Olgar Shiverstone
Legend
Edit 6/17/2004: Angelsboi was the DM for this little series of adventures. In memory of his passing, I thought I'd share some of the fun he shared with others.
PROLOGUE – CLAN SHIVERSTONE
Clan Shiverstone was gone. As the earth ceased rumbling and the massive dust cloud that emanated from the mouth of the mine began to settle, Olgar Shiverstone, until moments ago assistant chaplain to Clan Shiverstone, realized two things: he was an orphan and clanless, and he was free.
Olgar proceeded cautiously back to the mouth of the mine, aware that the collapse could continue for hours, potentially. In the distance, echoing through the caverns beneath the giant citadel, he could hear mocking, gleeful laughter. So it was true, he thought, Duergar. The giants had hired a company of the dark dwarves. Unusually intelligent for giants. And Clan Shiverstone had just been countermined.
Clan Shiverstone had wandered the continent of Rysil for generations, hiring out their skills to the highest bidder. Like many dwarven clans, they were professional warriors. Unlike many clans, they did not stay at home and defend a citadel where they mined metals and created fine-wrought weapons and armor. The Shiverstones were expert miners and stonemasons, true. But they were also mercenaries, and specialists to boot. The clan hired themselves out as engineers, and their specialty was mining – digging tunnels into a fortification to either collapse the walls, or breach them to kill the defenders.
As sappers, the Shiverstones were in a class all their own. They were in constant demand, and had very rarely been forced to resort to mining metal to make end meet between contracts. If there wasn’t some noble who wanted to get into his neighbor’s castle, someone always needed a dungeon reinforced with a few special additions. It was enough to keep the clan both busy and profitable.
The dwarves had been employed in Figaro for nearly a generation. The desolate mountains and harsh desert ensured that those hardy enough to survive there were under constant pressure to protect their holdings – or take that of their neighbors. Ulfgar, the leader of the clan and Olgar’s father, had been satisfied to keep the profits rolling in. The Shiverstones did have an ancestral home somewhere, Olgar was sure, but it was a secret Ulfgar had never revealed. Just as secret was the reason the clan had left their homeland in the first place, never to return.
Guess I’ll never know now, Olgar thought, as he sifted through the rubble of Shiverstone’s last sap. Me da’s taken that secret with him to the grave. He’d found a few dwarven corpses, and more body parts, but no one alive. Curse da’ for me work wi’ the chaplain! Damn Kraig – I shoulda been here!
PROLOGUE – CLAN SHIVERSTONE
Clan Shiverstone was gone. As the earth ceased rumbling and the massive dust cloud that emanated from the mouth of the mine began to settle, Olgar Shiverstone, until moments ago assistant chaplain to Clan Shiverstone, realized two things: he was an orphan and clanless, and he was free.
Olgar proceeded cautiously back to the mouth of the mine, aware that the collapse could continue for hours, potentially. In the distance, echoing through the caverns beneath the giant citadel, he could hear mocking, gleeful laughter. So it was true, he thought, Duergar. The giants had hired a company of the dark dwarves. Unusually intelligent for giants. And Clan Shiverstone had just been countermined.
Clan Shiverstone had wandered the continent of Rysil for generations, hiring out their skills to the highest bidder. Like many dwarven clans, they were professional warriors. Unlike many clans, they did not stay at home and defend a citadel where they mined metals and created fine-wrought weapons and armor. The Shiverstones were expert miners and stonemasons, true. But they were also mercenaries, and specialists to boot. The clan hired themselves out as engineers, and their specialty was mining – digging tunnels into a fortification to either collapse the walls, or breach them to kill the defenders.
As sappers, the Shiverstones were in a class all their own. They were in constant demand, and had very rarely been forced to resort to mining metal to make end meet between contracts. If there wasn’t some noble who wanted to get into his neighbor’s castle, someone always needed a dungeon reinforced with a few special additions. It was enough to keep the clan both busy and profitable.
The dwarves had been employed in Figaro for nearly a generation. The desolate mountains and harsh desert ensured that those hardy enough to survive there were under constant pressure to protect their holdings – or take that of their neighbors. Ulfgar, the leader of the clan and Olgar’s father, had been satisfied to keep the profits rolling in. The Shiverstones did have an ancestral home somewhere, Olgar was sure, but it was a secret Ulfgar had never revealed. Just as secret was the reason the clan had left their homeland in the first place, never to return.
Guess I’ll never know now, Olgar thought, as he sifted through the rubble of Shiverstone’s last sap. Me da’s taken that secret with him to the grave. He’d found a few dwarven corpses, and more body parts, but no one alive. Curse da’ for me work wi’ the chaplain! Damn Kraig – I shoulda been here!
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