Once Upon a Thane [Mountain King]

[Amerason]

Chapter 1 - Thieves in the Night.

Chapters

Chapter 1 - Thieves in the Night.
Chapter 2 - The Cousin, Tablet, and the Thane.
Chapter 3 - The Pilgrimage.
Chapter 4 - The Dragonfist Clan.
Chapter 5 - Every now and then, you've just got to get a beat down.
Chapter 6 - A Thane's Oath to the King.
Chapter 7 - Know Your History.
Chapter 8 - Of Legacy and Storms.
Chapter 9 - Enemies at the Gate!
Chapter 10 - Basil's Legacy.
Chapter 11 - Carnage.
Chapter 12 - A Dragon be Slain, A King's Death.
Chapter 13 - Inheritance - A Legacy Born.

Bruuk's Corner

Spoiler:

Night had fallen upon the fortress mountain of Ironforge, capital of the Kingdom of Ironforge; the children were tucked to bed by busy housewives as men returned from a hard day's work in the bustling shops. Twas the time when rogues would crawl from their nooks and crags, twas a time when rowdy bachelors, disloyal husbands, flirtatious whores and prostitutes of all walks of life would come forth into the city's nightlife and partake in festivities shunned by the day.

As luck would have it, Gwydd Crazyhammer of Aerie Peak and Bor Thundershout of Khaz Modan had returned from their trip to the southern lands of humanity on this evening.

"Oi! Give us'nothah pint, laddie, tis early'n th'nigh'f'n ye ask Us'nd plenty o'gold teh spill on wha'e'ah we be wishin'! Th'lads o'th'south pay feckin'grand they deh'nd tis feckin'grand teh spend'n bulk this eve! Nay worries o' goin' broke nay time soon, aye, me lad Bor?" Gwydd roared with laughter in his intoxicated state, sullen blue eyes set about a money pouch on the table that belonged to him, he weighed it in his hands and continue to laugh, glancing to the left of the table where a human female stood, "Ah'betcha ye c'n't get whi'er'gain, Bor me lad, wha'ye say... tweh gold teh th'po'!"

Bor laughed deeply as he nodded in his own drunken stupor and set two golden coins on the table beside Gwydd's own, "Aye, Ah'll raise th'pot teh four gold, Ah'll gae fer'er firs'... lass's a wild one'n th'bed'nd trus'me... Ah'remembah her well from tweh weeks'geh!" Bor stood and stumbled as he made way for the lass, the air about him smelled of pig and liquor, yet the Bronzebeard had a trick up his sleeve, "Lassie, Ah've a grand belt'nd presen' fer ye... 'sides Ah've plenty o' gold." He brought the sack of coins to show her, within a few moments he as leading the woman up the stairs and out of sight, not before winking to Gwydd, at least.

About thirty minutes had passed before Bor had returned with battered hair and smelling more like a pig than before, a stupid grin was on his face as he returned to his seat, laughing cheerfully, "Nay worries, lad, thaur's a lassie upstaurs Ah'saw fer ye... tell ye wha' ye ge'whi'er'nd Ah'll give ye yer coin b'ck."

Naturally, Gwydd had pursued the bet, and so he stumbled out of his seat and nearly crashed into the table before he had made his ways up the stairs, sullen blue eyes were immediately glued to a fine dwarven wench's ass, "Oi, lassie... Ah'wanna feck ye till ye raw." Leave it to a drunken dwarf to use such a horrendously horrible pick-up line... needless to say, it did not go well for the Lad, and so he had returned with boasts to Bor, laughing lightly despite his failure, he still tried to play it off, "Aye, lad Ah'go'er nice'nd tigh'."

Bor laughed deeply and shook his head, "Nay, ye feckin' liar! Nay worries though... Ah'ken a way fer ye teh get yer coin b'ck..." The Mercenary lowered his voice so that only the two would hear, "Ah'ken whaur a Thane lives'n this level o'th'Farge..." He laughed as eyes were set with greed and lust. "Tis no'teh far o' a walk'way... no't'all."

Gwydd's jaw practically fell from his skull at the news his comrade had to offer, and within moments the two drunken lads were off in the night with helmet and cold steel to offer for a Thane's treasure... twas a rogue and bloody business these two were to commit.

Basil Dragonfist's Villa

Spoiler:

The two made their way up the stairs as silently as they could, they had awaited the perfect moment when the guards were turned as to make their dash.

Spoiler:

Bor stood on the perch of the balcony. He watched first for the guards to turn their back in patrol, and then he quickly leapt onto the railing. Without any further hesitation, Bor jumped from one balcony to the other.

Gwydd pushed himself up onto the railing, sullen blue eyes were fixed on the few guards patrolling. The moment they had turned their back he leapt like a panther, landing upon the balcony in a roll, "Oi... check th'door."

Bor came up to the door. He knew it'd not be locked, since it was the balcony. So he threw it open. Stealth never was his strong suit, but a Dwarf as huge as Bor, it did not matter. He instantly armed himself.

Spoiler:

Gwydd set a hand on the hilt of his claymore as he stalked behind Bor; his footing was light in comparison to the juggernaut that was Bor.

Bor crept to the stairway and peered down it. He saw not a shadow on the wall, so their target was not quite ready. Or so Bor assumed.

Gwydd glanced to Bor and nodded, it seemed that he had sobered up significantly, or at least, the adrenaline that started a steady flow had cancelled out the effects, he peered about the room and pointed to the stairs, "Oi, check doon thaur, quiet's ye geh."

Bor nodded at Gwydd. Bor was still quite intoxicated from the drinking only a few minutes prior. Watching his steps, Bor crept down the stairs loudly. His armor jingled as he did. When he came downstairs it seemed empty.

Gwydd took one last glance about the interior, he checked the balcony and then nodded as he paced down the stairs slowly, "Psst, Bor, check th'bed, undah't or some'hin'... check for a vault!"

Bor nodded and began to make for the bed. His drunken senses did not catch what crept up behind him. A sudden crack on the back of his helmet sent him flying across the room, and crashed pitifully on the bear's head. It was an ambush!

Gwydd's eyes widened immediately at the crack of the Stormhammer, "Th'feck!?" He grunted it had seemed to happen so quickly he had no idea what to do.

"OI YE BLEEDERS COMIN' TEH ME VILLA LIKE DAMN ROGUES'N TH'NIGH'! TASTE ME FURY!" The voice of the Thane thundered across the room, the next moment the Thane had clattered across the stone with surprising agility despite the fact that he was in full plate, the stormhammer in his hand began to charge and crackle with lightning, and Gwydd roared in confusion as he banked hard to his right and rolled into the stairs, the next moment a flash of light and thunder sounded as the hammer exploded against the reinforced wall.

Gwydd gathered himself quickly despite the daze of the blow, his claymore had been tossed aside by his fallen comrade, "Th'feck!?" He shouted in confusion as he instinctively reached for his own stormhammer... only to be assaulted by another furious barrage of the Thane's own stormhammer.

"TASTE ME LIGH'NIN' FECKAH!" The Thane cried across the room, the railing had snapped under the explosion and had set Gwydd low, adrenaline pumped madly through his veins; his own stormhammer began to cackle. In desperation the Wildhammer scrambled to his feet and brought his stormhammer at the ready, it was nearly charged... and finally! He set it loose against the Thane, "Yes!" He shouted as a thunderous assault rocked the room. "Bor me-!" His shouts of victory were drowned out as his world spiraled out... and then all was dark...

Bor pushed up weakly from the bear. The Thane spun around to Bor, who was not yet spent. He lifted his hammer and roared fiercely. Bor widened his bloodshot eyes and rolled away from the hammer just before it came down at him. The bear's head was smashed under the impact. Bor stood up and charged the door, and rammed right through it. Bor did not stop running until his stubby little legs grew tired.

[Amerason]

Chapter 2 - The Cousin, Tablet, and the Thane.

Bruuk's Corner, Three Days Later

Spoiler:

Three days... three days had passed since that fateful night when Gwydd and Bor, boldened by alcohol, challenged the might of a Thane. And from that time onward, Gwydd's life would be changed by the chance encounter... one moment that can switch an entire course of life… but is it for the better or for worse?

The young Wildhammer had sat alone in the same seat he found himself three days before the raid on Basil's Villa. Bor had all but abandoned him, and Gwydd, though angered at first, was not too concerned… given the circumstances, he too would have made haste for safety… if not to at least hide away from the Watch until things had quieted down.

A young dwarven lass dressed in fine cloth approached his table with two mugs of Cherry Grog, breakfast in her own words, “Mornin' thaur laddie, mind'f'n I join ye?” The Wildhammer glanced up from his brooding and shook his head, a slight smirk slid between his braided mustache and equally wild beard.

“Nay, lassie, yer free teh sit'f'n ye feel th'need teh, up teh ye.” Gwydd downed a good bit of bourbon from his jug and leaned back, watching her as she drank.

“What brings ye here this mornin', lad?” The female dwarf casually asked as she downed a good bit more of her own drink. She was pretty… or so at least Gwydd thought, a lass from the Forge, but he figured that he'd not be seeing the lassie's from the Peak any time soon, especially after the fiasco three days earlier.

“'F'n I told ye ye'd no' believe Us.” He said calmly.

“Try me.” Was all she said.

And so Crazyhammer did, he began with his story of how he arrived in Ironforge three weeks earlier and had met with Thundershout, he explained their journey south and of the ridiculous amount of money the two mercenaries had made under contract by the humans. He detailed their return back to the Forge and the insanity that insured, and openly, he admitted that he had raided a Thane's villa on this level of Ironforge.

“And to my surprise… I awoke with a splash of freezing water and by far the grandest of beards I've ever seen in my life… the Thane was standing over me as if though he were watching an idiot child… I swore that my life was over and that I would be sent to prison, either that, or had my skull smashed open by the monster of a man...” The Wildhammer spoke in the dwarven tongue as he took a swig from the last of his bourbon, grinning now, “But nay, he said to me that I've a spark he sees, a talent that he rarely had seen among the youth of Ironforge… and that I was one of the few brave enough to have stepped up and challenged him, he said I was either an idiot or the bravest lad he'd seen in days… but I was reckless… but one thing was for sure, that Basil Dragonfist was going to let me be free and handed me a tablet engraved with runes that are alien to my ken and told me that should I make sense of them to return him.”

Gwydd later learned that the lass's name was Kerana; she was a smith who traveled between Menethil Harbor and Ironforge. During the conversation he had commissioned her to fashion him a grand set of plate, even if he was going entirely based off of assumptions that he would become a Thane… and then after Kerana had long left Bruuk's Corner, another chance encounter had come about… and from the entrance stepped an almost regal looking dwarf, unmistakably to Gwydd, Rhunwyd Copperpot.

There, awkward at first, conversation was rather pleasant; they had exchanged pleasantries with each other and grabbed a pint. Rhunwyd had welcomed his younger cousin back into Ironforge for the second time, and they spoke of the past briefly before Gwydd began his tale anew as to why he was still here and in Bruuk's Corner of all the pubs. Many cheers were had after Gwydd had showed the tablet that Basil had handed him, as well as many insults to the illiterate and apparently lucky cousin that Rhunwyd had in Gwydd… and without a second thought, Rhunwyd had gathered his younger cousin and brought him along with him to the League.

The Explorer's League, Two Hours Later, Same Day.

Spoiler:

The two cousins, Gwydd Crazyhammer and Rhunwyd Copperpot, made their journey on foot through the different districts on this level of Ironforge, to the Grand Explorer's League. The seat of all dwarven knowledge and lore of ancient things... the seat of the Mystery of the Titans; Rhunwyd had brought the two through a pair of ornate runic pillars crafted by the finest of dwarven masons and into part of the museum. The two Copperpots made a short travel from the entrance and to their destination, a bench set with tablets of Titan make from the Titan City of Uldaman.

And so the Wildhammer looked towards his cousin as if though he were some crazed man. “Th'feck ye talkin'buit, laddie?” He barked in a vulgar dialect of the common tongue before switching his language back to his native tongue.

“Aye, tis ruins from Uldaman, my cousin,” Rhunwyd looked to Gwydd as if he were truly some sort of insane barbarian who really had lived under a rock his entire life, “… didn't Olga teach you anything?”

“Aye, about the Earth Mother and what was truly important, not some ruins from some destroyed and run down city.” Gwydd barked back to his cousin, shaking his wild mane and stroking his braided mustache.

“Give the tablet here; I'll translate it as best I can.” Rhunwyd reached for the tablet that Basil had gifted to Gwydd, his eyes squinted and brow was raised as he began to interpret the titan runes for a long moment. Gwydd watched with a peculiar look as he contemplated that he was related to a Duffy. “To all born under the Great Mountain are given the spark to ignite the ancestral right of our birthright.” Rhunwyd mulled the final words before placing the tablet back on the bench alongside the other runes, “I will need more time to-“

He was cut off abruptly by the Wildhammer, “Nay! Lad I understand what Basil says!” He paused, wits as quick as quicksilver belonged to the wild man, “Tis true then that what Basil says, tis home for celebration me lad!” Gwydd roared joyfully as he raised a fist to the sky and pounded his naked chest, “Or at least something along those lines, eh? Born under the mountain, that must mean Ironforge… and all dwarves hail from Ironforge… or perhaps he just means the Bronzebeard… nay, that, maybe, I dinna ken that part… perhaps… aye, it has to be so… but I've the blood of a Bronzebeard running through my Wildhammer veins… so I hold whatever spark he speaks of… what the f**k is the spark? I ken not but-“

“Lad, calm down!”Rhunwyd barked, “I cannot believe that the most idiotic of my kin were given such an honor… either way, tis call for celebration ye are right!”

And so the two dwarves had gathered their belongings from the bench and had made way for a tavern in the Commons, there they had met Kerana Axestorm once more, the dwarven smith who had been commissioned on a whim by a headstrong Gwydd Crazyhammer… and by the end of the festivities, Rhunwyd was on his way to the Copperpot villa with the tablet that Basil had given Gwydd, and Gwydd was on his way with the completion of his task to meet with the Thane Basil Dragonfist.

Basil Dragonfist's Villa

Spoiler:

“The feck am I doing… acting likes a Duffy and heading to some Thane's villa for training, I am better than that… my father would spit on me had he seen my actions this day, though, he would commend my bravery… I can't believe I am seriously going through with this; maybe it'd be best if I just give it up and leave the Forge… Wildhammers do not belong in this sort of environment either way, nay they do not, perhaps it is the damn Bronzebeard blood of my mother, curse yourself Gwydd! You cannot say that about your mother! This is insane bullshit that I am doing. f**k, f**k, f**k, f**k my thoughts and my greed, but what does the right of a Thane even mean, shit, nobility, power… money… women… fighting… aye these are the qualities… the qualities that I shall obtain should I continue with this, I could imagine my own villa one day, what the f**k am I thinking?” Ran through the mind of Gwydd Crazyhammer as he made his way to the villa of Basil Dragonfist, a Thane of Ironforge, Mountain Kings they were called by some… perhaps he truly was going crazy considering the fact that he was born and raised on Aerie Peak, son of a prestigious gryphon rider, he did not belong in Ironforge, or at least, so he told himself… nevertheless he had finally reached his destination.

Once more void of guards… it was apparent as to why they were not a necessity considering the fact that Basil had managed to disarm the would be thieves without a single bead of sweat forming above his bushy brow. The Wildhammer reached for an ornate handle to knock against the door… once… twice…

“The tablet, what does it read!?” Barked the rough voice of Basil from behind the thick door as he peered through a spyglass near the top of the door, “Speak quickly or leave before I open the door!”

“The tablet speaks of the spark that lies within those who are born to the Great Mountain, the ancestral birthright of the dwarven people.” Gwydd roared in answer so that his voice may be heard by the great Thane, “Tis truth that I speak of the translation, Thane!”

The door began to swing open at a slow pace, Gwydd's corded muscles began to tense with the anticipation of some attack, and then… “Aye, ye are correct… lad I offer to you two choices… follow me and I shall mold you into a warrior that few, if not any, can match… or leave and be forever shamed by your refusal.” Basil appeared as the very aspect of regal authority dressed in his ornate and intimidating silver-gray plate, a massive stormhammer belted at his side and an equally large black metal axe at his back. His crimson beard fell below his waist and held many golden rings about the thick braids, a scarred visage about his nose, and his right cheek and right forehead showed evidence of a once horrid burn.

The Wildhammer stared blindly, obviously dumbstruck by the Thane's words, and for a few moments he nearly fell back at the offer… he was correct… he had the chance to become a King under the Mountain as was Basil… one of the prestigious Thanes of the Halls of Ironforge. “L-lad aye, I say aye to ye.” Choked Gwydd as he stood rigidly erect.

“Then, Gwydd Crazyhammer, son of Aerie Peak, I ask you to swear before my hammer that you shall follow me as student and swear that you shall never raise your fist against the King of Ironforge nor myself.”

“Aye… I swear before your hammer that I shall follow you as a student to tutor, and I shall never raise my fist to the King of Ironforge…” Gwydd choked up once more, not realizing how difficult it was for him to swear such a thing, he placed a heavy fist against his naked chest and kept his sullen blue gaze upon Basil's emerald green. “I shall follow you in all suits, Thane.”

Basil Dragonfist glanced over his soon-to-be prodigy and after a long moment, he nodded, stepping aside and waving a plated fist towards the interior of the villa, “Then come, Gwydd Crazyhammer, and be ready to take the mantle of a Thane. We've to discuss a pilgrimage you are to make in order to preform the most simplistic of ordeals that even the most lowly born to Ironforge can preform.”

[Amerason]

Third Installment

The Pilgrimage

Spoiler:

The Titans once forged the very foundations of a primitive and turbulent Azeroth thousands of years ago before sentience belonged to any; despite the fact that neither the dwarves of Ironforge, nor any other sentient being save for the Great Aspects had known this truth, the Mountain Kings had learned that there long lived a spark deep within themselves that enabled tremendous feats of strength beyond the ken of most scholars. And it is this very birthright that Basil Dragonfist had sent Gwydd to unlock… but one must learn to crawl before one can walk, and it was in this case that Gwydd had to learn to crawl, learn to crawl to perform the most basic of all abilities any whom hail from Ironforge may perform, the ability to transform one's skin into living stone.

And so the Wildhammer had departed from the icy reaches of Ironforge Mountain and made his way through the Dwarflands bound for Loch Modan; one of the most prosperous of the Kingdom of Ironforge's holdings. The journey itself was smooth considering the fact that his faithful and most loyal of companions, Cwmyr the Gryphon, had carried him swiftly across the mountain peaks, stopping only twice to eat and drink along the three day trip. On the third day he had arrived at the Excavation Site on the Far East side of the Loch.

As he leapt from the ornate saddle of the Gryphon, Gwydd glanced about the ruins with the same strange runic language engraved about the alien pillars and walls. He grunted at the thought that this would be his fate to sit beneath a pillar and learn the secrets of some unknown culture beyond the depths of antiquity. As if it were not enough that he had actually made the journey to this remote location marked on a crude map; the Wildhammer was illiterate to begin with… how in the name of the Earth Mother was he to decipher some method of understanding these alien titan runes?

The young Gwydd Crazyhammer maneuvered down a path after giving Cwmyr freedom to leave whenever he like, though, he knew that his gryphon would not stray too far from Gwydd's location. He made his way through a small puddle of muck and mud and slowly traversed the short stretch of land between the cliff and the pillar. He set a hand upon his scarred forehead, nearly laughing at the concept that he was to stay here until he understood something he probably would never understand. Earth Mother be damned if he were to commit this betrayal of faith to some possibly fabricated legendary godlike beings. And so he paced about at the foot of the pillar dressed from foot to head in the strange alien runes that were the language of the mythical titans, completely ignorant of how to even begin with such a task...

The Pilgrimage, One Month Later.

Sleep had taken him, a deep and somber sleep that near to nothing could wake from outside means. And the mist was closing in about his obscured sight, his own bronzed by the sun fingers were so very distant to him, no, in fact they were alien to him now… he had forgotten…

The day was quickly passing by, though; the enthralled Gwydd had been lost to his own mind during his deep slumber. In reality he lies besides a dwindling kindling of fire, a petty camp site beside the grand titan's pillar. Earlier in the morning, prior to the rise of the sun at dawn's coming, the youthful Wildhammer had finally caught upon a strand of thought that was so obscure in its flow, yet, so completely crazy that it had to work. Upon Cwmyr's saddlebags lie an incredibly small buckskin bag, and in that very same bag the young Wildhammer had the luck that a shaman of his people would bestow upon him a host of herbs intended to show the Earth Mother his promise to her… a good luck charm if you will…

But Crazyhammer knew that the herbs had been used by the shaman to enter their trance-like states from time-to-time when such matters demanded it from them… and so the young Wildhammer had taken it upon himself to whisper soft commands to the vigilant Cwmyr and grind the herbs in a small clay pot until they were little more than mushy mash; and as was said… prior to the rise of the sun at the coming of dawn, on the first month he had been on his pilgrimage, Gwydd Crazyhammer had taken the shamanistic herbs and set his head to the damp muddy soil to find the enigmatic truth that eluded him so.

He drifted for what had felt like eons long forgotten, his minds eyes was clouded with an ever flowing mist that blotted all sight, all sound, indeed, all reason of existence and purpose. And floated he still did through this endless track that was the expanse of his mind… no something far greater than his mind… the realization had hit him hard as if though a thick brick had been clobbered against his skull. Though, he knew that it was not his true skull, senses had been jolted back into position as the mist began to clear about him. Yet, it was not senses as he had known them while in the world of the sober conscious; rather, it was senses he had felt a slight tinge from times when he had felt the cool healing arts that the shaman had employed to heal his wounds or ease his sickness. This… this was something different entirely than anything he had ever known before… he was coming home.

And for a short instance, the Wildhammer had felt fear grip at his normally courageous heart… fear of the unknown, fear of what he would come to learn. And then the fear had dissipated, logic, reason, and a sharp wit he was born, and so his quick senses wrapped about the impossible… he was becoming one with the Earth that had bore his ancestors so many thousands of years ago… he was feeling what it meant to be a descendent of the Earthen, and by extension, the Titans… and by some strange twist he had managed to come to terms that he was indeed coming to his roots and meeting, no, catching but a mere glimpse of the Earth Mother in her natural domain, she was, after all, mother to all who dwelled on Azeroth, or so at least the shamans of his people had engraved in his mind from since reasoning came into being in his mind.

The world continued in a spiral staircase in which the direction must've been pointed to the very ground of his mind's eye. As he paced down it in his ethereal reality, Gwydd had caught a fleeting glimpse of the pillar in which – outside of this dreamlike state – he had been lying beneath. Direction of his tutor had come forcefully like a wave into his mind… and he knew, he knew that he must travel to this alien pillar and by doing so, he must learn that which he has come to learn. He trudged on for a short while longer down the spiraling staircase until he came to level with what had appeared to be ever so slowly moving stone… was it living?

Regardless, the Wildhammer had padded on soft footing until he had come face to face with the titan's pillar. A slight grin set itself in his ethereal braided mustache as he reached a calloused hand for the base, the runes, once completely blissfully ignorant of their intention or how to even read them had come in full force… and for the first time in his life, he had been able to read a set of written language. Gwydd spoke the tongue of the titan's for what had not even felt a second before the pillar reacted.

At the point where his hand had been set on the stone of the pillar, a brilliant white light had illuminated and the young Wildhammer peered at the location without the inkling of concern upon his brow. And then it happened, the stone began to melt about his hand as he felt something clutching at him from the other side… what the devil was going on here!? And then he knew… this was part of it… and he let himself drift with unseen forces that pulled him through the stone's pillar in his dreamlike state…

Time had been forgotten to the young barbarian whom had hailed from the Peaks of Aerie; lost and forgotten to his senses until his corporeal body had been jolted into sense by the spit of Cwmyr. Sullen blue eyes opened to the shining of a new sun brightly raised over the horizon. As he stood he felt the weight of his body… it was much heavier than before… and then with a cry of horror, the Wildhammer gazed upon his calloused hands to find that it had been transformed into living stone! And one thought drifted into his exhausted mind, ”Take heart, for in the end we are all descendent from the Earth, embrace that which is your birthright.”

[Amerason]

The Dragonfist Clan

Basil Dragonfist's Villa

Spoiler:

"Lad you've done what no other of your race that I can think of freely off the top of my head has done, you've achieved the legacy of the Titans, you've unlocked the spark to ignite the gift they've given to us." Basil Dragonfist launched a hand to Gwydd's shoulder and roared with laughter, "A fine display of your valor and tenacity, Gwydd, but take all you ever hear about the Titans from the Explorer's League and those Mystery of the Makers blokes... and throw it all out the door!" The Thane roared with laughter as he watched his prodigy's reaction with bright eyes. "The truth of the matter is that we Mountain Kings are the bearers of a legacy timeless in our records... a legacy of savage warfare, unmatched melee combat, living wrecking balls, and leaders of the people... and of course all the booze you can imagine." Basil roared with laughter, “May be a tad bit of a stereotype, but eh, f**k it, I'm a Thane after all I've nothing to worry about inflating my own ego, lads and lass's do it for me all day long!”

Gwydd sat in wide-eyed wonder as he watched his Lord speak, for he was vassal to this Thane as he had sworn. Basil shrugged his mighty shoulders as he slunk into an ornate pseudo throne by a great fire place. On his immediate right he was flanked by Gwydd in a lesser, but no less richly, seat. "Fine ale and venison, lass!" Basil barked the commands to his serving girl, a rosy-cheeked young beauty of a dwarf whom had apparently caught the eye of the mighty Thane. Gwydd caught his laugh as he found himself eying the serving girl up with a wide mischievous grin that shouted that he wished to take her. "Aye, ale fer all! Have a pint with us will you, Becca?" Basil finished, winking at her as he nodded towards Gwydd. Gwydd caught the wink with a sharp whistle as he too winked at the serving girl. "Aye!" Gwydd added as he watched her leave, a prime example of womanhood if he ever saw one. He held back a slight wave of grief at the sexual thoughts that entered his mind; thoughts swaying momentarily back to his only true love in this life, his dead wife.

His attention was snapped away as Basil leaned forward and slapped Gwydd's knee with a grin painted between his mighty beard, “Ye like her don't laddie?” Basil said with a playful laugh. Gwydd found himself actually fond of the man whom sat before him, his Lord Basil, “Aye, she's a looker she is, I'd be fine with her being me Maggie Mae for a night.” Gwydd replied with a grin of his own and leaned back in his seat. The servant girl returned promptly with a platter of silver chalices and golden plates obviously meant for serving guests.

It was only now that Gwydd truly paid mind to his growling stomach, he had not eaten a proper meal in a little over a month, yet alone one so richly as this. After all, it had only been a day since he had returned from his pilgrimage to the Titan ruins. And so the two dwarves sat as they downed their ale and exchanged lewd comments with the voluptuous Becca as they finished their meals. Later in the night, at the coming of midnight, the two men had met in Basil's study.

“Lad, have you ever heard of my Clan?” Basil asked with a raised eyebrow as he sat at his desk, it was surprisingly simple in appearance and lacked any major decorations that were worthy of note… some modesty to this man after all? “Nay, I cannot say that I have, tis a small Clan is it not? Nay a doubt in me mind that you are the founder of it, though, after all, it takes a Thane to rule over a Clan, aye?” Basil flipped through the pages of a rather large tome bound in the scales of some reptilian creature, Gwydd's face momentarily contorted in a scowl at the sight of the book, preferring rather to simply rely on his sharp memory rather than to ever care to learn a Duffy's work, literacy. “Aye, Dragonfist be the title, originally the Clan was titled Silverboot… bet you can imagine that I changed that bit and you've an inkling as to why?” Gwydd simply shook his head as he eased into a fine seat, Basil continued, “The title of the Dragonfist officially became our Clan at the decree of Magni after I achieved what many Mountain King's strive for, slaying the largest, maddest, hardest, fucker in the world that we can achieve… a full grown dragon. Aye, tis a feat I preformed alone that day that earned my spot as heir to the Clan and a royal decree that the Clan was to be known as the Dragonfist.” Basil leaned back in his chair and then looked over the overall interior of the Study.

“The Dragonfist Clan may be small in its statue or status in Ironforge; but we hold our own. We number over a hundred, though, it is nothing too impressive. The majority of our kin tend towards a trade in alchemical work or as miners. Before I took the Clan under my belt, we had no standard of military doctrine or history. Now with me as Thane, I've taken the Clan towards a more strict military doctrine, many of our young are enlisted in the King's Army. A few have even become prominent brewers of some fine specialty ales.” Basil leaned back in his high seat and glanced over the naked woad-paint tattoos of his vassal. “And you, tell me of your Clan, the Crazyhammer.”

Gwydd leaned forward in his chairs and folded corded muscles over his naked chest, “Aye? Tis of Ironforge and Wildhammer descent I come by, my father was born Crazyhammer, heir to his Clan, a prestigious gryphon rider he became an honorary thane under Aerie Peak. I was to take his mantle before his fall during the Second War. Me mother was a clanswomen, married to my father from the Copperpot Clan, though, it is obvious that I take after my Father. The Crazyhammer were a clan of primarily gryphon riders, we had little other culture amongst the Peaks than our prized talent with the Stormhammer. Honestly, that's about all I can imagine to admit about my Clan… shamans and riders.”

Basil nodded his mane slowly as he ran a hand over the leather-bound tome. “Aye then, I'm adding you to the Dragonfist as an honorary clansman, come before me tomorrow morning, I shall begin your first actual lessons.”

[Amerason]

Deep sleep had taken Gwydd on this particular eve before the beginning of his training in the martial skills befitting the mighty Thane's. And in his dreams he saw what he expected to be his destiny, or at least, the only thing his uncivilized mind could comprehend as anything else...

The Skies shimmered red above as if though the world had been enveloped in the Blood of War. He stood upon the brink of Death's Doorstep in the thick of battle. Around him he saw only impossibly high snow-peaked cliffs and a stone bridge extending over a gaping chasm. Across the bridge he saw the bodies of brutally slaughtered dwarven soldiers. Carnage lied before the Wildhammer whom stood only draped in loincloth, mailed sandles, and brandishing stormhammer and blessed claymore. The cool bite of the ice and snow paid him no mind now, for on the other side of the chasm came a great darkness. The Wildhammer lifted his claymore to the sky and shouted out in thick dwarvish,

"O' Great Spirit of Wind, bless my blade as was promised to me!"

And so the Wind did, he felt the adamantine claymore lessen its weight, and about it he could have sworn he saw some flow of gust, despite the obvious fact that air was invisible. And then, then Gwydd saw through those sullen blue eyes of his, in the distance of the chasm came forth a great Horde of beasts foul as the Depths themselves, what they were, Gwydd was not sure, but he had little time to question the exact fact of their allegiance or race. With a roar to the Heavens themselves, the Wildhammer crossed the threshold of the bridge and took up his position with all the defiance of his barbaric race he had to offe-

He awoke suddenly from the Dream, unsure of whether it was a nightmare or dreams of future glory. For he was no shaman, and visions, visions were something alien to his ken save for the use of shamanistic herbs he would regularly take to clear the polluted mind that he had been slowly taking on via by influence of the very city he now slept. As he pondered the dream, a knock came by the door and the sweet voice of that House Servant from before woke him.

"H-hello, My Lord?"

Gwydd rocked from his bed, thinking it time to wake or some other bit. He lifted a brow and then stepped from his bed, pulling nothing but a towel about his naked body, Gwydd made his way to the door and opened it whilst rubbing at his right eye. She raised a hand to her mouth and her cheeks flushed at the sight. She herself had been garbed in no more than a nightgown, and as Gwydd came about from the groggy state of deep sleep, he realized why it was she was here... it wasn't morning yet at all.

The next morning Gwydd woke with her beside him in bed. Strangely enough, he felt restored and revitalized for the Day's task ahead of him. The House Servant scrambled out of the room in a hurry to prepare herself for the duties she had about the Dragonfist Villa, and so Gwydd readied himself for the coming day as well... today was the day he would face off against Basil Dragonfist once again.

[Amerason]

Trials of Arms

Basil Dragonfist's Villa

Spoiler:

The next morning Gwydd woke with her beside him in bed. Strangely enough, he felt restored and revitalized for the Day's task ahead of him. The House Servant scrambled out of the room in a hurry to prepare herself for the duties she had about the Dragonfist Villa, and so Gwydd readied himself for the coming day as well... today was the day he would face off against Basil Dragonfist once again.

----

Despite having felt rejuvenated and lively once more, the first time he had in what felt like years considering all of the recent shit he had gotten himself into... he couldn't help but beneath the heavy and richly bedspread. The Wildhammer mused at the idea that he would find the luxury of this sort of living on a daily basis from now on, how sickly true it was... nevertheless, he promised himself that he would not allow it to corrupt him too greatly. Eventually, after a good ten minutes, Gwydd rose from the bed and made way for the tapestry that served as blinds for a massive balcony window.

He pulled the tapestry away and was hailed by the morning hustle and bustle of the city streets below, merchants had set their stands early on and farmers had drawn their caravans towards the squares, selling their goods to the newly wakened housewives. Gnome and Dwarf children scurried about through the throngs of people, towards the edge of some dark corridor, trained Wildhammer eyes caught sight of a mugging in the happening, only to see it end with two burly guardsmen stepping in to beat the would be mugger down. The Wildhammer laughed a good bit at this all, he was to become a Lord of these people after all... how strange the twists of fate truly were.

Gwydd donned a robe and tied a loincloth about his waist, stepping through the door of his guest room and into the Greater Hall which acted as the main hallway for the final tier of the villa. On either side of his present location he saw two armored guards bearing the heraldry of the Dragonfist. They gave to him a crisp nod and kept their position straight, highly professional, Gwydd nodded in approval of their stature and obvious training they must have received. He made way for the bathroom down the hall and quietly took a quick shower before returning to his room. There he gathered his claymore and stormhammer and then made his way towards the lower tiers of the villa. As he made his way, he saw the true wealth of the Dragonfist, they were well-off and then some, whatever Basil had been trying to get at was apparently a complete lie. Rich rooms decorated in gold and valued gems and fine timbers and expertly cut stone. Perhaps he was telling the truth and all the wealth went to the decoration of his estate, it mattered not, Gwydd supposed.

After reaching the second tier, he looked over the occupants and saw mostly servants bustling in the early morning. Apparently, the higher-ranking clansmen were still in their beds or already out on their business, such was the life of a nobleman's retainer.

----

[b][i] "Be swift, Gwydd!"

There was a loud clap of what sounded as thunder, only, in the immediate proximity of the young Wildhammer who now felt as if though he fought for his life. Sullen blue eyes were alight with fury despite the fact that it would avail to nothing against the horrors of Basil's enchanted axe. Cruel lightning played across its surface in all directions, it was reminiscent of the former Gryphon Rider's own stormhammer, though, and this was played out in an axe.

"Tad bit close there, eh!? Can't be having that if you're to be a Tha-"

With hardened nerves and wits as sharp as quicksilver, Gwydd brought back his adamantium claymore that slew many a foe - for Basil's armored chest. A grin began to set in between the Wildhammer's braided mustache, only to be offset by the grim look that swiftly came to steal away the grin; Basil's movements were far too swift for any average dwarf, this man could be backed against a wall and still survive against any horde of enemies Gwydd thought to himself in savage despair as he was pushed back into the corner now. Twas the first time in his life he had sparred with plate upon his normally near naked attire, and for that, he would pay.

"Aye! That's grand!"

Basil shouted to Gwydd as the two came to a close in their sparring, Gwydd slumped back in an awkward fashion against the back of the black stone wall. His lean chest heaved up and down as if desperate to take air into his lungs to fuel his body. Sweat rolled down all corners of his visage and he simply let loose his grip of the claymore. And then came Basil in all his horrible majestic glory; great emerald eyes beaming and a wicked grin perched between his bushy and equally majestic beard. So stood the Thane before the youth, hand outstretched to aid Gwydd.

"You did grand, Gwyddy-boy, lasted a grand minute against me in there first time you ever started. You'll be a natural you will, trust me."

Gwydd shook his head as he took the Thane's hand and pulled himself up. For all the strength and skill he boasted, he could not even come close to the wicked and savage blows in which the Mountain King could deliver, truly this was a Titan trapped in a Dwarf's body.

"By me mother's beard, Basil, you're a damn monster on the fields of battle you are, aren't you?"

"Depends, more of a monster in bed when I have a nice Maggie Mae around for the evening."

The Thane winked at his pupil and roared with deep laughter, an armored gauntlet reached for the table that Gwydd now stood by, upon it were two silver steins filled to the brim with a dark lager. The Thane took one in hand and brought it to lips and drank heavily.

"Water on the field when you need it, a good lager at the hearth when your spirit needs it, remembers that."

"Truer words have never been spoken."

"Aye to that! Now then, round two?"

Four weeks had passed by before Gwydd could even score a hit on Basil's prized armor, the claymore, though not enchanted; still found its mark quite well. Over the time he had begun the sparring and training of what Basil had called, "simple martial skills that every Thane should be proud of," Gwydd came to respect the fighting style. It was definitely unique in the matter that it was akin to the Wildhammer's favor for stand and deliver combat.

A kick in the shin, shrug it off, a hammer to shoulder, shrug it down, sword to the chest, misdirect it. Stand and deliver, this was the method in which a Thane had fought, armed to the teeth in an array of deadly enchanted weaponry and a means to an end with equally savage blows could bring any foe low Basil had said.

At first the Thane had begun to show Gwydd the art of the Stormhammer, he had sent for the creation of one to Aerie Peak only to have the messenger recalled at the fact that Gwydd already possessed one of the legendary stormhammer's. In fact, the former Gryphon Rider seemed to possess skill with the Stormhammer that the full-fledged Thane himself had not shown. Truly, Gwydd was a student after the Thane's heart, the son he never had.

"Lad, the skill you have with that stormhammer, uses it well for knowledge that eventually more than just the whip and crack of the deadly lightning will stun your enemies in their place. That fancy claymore of yours will bring about the end of your enemies, even with its cleaving prowess it may possess, watch and learn, I'll literally teach you how to tear through your enemy's defenses and bring about horrific stunning blows that they would never dream a claymore capable of."

Basil flashed his beer-stained grin with a deep roaring laughter over as they took up to another sparring lesson. Five weeks had passed by now and finally Gwydd Crazyhammer had managed to take the lessons to heart. Basil was no longer his opponent, but rather, a mighty retainer of the Villa had been. Apparently the retainer by the name of Kalon Shieldbreaker had been originally chosen for the path of Thanedom only to be shot down when he took up the stormhammer and failed to operate it. Though, the mighty Kalon had possessed a muscle mass equal to that of a fully grown Bull-Orc and an equally deadly knowledge of how to bring about deathly blows upon his foes.

So this was to be his foe, Kalon Shieldbreaker of Thelsammar, Gwydd nodded in resolution as his eyes set on the mighty dwarf's girth. Trained eyes locked about the man's footing as he came into the ring, his shield was set with diamond and an axe of dark iron to boast his glory, this was indeed a man of valor and great honor on the field of battle. The Wildhammer's mind wrapped about the old ties of his heritage and upbringing as a proud Hill-Dwarf; he would bring honor to that heritage and his people by bringing this armed to the teeth Shieldbreaker to his knees. And with that, Gwydd began to remove his armor, he would fight with no garb save for a loincloth about his waist, agility would win this battle, of this he was sure.

“For Khaz Modan!” Basil shouted to herald the fight, it had begun.

Kalon moved first, he came upon the scarcely garbed Wildhammer with trained and deceptively swift footing. Gwydd allowed a smirk to cross beneath his braided visage as he brought his claymore to swiftly counter the stroke of the biting axe. Sparks flew from the resounding collision as the Wildhammer then made his counter, swinging with the stormhammer for Kalon's shield; which Kalon had caught to block in turn.

Stand and deliver, this was the method in which these two men would fight, the only difference came to be in their armor now, Gwydd was swift and able to be quick on his feet with dodging blows and parrying, Kalon's thick armor and shield skills allowed him to strike like a siege tank upon the Wildhammer's own defenses, in this matter the two continued for a long while, Kalon was the first to draw blood, bringing his shield to bust through against the Wildhammer's chest; knocking the youth back a good deal and causing the loss of the claymore. Adrenaline boiled through the two fighters, honor was on the line in this matter.

The Clan-Warriors came in circle about the ring as the two fierce opponents traded blows, Gwydd fought with dirk and stormhammer now against shield and axe, the two were near equals, but Gwydd knew he held the trump card, his dirk snaked through the mighty dwarf's defenses and struck home against Kalon's axe arm, drawing a nice line of blood and successfully disarming Shieldbreaker of his axe. And it was here that Gwydd made a near fatal mistake in the fight, he had mistakenly judged the dwarf's strength, it was not in his axe arm that he held his true weapon, it was in the use of his shield that he demanded such respect…

Kalon came now again with rage unseen in the clash thus far, his shield struck hard against Gwydd's left bicep and thrust him back, successfully dislodging the joint and would undoubtedly cause a severe contusion of the bone. Only but three seconds had passed for which Gwydd had chance to react, he was useless on the left bearing of his body and he knew he would lose the fight if Kalon could strike once more, the stormhammer was his only name sake in this account, and so he whipped it about and let loose a ferocious strike against Kalon's onrushing shield, the resounding explosion of lightning and clap of immediate thunder knocked the two fighters back. Gwydd, held his own against his own barrage, however, he had anticipated the outcome of it and had the experience over Kalon's own countenance in the affair, taking advantage of the dazed Shieldbreaker, Gwydd lashed forward with the stormhammer once more, striking the plated helm and knocking his opponent to the ground. All sat motionless for a few moments until Basil raised a fist and proclaimed the victor. Kalon Shieldbreaker.

----

After a brief uproar by Gwydd for the apparent defeat despite his fighting prowess and having successfully knocked Kalon Shieldbreaker out; he came to understand why, the fight was to be equal in all terms, fully armored each. Gwydd had lost the fight before it had even begun. Weeks would pass by during the daily training sessions; he came to understand the difference in following fights as he was defeated several times while on equal terms with Kalon.

And in time, Kalon and Gwydd were on equal martial prowess with one another, more than two months had passed since then, Kalon had taught the Wildhammer all he knew of how to fight like a tank and in a shield wall, they had developed a tight bond and had on occasion gone on drinking bouts and misadventures throughout Ironforge – of which must be discussed in a future date, of course. The time was fast approaching to whence he would be presented before the King of Ironforge and his Court. And this stressed the Wildhammer like none of the tutorage he had received to date, the life of a courtly manner was one he would never fit in with, he was a barbarian of the hills, never would he be fit to sit at the table of a civilized king…