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"Fockin' Kerfuffles."
Thus spoke Grundin Ironbeard through gritted teeth.
His hips thrust back and forth. A wet slap, slap, slap was the only sound to be heard in the darkened room.
"Well, that aboot does it."
The burly dwarf finally manages to buckle his belt. The light from the glowing fungus illuminating his enormous gut. His clothes are soaked, clinging to his skin. The sound of his belt, slapping against wet cloth has since faded into silence, the echoes having ceased. The sopping wet, and mildly obese dwarf heaves a deep breathe, and exhales slowly.
"Fockin' kerfuffles."
He begins his slow, plodding walk through the subterranean realm.
He'd been here many, many times. Often, with a companion, usually a fine dwarven woman. But not today. No, he remembered this day clearly. The memory of it still clear as a goblin's tear. This was the day he found his beloved. His beloved lay there before him, violated. It was a tragedy. It was horror. The sight of her tore his heart to pieces. A lone tear trickled down his cheek.
He had taken good care of her for all these years. They were going to grow old together. He had promised her so many times, that he would let noone harm her. But fate has a way of making good men break their promises. And this, was one such time.
He let out a soft, mournful sob as he looked upon the remains of his once glorious beard.
This, was his defining moment.
This was his turning point.
This, is what made him who he is.
Grundin Ironbeard.
Thus spoke Grundin Ironbeard through gritted teeth.
His hips thrust back and forth. A wet slap, slap, slap was the only sound to be heard in the darkened room.
"Well, that aboot does it."
The burly dwarf finally manages to buckle his belt. The light from the glowing fungus illuminating his enormous gut. His clothes are soaked, clinging to his skin. The sound of his belt, slapping against wet cloth has since faded into silence, the echoes having ceased. The sopping wet, and mildly obese dwarf heaves a deep breathe, and exhales slowly.
"Fockin' kerfuffles."
He begins his slow, plodding walk through the subterranean realm.
He'd been here many, many times. Often, with a companion, usually a fine dwarven woman. But not today. No, he remembered this day clearly. The memory of it still clear as a goblin's tear. This was the day he found his beloved. His beloved lay there before him, violated. It was a tragedy. It was horror. The sight of her tore his heart to pieces. A lone tear trickled down his cheek.
He had taken good care of her for all these years. They were going to grow old together. He had promised her so many times, that he would let noone harm her. But fate has a way of making good men break their promises. And this, was one such time.
He let out a soft, mournful sob as he looked upon the remains of his once glorious beard.
This, was his defining moment.
This was his turning point.
This, is what made him who he is.
Grundin Ironbeard.