The Journal of Falkruun Anvilbeard

Campaign: Let Sleeping Dragons Lie

The Cowards Path: Falkruun
Falkruun stood there, his body unable to move or react. The simple action of blinking an eye seemed impossible at this point. He forced his muscles to move with every fiber of his being but still couldn’t move an inch, the veins on his forehead began to swell and quiver with the effort but still his muscles failed to respond.

Harash spoke to Cronos, barely giving Falkruun a second thought as he did so “They will die if you don’t surrender.” He gestured towards the other minotaur that was unconscious on the floor as well as Falkruun.

No Falkruun thought, You will not! You will not rob me of a glorious death!

Falkruuns face was red with rage and words escaped him as Cronos nodded agreement, he watched as the male medusa and his ogre companions fled the area, taking the cowardice minotaur with them.

“Bloody Coward!” Falkruun screamed, resisting against the magic that bound him, which finally released and he crashed to the floor. He grabbed the nearest mug and threw it against the wall letting the shards fly across the length of the bar. He grabbed another mug and almost let it fly as well, until he realized that it was nearly half full. He finished the liquid that remained inside it before letting it fly as well, “I need to die! I have to die! ...I deserve to die…”

~~~~~

Falkruun watched as the Anvilbeard scribe erased the name of his mother from the Anvilbeard logs. It was the closest thing to a funeral his mother would receive after choosing to take her own life. His younger brother Dolaff sat next to him, dark, skulking and brooding but still choosing to bear witness to this dark moment which would forever mar the name of house Anvilbeard.

The pen’s scratching across the parchment seemed too loud in the small chamber, a loud scritching sound that made one want to cringe and pray for its end. Several minutes passed before the scribe set his quill down and closed the book.

He cleared his throat before speaking; “Let it be known, that Noruun of the house Okak married to clan Anvilbear never was. She has held no titles, nor lands, nor bore no children to these halls. So be it.”

Dolaff said nothing, he simply reared back and punched Falkruun square in the jaw once the scribe had finished speaking his words. Being caught completely by surprise Falkruun fell hard, smashing into the bench opposite where he and his brother were seated.

“You did this!" Dolaff screamed as he moved to continue his assault against Falkruun. "You killed her, and her memory with your dreams of war, honor and grandeur!” Dolaff kicked Falkruun while he lay on the gorund, trying to get up; “You! You dis-honor her memory, force me to be without a mother! Force Aeni to grow up without a mother, You did this to the Anvilbeards!”

Falkruun stopped trying to stand and just lay there, he let his brother vent his anger and continue his onslaught until he was too tired to raise fist or leg anymore. Dolaff collapsed on the floor beside Falkruun and with tears streaming down his face he cried.

“You did this…you did this to our house.”
Viewable by: Public
1 comment
Tags: Flashbacks
The Hammersong; Part I
The hammer fell, smashing into the red hot slag and bending the metal into a slightly concave thin sheet. It was amazing all the shapes that metal could take on with a help of a skilled smith, if it were a different time that sheet could easily have been formed into a workman’s table, or a chest, or reformed into a scythe blade for harvesting wheat, or a hundred thousand other equally useless items in a time of war. This time however this particular piece was to be shaped into a Rerebrace for the right arm.

The smith wielding the hammer wiped sweat from his brow as he worked, Falkruun was extremely surprised to see that the craftsman was human. Although the man was well built, his skin darkened from working the forge all his life, and showed an appreciation for each and every item he created, nothing and nobody could ever replace the craftsmanship of a dwarf. Falkruun laid there on the table opposite the forge, his chest exposed and the small stump of a hand that once used to be his right arm giving him ghost pains, it was all almost too much for him to bear; were it not for the hammer song.

The smith walked towards Falkruun with the Rerebrace grasped in a pair of tongs, and looked down at him the question plain his eyes. Falkruun took several deep breaths and placed a bit of rawhide between his teeth before he nodded and squeezed his eyes shut. It came as no surprise that as soon as the metal touched his flesh he blacked out.

Quote:
The hammer is a tool
The maul is a weapon


He wasn’t sure where he was or how he had gotten here but for some reason that didn’t matter. He stood in front of a large smithing forge that appeared to be floating in empty space. His two handed rune covered maul laid atop it on his right side, while that of a simple smiths hammer occupied the space on the left.

The hammer is a tool
The maul is a weapon

Viewable by: Public
1 comment
Tags: Flashbacks