The Golden Lady of Battle

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Character Record Sheet (public)



Name: Krya Greyhammer
Race: Shield Dwarf
Gender: Female
Clan: Battlehammer
Faction: Whurest
Age: 92
Hair: Golden Blonde
Eyes: Grey-green
Skin: Fair


Krya is tall by dwarven standards and under her fullplate there is evidence of a shapely, muscular build. She bears an aura of authority and does not shy from foul language. Her stride is practiced and it is unmistakably the walk of one who knows combat. Across her back is slung a long curved blade not typical for others of her kind while elsewhere, in numerous locations, a fair number of smaller weapons have been secured.

Distinguishing marks: Healed over star-shaped scar high on her left cheek about the size of a coin.




(((note: the artwork is mine own and is part of a larger project. gabrielbishop.com for more dwarves!)))

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The Story Begins

A golden-haired dwarf in her middle years stood on the rough planks of the bustling port. Sailors and dock-men hurried this way and that unloading and loading vessels in the flurry of seaport trade.

All of this went unnoticed. The dwarf-woman’s gaze searched the horizon over the port town. It was over cast today and though she could not see them the mountains of the Spine far to the north, they were vividly painted in her minds-eye.

With out a word to her shipmates she strode down the dock and into the port town. She would need supplies if she was to make the trip and it would be some time before her boots were on the stones that had long ago been her home.

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Gathering One's Self for the Climb

Krya stood among the muck mixed with blood. The Stonegarb numbers had seemed to diminish. Every once in a while a particularly large brute would rise and give her a challenge. She had been told that if she wanted to survive the climb she had best be sure of her battle prowess and that these were as good a place to test that as any.

She turned away and cried out in pain. It was not wound or hurt that caused the yealp. It was her plate. It you could even call it that. Not at all of dwarven make the plates were dented and rusted almost beyond belief. It had been all she could afford upon landing in the Sundered valley. She had managed to scrape together some coin working for the Exigo head collectors and it was high time to find something that didn't pinch in places no girl should have to tolerate.

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Meeting Kin

Krya made her way to Aquor. If she was going to make this climb it would have to be soon. Waiting was never her strong suit.

Jarl, her adopted mentor, had nearly had to beat it into her, on several occasions.

On the north side of town she found a caravan depot. Guarded by the familiar colors of The Whurest Mountain Guard. The colors were familiar but the faces were not. She asked after her family. But the directeded her to a surly looking fellow with a patch over one eye. Just that was enough to dredge up feelings of guilt for leaving Jarl behind, Jarl had lost his right eye in the slave revolt that had won them their freedom.

It turned out that the one eyed kinsman was none other than Angus Ironforge. His reputation was known even to Krya. Upon hearing of her loyalty to Whurest he had her outfit in fine dwarven plate and gave her encouragement in making the climb.

"Ye must have come t' morn for our fallen Thane." He surmised.

The words struck Krya, "Mourn?" "Thane?" She reached out, catching Angus' paldron to steady herself. The world having grown quite unsteady beneath her feet.

"You mean Eriak?" She finally managed.

Angus nodded solemnly and Krya sank to her knees overcome by greif.

He told her of the fall of their chief and of his deeds. While Krya tried to find her bearings. She realized then that she could not remember Eriak's face. Only his smile, rare as it was.

"And what of the Greyhammers?" She asked, looking up at the one-eyed councilor.

He pursed his lips and thought for a moment. "I do not know that name, I'm sorry."

Panic threatened to take her then.

She took a deep breath. One thing at a time. It would be a long climb. How did you climb? One step at a time.

She bid good-bye to the mighty Angus and turned to face that climb.

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Cold fingers to go with cold thoughts, Krya massaged her hands over the brazier just inside the hold gates. She stood staring deeper into the hall unable to step further.

Names began again. The cadence that she had marched to. The roll call that had given her the strength to make the climb and it now gave her the strength to finish her journey. Someone here knew the fate of her family, and knew where they could be found.

Eldon - Images of her father's face telling her everything would be okay. - Step.

Orla - Her mother's voice, "What's wrong with a few wee ones tuggin' at your apron?" - Step.

Edwin - Teasing her, giving her a dose of tough love, as he called it. So she could stand up to her husband he always chided. - Step.

Berdon - Her fathers brother he was the eldest in the family. He had already seen so much. Krya could remember his stories word for word. - Step.

Germina - Kind in a cold sort of way, Berdon's wife was certainly a rock and was there for Krya many times. - Step.

Gordon - Germina would no longer be carrying him about. He would be a little man already learning combat and stone-craft. - Step.

Eriak - The former thane's name had found itself on her list, she told herself it was out of respect for his life and part of her mourning process. - Step.

Much was happening within the great hall. Of course the guards stood at their posts but everyone else was in motion. Cooks ran about holding spoons like warhammers, masons scrubbed and polished the stonework; she searched their faces, none of them were Greyhammers. Everyone here, had already had time to grieve for Eriak, but Krya still saw it weighed heavy on many a heart.

They were preparing to begin the healing of that wound. For that they would need a new Thane. She asked after her family and was given a range of responses from hastily dismissed to confused ignorance. No one seemed to know the Greyhammer name and the seed that had been her fear during the climb now sprouted and began to grow.

It grew and began to drag her down it covered her mouth stealing her breath, crushing her heart, but hen a voice called out to her. It was if it reached down and pulled her to the surface, pulled her free of the panic. The voice was a rock. It was shelter.

Krya sucked air into her bellows, sweet air that smelled of home. A wizened face peered at her thorough bushy white eyebrows.

"I am sorry she said," catching her breath. "I think am taxed from the climb." She lied.

"My dear, that has been the smallest of your burdens." He spoke sagely.

"Perhaps you can help me," she began her search anew. "my name is..." She was cut off.

"I know who you are. The spirits have told me of your arrival."

"Spirits?"

He merely smiled in answer."

"You speak with spirits. You must be General Stonewhisperer. I have heard of you."

He nodded. "Dryn, should be fine I think."

Krya made to speak but Dryn silenced her by softly raising a hand. "For the answers you seek you must meet with the council." He turned motioning her to follow him to a quiet table in the back of the hall.

Unfortunately that council is very busy at the moment.

"The new Thane?" she asked.

He smiled.

She thought for a long moment. "No one here know's of the Greyhammer name. My father and I were here before the Campaign at Mithral hall. but it is as if there were never here. Dalgal and Urais will remember me. I used to train under them."

Dryn sat and gave a great intake of breath, the kind one does before delivering grave tidings. "Sit lass. What do you know of the lost mines?"

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Dryn had given her a task. To ensure the safety of the trade road. It was a nasty business. The work was never ending. From barbarian raiders to remnants of a long dead army reanimated for some unknown and ill purpose there were many dangers for the traders brave enough to chance the bitter cold.

The trade was imperative though and Krya with all due diligence made her way once more down the slopes.

It was here at the snow line were things became even more interesting. For rumor spoke of a dragon, a winged harbinger of icy death some dared to name it the ice bitches servant.

Krya had been searching this area cautiously and diligently for nearly a week with out sign of and such dragon. In fact she was begining to suspect this a tale born of ale and hearth with little substantial to support it. Which is why her heart had stopped for a moment when she sighted the great winged serpent.

Panic quickly mastered Krya reach for her bandolier pulling free three vials of magical draught and quickly imbibing them. Frostburn, the great blade a gift from the mighty Knight Andelain, came off her back with a practiced motion. The beast took notice and trumpeted a challenge. Krya roared back in defiance "To the Lady of the Fray!"

The beast charged, large leathery wings extended to offer balance as it sped forward one two well muscled hind legs. Frosty rime gathered about its toothy maw. It bellowed a cloud of subzero frost and leapt through meaning to pounce on the small figure before it.

Krya's cloak offered her protection agains the frosty blast but the beast crouched low and it's tail swung forth over its head, much like a scorpion would attack. Frostburn met envenomed stinger.

The fight had begun.

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If there was one thing Krya's time patrolling the Climb had taught her, it was that, as a trade road it was utterly lacking. Yet the size of the hold and the loss of what little agricultural prospect they had in the ruins made it all too crucial for the survival of her clan. The worst part was that it could easily be exploited and should the road fall to enemy hands the effects on the small hold would be devastating. Already the White Elk Raiders slowed trade to a barely sustaining trickle and they were hardly a concerted or organized effort.

None knew of any other ways so the hold patrolled and hoped for the best. Another way must be found and so she had sat her self down in what now served as the archives for the hold. The stacks remained in near total darkness but the desk at which Krya sat was well illuminated, Well, non-kin would have to squint and strain but for kin it was downright bright.

It was already late into the night and Krya still had more scrolls and tomes in her "To-read" pile than in the "re-shelf" pile. She pressed the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger trying to massage away the weariness. She brusquely scrubbed her face and smoothed back her hair. A whiff of something unpleasant caught her nose and she grimaced realizing that the odor came from her own person. How long had she been down here? She mentally counted the days then grimaced again. Why didn't they have star charts for travel on land? They worked so well at sea they should work just as well in the rolling peaks of the spine. Contour maps were also important. The ancient ones, the kinsman of old, that had built the lost ruins, they must have traded with the outside world. What roads did they travel? If Kyra could only find them the hold would not be so vulnerable.

She scoured the surface of every map or atlas in the hold. She read and reread every account or exploration she could pull from the shelves. She was not a practiced scholar but her mind was sharp to the task and she felt a great need to push her on for kin and cause.

The mountain peaks surrounding Whurest looked insurmountable. Oddly a fight with an ice elemental kept popping into her mind. The underground tunnel portion of the Golden Pike. was prone to host such crea...

Krya's mind reeled. Under rock and stone. It was not just possible, but highly likely that the Dwarves of old traversed much of the spine underground. Rather than face the hardships of overland mountain travel. Of course knowledge of any such tunnels Krya had yet to discover.

Krya refined her search parameters to include underground exploration summoned one of the archive clerks to send for a meal and set out among the stacks once more.

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Preparations were taking time. Too much time, Krya strode through the corridors. The voices of her mentors, both present and long past, chorused in her skull, offering their wisdom of caution.

Her wounds had fully recovered but the scars remained. Testament to the foolishness of haste. She had been forbidden to venture in to Runedarhynn alone. This did not stop her from going however. She sought allies for the fight. Adventurers seeking to plunder her ancestors homes. It was a bitter drought to swallow.

There was also the mater of her matron's temple. It had not been properly put to rest. All temples to the Lady of the Fray were rigged with explosives so that should they fall they would take their enemies with them.

What lay beneath the lost halls was anathema to the very fiber of her being. But there too she had been denied. An explosion in the halls might risk more than it would gain now. Krya understood the engineers' plight and had ultimately conceded they had the right of things. It still sent daggers through her heart every time she saw the desecrated alter.

If only they could move things forward. Thane Stonewhisperer had left her in the Iron Halls to look after the day to day. Her only outlet was a once daily patrol of the slopes nearest the gate. Ever so often the Duergar would venture forth on some unknown errand. Krya saw them swiftly the fires of the All Father's Forge.

She approached one of the clerks and before she had a chance to ask was told that Dryn had not yet returned. Krya sighed. Did she really ask so often?

She returned to The Thane's Offices and diligently sat to go over the day's tasks. Seemed some new Blackwood mercenaries were due to arrive today she set one of the hostesses to the task of preparing accommodations. Supply lists, they would take some time to check over though even before she began she knew she would find them lacking. There was never enough to go around. They needed to establish trade through the glacier. She should be out there scouting the paths speaking with the tribes gaining their trust and assuring they were themselves trustworthy.

She filed the supply reports and moved to the next in that cursed never-ending pile of papers. Another attack on a caravan. Krya offered a silent prayer to Gorm asking that her people know protection and that the treaty with the tribes be honest and serve to secure her mountain home.

The caravan was saved and no loss of life though it limped homeward. She penned the orders that the guards injured in the attack be rotated out and sent word to the infirmary.

She checked the rosters hoping to find a small unit to send to the caravan's aid, but alas, the men were already pulling double. Perhaps one of the 'Cleaver brigade was in residence and could be asked to bolster the escort. Pen to paper she drew up a banner to be posted in the great hall. There was not enough in the coffers to rightly compensate such an individual but Krya had regain a few lost artifacts from a recent foray into Rune.

The pile on the sturdy stone desk had not appeared to diminish but this matter was of some urgency. Enough that Krya could justify a trip to the Great Hall herself. No, she was here to do the work of the Thane. She pulled a cord which would sound a bell in another area. A young runner came to take the banner.

This would take all day as it is, she thought glumly, with out gallivanting off with every excuse I can muster.

Hours later the Golden-haired maiden was still toiling away.

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In stark contrast to all the time to prepare the date for the upcoming expedition was approaching all to fast now. Wands to procure, supplies to pack and of course prayers to the Great Hall to assure the success of the mission.

What would they uncover below? Much was still unkown regarding their ancestors here. The mysteries of Runedarhynn were buried deep within the usurped halls.

This would be the first step in recovering their ancient home. The day would offer many challenges no doubt but Krya was ready for them all. She would not fail in this.

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Much had been recovered and yet Krya twisted fitfully upon her mattress. Body soaked with sweat, head pounding she swung out of bed and though lacking in coordination she managed to make it to the privy. Again she heaved though all repast had long since left her. The dry wretch caused her to wince in pain throat raw.

She splashed cool water on her face and braced herself upon the rim of the stone basin. Try as she might she could not wash a way the feeling that she had missed something. Something important.