Agantyr Steinforge
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Player Name: Rakaneth
Character Name: Agantyr SteinforgeThe fifty shield dwarves marched forward in the customary warblock formation, shield front, pike second rank, Priests and what few arcnists there were in the third ranks. The cavern opened up a way to both the Block's left and right flanks, the flank shieldmen swinging forward to form fourtyfive degree angles off the main force.
The Block came to a halt as one, disciplined and prepared for the on rush of their unseen foes.
Silence. Not a sound from the darkness. The dwarves of Clan Steinforge stood ready, sure that today, they would remove the problem that had been plaguing their hold-fast for weeks.
Then, the greyed, scarred, eyeless creatures swarmed the Block, cries of alarm erupting among the ranks, the sound of shields setting for a charge, the various prayers to Moradin, to Berronar Truesiver, and loudest of all, the prayers to Clangeddin, the din of a dwarven battle.
Small, bright flaming orbs shot out into the back ranks of the grimlocks in unison, detonating in giant fiery whooshes, decimating almost a quarter of the swarming creatures.
Agantyr Steinforge stood in the center of the first rank of the vanguard. He would have no other place. He heard three sounds as he pushed into the ranks of the grimlocks: the chanting of his sister Alabastyr, the gibbering of the foes arrayed against them, and the screams of the dying, kin and foe alike. Agantyr operated like a slow-moving wall trap whenever he was in the warblock, and for him, this battle was no different. From him only one word resounded, almost in time with his sister’s prayers:
Forward!
It was working. The grimlocks fled before him and the wall of Dwarves intent on crushing the grimlocks into so much paste. Something changed, though. Something his father taught him to listen for in the depths of the earth when seeking ore, a subtle shift in the earth above. Time slowed as he looked to his brother Aeroun.
This might be a trap! Warn-
The warning came too late. Soon, the Dwarves of clan Steinforge were buried beneath tons of rock. It was a perfect trap.
Not even a cave-in could stop Agantyr Steinforge for long, though. He dug himself from the rubble, shield-encased arm slick with blood. A wounded Dwarf desparately fought to ward off a lucky pair of grimlocks intent on taking advantage of the situation, but Agantyr was there and had become the bulwark for his fallen kinsman. A brief shout from his sister brought a warning just in time as a bright flash of searing light staggered the creature. Even Agantyr had to admit weariness, though, as his hammer continued to rise and fall, as he continued to turn aside crude spears and flint-rock axes. His vision blurred and his eyes stung as he fought, and fought, and fought…In fact, he was still fighting when he woke at the gentle shaking of a priest of Clangeddin. He moved to interpose a broken shield-arm, sans shield, between himself and the priest, who slowly shook his head and touched him gently, replacing the arm at his side. Beside him lay those of his kin who still lived; it was only then that he felt the battle-weariness as it suddenly came down upon him. There was a part of him that wanted to keep fighting, but here there were no foes; only wounded.
Agantyr’s convalescence came quickly, but not quickly enough for him. As soon as his arm was strong enough to bear his shield without snapping again, he was up and ready to find the rest of his clan and finish what they started…except that he had no idea of exactly where he was. Alabastyr and Aeroun still lived; Lothammor had to be somewhere; he was sure he heard the old curmudgeon somewhere. There were five, and he led them, in the darkness, remaining mostly silent, much like the wall he made himself to be in battle.
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Reviewed, XP Pending!
