeper, the more restless were they, their dreams speaking of riches beyond their previous experience. Something was luring them from the depths and indeed , at an underground crossing they opened, they found an ornate door with more signs showing death and suffering than a sane man would've needed to understand the clear words scribed in with ancient runes.

"I ain't fer enterin' , Mórin" - stated an old warrior plainly, meeting resistance from the younger ones finally convincing the king to open it regardless. So , they did.
Mórin turned to a younger , surprisingly slim dwarf wielding a short sword and wearing a leather armour. " Kusur, yer's be loight on yer feet, in ye go lad an' give word o' yer findin's." - Kusur Hafunsen replied only with a nod and slipped in through the narrow gap between the heavy double doors of the unknown, into the darkness. Soon they heard a scream for help and then when the echos finally settled in the chasm behind them, all they heard was their own hearts beating ten times a second, and tense, troubled silence. The young ones stood back with horror , calling the name of their friend , with no luck for an answer.
"Yer 'ave 'neh other ideas lads?!" - growled the older warrior at the rest in rightful fury and glanced at Morin who grasped at his trusty axe with both hands and was gazing upon the ornate gate, and the signs.
"Mórin?" - he asked stepping up to the king, putting a hand on his left shoulder.
"Ye lads do what ye moight." - He stated determinedly
"What's be yer plan, king?" - asked the old dwarf
"I's be goin' in." - He said, and kicked the huge metal gate's left half, making it fall inside with a loud crumble, and then he walked across its rugged surface, soon disappearing in the darkness of the vault.

_________________
"There is no Sparta.
THIS. IS. SPOON!!"


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PostPosted: Nov 5th, '05, 21:30 
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Location: TOOOOLSET!!
Part Three: The Darkness

The young dwarves stood trembling before the huge gate towering above them at least six stories tall. The old dwarf didn't think much about it, taking a swift stride across the settling dust of the gate that's just been kicked down by his leader, one he's been faithful to across many battles against orcs and giants.

These unexperienced warriors were all miners, even so if among the best, the word adventure would wake no pleasant embrace in their hearts and would at best mean something to brag about when done.
They did decide to follow, but as every step they took, the fear becoming of what little courage they've had, took more and more a toll on their sanity.

"I think I's be hear'n them" - Said one of them on a whispering tone , looking around in the complete darkness seeing none farther than his own nose.
"Ye think so eh?" - said a laughing voice from behind them, making them jump. There stood Mórin with the old one, heartily chucking at them behaving like frightened chicks when the fox is near the gates.
"There ye is , king! We din' wah see yer lost or 'n trouble y'know.." said one of them , trying to look brave but only managing to look comic.
The king had no chance to answer as Kusur's voice responded , but in a very slow and strange manner, apathetically and lacking .. life.
"Ye be's no longer lost.."
"Kusur! 's be good ter seein' ya!" - Ran one of the younger dwarves up to his lost comrade, holding him by the shoulders. What little was left of the dwarf's left upper arm, came off twitching in the miner's hand. He jumped back screaming as Kusur stared back at him with glowing red eyes and a lifeless face. Mórin held onto his axe tightly , getting ready for battle. And he was not mistaken, hundreds of undead minions shambled forth from the darkness with glowing red eyes, moaning and groaning, hissing and screaming in languages unknown to him, languages they've probably spoken before their deaths.
"Glorin! Take'em young'uns an' run fer it! Get'em people outta'ere!"
"I ain't leavin' ye ter die!"
"No time ter argue! Run!" - the miners were already taking the king's advice and running for it, while Glórin Morinsen stood to observe as the king was engulfed into the darkness, only the sounds of battle to be heard.
He sighed and nodded. "I's be doin' as ye command" - he muttered and ran, not seeing the flash of light that occurred where the battle was raging.

Rugged mountains and heavy winds, the cold biting into the skin on the hardy faces covered by beards now turning pale with frostbite, and harder to press on by the minute. Step by step, the small men and women took an occasional gaze at the one leading them, a spirit lost in thought of memories of his lost brother, determined to write his saga, leading back towards the Mórinsen Settlement, to shelter and to get ready with the battle against the unknown horrors on their trail , across the frozen wastes of the Far North.

_________________
"There is no Sparta.
THIS. IS. SPOON!!"


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PostPosted: Nov 7th, '05, 01:31 
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Joined: Nov 24th, '04, 01:09
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Location: TOOOOLSET!!
"There are axes that split stone and swords that carve holes in the very air. But there is no sword to match the last hope a cleric can give to the warriors on a battlefield against an enemy that does not know sleep or food or fear.
It's a cruel job to tell them about their wives and children when you already know there's not tomorrow for them when they exit those gates.

They are fighting something that they cannot truly defeat and if they fall, they fall to be engulfed and become what they've fought. Yet if they do not fight, it engulfs them just the same."
- Glortor'Rai Glaurd'Har about the battle over Daranul City.

_________________
"There is no Sparta.
THIS. IS. SPOON!!"


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PostPosted: Jan 12th, '06, 19:08 
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Location: TOOOOLSET!!
Gurnaur Dothraan and the Dwarven Community of M'aur Inssehn
Part One: Robert Dahl

It was a cloudy day , many decades after the Years of Travel, as Glórin Mórinsen had written onto his shield with masterful runes. He kept a score of adventures written on that special , large round shield that he carried strapped across his back, built from different rings of metal and across which his old friend's helm was strapped. Each ring spoke of a different adventure, and the newest , it was still empty, waiting for , perhaps his very last one.

He stood on the cliff holding onto his axe with both hands, his braided mustache and beard freely blown in the cold mountain wind, his spectacles covered in ice, and his thick eyebrows furrowed in thought as he chewed on his pipe absentmindedly. With his left foot high on the rock in front of him, he was obviously about to strike it to see whether it contains any ore, while the setting sun upfront took his attention, drawing mysterious marks into the northern clouds, blown by the wind of change.

Robert Dahl was a short human male around his late fifties, none less hardy than the next dwarf, with a beard making him worthy of the great axe he carried on his back, walking towards the snow covered mountain top, seeing his old friend in the distance.

"Glorin? Glorin!"
"Eh? Bah! Eh's be's daedrehmin'gain. Eh be's get'n old."
"Don't speak nonsense, Glorin."
The dwarf turned his gaze on the human with a grin
"Eh's been know'n ye since yer woz a wee lad, R'bert. Yer sees thes ol' dwarf go soon."
"Don't speak nonsense, Glorin." - he repeated himself , somehow fearing the truth.
"Bah! Eh dwarf knows when 'e's time be's up. I put down me shield. Take it back ter M'aur Inssehn an' tell'em Glorin went ter meet 'eh ancesters." He handed his shield to the human and slided down the mountainside with such skill that no other race or species could manage. Something Robert could never do, something he was always too .. too Human to learn. He looked at the seventh ring on the shield randomly, starting to read in dwarven as best as he could.

"Today I've found a manling. He did a wolf with only a small piece of iron, and ate it on his own. A wee lad but crafty a little bugger."

He smiled to himself and looked up into the distance, not seeing Glorin anymore. He understood already what being a dwarf means, and he was honoured to have had the luck to be called "brother" by one of these magnificent people.

Returning to his home in Morikston Village two years later, he'd written his book about dwarves and their nature, of course, with the supervision and permission of the M'aur Inssehn.

_________________
"There is no Sparta.
THIS. IS. SPOON!!"


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