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Clang, clang, clang...
The rythmic hammering echos throughout the Port City. The bellows wheeze loudly, howling above the wind in great heated gusts. Sweat drips freely from Fenar's forehead, his hands covered in black soot.
Clang, clang, clang...
The sound of the hammer continues to ring above the noise of the destitute in the Port City. Hours and hours he has toiled, the hymn of dwarven craftsmenship crisp in the air. His able hands turn the metal, bending and shaping the bars at will.
All the while, Fenar's mind races, his anger and passion fueling the intensity of his song. His song of steel. His mind goes over the events, leading here, his fight with the goblins, the gnolls. What strength the boy had shown! Between each ring of his crafting song, he relives a moment. The pounding of the drums, and wail of the beasts within the fort leading him to them.
Clang.
The fort was quiet, after he felled the first wave. A small group, a couple shamans, a goblin, and two gnolls. His throwing axe leading the way, he had rushed up the hill, surprise lending a measure of fear to his warcry. The vicious slices of his axe made quick work of them. It always did, he reckoned.
Clang.
A shout rang out, nearly toppling the dwarf in surprise. Dropping the bandages he turns to see a Human, a young male. His armor that of the Legion, a respectable enough post, Fenar decides. Again the drums ring out, short and measured bursts, accompanied by a terrible feeling, as if some great hand was squeezing his chest from the inside.
Clang.
He yells his warcries, "Come get it, ye flea-ridden dogs!", as he chops and slices with his wicked axe, rending flesh and limb under his heavy swing. The battle rings out, fought by gnolls, goblins, and even a great Ogre Shaman. The bestial force holds their ground as best they can, against the fury of the Dwarf and the Human Legionaire.
Clang.
The sounds die, the thrill of battle fades. They search the area, finding a strange circle of blood. A spot held fast, to the last breath, by the shamans. The feeling of wrongness pulls at Fenar.. A cold feeling of evil pulling at his heart. As the feeling intensifies, the blood of the circle bubbles, and a hiss escapes from deep within. Darkness creeps into the Fort.
Clang.
The Human, a Paladin it seems, stands defiantly before the demon. The beast at lest four times the young mans size. He professes his intentions, for Torm he will banish it. He invokes the power blessed to him, and the light shows down upon him, his blade glows bright with the divine fury of his diety. The only thought Fenar can have at that moment, is one of contentment. To defeat this impossible evil, alongside his new found ally, his new found friend, or to die in honor at his side.
Clang.
Clouds of noxious gas erupt, filling his nostrils with their putrid scent, sending bile into his mouth. The stinging, sticking gas, sapping his strength, making it nearly impossible to swing his wicked axe. Fenar falls back, as does the Paladin, taking deep breaths of clean air free from the choking mist surrounding the large Demon.
Clang.
Again the battle shouts, declarations of faith, and cries of pain fill the gnoll fort. Dwarf and Man battling the great demon to the limits of their physical strength. The demons supernatural hide hardened to their weapons bites. Claw, tooth, and battering limbs flail at the two, one swing so strong it sends the Dwarf back, nearly knocking him unconscious, though the wounds of the Demon reflect the defenders ferocity.
Clang.
With a sickening thud, a backhand, the size of a tree stump, hits the Paladin down. Blood runs freely from so many places, it seems a wonder the man was standing as the hit was taken, but no more does the body move. No more does the young mans chest rise and fall. With a renewed rage, Fenar makes a final charge, his Cold Iron axe arcing with all his might into the Demon. In all of his rage he fights through the noxious gas. His arms and legs burn, his lungs feel afire.
Clang.
Hit back once more, Fenar stumbles. His thick legs unable to support him any more. Barely able to see through the blood running into his eyes, he looks up. Only a weak, dilapitated smile, escaping him as he sees the Demon. Weak from the Fury of the Paladin, even weaker from the prolonged battle. It stumbles back, issuing a curse on the wretched pair. The dwarfs world goes black, and the ground swallows him.
Clang.
His mind screams out, as he hits the earth, and the dwarfs eyes shoot open. His head in the dirt he looks out. As his eyes focus he sees the broken paladin, unmoving and covered in blood. He forces his body to rise, to stumble to the broken form, give the noble warrior peace. But the Paladin breathes, to Fenar's amazement. A gurgling wheeze emits from the corpse, and another. Still, does the powerful young warrior take breath.
Clang.
Bandaged, but moving, the dwarf supports the young man, taking him from the darkness of the Forests night. Battling back a few remnants of the gnoll force, they find their way to the legion camp, to their haven. There Fenar leaves the boy, finally somewhat awake, able to stumble along on his own, yelling out for a priest. His bellowing calls met by the concerned voice of a Clinicus in the border camps bunker.
Clang.
His mind focuses back to his work, his emotions bringing life to the metal, his body and mind forming a masterpiece. He thinks of the battle shared, and of his promise to the young warrior. One so full of principles and goodness, one so like Fenar himself. "Me greatest work o' armor yet, ye be hav'n from me, boy!", began his promise.
A promise Fenar begins to keep, with each ringing of his hammer, with each beat of his heart....
The rythmic hammering echos throughout the Port City. The bellows wheeze loudly, howling above the wind in great heated gusts. Sweat drips freely from Fenar's forehead, his hands covered in black soot.
Clang, clang, clang...
The sound of the hammer continues to ring above the noise of the destitute in the Port City. Hours and hours he has toiled, the hymn of dwarven craftsmenship crisp in the air. His able hands turn the metal, bending and shaping the bars at will.
All the while, Fenar's mind races, his anger and passion fueling the intensity of his song. His song of steel. His mind goes over the events, leading here, his fight with the goblins, the gnolls. What strength the boy had shown! Between each ring of his crafting song, he relives a moment. The pounding of the drums, and wail of the beasts within the fort leading him to them.
Clang.
The fort was quiet, after he felled the first wave. A small group, a couple shamans, a goblin, and two gnolls. His throwing axe leading the way, he had rushed up the hill, surprise lending a measure of fear to his warcry. The vicious slices of his axe made quick work of them. It always did, he reckoned.
Clang.
A shout rang out, nearly toppling the dwarf in surprise. Dropping the bandages he turns to see a Human, a young male. His armor that of the Legion, a respectable enough post, Fenar decides. Again the drums ring out, short and measured bursts, accompanied by a terrible feeling, as if some great hand was squeezing his chest from the inside.
Clang.
He yells his warcries, "Come get it, ye flea-ridden dogs!", as he chops and slices with his wicked axe, rending flesh and limb under his heavy swing. The battle rings out, fought by gnolls, goblins, and even a great Ogre Shaman. The bestial force holds their ground as best they can, against the fury of the Dwarf and the Human Legionaire.
Clang.
The sounds die, the thrill of battle fades. They search the area, finding a strange circle of blood. A spot held fast, to the last breath, by the shamans. The feeling of wrongness pulls at Fenar.. A cold feeling of evil pulling at his heart. As the feeling intensifies, the blood of the circle bubbles, and a hiss escapes from deep within. Darkness creeps into the Fort.
Clang.
The Human, a Paladin it seems, stands defiantly before the demon. The beast at lest four times the young mans size. He professes his intentions, for Torm he will banish it. He invokes the power blessed to him, and the light shows down upon him, his blade glows bright with the divine fury of his diety. The only thought Fenar can have at that moment, is one of contentment. To defeat this impossible evil, alongside his new found ally, his new found friend, or to die in honor at his side.
Clang.
Clouds of noxious gas erupt, filling his nostrils with their putrid scent, sending bile into his mouth. The stinging, sticking gas, sapping his strength, making it nearly impossible to swing his wicked axe. Fenar falls back, as does the Paladin, taking deep breaths of clean air free from the choking mist surrounding the large Demon.
Clang.
Again the battle shouts, declarations of faith, and cries of pain fill the gnoll fort. Dwarf and Man battling the great demon to the limits of their physical strength. The demons supernatural hide hardened to their weapons bites. Claw, tooth, and battering limbs flail at the two, one swing so strong it sends the Dwarf back, nearly knocking him unconscious, though the wounds of the Demon reflect the defenders ferocity.
Clang.
With a sickening thud, a backhand, the size of a tree stump, hits the Paladin down. Blood runs freely from so many places, it seems a wonder the man was standing as the hit was taken, but no more does the body move. No more does the young mans chest rise and fall. With a renewed rage, Fenar makes a final charge, his Cold Iron axe arcing with all his might into the Demon. In all of his rage he fights through the noxious gas. His arms and legs burn, his lungs feel afire.
Clang.
Hit back once more, Fenar stumbles. His thick legs unable to support him any more. Barely able to see through the blood running into his eyes, he looks up. Only a weak, dilapitated smile, escaping him as he sees the Demon. Weak from the Fury of the Paladin, even weaker from the prolonged battle. It stumbles back, issuing a curse on the wretched pair. The dwarfs world goes black, and the ground swallows him.
Clang.
His mind screams out, as he hits the earth, and the dwarfs eyes shoot open. His head in the dirt he looks out. As his eyes focus he sees the broken paladin, unmoving and covered in blood. He forces his body to rise, to stumble to the broken form, give the noble warrior peace. But the Paladin breathes, to Fenar's amazement. A gurgling wheeze emits from the corpse, and another. Still, does the powerful young warrior take breath.
Clang.
Bandaged, but moving, the dwarf supports the young man, taking him from the darkness of the Forests night. Battling back a few remnants of the gnoll force, they find their way to the legion camp, to their haven. There Fenar leaves the boy, finally somewhat awake, able to stumble along on his own, yelling out for a priest. His bellowing calls met by the concerned voice of a Clinicus in the border camps bunker.
Clang.
His mind focuses back to his work, his emotions bringing life to the metal, his body and mind forming a masterpiece. He thinks of the battle shared, and of his promise to the young warrior. One so full of principles and goodness, one so like Fenar himself. "Me greatest work o' armor yet, ye be hav'n from me, boy!", began his promise.
A promise Fenar begins to keep, with each ringing of his hammer, with each beat of his heart....
