This is the journal of Daebron Stormbringer, son of Iregeld Stormbringer, Blood of Damien Stormbringer and rightful heir to the Bronze Throne of the Halls of Krytha.
I'm beginning these notes at the start of my journey to return to me rightful place in those ancient halls. I was the youngest son of King Iregeld, and had planned to spend my life devoted to Moradin the Soulforger. But that was before the traitor Regalis had let the forces of vile giants and wizards into our home, my family and clan had been decimated, and I fled with my steward just barely a man. My father, mother, and uncles were all slain. My brothers and sisters are gone as well, and I assume them dead.
That was ten years ago. Tharnian trained me well in the use of the axe - a weapon sacred to my order and clan. One of my most vital missions is to recover that sacred weapon from the scurvy dogs that had taken it. I set out from the secluded cavern that had been my home to recover my birthright and crack as many giant and orc skulls as possible along the way.
I traveled out of the remote reaches where we had hidden into the lands the humans call Geoff, leaving Tharnian in the hidden valley. He is most wise and a true friend, but an old man now. These lands are no place for him now. I plan to set that right.
After a couple weeks I met some barbarians that were friendly enough, traded for some supplies. The only dwarves they knew of were in a mine some two weeks to the east. Had to start somewhere, and finding some o' me own people sounded like a good place to start.
I was about five days from the mines, when I heard some movement ahead on the trail. I scrambled up onto a ledge over the trail to see what was coming. I could see that I was on a crossroads with signs of heavy travel. Finally getting closer to civilized lands.
A group of seven orcs came around the bend. They had half a dozen captives chained up with them, women and children. Most seemed to be simple peasants, though the last two wore the facepaint of the barbarians I'd met a few weeks back. The two guards behind them carried large packs. The orcs themselves didn't seem like the scurvy dogs I'd tangled with before. They marched with military precision and had matching uniforms. These orcs had a leader somewhere.
As they got closer, I prepared a javelin to get the attention of the leader. Be damned if I was going to leave these people to the appetites of orcs! I looked back at the trail to make certain there were no more orcs when I spotted another figure moving toward the orcs. He seemed to be trailing them himself. As he slid down the hillside to get closer his cloak slipped off his head.
A drow elf! What in the nine hells was that devil doing up here? I looked at the mountains in the distance and said a little prayer.
"Gettin to kill orcs and drow in the same day! Thank ye Moradin!"
And let my javelin fly toward the orcs' leader.
I'm beginning these notes at the start of my journey to return to me rightful place in those ancient halls. I was the youngest son of King Iregeld, and had planned to spend my life devoted to Moradin the Soulforger. But that was before the traitor Regalis had let the forces of vile giants and wizards into our home, my family and clan had been decimated, and I fled with my steward just barely a man. My father, mother, and uncles were all slain. My brothers and sisters are gone as well, and I assume them dead.
That was ten years ago. Tharnian trained me well in the use of the axe - a weapon sacred to my order and clan. One of my most vital missions is to recover that sacred weapon from the scurvy dogs that had taken it. I set out from the secluded cavern that had been my home to recover my birthright and crack as many giant and orc skulls as possible along the way.
I traveled out of the remote reaches where we had hidden into the lands the humans call Geoff, leaving Tharnian in the hidden valley. He is most wise and a true friend, but an old man now. These lands are no place for him now. I plan to set that right.
After a couple weeks I met some barbarians that were friendly enough, traded for some supplies. The only dwarves they knew of were in a mine some two weeks to the east. Had to start somewhere, and finding some o' me own people sounded like a good place to start.
I was about five days from the mines, when I heard some movement ahead on the trail. I scrambled up onto a ledge over the trail to see what was coming. I could see that I was on a crossroads with signs of heavy travel. Finally getting closer to civilized lands.
A group of seven orcs came around the bend. They had half a dozen captives chained up with them, women and children. Most seemed to be simple peasants, though the last two wore the facepaint of the barbarians I'd met a few weeks back. The two guards behind them carried large packs. The orcs themselves didn't seem like the scurvy dogs I'd tangled with before. They marched with military precision and had matching uniforms. These orcs had a leader somewhere.
As they got closer, I prepared a javelin to get the attention of the leader. Be damned if I was going to leave these people to the appetites of orcs! I looked back at the trail to make certain there were no more orcs when I spotted another figure moving toward the orcs. He seemed to be trailing them himself. As he slid down the hillside to get closer his cloak slipped off his head.
A drow elf! What in the nine hells was that devil doing up here? I looked at the mountains in the distance and said a little prayer.
"Gettin to kill orcs and drow in the same day! Thank ye Moradin!"
And let my javelin fly toward the orcs' leader.
Always good for a laugh...
