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<blockquote data-quote="njorgard" data-source="post: 910843" data-attributes="member: 919"><p><strong>The Origin of Baruk - Dwarven Fighter / Sorceror</strong></p><p></p><p>As written by Hakiman (who plays Baruk in the Age of Blood)...</p><p></p><p>-Njorgard</p><p></p><p>------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p>The Origin of Baruk</p><p></p><p>It is cold. That is the first thought that hits me. The second? Pain. Pain in my head, and the sticky feel of congealed blood crusting on to my face. I open my eyes, and see that I am in the shade of a tall, cold granite rock shading me from the bright mountain day. I look around me and notice the snow capped mountains surrounding me. I myself am in a Valley, long grass slowly blowing in the cold breeze, though I know that if I stood in the sunlight, the sun would feel warm to my skin. That in itself is not peculiar, since Spring is always that way here in the mountains of, of...? Damn! I cannot seem to remember the name!</p><p></p><p>Slowly I stand. The pain causes me to wobble for a moment, but soon I am on my swaying feet. I turn around and, just a few feet from me I see the author of my headache. Anger fills me, and for just one moment, I can almost remember him. There was, ...fight? I seem to recall ducking under the Bugbears club, chopping into his chest and suddenly, just as he is falling back, one powerful last heave that would have crushed my scull like an egg had I not swerved, yet all goes black. Apparently I did not swerve fast enough. I hope my companions...? Companions? I do not think I was alone! Maybe they can help me! Quickly, I draw breath to call out their names and ...Names? What are their names, and for that matter, just how many were there?</p><p></p><p>Panic now swells in my chest! I run out into the sunlight, the bright glaring yet warm sunlight and at first, I see nothing. Gradually, as my eyes get used to the glare, I notice two more of the Bugbears. Damn! How is it I can remember what those brutes are, yet I cannot even remember my, remember my...name? My name? What is my name? What IS my NAME??!!! I CANNOT REMEMBER MY NAME!!!!!!!!!</p><p></p><p>Suddenly, I realize that I am shouting. Must control myself. The mountains of, of, of wherever I am are full of the enemies of the Dwarven people. Dwarven People. I, I KNOW the Dwarven People, because, because, because I am a Dwarf!!! Elation fills me for a moment, for I have just recovered, REMEMBERED one tiny bit of my past! I AM A DWARF! A Proud member of Clan... Clan... Damn! I almost had it! Well, If I keep screaming like an effete Elf, I will surely end up on some Nastie´s menu tonight, so I had better get a grip of myself. If I end up eaten, then I will truly NEVER find out who I am.</p><p></p><p>It is then that I see them. Two Dwarves. Two dead Dwarves. I go to the first one. He is a middle aged Dwarf with a strangely familiar brand on the cheekbone. Somehow, I know I have one just like it as well. He has been stabbed by a crude stone and stick spear. He did not live long, but he did live longer than the headless Bugbear lying next to him. Headless possibly due to the powerful and heavy looking Dwarven Greataxe lying next to my former comrad. Then, I look past him, and see another. He lies atop the last Bugbear, a broken sword in his hand, yet with just enough blade to slit the monster´s throat. Bugbears should have known better than to approach a mortally wounded Dwarf, especially one touched by the gods with the Rage! I smile briefly, until I see the Old Dwarf´s face. A great, overwhelming sadness fills me, an almost panic like desperation seizes my heart, for this Dwarf at one time meant EVERYTHING in the world to me! He was.. He was.. DAMN THE BUGBEARS! They did not even leave me the memory of my... of my..DAMN THEM ALL TO THE SEVEN PITTS OF HELL!!!!</p><p></p><p>I do not know for how long I shouted, for shout I did! I gave vent to my anger, my rage and my sorrow! I do know that once again, the cold brought me to my senses. The cold and the howl of foul wolves. I may not remember my comrades, but I will not allow them to be the meal for some tick infested mangy wolf! Diligently, I gather what brush I can and build them a Fire. A funeral Fire, so that their bodies may not be desecrated by foul beasts. Far better if I were able to build them a rock cairn, but my foolish yelling has now made this impossible. As for their fine, magnificent weapons? Would that I could bury them with their proud owners in the Cairn, but alas, that is not possible. With a brief prayer to whatever gods I pray to, I ask for forgiveness as I cast their weapons into a deep crack in the earth I noticed in the fading sunlight. Somehow, just by the smell of the air in the crack, I can tell it is deep. Reverently, I drop them, one by one, into the crack: the Falchion, the Great Dwarven axe, some daggers and even a powerful mace. I only keep my two axes, and the pack that was strapped to my back when I awoke. Everything else, everything I did not KNOW if it was mine or not, I returned to the depths of the earth. Returned To The Depths of The Earth. Somehow, that sounds right. I seem to know that I come from The Deep. And whether what I am doing is accepted doctrine among my people or not, I do not know, yet somehow I am certain that it is as close as I could manage, even with my memories intact.</p><p></p><p>A growling sound makes me turn, just in time to see a fierce wolf leap at me, for the jugular! Quickly, without thinking I stretch out my hand and to my amazement...darts of FIRE shoot out of my fingers incinerating the foul beast! Two more atack me, and again, fire comes to my aid! The rest of the pack flees! They flee like the mangy currs they are, and elation once again fills me! I know that my companions and I are not typical among my people, and that the Brand on our faces marks us as different. Respected by some, feared by most. I will have to be carefull!</p><p></p><p>Slowly, thoughtfully I return to the pyre. Just as I am about to light it, I notice the Ring on the Old Dwarf´s hand. Tearfully, desperate for SOME memento of the unremembered Dwarf who obviously at one time meant so much to me, I take his ring and put it in my pocket. Then, I light the brush and for hours watch the flames consume my former companions. Behind me, the rending sound of flesh being torn from the bones is ignored for I know the wolf pack has returned, and they too, are disposing of their fallen comrades as is their custum. Some must die, so the others may live. I killed three of their number, those three will now feed the rest which will now leave me alone.</p><p></p><p>Morning touches the horizon, and just as the final flames die out from the pyre, the first rays of sunlight illuminate the heavens. A final prayer to the now smoldering ashes, I turn and head...head.... I head south, down from the mountain. I do not know who I am, nor where I must go so one direction is as good as any. My friends bodies are now safe, as are their weapons. That I know for sure. I also know that I will need all my strength and wisdom to survive, and maybe, just maybe, if the gods have any mercy upon this wretched Dwarf I might, perhaps, find out who I am, where am I from and what I must do. I look up at the bright, beautiful dawn and begin my journey.</p><p></p><p>The Begining...</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="njorgard, post: 910843, member: 919"] [b]The Origin of Baruk - Dwarven Fighter / Sorceror[/b] As written by Hakiman (who plays Baruk in the Age of Blood)... -Njorgard ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Origin of Baruk It is cold. That is the first thought that hits me. The second? Pain. Pain in my head, and the sticky feel of congealed blood crusting on to my face. I open my eyes, and see that I am in the shade of a tall, cold granite rock shading me from the bright mountain day. I look around me and notice the snow capped mountains surrounding me. I myself am in a Valley, long grass slowly blowing in the cold breeze, though I know that if I stood in the sunlight, the sun would feel warm to my skin. That in itself is not peculiar, since Spring is always that way here in the mountains of, of...? Damn! I cannot seem to remember the name! Slowly I stand. The pain causes me to wobble for a moment, but soon I am on my swaying feet. I turn around and, just a few feet from me I see the author of my headache. Anger fills me, and for just one moment, I can almost remember him. There was, ...fight? I seem to recall ducking under the Bugbears club, chopping into his chest and suddenly, just as he is falling back, one powerful last heave that would have crushed my scull like an egg had I not swerved, yet all goes black. Apparently I did not swerve fast enough. I hope my companions...? Companions? I do not think I was alone! Maybe they can help me! Quickly, I draw breath to call out their names and ...Names? What are their names, and for that matter, just how many were there? Panic now swells in my chest! I run out into the sunlight, the bright glaring yet warm sunlight and at first, I see nothing. Gradually, as my eyes get used to the glare, I notice two more of the Bugbears. Damn! How is it I can remember what those brutes are, yet I cannot even remember my, remember my...name? My name? What is my name? What IS my NAME??!!! I CANNOT REMEMBER MY NAME!!!!!!!!! Suddenly, I realize that I am shouting. Must control myself. The mountains of, of, of wherever I am are full of the enemies of the Dwarven people. Dwarven People. I, I KNOW the Dwarven People, because, because, because I am a Dwarf!!! Elation fills me for a moment, for I have just recovered, REMEMBERED one tiny bit of my past! I AM A DWARF! A Proud member of Clan... Clan... Damn! I almost had it! Well, If I keep screaming like an effete Elf, I will surely end up on some Nastie´s menu tonight, so I had better get a grip of myself. If I end up eaten, then I will truly NEVER find out who I am. It is then that I see them. Two Dwarves. Two dead Dwarves. I go to the first one. He is a middle aged Dwarf with a strangely familiar brand on the cheekbone. Somehow, I know I have one just like it as well. He has been stabbed by a crude stone and stick spear. He did not live long, but he did live longer than the headless Bugbear lying next to him. Headless possibly due to the powerful and heavy looking Dwarven Greataxe lying next to my former comrad. Then, I look past him, and see another. He lies atop the last Bugbear, a broken sword in his hand, yet with just enough blade to slit the monster´s throat. Bugbears should have known better than to approach a mortally wounded Dwarf, especially one touched by the gods with the Rage! I smile briefly, until I see the Old Dwarf´s face. A great, overwhelming sadness fills me, an almost panic like desperation seizes my heart, for this Dwarf at one time meant EVERYTHING in the world to me! He was.. He was.. DAMN THE BUGBEARS! They did not even leave me the memory of my... of my..DAMN THEM ALL TO THE SEVEN PITTS OF HELL!!!! I do not know for how long I shouted, for shout I did! I gave vent to my anger, my rage and my sorrow! I do know that once again, the cold brought me to my senses. The cold and the howl of foul wolves. I may not remember my comrades, but I will not allow them to be the meal for some tick infested mangy wolf! Diligently, I gather what brush I can and build them a Fire. A funeral Fire, so that their bodies may not be desecrated by foul beasts. Far better if I were able to build them a rock cairn, but my foolish yelling has now made this impossible. As for their fine, magnificent weapons? Would that I could bury them with their proud owners in the Cairn, but alas, that is not possible. With a brief prayer to whatever gods I pray to, I ask for forgiveness as I cast their weapons into a deep crack in the earth I noticed in the fading sunlight. Somehow, just by the smell of the air in the crack, I can tell it is deep. Reverently, I drop them, one by one, into the crack: the Falchion, the Great Dwarven axe, some daggers and even a powerful mace. I only keep my two axes, and the pack that was strapped to my back when I awoke. Everything else, everything I did not KNOW if it was mine or not, I returned to the depths of the earth. Returned To The Depths of The Earth. Somehow, that sounds right. I seem to know that I come from The Deep. And whether what I am doing is accepted doctrine among my people or not, I do not know, yet somehow I am certain that it is as close as I could manage, even with my memories intact. A growling sound makes me turn, just in time to see a fierce wolf leap at me, for the jugular! Quickly, without thinking I stretch out my hand and to my amazement...darts of FIRE shoot out of my fingers incinerating the foul beast! Two more atack me, and again, fire comes to my aid! The rest of the pack flees! They flee like the mangy currs they are, and elation once again fills me! I know that my companions and I are not typical among my people, and that the Brand on our faces marks us as different. Respected by some, feared by most. I will have to be carefull! Slowly, thoughtfully I return to the pyre. Just as I am about to light it, I notice the Ring on the Old Dwarf´s hand. Tearfully, desperate for SOME memento of the unremembered Dwarf who obviously at one time meant so much to me, I take his ring and put it in my pocket. Then, I light the brush and for hours watch the flames consume my former companions. Behind me, the rending sound of flesh being torn from the bones is ignored for I know the wolf pack has returned, and they too, are disposing of their fallen comrades as is their custum. Some must die, so the others may live. I killed three of their number, those three will now feed the rest which will now leave me alone. Morning touches the horizon, and just as the final flames die out from the pyre, the first rays of sunlight illuminate the heavens. A final prayer to the now smoldering ashes, I turn and head...head.... I head south, down from the mountain. I do not know who I am, nor where I must go so one direction is as good as any. My friends bodies are now safe, as are their weapons. That I know for sure. I also know that I will need all my strength and wisdom to survive, and maybe, just maybe, if the gods have any mercy upon this wretched Dwarf I might, perhaps, find out who I am, where am I from and what I must do. I look up at the bright, beautiful dawn and begin my journey. The Begining... [/QUOTE]
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