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Spring of Storm and Shadow: Interlude #1
The Sounds of War His wizened eyes scan the gathering hall and watch those of lesser years move to and fro. They do not scurry like a human or move with the grace of a soft-footed elf. These are dwarves with a purpose, and they move with a steady resolve and sureness of step unique to their race. They have every reason to, for the Three-Hold Thane is returned to them, and the Army of Stone prepares to march under his command for the first time in decades. From somewhere outside this room the sounds of hammer upon anvil - the sounds of war - echo throughout. Even now, as they have for weeks, the smiths place the last sharp point on spears and polish the deadly blunt ends of hammers and maces. Soon these shiny weapons will be red with Hextorite blood. Even though he is their Thane, he stands back and watches as others speak. All defer to him with their speech and each dwarf is cognizant that they stand in the presence of a dwarf who held out alone against an unspeakable evil for nearly a decade and half. By Moradin's grace he is here. A grizzled dwarf enters the room with a large scroll. He is younger than many in the room, but the scars upon his bald head speak to his experience, and the chasing worked into his full plate armor (as well as the knotwork of his beard) identifies him as Torm Rockbender, Shield Lord of Deepholm and Captain of the Thane's Shield. The dwarves in the room give a bow of respect as he passes, and he in turn bows to the Thane upon reaching the elder dwarf, waiting to be acknowledged "Speak, Torm," the Thane says simply. Torm lays the scroll on the table and opens it to reveal a map. With both hands he holds it to the table. "The two legions of Hextorite mercenaries have fortified the Underfoot clanhold entrance, but they are weak and short on supplies since the giants' defeat. Our scouts say they have taken to eating their own horses over the past few weeks." The Thane contemplates this information, and strokes his white beard a few times before thoughtfully touching the silver symbol of The All-Father on his armor. He feels the energy well inside himself, a sensation he has not felt in a long time. This time, it is the dwarves who will take the fight to the enemy. This time, the surprise will be theirs. Since his awakening, the Thane has worked to reform his army and his alliances. The Grand Duke, in honor of their age-old agreement, and in consideration of the dwarven arms at Gorna, has pledged hundreds of Gyri warriors, and the gnomes of Urtcheck have vowed to aid the Underfoot clan, whom they regard as family. For the Thane, the decision has been made easy. "We strike, then, one week hence. Too long have our enemies kept warm by our hearths. It is time we showed them the resiliency of the Three-Hold clans. It is time to reclaim our homes." Underneath his crown, the Thane's piercing gaze meets every dwarven eye in the room, and all of them bow to him in turn, before leaving to see to their charges. Soon, all are gone save Torm, who lingers over the map, still holding it down as if it were a struggling enemy. His eyes are not fixed on the Underfoot clanhold now, but on a point in the Crystalmists labeled the `Sundered City.' "Yes, the hard road still lies ahead. We shall test our steel upon the Hextorite occupiers...and then see to the rest," the Thane says to Torm, who nods in agreement. They both turn their silent gazes upon the map, as the sounds of impending war echo in the hall, and beyond.
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