For Kin. For Freedom.

[gbbishop]

Orsyn stood before the entrance of the Whurest ruins contemplating his long awaited return. Gathered around him were some of the finest warriors the valley had to offer. Angus Ironforge, the mighty warrior smith; Dryn Stonewhisperer, General of the Cleaver Brigade; Murin Stouthammer, the beeromancer; and the only non-kin in their small company, Master Andelain, last warden of the dead god of death. The last was certainly the odd man out though he had proved his worth as well as his loyalty to Orsyn and his friends. He was a welcome addition and a force to give evil cause for great fear.

Angus turned the ancient key in the lock conjuring old memories that floated up from the depths of Orsyn’s mind. Even after all those years, he had some how known he would return.

‘What will I find here,’ he thought to himself. ‘Father?’

Once this place had been his home, familiar were the halls and workrooms. Back then the dark corridors - carved deep into the rock - had been a source of adventure. In the mind of a child only treasures could have been buried there. The truth was painfully plain to Orsyn now.

Stories, that Orsyn had gathered over the years, spoke of kin being made into thralls and other kin, so very unlike kin at all, with darkened souls, dark as the color of their skin. Worse, he had learned what was responsible for these horrors, creatures called mindflayers. This beast could twist your mind and ultimately drink your brains and worst of all some dark consciousness connected them all together.

Returning to the task at hand he prepared himself for the worst. He tried in vain to recall the passageways that lay beneath the ruins but a dark fog lay over his memories.

“I give you all my thanks,” Orsyn said as Angus swung open the heavy stone door. The rest of the small company looked at him failing to comprehend.

Dryn Stonewhisperer stood close behind listening intently, 'probably talking to the stones,' Orsyn thought. Orsyn took comfort in the veteran general’s presence.

Orsyn gathered his breath and let out in a rush, “I guess it is time to tell you a story.”

The others looked askance of one another.

He continued, gathering strength with every word. “I will tell you where I came from and why this particular expedition is so important.

“This,” Orsyn said as he raised his hand towards the ruins. “Was once my home. It was many a year ago when it fell and I will speak now of that day.”

Dryn offered Orsyn a silent nod of encouragement as Orsyn began his tale.

“My father brought us here. I was young but he wanted the clan to stay together and with the fighting done in The Mithril Hall, it was time to move on. He had heard tell of a new hold with need of warriors to defend it. This brought us here.

We settled the ruins quickly and efficiently my father ever on the frontlines and my mother there beside him. We could not have known what we were soon to face.

A terrible thing laid waiting beneath us waiting. I don’t know why or how but one day it came for us. I had been off on my own in a silent corner one of the workshops, building what, I cannot recall. What I do remember is what I saw when I emerged. Smoke and fire, death and destruction.

I ran home only to find my mother laid out on the floor. She looked almost peaceful. She did not stir when I shook her. Her heart no longer struck anvil and her bellows still. There, lying next to her lay my father’s hammer, sundered to pieces. Of my father, there was no sign. Nor was there sign of any foe. In my state all I could seem to do was gather the pieces of his hammer, thinking that if only I could put them back together all would be as it should be.

As I sat there gathering broken pieces a feeling of terrible dread came over me. My father’s skill was legendary. What could have done this? I was almost lost to despair when all of a sudden a terrible wail ripped through the halls. In terror and shame I fled.

Later I began to piece together what had happened. My mother, she was the only one who could have shattered Dagda’s hammer. My father had turned kinslayer. They had fought, my mother had lost in the end. That was not a happy time for me. Then, crawling through the underbelly of the valley, I learned of the mindflayers. My father must have succumbed to their terrible will while my mother was able to resist. That was why he attacked her, that was why she…”

Orsyn paused and took moment to control his emotions.

“I re-dedicated my life to Gond and vowed to see my kin safe from tyranny. I was right to gather the pieces of Dagda’s hammer some divine hand must have been guide me,” he continued with resolve.

“Based upon my subsequent research, the Hammer can be re-forged. It can be imbued to destroy tyranny – a weapon for freedom.”

Orsyn kicked a small hillock of snow abashedly.

“In my haste to flee I failed to gather all of the pieces. That is why I must go below. If I can find those that are missing, then perhaps I can finish the task that my mother could not.”

Orsyn finished, his last words barely a whisper. He then drew forth the symbol of Gond and called for aid in the fight to come. He did not realize then that the terror he had shut away for so many years was but a shadow compared to the darkness that lay waiting for them.

[Intrepid42]

Murin descended with the caravan, his precious samples of mushroom tucked away in a fur-lined chest. As the wagons slowed to navigate yet another perilous bend, he looked out once again on the steep slopes, his face a stone mask as he thought.

The thralls were surely not of his clan, barring some ancestor taken generations past, but what they had seen in the Duergar-held hold shocked him to the core.

Citadel Adbar, last fortress-hold of fallen Delzoun, had the mile-deep works of Adbarrim proper to gird it from the Underdark. But Whurest seemed all too vulnerable to the perils that had once befallen their parent hold.

Filth or not, he thought, Duergar needed to eat, and they still bled red. They had found a small grotto in the core of the hold, and taken a precious few mushrooms. They may not prove suitable brewstock, but he would seek to find one with knowledge of growing such things. The Depths held life, sustained by what drow termed the "fuzziness" (or something similar, he was never one for words) and careful effort. In comparison the bounty of the Surface came so easy, with Sestran barley able to quench the thirst of many. But the brewlore of Anthlmak favored the old ways, as it should be.

The Port and the Gate lay open again, after the hard months of brewing almost by trial and error under Luskan blockade. He had done it, the blood of Maegar running strong, and Thrar's legacy had been sustained. But although he might win coin and inflence sustaining Sundren by such trade, if he was to win back the favor of his clan he must head north. There lay the frozen wastes, and ingredients used in days of legend.

He would need Exigo to venture north, and Whurest must remain a kin-hold. The former depended on the latter, and the latter was not a certain matter.

What needed to be done seemed clear. It would be tricky, with his profit-margin already cut to the bone and the tribe of the White Elk hunting on the Climb in ever-greater numbers, but he would manage. Surely it couldn't be worse than what he had already endured sourcing Viridale Oak in years past, he thought.

On that he looked up from his outlook and continued down behind the caravan wagons, his face once more grinning amiably.

[gbbishop]

Part II

Orysn knelt in the center of the the firery red room, his breath coming heavy and labored. Dryn checked Orsyn over before turning to “wander in tha whispers” that only he could hear.

“Da spirits are strong here,” said Dryn. He cocked his head to the side as if listening.

“Dey be angry and in search of release.” The old dwarf then shook his head sadly. “Alas Oi cannot reach um.”

It was far bigger than Orsyn had remembered it. The lava. That must be it, he thought to himself. He clung to that thought as if it were the last part of a vessel to remain afloat. All the rest of her had slipped beneath the surface never to be recovered from the deep. Vacant blood-stained faces - of kin once familiar - sought to pull free and drag his mind under.

The others stood round taking in the splendor of the mighty forge. But, as Orsyn looked around all he could see were the tools made to destroy and enslave his people. Shackles and chains this mighty forge churned out shackles, this place was ruined, foul it made Orsyn want to retch. Orsyn prayed to The Wonderworker to destroy it.

Angus’ voice broke him out of his despair. “A mighty forge tis,” he said. “Tink o’ tha wonders we could achieve workin’ ‘ere.”

“Yes, said Orsyn, “Perhaps this forge could be used to create the tools to break the chains,” Praying to the god of creation to destroy, what foolishness, he thought.

They would use this place to re-forge Dagda’s hammer. It would be made stronger this time. Nothing would have the strength to break it when Orsyn was finished with it. Never would it enslave or allow others to fall.

Orsyn stood his will remade there in that place, as a blade tempered in the fires of a master’s forge. A blade, he had become, burning white hot. He would see them pay for the horrors he had witnessed.

Deeper they would press.

“Let us move.” Orsyn said to the others.

Angus nodded and moved to secure the forge exit. The others falling into marching order swiftly and with out need of instruction. Even Andelain had adjusted to the dwarves’ efficient and tactically sound movements.

The battle to the temple was fervent hot work. It was over in a flash or so it seemed to Orsyn.

Funny thoughts assailed Orsyn as he felled the dark dwarven zealots.
The thoughts skittered about, like drops of sweat across hot steel.

Rarely does the fire destroy Gond’s work. The quenching of steel, on the other hand, can spell disaster. Imperfections lying under the surface will cause your work to shatter.

Orsyn pushed them roughly aside. Thinking of old lessons at the forge would be a sure way to meet his end. And so, the white-hot Orsyn Grummwell battled on.

[gbbishop]

Part III

Dark faces, twisted with hatred, seemed to press from all sides at once. Angus and Dryn held their position at the forefront, Andelain was able to use his superior size to great effect attacking over and around the shield wall.

All the while Murin chanted to inspire courage in his company. The brewmaster struck out at a darkshape that had pushed around the Dwaven shield wall. His aim was true and the scream of his foe cut off in rhythm with the chant. In Orsyn’s mind, the dwaven company seemed to hum with the fury of vengeance. Steadily, they pushing back the tide of evil that had for so long beleaguered these halls.

Orsyn moved to intercept an axe thrower that was trying to out flank the shield wall. Orsyn slipped into the shadows only to reappear under the Duergar’s out-stretched throwing arm. The axeman had not notice the approach and that made the fatal blow all to easy for Orsyn to deliver. Orsyn wrenched hard on the arm and brought his axe down. The axe smashed though the dark armor and buried itself well past the collarbone. Blood and spittle heaved out of his adversary’s mouth as it struggled for the breath to spit a dying curse. That curse never came, only a gurgle and then silence. Orsyin allowed himself a smile as he slipped back into the darkness, back to the group to find his next target.

[gbbishop]

Part IV

Dryn lead the mighty company forward with Angus in lock step they steadily forced the twisted ones back. Vengeance washed over any resistance, ultimately pushing the dark warriors into their dark temple.

Angus set his shield and bowled over the first four dark figures in the doorway. Dryn stepped in on Angus’ right Dryn’s spear flashed out to taking one of them in the space between gorget and helm. Orsyn fell on one of the half trampled duergar that Angus had over run pushing into the temple. Orsyn’s blow crushed plate and windpipe and he quickly turned to the other getting to his feet behind Angus and Dryn.

Meanwhile the dark priests set aside their grisly work to support their defenders. Despite their dark magic the entire lot swiftly fell to blade and hammer. It was all over in what seemed to be less than a minute. Orysn was left with no enemy to slake his lust for vengeance. All that was left was the dark alter with a statue of the their dark god. In rage Orsyn flung his axe at the stone figure.

“What sort of dark god…” Orsyin froze.

It was not the figure of a dark god.

“Haela!” Orsyn screamed in dismay. “What have they done.” The young dwarf sank to his knees and his hands struggling and pulling at the collar of his breastplate, as though it was growing too heavy and making it hard to breathe.

Through eyes bleary with tears Orsyn tried to breath. His plate, It was too heavy. He had to help Haela. He surged forward on hands and knees he grabbed at the nearest sourse of cloth, the cloak of a fallen warrior. Raising it to the statue he began to try to clean away the horrible marks that desecrated the once holy temple.

“Haela Brightaxe, is the lady of luck,” said the voice of his mother. “She will see us to a land free of evil. This temple may be small but With it the faith will grow and our warriors will have all they need to fight evil that will surely come for our families and riches. She will protect you my son, though me.”

Orsyn saw then and there the smile of his mother clear now if she were there, as if all those years had not slowly eroded his memory of her. The emotion was too much then and overwhelmed the distraught dwarf.

“I remember her face.” Orsyn said sitting in stunned stillness. “Thank you Haela.”

Orsyn gathered himself and got to his feet retrieving his axe from where it lay on the floor. He went to help Dryn who was already seeing to the fallen kin. The horrors that they had suffered would end their souls would join their ancestor in the Great Hall.

Orsyn’s white-hot steel had survived the quenching. He was now certain that only his mothers love had kept him from shattering. Something about that thought resonated deep within his mind but failed to coalesce.

Now he was good steel now, forged, tempered and he would hone that blade. He would use, with surgical skill, he would excise the evil from this home. He would build it anew.

With renewed resolve they made their way deeper to confront the puppetmaster.

[gbbishop]

Part V

Orsyn’s company had not left much of Xalliordell to help identify their adversary, though Andelain offered his thoughts on what they were now calling a mindflayer. From what Orsyn had seen, in the temple were Xalliordell’s priests had been performing rituals involving the brains of his kin, mindflayer was bit too warm and fuzzy. This 'Xalliordell' had paid for its crimes with blood, well if you could call it blood. The substance was actually much closer to ink.

"Things are so twisted down here, how can we even be sure this is even the right one?" Orsyn reflected. "Oi mean what if it's a thrall of a thrall that makes thralls."

"It's ended what e'er it is lad, be happy fer that," Angus said.

Orsyn had to admit he did feel good. Just far from done.

Aparrently the mindflayer had taken a liking to the throne room, at least, that is where they had finally onfronted the bastard. Now all that was left to do was see if they could recover any property from the vault.

The throne room was one of the places that settlers had uncovered, as was the treasure vault behind the throne. Multiple safeguards, locks and wards had placed to safeguard the treasure and with out the proper command words recovering the entirety of the horde would likely take several lifetimes. They would take what they could of course.

With out even discussing it they had appointed Orsyn to attempt the recovery. They all seemed to understand the young dwarf’s need to search for what was lost. The mood was not one of celebration, of victory. Rather somber as they kept watch, as Orsyn entered the treasure room.

The room shifted as Orsyn entered.

To stunned to cry out, Orsyn fell to his hands and knees.

Pieces of his fathers shattered hammer shifted all around him. His mother lay there in a halo of blood.

It was as if every barrier he had built to bury this memory had shattered all at once.

His insides twisted his head swam and it was all he could do to keep from retching.

Orsyn began to sob tears hot on his cheeks he tried to gather up the pieces. But, it was hard, for they seemed to move out from under his grasp. Orsyn moved to try again.

Pain!

Had he fallen? A shard, it had pierced him clean through.

He pulled the shard from his body. Breath coming in fits, the effort of pulling the shard out had left him exhausted. Odd there was no blood, he began to ponder when all thought fled from him.

His mother stood.

“The pieces of Dagda have been re-forged,” she said.

The shards were gone, as was the grizzly scene. Orsyn and his mother, Kala stood in the treasure room all the gold and jewels had vanished and three hammers now stood in three separate stands set at the far edges of the room. They gleamed and glimmered with a wicked light.

Kala spoke then, “I thought I had destroyed it, but the suffering goes on. You must find them they must never harm kin again.”

Orsyn moved to one of the weapon racks the hammer resting there, Metal was marbled, it was not all the same material. No wonder he had had trouble finding the pieces. If they had been reused and refitted there must be some power left in them. Now he could gather them all, he thought, he grasped the granite hammer and turned to collect the others but they were gone.

Time had run out. The treasure vault was empty.

“Time to get out Orysn! What you have is what we will get. Bad things happen to those who remain.” Dryn’s voice pulled Orsyn out of his state.

The world seemed to warp and bend something pressed heavy on what little sanity remained to the small company.

They withdrew and did so with haste, for it was as if hate itself pressed down on them. It threatened to drag them all to the depths.

[gbbishop]

Part VI ((written on my nexus, bear with the shite grammar. Perhaps I will get a chance to edit...))


Orsyn stood before the gates of Whurest's outer fortifications. The snow fell about him often set to swirl in the ever present winds as the young dwarfman studied his hold. It was true that the gates we merely the beginning of the extensive defences but something about them shouted at him, mocked him, cajoling that it would not be enough. Orsyn ground his teeth, first things first, reforge my fathers hammer, free any that can made so, and then the hammer will beat iron into steel. As the Great Rift stands so to shall Whurest, Orsyn vowed the winds howled their defiance nd rock of the mountain bore silent witness. Spotting the hidden sentries Orsyn sent word ahead of his arrival.

Upon entering the great hall, it was immediately plain that he was the last to assemble. Orsyn silently cursed himself, "Here you are askin' for help and yer late."

As he approached Orsyn immediately noticed an unfamiliar dwarf, grizzled was the first of impression with a patch over one eye it was clear this one was no stranger battle.

As Orsyn approached he acknowledge the General and was introduced to the one eyed warrior by the steward.

"Hail brother," began Glyir, "this be our brother Brunus thought lost to us but is returned."

Orsyn grasped Brunus' extended arm along the finely crafted bracer. "Then I bid you welcome home Brother Brunus."

"My thanks."

"We must to business we have many issues which require attention. Oi would not ask for support in this endeavor if I did not believe it worth our efforts. Recovering an artifact such as this might turn the tide in our favor.

Orsyn looked to Brunus weighing how much need be told to catch him up to their current situation.

Orsyn looked across to Dryn and Glyir, as younalready know i have recovered all off the shards ofnDagda's hammer. They had been reforged into various other weapons useable by our Underdark foes, Rurik has since extracted the various parts and attepted to reforge the original hammer. He has been utterly unsuccesful. He postulates that the funaces on the surface are not hot enough. Since the hammer was made in the lava forge it stands to reason that only there may it be remade."

"Aye lad, sounds like ye need a hotter furnace, dere aint hotter than that lava forge." Brunus gave a nod without hesitatio. "I will accompany ya, sounds like ye could use another 'at knows the way a da forge."I

"And I as well," echoed Glyir.

Sounde like this is a matter for the craftsmen," Dryn said. "Oi will attend other matters unless need pulls me to you. Rurik shall ertainly aid you in this."

With that the snowy haired general finished the remainder of his ale and took his leave.

All that was left was to await the arrval of the master smith. While Brunus and Glyir talked of old times, Orsyn sat quietly contemplating the what was to come.

Rurik's arrival was accompanied by a surpirs. A tall powerfully built man resplendent in golden fullplate of dwarven make.

"Andelain!" Orsn exclaimed. "You've returned to us!"

"I hear tell you mean to place youself in danger once more." Replied Andelain with a smile.

"So you will join us then?" Orsyn asked eagely.

"It has been too long indeed."

"We are assured success then!" Orsyn sprang into motion. Youthful exuberence incarnate.

"Who shall take point in our battle fomation? I shall provide reconisance. Glyir wl you lead the company? I shall support the flanks."

"Slow down lad," Glyir spoke calmly. "Im shall command if that is your wish."

Orsyn nodded, "Aye it is." Barely slowed buy the stewards admonitions Orsyn begannto gather his gear.

"I guess I wull take da point," Brunus grumbled good naturedly while while shaking his head at the mile-a-minute youngling.

Orsyn, his things set to order paused long enough to formally greet Andelain, "Good ta have you with us once more."

"Same here."

With that it was all the rest of the company could do to keep up.

[Intrepid42]

Orsyn meets with his fellows