The tale of Drunor (re:Thorgar's shield)
A tale is told among my people of the hero Drunor. He was an ordinary soldier of no great renown, stationed in the deepest, furthest outpost under the his city. Drunor's duty was to stand at the last checkpoint, and guard the retreating miners in the event of an attack. His post was in a long, narrow tunnel, designed to allow a small phalanx formation to hold off a much larger force until reinforcements arrived.

The latest dig-sites were encroaching on territory once used by goblin-kin, and traces of their presence were too recent for comfort. The usual comforting tedium gave way to weeks of nervous tension, and when the assault finally came it was overwhelming.

Fully half of the miners were lost before the survivors scrambled back through the checkpoint... the guards forming up quickly behind them. The oncoming hordes were bolstered by witches and shamen, who cunningly used their magic not to attack the dwarves directly, but rather to undermine them with illusion. Brunor saw all around him creatures such as he had only heard of in tales: serpant-folk, ravening beast-men, and worse. It seemed that all around him, his breathren were consumed by flames, swallowed up by rents in the earth, or simply fleeing for their lives.

Nearly mad with despair, and driven back to the end of the tunnel, he did the only thing he could think of: He triggered a device set up in advance to partially collapse the tunnel. He planted himself firmly in the gap, bellowed out his favorite warsong in a quavering voice, and tuned out everything but the foe currently in front of him. Methodically he swung his hammer for what seemed like an eternity. His strength finally gave out and he fell... drifting off into oblivion.

He was woken later by the medics of the reserve force... fresh fighters had arrived just in time, and turned the tide. He looked around the battlefield in astonishment. His comrades killed in the initial assault were all done in by the weapons of goblin-kin... not by the illusionary specters raised by their spellcasters. Many of them had died of wounds to their backs, as they broke formation and fled.

Drunor's legend was formed that day... the fearless, immovable dwarf of stone! He went on to have a long and glorious career, and inspired many young dwarves to follow his example.
Session: It's a trick......Get an axe! - Wednesday, Aug 28 2013 from 5:00 PM to 8:00 PM
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