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Meetings in the Dark


Rungi

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Messengers in the Dark:

Norgrim Proudsong awoke with a start. Had he been dreaming? KNOCK-knock-knock-KNOCK! There it was again. With a candle in one hand and his simple hatchet in the other, the dwarf squared his hulking shoulders at the doorway and opened to see who would come calling at this time in the night. At the edge of the shadows, backlit by the moonlight was a face Norgrim had hoped – nay, prayed for. His distant cousin Alaric Boldmane reached out to grasp the arm of his fellow warrior. He was fully clad in the runic armor spoken of in the tales of his clan. Norgrim had seen the helm before, but thought the rest of the suit lost. Tonight it was not only complete though, but seemed to glow with an ancient power.

“The time has come, old friend,” spoke Alaric, barely containing his excitement. Reaching forward, he offered a small scroll, sealed with the crest of the Boldmane Clan. “Rungi has opened the book of grudges and begun the readings. He declares it time to make good on the Ice’s Promise, to reunite our people and rebuild our homes under the mountains. He calls for old allegiances to be honored.”

“You know I will answer my King’s call, but will other thanes? Will the other clans? Will the Boldmanes?” Asked Norgrim bitterly. “So many have forgotten the stories of Karak Grim-Wyr. Some hardly believe it ever existed. Fewer still are willing to speak of the old ways in the light of day with all the Umgi and Elgi around. I fear the Karakigrom will find few friends and rush to their doom.”

Alaric’s eyes seemed to moisten ever so slightly. It was sad to heard the once proud dwarf lord speak of his kinfolk with such little faith. “Old Proudsong, do you remember the passages I showed you, leading to the underground meeting room where I asked to you to begin gathering your hammerers? Do you remember when I told you that Rungi would give life to his title and lead us to our revenge?”

“Yes… But…”

“What if I told you that you were not the only one who has been using our passages? Or that you have only seen a fraction of them? The lords and thanes have been meeting. We Boldmanes have guarded the rising of our people from even the Storm God himself. But now is the time. Call on your brothers. Follow the instructions. I will see you at the table of the Revenger, along with the other thanes and clanheads. The time of the Barazi-Wyr is near.”

And with that, the longbeard turned and marched away into the darkness. Norgrim’s heart was pounding. Could it be? Could Rungi have successfully re-united the clans under the banners of the Karakigrom? Closing the door, the aged champion smiled as he walked to his fireplace and lifted the great warhammer from the mantle. It was truly a masterpiece. He paused and drew a deep breath before raising the hammer and unleashing his might. With a handful of swings, the shallow fireplace was reduced to a pile of bricks, revealing the hidden chamber behind it. Glimmering in the candlelight after lying dormant for so long was the white armor of the Chosen of Karakigrom. Soon, dawi throughout the underground guild district would trade soot-covered aprons and rough leather gloves for ancient suits of armor adorned with long forgotten runes. United, they would march once again with common purpose… The time of the Barazi-Wyr was indeed near!

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Lord Norgrim Proudsong, Champion of the Chosen of Karakigrom

The Gathering of Legends:

The purple- jeweled armor gifted to him by King Dwinbar reflected the flames burning from the sconces that illuminated the tunnels. Dwinbar had seen something special in his young heir, something that lead him to fight the passing years, refusing to die until Rungi was of age lead. On his deathbed, Dwinbar had ordered Norgrim’s armor reforged with the purple stones, marking him champion amongst the clan’s chosen elite. Dwinbar had but one final order for his champion –

 “Bring The Ice’s revenge upon those who would seek to hold the clan low. Though his chin is covered by mere whiskers, the beardling has the strength of my forefather’s in him. He will need you.”

“Lord… We have no throng. The clan is no longer what it was. The last of our kind are becoming elders ourselves… But we shall sing our deathsongs with honor my king.”

“NO! You shall sing the songs of REVENGE… *ahck*ghrahck*ahck*… Alaric carries instructions for you. Heed them… I will await you in the halls of our ancestors my brother…”

 Norgrim blinked his eyes hurriedly as he took in the congregation in the low-ceilinged hall. A tankard was passed his way as nods and grunts were exchanged. Surrounding the long, wooden table were storied dawi, some even legendary. They were the lords, thanes, and champions of the Karakigrom, along with their matches from the brother-clans Boartemper and Glitterblade… Together they comprised all the known duardin who descended from the ancient dwarven alliance at Karak Grim-Wyr. Like any learned dwarf, Norgrim had read the stories. He had heard of the legendary Karak in the World-that-Was. But so many ages had come and gone, the World-that-Was and its people were little more than family mythology. And yet, here they were, each clutching a scroll much like his own. Each escorted and announced upon entering by a member of the Boldmane Clan, architects of the secret passageways running under so many of the duardin guild.

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A few thanes, lords, and other Karakigrom of reknown... More of their tales to come.

Suddenly, at the end of the hall, a dwarf arose from his stool who Norgim had not seen in many years. His beard was fuller. His face more weathered. His eyes burned with a familiar ferocity, though his brow seemed to carry the heaviest of burdens. He placed a thick tome on the table with a resounding thud that silenced the last of the gatherers. Opening it, he began to speak.

“Dawi clinging to hope found it in the peaks of Karak Grim-Wyr, or so the legends say. They also say, that we – the Karakigrom – were the protectors of these peoples and the Kings of a great Northern Alliance in this World-That-Was. Generations have been robbed of their lives and their honor while we toiled and failed to rebuild our clans in the cursed Realm of Chamon. It is this honor, which resides at the core of a dawi’s spirit, that the demon hordes seek to take from us. They have cracked open the very mountains seeking to shatter our holds, our homes, and our oaths to ourselves and eachother…

 But we have survived. We have rebuilt. And in secret we have reforged the great alliance. It is the duty of the Karakigrom to shepherd our people back to the glory that was ours in the tales recorded. I call upon my brothers, and their brothers – Help me to realize the Barazi-Wyr! Help us raise a Karak as the realms have never seen. The Thunder God of the Umgi has declared his war. Are we to continue whispering in the shadows, or would we send a message to match? Again I call to my brothers – Help me to deliver the Ice’s Revenge and begin the age of the Barazi-Wyr!”

 Eyes glistened with tears and roars burst forth from grimly smiling jaws. But their roars were drowned out by the call of the mountain itself. Striding over the door that had been stomped clear off of its hinges, came a spirit many never fathomed could have ever actually existed. Karugromthi’s snow white fur glistened with the power of the mountains, he seemed to be afire with the blue-glow of the ancestor spirits. The dawi parted to allow the demigod to walk round the table. Reaching Rungi, he stared into the young king’s eyes, then simply lay down next to him. As the second cheer rang out, kegs were tapped and long-stoic legends embraced as they found temporarily relief for their heavy hearts.

 Norgim took in the scene, warmed by the gallery of legends surrounding him. There would be many a dark day ahead, countless duardin lost… But the Revenger had come, and the Barazi-Wyr was theirs to claim.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Disclaimer:

We'll be heading backwards to catch up on old clan history and also following dwarven heroes as they drive forward in their vengeful quest. Please leave feel free to leave feedback along the way. I've definitely been inspired by other hobbyists here and am happy to hear your thoughts. However, a few important notes:

  • Dwarves, duardin, dwarfs... The dawi have not forgotten who they are, they've simply been forced to evolve to survive in the Mortal Realms. I look forward to spinning tales that blend "modern" innovations which stubborn traditions. 
  • I'm brand-new to basing and so far all are a work in progress. Advice on a stone & snow theme welcome.
  • I prefer epic-scale everything in my fantasy
  • Dwarves like order. Their enemies break upon their shieldwalls like raindrops against the mountainsides. My dwarves like to fight in regiments! 

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