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Thread: To cross the Greypeaks

  1. #31
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    Thoriken seems quite moved by the tale, a single tear rolls down his gruff cheek which he quickly wipes away, "Aye a moving tale indeed. Did what was right, just like any good dwarf should," as he nods in thought over the tale.

    "Wow, I do wish I could tell a tale like that," adds the young Barur. "I never did quite grasp the finer points, seems I always give away all the good stuff before it gets going," with a grin and a chuckle.

    Asbjorn sits through the tale and seems very occupied by the fire, but Ertryd notices his quick glance and nod of approval concerning her choice of tale. He knew what challenges they faced and an inspiring tale at their journeys start would help them through the difficulties they might face in the future.


    At Dolastyr's cry everyone springs to their feet, weapons quickly coming to their hands as they try to perceive what threat loomed nearby. Ferrous was closest and was at her side in the flash of a second.

    Dolastyr had a strange expression on her face, one the others might say fit someone whom seen a ghost. She still clutched the stone in her hand, having forgotten it in the surprise. Under the stone lay a dirty silver coin, aged and long since forgotten. As Ferrous looked more closely he could make out some Dethek script upon it and the image of what looked like a mountain superimposed by a pick and axe. What immediately stood out in the script was Klängdenstürm written across the top, denoting its minter.

    Dolastyr looked up at Ferrous, a look of hope painted across her eyes, "Could it be? They have been lost for so long...."

  2. #32
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    Ferous, sliding his axe back into its ring, bends to pick up the coin, cleaning the earth off of it with his thumb. Then holds it up for the others to see and then takes a good look at it.

    Then, with it laying flat in his palm, he extends his hand out to Dolastyr, smiling.

    "Take a better look Mum. It's quite beautiful."

    Ferous sets his shield down,leaning it against his leg, and with his other hand, he takes the rock she is holding so she can take the coin from him.

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    The woods around the cave are alight with rain drops. They strike Adiir's shoulders and roll down his muscular back, but if he feels them, he shows no sign. He stoops again and adds another arm sized log to the growing pile he holds. He is only gone about five minutes, but when he returns he is drenched. His large crest of red hair is drooping and drips water onto his great braided beard. Despite this he wears a large smile.

    His face though, is hidden by the massive pile of logs he is holding. "Aye. I brought more wood fer the fire!" He says, his voice booming in the cave. It echoes back to him, and after a moment he grows irritated that no one bothered to say anything. There is a great clatter as he drops all of the logs right at his feet, and suddenly the pouting Dwarf face is visible.

    "What, ye can't be bothered tah help...." His voice fades as he notices everyone gathered around. He moves in close, his wet hair dripping on everyone near. "What did ya find?"

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    Dolastyr reverently trades Ferrous for the silver coin in exchange for the stone.

    "It is a coin Adiir," she says with an awed voice. She holds it for all to see, offering it to Adiir for his examination. "It is from Klangensturm, it is made of their fabled Mithril..." to explain its light weight.

    "They have been lost for nearly as long as our own stead. Please look it over and I will tell the tale when we get settled. I only know a small part of the tale, but it should help," she states with a broad smile across her gray cheeks.

    Asbjorn looks at the coin a bit dubiously, shaking his head at overlooking such a precious object.

    Barur looks at the coin in wonder, as though it had gained in value over the span of mere moments.

    Thoriken nods to Dolastyr, "Aye, I remember da tales, to tells the truth, I always thought it a child's tale. Let me scratch my brain a sec and see what I do remember," as his face contorts in thought.

    Dolastyr knew it was no coincidence, it was a sign. Dumathoin had strange ways of showing his favor and finding something that had been hidden away was a certainty of his approval. She did not know what else it might symbolize, but she could have leapt into the air at that moment had she been a bit less reserved.

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    Ferous gathers up his shield after tossing the rock. He looks down one more time to see if there were any other coins, kicking the dirt to look beneath the surface.

    He thinks to himself looking about the cave again "I wonder who all has camped in this cave"

    He comes back to reality and makes his way to the fire where the rest are gathering about to hear Dolastyr's story, standing, leaning on his shield, listening intently to her tale.

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    As her companions inspect the coin, Dolastyr simply smiles. They gather about the fire as it warms them and pushes aside the weather outside. A chill wind blows inside the cavern, but as they gather together it seems less intimidating somehow.

    "I have heard we were once a great nation, that we were called Ammarindar to many. A great calamity befell it and those that survived banded together or fled. It was this that would seal our stead, but only after some time had passed. There were once other great clans that sought refuge within our domain. Theyt yearned to return to their own steads and retake them. Three clans left to seek out their own fallen stead and it was said they had won it. Word came that they had discovered a rich vein of pure mithril and to secure it they had crafted a great maze that only they held the key for. They shunned outsiders and our emmisaries were attacked for fear of us. It was then that we sealed ourselves within our domain. When at last we needed help from the outer world, our great king sent runners to find Klängdenstürm, but they could not. No trace has ever been seen or heard of since. Perhaps we shall gain some knowledge in Loudwater, but I shall take this as a sign. Do their forges still burn? What has befallen our brother clans?" as she looks about the group.

    She shakes her head silently,"We asked the Adbarrans if they knew anything, but they had not. Perhaps they have kept quiet or sealed as did we. They were smaller, much smaller then Uerythtar and it would be hard to have survived without trade. It was said that they lay some week further into the peaks then our own stead, so finding the coin here suggests they did trade, at least for some time..." as she breathes out a heavy breath.

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    Ferous stares at the fire listening to the story.

    He hears her exhale and waits a moment. "It sounds, mum, that these clansmen had no intention of helping us, and it will be quite a task to gain any trust in them even if we did come across them. Tis a sad story indeed, one of betrayal and mistrust. Its no wonder why our Thanes were so hesitant to send us out into the world."

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    "Yes, but I think it is a sign," with a look of hope upon her face.

    "Hmm, guess'll be cookin den, i'ffn no ones aversed ta eatin," states Asbjorn as he begins collecting things for dinner.

    "Dinner sounds great, I'm starving," offers the young Barur with hungry eyes.

    Thoriken merely shakes his head, Barur was the youngest in this group and he wondered if he knew the danger he faced in this journey. He vowed to watch out for the younger dwarf on this trek, should anything befall him he would never forgive himself.

    "Ferrous, I had seen your axe, could I ask about it? That is if your comfortable telling us?" Dolastyr asks quietly. She had seen it and wondered, but was uncertain about his feelings concerning such a familial heirloom.

  9. #39
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    Ferous looks at Dolastyr, almost unsure what it is she asks of him. He stands slowly letting his shield fall by his leg.

    Ferous pulls from its ring an axe, black as night and though his armor may looks a bit dusty, the axe is clean and obviously meticulously cared for.

    He looks about the fire, seeing the expectant faces of his companions, and the wariness comes upon him at once. The same feelings felt when he met Osk were once again in his stomach, and Ferous can visibly be seen saying something to himself as he eyes the weapon in his hands..
    Ferous clears his throat and speaks softly.

    “M’lady Ertryd Uerthshield, it would be a great honor if you would sing a song of my axe’s history, if you know of it once I am finished. “ He glances at the Ertryd shortly before looking at Dolastyr then again at his axe.

    “The request you have of me mum, is not a story of my axe, but a story of my family. So I apologize if I carry on a bit as I am no singer of songs, but it is the story told to me. So this is the story of my family told by my Grandfather.”

    Ferous takes a deep breath and stares into the fire for a short period, then his eyes come up to confront the group gathered about the fire.
    As Ferous speaks, its immediately noticeable that he has a very strong accented tone, one he does not speak with, it harkens to the way the old ones speak and some still do in this party. His voice booms off of the walls of the cave as he begins to tell his tale.

    "Long ago our blood, known to his fellows as Goldvein, was casted out from his clan. This was the age of Ammirindar, the age of dwarves," as he reverted to an ancient way of speaking. "He had been mighty in many battles, but had bested a Thanes son for insulting his wife and as recompense were cast into the mountains. He did what he could surviving the cold and doing what he might to feed his family. Long did they dwell amongst the wilderness bereft of their kin and clan. Many years had passed before he found a group of wanderer's. They were to form a great hall and to live as dwarves should beneath the stone as Moradin had bade them. They took pity upon what had occurred to Goldvein and offered him a place in their great city. They only asked of him to wield his blade. It had such feelings that came with it that it brought him pain to bear it. He knew he must, for his family needed it though he vowed that when they were finished with him and his blade that he will place it away and he could do what all dwarves should. He fought to his deathbed upon the field of battle, where he fell wounded and dying. A priest of the all father approached and asked of his wishes. He bade them deliver his axe unto his wall, that it may hang there as he rests and should his children ever need take it from there and do what they must, but when they have no more blood upon their hands then they may bear that they replace it upon the wall wherein it shall be the stone that sets you free of the constraints held in this world and in resting it shall you find peace.”

    Ferous pauses slightly, his eyes welling.

    “Yea, it be called Dreck Khrumh, Dark Bringer.”

    Ferous looks directly at Dolastyr. His accent fades away as he speaks again.

    I am Ferous Goldvein, Son of Sactim the Quick, Blood of Sact the Smeller, Keeper of Drek Krumh, we are of the Brotherhood of the Deep Delving, and I got this axe from the wall of Goldvein. It is our blood that we mine and shed for this calling, blood I shed willingly for any of you..at any time.”

    Ferous stops, and looks about the fire at his companions, not knowing how he will be received as they are all of worthy blood and livelihood. He takes a deep breath and releases it, out of relief that his tale is over for it racked him to his soul just as the first time he heard it.

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    Dolastyr listened intently to the tale her companion told with a sense of pride that seemed to grow as he spoke. The tale was intense to hear and she knew all too well that it must have been very dear to her friend to learn its tale.

    "You have the soul of a poet dear Ferrous, your blood sings the tale as a true Goldvein. Your clan is proud of you and in your hands shall such a relic find purpose and add volumes to its legend," as she realizes that everyone was looking at her. She blushes, her ashen cheeks turning a ruddy shade.

    "Aye me laddy, tis a fine weapon indeed," states Asbjorn with a slight cough to cover the lurch in his throat after hearing the moving tale.

    "It looks like its forged of the dark," says Barur in a naive tone as he stares in amazement at the instrument that seems to have captured everyone's attention.

    "Tis a great name and a fine axe, yer always welcome at me side in the darkened tunnels under da stead wit a blade like dat. I gots jis a simple axe, but it cuts fine enough fer me," states a smiling Thoriken with a heavy pat to Ferrous' back.

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    Ferous smiles at their reactions, especially Dolastyr's.

    "Thanks everyone, I am no poet, it just means a great deal to me. I only just learned of this axe's story and was given in by my father and grandfather. I'm happy to have told you its story as I know it."

    "It would mean a great deal to me if m'lady here could sing a song about it, or if you know more mum, shed more light upon its history."

    Ferous sits back down, happy to have shared, and happy to be out of everyone elses attention at the same time, and takes a long drink.

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    Ertryd looked at the weapon in his hands, her mind deep in thought as if dredging the vast stories for one that held such a dear item. She nodded silently to herself, taking a deep breath in anticipation of the cadence of the tale. It was old, the cantor very odd and she guessed as to the reason.

    "Dreck Khrumh, Dark Bringer. In fair Ammarindar long ago was fought a bloody war, one we felt should not be fought. One of our sons had been cast out of the Mordinsammon and we did as was done in the heavens. We did war upon his chosen," with a sorrowful look at Dolastyr. "Deep within the earth did we return our blood to the all father. It was here that we found this blade, the Dark Bringer. It was carried by a great Thane of the Duergar, though his name be not known to me. In solitary challenge was he killed, but not without his own skill. It was said that he could command darkness to bear and that no one witnessed the battle," she takes a deep breath here and glances quickly toward Ferous a look of hesitation in her eyes.

    "It was taken up by a thane and treated with respect as dwarven made and desrving of respect. It passed into many hands, fathers to sons, as Moradin wished all things to be. Lost was its origins, crafted in another's culture and secrets I can not fathom," as she finishes.

    "That is all I know, I fear it is not much. The tale is old and in only a single book. I would have never put it together if it had not been for the name, it is referred to as Dark Bringer only. I can only assume it is the same, though It could not be," she says.

    "Yeah, it be the one," says Dolastyr in a quiet voice. "I recognized it once I laid my eyes upon it. It is spoken of in the many stories we have about our kin. Three clans dwell within Uerythtar, though we passed many in our return. Some were lost to the exile, forsaking their blood and becoming lost in the black. We tried to reason, but they would not listen. Hate and fear clouded their eyes, they believed the family had abandoned them to our depraved masters. They dwell there to this day," as her voice gains more volume.

    "Many were the challenges our kin faced when they won their freedom, the drow stood amongst our greatest rivals. In a great underground city my kin gathered, Gracklstugh by name, there they forged weapons to face their rivals.
    Dreck Khrumh was amongst them. I know little more and had never heard the tale of war, though it does not surprise me," an understanding glance toward Ertryd. "It was said that it could collect the black and forge it as did the Exile. It was used to hunt their rivals and protect their stead. I am glad to see it in our blood's hands and it brings pride that it may do good there," with long look at Ferous.

    "Drow killin axes," says Thoriken a look of deep reverence on his face.

    Barur stares as a child being told a nightime tale, never having dawned upon him the age of his culture nor its immediacy.

    "Well me lids are a fallin me fella's," yawns Asbjorn. "I'll be headin fer me sack, wake me at mid watch," toward Ferous and Ertryd assuming they choose watches.

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    "Thank you for this information, it means much to me and to my familly."

    Ferous looks about as people begin to retire, though he is wide awake after this information.

    "I will take first watch and will wake m'lady for the second."

    Ferous walks a bit into the cave, turning his back to the back of the cave and facing the mouth and sits down. There in the dark he contemplates his role in this quest. Just a few short days ago, he was a bored member of the militia, hanging on way past his contracted time. Not because of his want for adventure or need for excitement, but because of his lack of direction and overall feeling of uselessness. Now, as Ferous breathes in the smell of clay, smoke, and the open air, a new feeling is arising in Ferous, one that he has only felt in brief moments of his previous life. That is the feeling of being usefull, the feeling of belonging, and the feeling of pride in his family and race.

    There in the dark, Ferous smiles a deep broad smile and swears once again to protect these people and this cause with his life.

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    Dolastyr moves to sit near you, indicating she will share the first watch of the evening. As the rest finally begin to sleep she nods toward the front of the cavern, in an attempt to speak without waking the others.

    "I hope what I had said did you no injustice," with a concerned look upon her brow.



    It had been determined that the watches were to be split into three and that you two would take first, being relieved by Asbjorn and Adiir, being relieved by Thoriken, Ertryd, and Barur taking the last. Each would last a sum of about four hours, hopefully to allow everyone a chance at getting a good nights sleep. Days now only allowed about 12 hours of daylight and no one had voiced wanting to move in the dark of night.

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    Ferous watches Dolastyr get up and walk over towards him. He continues his smile looking directly at her as she sits down. For him, her silence is a bit disconcerning, as he still feels a bit awkward after their embrace in her home. They had not spoken since that day alone and as she speaks, he listens and then keeping his smile.
    “Mum, I look at what you said, and what Erstyd said as the truth. I knew that this weapon had a long history, perhaps not that long, but all the same, it’s the truth. You did not offend me at all, as I’m thankful for the truth, something you have always given me since I have met you.”
    Ferous pauses for a moment.
    “You know, what is interesting about this axe is, when it’s wielded, it gives a dull pain to it’s wielder. I believe it reflects the pain that Goldvein felt having to use the axe to become part of a Clan Hold, and also the pain that is brought when having to use it. It’s edge brings death and life, as its history shows the same. Does that make sense?”
    He looks directly at Dolastyr.
    “Until recently, I never gave a thought of what a weapon would be for, other than a tool. I thought of an axe the same as I thought of a pick. Granted, I always kept my weaponry clean and sharp, but so does the miner who harvests the earth’s blood. This axe is a symbol of my Clan and people, I am honored to wield it, and honored to be trusted with it. These events that have unfolded since meeting you in the underdark have changed me forever, in the sense that I can never go back to being a militia man. Actually, things have changed for me so drastically since meeting you, that I’m not sure what is in store for me, and I like it.”
    He looks away now, at the fire and the sleeping figures.
    “How do you feel about all of this, about your place with Thane Osk after all of this has happened? Life has changed for you also mum, have you given it thought?”
    Last edited by Fly by Knight; 12-22-2009 at 09:28 AM.

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