Thorin Morngrimsson



  • Name: Thorin Morngrimsson
    account: Mirkul29

    Blood sprayed as the hammer smashed his head open. The Orc fell, sword dropping as it crumpled. The hammer struck another Orc in the face, smashing its nose and sending it spinning around. Twisting wildly, the blood-stained hammer arced around into the skull of another, spraying even more orcish blood.
    -For Moradin Hammer! yelled Tholin. Hammer and Steel!
    A number of dwarf yelled back, some with their clan battle cry, other yelling victoriously. A overweight dwarf approached him with a grim face and said tiredly.
    -That was the last of them lad but more are coming.
    -I know Belur, I know.
    He saw them coming - a score, at least and better equipped than the first they had found. He set his shield tightly on his arm - a good sturdy shield, built by one of his ancestor in times past and still strong in spite of the war it saw - and braced himself for one final stand.
    -Hammerers! Form up, yelled Belur. Hammer and Steel! For Moradin HAMMER!
    The survivor quickly form up again, bearing their shield high. The next waves of Orc charge the Hammerers and…

    …The ground was slick with blood, those of Orc and dwarve. Moaning and death rattle could be heard in the cave as surviving dwarf tried to save what was left of the hammerers or finish off surviving Orc. Next to him, Thorin could see Belur corpse, skewered by an Orc spear as he was trying to save his life. Thorin, a proud Beardling of Moradin, cried for the first time of his life at the loss of his brother. Of the six brother of the Morngrimsson, only two remained. Swiping his tear with his blood-stained glove, Thorin took his brother hammer and painfully stood up. Surviving Orcs could still be heard in the carnage around him...

    …Thorin grumble made the manling laugh when he tried to get as much warmth from fire against the cold wind of the night. Around him, fat merchant and caravan guard where dining and drinking.
    -So where ye goin' dwarf? said one of the fat manling merchant. Going ta one o' them Bruenor hall or somethin' ?
    Almost Glaring at the merchant, Thorin said:
    -Narfell.


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