3. The Story of Thorin Goldenaxe

The Story of Thorin Goldenaxe


  • West of Coldwood lies the first and probably the last fortress that stops the horde of Orcs and monsters from wreaking havoc in the region of Luruar. This is the Citadel Adbar. Named for King Adbar, the ancient dwarf who began its construction long ago and due to the harsh years of wars now it is the last beacon of the dwarven kingdom. What humans see on the surface is only a small part of the underground massive fortified fortress, tunnels and hallways. The tall towers that are visible from distance, the Dragonspikes, reveal the past about the never ending war between them and the dragons.

    It is not a welcoming place… The Orcs keep reminding them that the dwarven race survived because they do not trust others, be that humans or elves. This however, has never been a disadvantage and the Citadel still remains one of the most profitable trading cities. After all, everyone is willing to buy the crafted treasures from dwarves. The smoke from the crafting flames that the fortress breathes on top, reveals the determination of the children of Moradin when it comes to crafting.

    Three months of travel have passed since Thorin left Narfell to answer the call of his family. A thoughtful journey that had him living every day absently and wondering. Heavy snowfall has dressed the whole area with a white veil. Entering the main gates, he finds his brethren mourning. Being already saddened now he walks in haste, without hesitation, towards the main hall. There, he finds his brother Doigan standing firm and waiting for his expected arrival with a mixed feeling of sadness and happiness.

    Out of many clans, four have answered to the call of Thorin’s father, Dafur and sent their best warriors to help the family. Dafur who stands in the middle and on a higher ground so as to be easily seen by everyone notices Thorin’s arrival and nods at him with an expected sincere look as the clan leader and not his father.

    There is a loud murmur going on for a while now. The stern hit of Dafur’s axe on the ground is the signal for everyone in the hall to go silent in favor of the meeting to begin. He looks around the crowd slowly as he begins to speak.

    "It is an honor to see that many brothers have answered to my call. All of you know what happened to my brother Durin…"

    He lets out a sigh

    "He was killed by our tainted, once brothers but now damned, Duergars on a mission to mine mythril… We had discovered four months ago a large amount of mythril veins deep inside the nether mountains and out of nowhere this became our chance to regain some of our power to empower our defenses. You all know that the Orcs horde is getting stronger and stronger as time passes and it is a matter of time until they find a way into the Citadel. This will eventually lead in a large scale battle out of which we will mourn more brothers and sisters…"

    At this moment he hands his axe to Doigan who took his place by Dafur’s side and watches quietly. Dafur gives the signal to unfold a hanging map of huge scale, visible to everyone around and grabs a long stick to point exact points in the map.

    "The reason I called all of you is not vengeance, even though I most of all in here would like to have it that way… Our top priority is to secure and extract the mythril. Duergars expect this and will be even more aggressive. They possess keener senses than us in the dark and they are equally capable warriors as us. If you add to this the fact that they know that area to their best, well… This puts us in a disadvantage. Some brothers may not return. I cannot demand from you to go, but I can ask you as a brother to help protect our people."

    He looks around waiting for a long moment, making sure that no one who doesn’t want to risk his life will participate.

    "Great. With that in mind, I will lead a medium sized group until halfway into the mountain. This will help us go unnoticed on a degree and be more flexible in those narrowed routes. From there on we will split into two smaller groups and try to clean each side from Duergars at the same time, until we corner them in the middle. The one who will lead the other group afterwards will be my son Doigan. At this point I hear opinions and suggestions."

    Dafur scans the area for any who may have a better idea. The halls remains silent as all of them trust Dafur’s plan. He had led successfully in the past many counter attacks against the Orc invasions so no one would like to change that fact.

    "Alright. We will start our mission in five nights from now. I will give the details to those who are coming tomorrow… Be sure to use this time wisely my brothers."

    And with that Dafur walks away from the crowd to go and welcome properly his long lost son. Soon after, they are seen heading home obviously to share their stories and have a family moment during these blackened days…


  • Two days later…

    The blunt side of the axe finds the knocked on the ground Thorin on the shoulder while he still strives to avoid any more brutal swings from the enraged Duergar. The other dwarves are being pushed back as well. Doigan is pinned down while fighting against two of them and Dafur is being kept busy by their on-guard leader. The young priest of Clangeddin is among the weakest when it comes to melee fight. He is more suited in a supportive role. The Duergar has seen through it and manages one more brutal hit through Thorin’s torso. The beardling loses consciousness on his own pool of blood. The Duergar cracks a bloodied smile and heads towards help finishing the rest. Not long after, three more dwarves fall too and couple of Duergars as well.

    While in the heat of battle, Dafur and the Duergar leader measure each other’s strength. Intense moment of gaze battle draws eyes on them. Both know that their fight outcome will play a crucial role on the mine control… Duergar cracks a small grin, like stating meaningfully that Dafur is weak. Dafur doesn’t give in and stands firm as always. He fears death not. In front of him stands the one who killed his brother. Duergar’s death is the only compensation… The Duergar glares at him flatly and intensely. Dafur knows that the slightest mistake means his own death, and in turn his brothers as well.

    “So you‘re the fark who killed my brother, huh? Not sure how you made it . . . You bribed Tymora perhaps . . .?”

    Dafur said mockingly as he looked him up and down. He knew the importance of the mental games in a fight more than enough in his 420 years of life. Countless foes had fallen while trying to kill him. Not once had he ever fell unconscious in battle. Doigan was gifted with his father’s toughness as well.

    “. . . Why don’t you come and see for yourself pig head? Your brother had the same confidence before I run my blade through his heart . . .”

    Duergar responded in similar manner. He sounds like a war veteran as well. Such threats seem to be a joke for him, obviously being a warrior who has nothing more to prove. Dafur realizes it may actually come to who has the strongest will, and stubbornness perhaps. Oddly it is the first time he is sweaty. Gargon Bloodbeard his name, an infamous being who will not hesitate to “sacrifice” his brethren in the name of the greater purpose… Dafur has heard of his deeds, he is not intending of dropping his guard. The two dwarves approach each other slowly, carefully. They measure each other for a long moment. Bloodbeard lower his axe almost to the ground and cracks a grin. Dafur hesitates for a moment but he takes the initiative. Bloodbeard rises his blade defensively after shoving the dust and on blocking Dafur, he manages to blind Dafur momentarily, allowing him in turn to slash him partly along his right bicep.

    Dafur though is fond of being pushed back and keeps pressing with an impressive focus. His hammer moves insanely fast and manages to reach Duergar’s helm, making him lose balance. Bloodbeard chuckles a bit and responds with similar speed, but stronger… He manages one more brutal hit along Dafur’s right leg this time and drop him down. Dafur feels the pain, but won’t give up. He has more than a few reasons more than anyone to kill Bloodbeard. As the Duergar is close to him, he lets his shield and grabs Bloodbeard’s axe.

    “There is a reason why Moradin’s children are feared in battle the most...”

    He cracks a bloodied, bloodthirsty grin and bashes duergar’s head with his hammer, making Bloodbeard step clumsily lots of steps away before he falls on the ground. Dafur stands on his feet and spits some blood. He stands along the edge of the underground cliff but he has the advantage now. He stares at him for a moment while his opponent mumbles something that sounds like nonsense.

    “Bare this in what mind has left in you… Dwarves never give up. And death in battle is the greatest honor we can have… You already lost.”

    Saying that though gave time to Bloodbeard to chant some kind of prayer, something that moments ago sounded like nonsense. Suddenly a searing light pierces through Dafur, leaving him paralyzed, enough for him to drop his guard. That is when his opponent charges enraged and manages one more, even tougher slash. Dafur falls down on his knee, reaching his limits and swimming in his own blood.

    Bloodbeard won’t speak, instead he will crack a grin before the final blow. This time though it’s his time to feel the same searing light, leaving him on the ground as well. The left for dead young priest of Clangeddin on the far corner of the battlefield had found the strength to channel one last divine gift through his enemy, giving his father whatever opportunity he can against Bloodbeard. Now the battle turns to Dafur’s favor. Bloodbeard knows that and after a mutter he jumps off the cliff into the underground river…

    Shortly after the battle ended with the rest of the Duergar lying dead. Mission accomplished and the dwarves gained an important advantage around with this new mine. After some serious bandaging, Thorin raises and while his brethren cheer their victory he glances thoughtfully at the river. Bloodbeard was a most dangerous opponent…


  • Two days later the warriors who decided to join the reclaiming mission stand in front of one of the numerous mountain’s entrances…Being in a rush they didn’t get the chance to farewell their families. Though they kept their determination and pride high as stout folks always do. Their cheerful mood though is suddenly interrupted by an echoing growl. Perhaps a beast that resides into the Mountain or just their imagination. This is the starting signal. Dafur is the oldest in the group. He gives a confident look to each. He sets his Warhammer on the ground and kneels on his left leg. Right hand touches his heart as he murmurs some prayers to Moradin. The rest of the group are dragged along and pray quietly as well, each offering prayers to any of the Morndinsamman they serve. After a long quiet moment Dafur grab his hammer and rises with sharpened eyes, betraying a man ready to give his life for a sacred purpose.

    “This is it boys. This Mountain suffers from a disease. The Duergars… Our mission is to cure it and secure the mine inside. We either succeed or our brothers and sister will be in a difficult situation. As my father Thorin always said “We do it right or we die fighting”. We will split in two teams. Five in each. Each one already know your role. If we want to survive we must at any cost hold the formation otherwise Duergars will not forgive the slightest mistake. Scouts advance carefully, and the main force keep close to each other. Prefer to fight in tighter spots, where we can take advantage of our few numbers and let them pile one upon another… Keep your axes ready and your eyes and ears open. Don’t let your guard. Not for a second… Understood?”

    The dwarves nodded to each and set foot inside the caves, in two groups as planned. An eerie silence makes their venturing tougher to the mind than expected. They keep pressing on though, there is no turning back.

    Dafur leads Thorin, Gargrom Forgeworn and the Frostbeard brothers. Doigan leads the remaining companions. His fighting prowess was always up to his father expectations. His younger brother, Thorin not once ever managed to best him in melee combat. The young priest of Clangeddin always looked upon Doigan as his mentor in many things. Not once he spared his little brother the well-being in training. After all the young beardling's aim was to become an Alaghor. Being treated softly would be a grave mistake for his later life. Thorin spilled lot of blood in his training through years. Long gone days…

    A sudden brutal swing aims to behead Doigan. Only by luck he avoids it. He does not lose the chance as the axe of the enemy stuck in the wall. An equally brutal swing from Doigan and he cuts off the Duergar’s hand. Persistent one, he tries to retreat to his people. The dwarves though have a different opinion and finish him quickly with continuous slashes at his back. The sounds of battle echoed through the corridors. The enemy is alerted…