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The silhouetted figure advanced steadily through the driving snow. Though its outline was still little more than a snowy shadow, it was obvious by its height that it was no Dwarf making its way towards the Whurest clanhold. Oddly, the figure appeared to be hunched over, the outline of some large burden slung across its shoulders. Several times it seemed as if the figure may stumble, but each time it somehow managed to catch itself, and stopping for a moment, would adjust the weight of the burden before continuing on, to all appearances even more determined than before.
As the figure finally reached the base of the bridge the sentry could finally see the tall Elven warrior clearly. His golden-green armour, now coated in a thin layer of frost, showed signs of recent battle. What seemed clearly to be teeth marks, though Moradin knew what beast possessed teeth of such a size, had left a ragged crescent of holes in the otherwise fine chain shirt. Where the teeth had punctured the mail had been stained dark red, and a matching streak of blood had dried on the Elf's brow, matting the locks of his golden hair.
“I am getting rather tired, perhaps you could spare a hand?” the Elf managed to call out, the burden he had been carrying now obvious for what it was, the unconscious or dead body of a Dwarf. After a moment of stunned silence, the sentry turned and gave long call, after which the gates of Whurest promptly opened and several guards rushed out, taking the weight of the injured Dwarf from the struggling Elf.
As the Elf followed the procession inside, he couldn't help but note the suspicious looks directed at him by several of the Dwarves. The sentry who had first caught sight of him however merely offered a thankful nod before turning to watch as his injured comrade was laid out on a nearby table for the healer to examine him.
The grey-robed healer first pried one of the rigid Dwarf's eyes open, before pressing a thick index finger to his throat, pressing his ear close to Dwarf's mouth and listening a moment.
“Aye, dead!” he finally pronounced with finality, and the Whurest as well as the Exigo miners nearby all became hushed.
“Are any here his kin?” the healer continued in a gruff voice, turning to the gathered Dwarves, “May they step forward now an' speak of his deeds, that he might stand proudly before...”
His words were cut off as the Elf cleared his throat loudly “Do you have a priest?”
“O' course we have a priest, twiggy” the healer scowled at his impudence, “Now, are you gonna let me finish the rites or...”
Again the healer was interrupted, barely managing to catch a small but heavy coin pouch as it flew towards him.
“For the priest” the Elf said simply, his gaze turning back to the dead warrior for a moment, to the large gash across his chest, the deep wounds which could only have been inflicted by the bite of massive jaws. In his mind, rubble flew in all directions, dust and grit filling the air as the massive worm burst from the cavern floor, rearing to a staggering height before him. It could just as easily have been me, he thought.
Shaking himself out of his recollection, the Elf spoke but few more words before turning to leave, “I admire his courage, if not his wisdom, to venture in such a place alone. Tell him...” he thinks for a moment “If he seeks a weapon that might pierce the hide of such a beast, Altherion Goldleaf of the Hands awaits his word.”
As the figure finally reached the base of the bridge the sentry could finally see the tall Elven warrior clearly. His golden-green armour, now coated in a thin layer of frost, showed signs of recent battle. What seemed clearly to be teeth marks, though Moradin knew what beast possessed teeth of such a size, had left a ragged crescent of holes in the otherwise fine chain shirt. Where the teeth had punctured the mail had been stained dark red, and a matching streak of blood had dried on the Elf's brow, matting the locks of his golden hair.
“I am getting rather tired, perhaps you could spare a hand?” the Elf managed to call out, the burden he had been carrying now obvious for what it was, the unconscious or dead body of a Dwarf. After a moment of stunned silence, the sentry turned and gave long call, after which the gates of Whurest promptly opened and several guards rushed out, taking the weight of the injured Dwarf from the struggling Elf.
As the Elf followed the procession inside, he couldn't help but note the suspicious looks directed at him by several of the Dwarves. The sentry who had first caught sight of him however merely offered a thankful nod before turning to watch as his injured comrade was laid out on a nearby table for the healer to examine him.
The grey-robed healer first pried one of the rigid Dwarf's eyes open, before pressing a thick index finger to his throat, pressing his ear close to Dwarf's mouth and listening a moment.
“Aye, dead!” he finally pronounced with finality, and the Whurest as well as the Exigo miners nearby all became hushed.
“Are any here his kin?” the healer continued in a gruff voice, turning to the gathered Dwarves, “May they step forward now an' speak of his deeds, that he might stand proudly before...”
His words were cut off as the Elf cleared his throat loudly “Do you have a priest?”
“O' course we have a priest, twiggy” the healer scowled at his impudence, “Now, are you gonna let me finish the rites or...”
Again the healer was interrupted, barely managing to catch a small but heavy coin pouch as it flew towards him.
“For the priest” the Elf said simply, his gaze turning back to the dead warrior for a moment, to the large gash across his chest, the deep wounds which could only have been inflicted by the bite of massive jaws. In his mind, rubble flew in all directions, dust and grit filling the air as the massive worm burst from the cavern floor, rearing to a staggering height before him. It could just as easily have been me, he thought.
Shaking himself out of his recollection, the Elf spoke but few more words before turning to leave, “I admire his courage, if not his wisdom, to venture in such a place alone. Tell him...” he thinks for a moment “If he seeks a weapon that might pierce the hide of such a beast, Altherion Goldleaf of the Hands awaits his word.”
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