Thordain
First Post
Your travels have brought you to the small human village of Gross Fell.
Lorenz: You've been walking for weeks on the road, seeing new places and meeting new people. Your adventures have taken you far and wide, but today you feel relief as your path takes you to the small village of Gross Fell. As you walk up the dusty road, villagers and farmers look at you with disinterested suprise, then soon go back to their sheep and their carts. You wearily enter the common room of the Traveler's Rest, the one and only inn in this small town.
In the common room are a few farm hands enjoying an afternoon ale, the patron and a serving wench, and assorted commoners. To your suprise, completely out of place in the tavern are three stout dwarves. One is dressed in well worn leathers, with a sickle at his side. Another formidable looking dwarf in a breastplate has two mighty axes slung across his back. The third dwarf has bright red hair and a fine braided beard. A symbol of Moradin is prominently carved on his breastplate, and he carries a powerful looking warhammer easily at his side.
Taklinn: You take a sip of the inkeep's ale, and sigh. Humans simply can't seem to brew decent spirits. "Gross Fell", you think, "Where have I heard the name of this human town before?". Suddently it hits you. You recall years ago meeting a human warrior from the area. Over a few mugs of spirits, you exchanged childhood stories. The human told you of a legend, the legend of Elizar Branded Hand. As the story went, an evil wizard was succumed to evil somewhere near Gross Fell many generations ago. The villagers revolted, and buried him alive somewhere in the hills. Of course, you dismissed the story as a yet another legend, the kind these short-lived humans tell each other to spice up their dreary short-lived lives....
You are suprised to see two other dwarves in the common room of your inn. One, clearly a cleric of Moradin, has a beautiful finely braided red beard. The other is in leathers, and has a worldly look about him.
Thoart: Human settlements are something you usually rarely visit. They always seem innocent enough, but at the first sign of prosperity, they grow, without regard or care for the natural resources among them. Rivers and streams become polluted, and forests become cut down. Grasslands are overgrazed, and the once idyllic village has become another city, a blight like a sore on the land. Nevertheless, Gross Fell seems peaceful enough. "Yes, but for how long?", you think to yourself. You've heard rumors among the herders of sheep missing. Some say a dragon has been preying on the local cattle and sheep.
You've been musing these tidings when you see a pair of dwarves enter the common room of the inn. They are followed shortly afterwards by a lanky, tall human with a dangerously competent look about him.
Davik: Moradin works in mysterious ways, indeed. How did you, a devoted child, come to this insignifcant human town? How can this be part of his great plan?
Amused, you chide yourself. It is not your place to question, only to serve and do his works. You smile, almost not suprised as you see the two dwarves in the common room of the inn. Surely, it can not be coincidence that three of Moradin's children would be in this remote, almost uniquely human town. You raise an eyebrow when the long haired stranger enters the room. His demeanor suggests dangerous grace and quiet competence.
Lorenz: You've been walking for weeks on the road, seeing new places and meeting new people. Your adventures have taken you far and wide, but today you feel relief as your path takes you to the small village of Gross Fell. As you walk up the dusty road, villagers and farmers look at you with disinterested suprise, then soon go back to their sheep and their carts. You wearily enter the common room of the Traveler's Rest, the one and only inn in this small town.
In the common room are a few farm hands enjoying an afternoon ale, the patron and a serving wench, and assorted commoners. To your suprise, completely out of place in the tavern are three stout dwarves. One is dressed in well worn leathers, with a sickle at his side. Another formidable looking dwarf in a breastplate has two mighty axes slung across his back. The third dwarf has bright red hair and a fine braided beard. A symbol of Moradin is prominently carved on his breastplate, and he carries a powerful looking warhammer easily at his side.
Taklinn: You take a sip of the inkeep's ale, and sigh. Humans simply can't seem to brew decent spirits. "Gross Fell", you think, "Where have I heard the name of this human town before?". Suddently it hits you. You recall years ago meeting a human warrior from the area. Over a few mugs of spirits, you exchanged childhood stories. The human told you of a legend, the legend of Elizar Branded Hand. As the story went, an evil wizard was succumed to evil somewhere near Gross Fell many generations ago. The villagers revolted, and buried him alive somewhere in the hills. Of course, you dismissed the story as a yet another legend, the kind these short-lived humans tell each other to spice up their dreary short-lived lives....
You are suprised to see two other dwarves in the common room of your inn. One, clearly a cleric of Moradin, has a beautiful finely braided red beard. The other is in leathers, and has a worldly look about him.
Thoart: Human settlements are something you usually rarely visit. They always seem innocent enough, but at the first sign of prosperity, they grow, without regard or care for the natural resources among them. Rivers and streams become polluted, and forests become cut down. Grasslands are overgrazed, and the once idyllic village has become another city, a blight like a sore on the land. Nevertheless, Gross Fell seems peaceful enough. "Yes, but for how long?", you think to yourself. You've heard rumors among the herders of sheep missing. Some say a dragon has been preying on the local cattle and sheep.
You've been musing these tidings when you see a pair of dwarves enter the common room of the inn. They are followed shortly afterwards by a lanky, tall human with a dangerously competent look about him.
Davik: Moradin works in mysterious ways, indeed. How did you, a devoted child, come to this insignifcant human town? How can this be part of his great plan?
Amused, you chide yourself. It is not your place to question, only to serve and do his works. You smile, almost not suprised as you see the two dwarves in the common room of the inn. Surely, it can not be coincidence that three of Moradin's children would be in this remote, almost uniquely human town. You raise an eyebrow when the long haired stranger enters the room. His demeanor suggests dangerous grace and quiet competence.
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