One sleep encrusted eye remained closed as its swollen purple black twin struggled to shutter itself up.With an excersie of will alone it pops open about a half of an inch and with a deep graon of pain the somewhat portly but well muscled dwarf rolls over and rises to a sitting position.Strewn all about is the wreckage of a campsite.Lying about the wreckage in tangles and sprawls were the bodies of six other sturdy folk in various disrepair.After a moment to get his bearings Sheildor rises to his feet and after a few lurching steps finds a mug with a drink of remaining mead which he thirstily drains.After a lip smacking rite of hangovers passage he begins rousing the rest of his party with hard kicks and yells."Git up ye lazy basterds!Durkin an' 'is lot 'er prolly half day 'head of us alreddy an' 'ere we be sleepin' on our arses!"With more than one protest and threat to answer his rousing the dwarves gather what can be salvaged and break camp.
With both wagons laden with iron trade goods and a beautiful clear sky overhead the Dwarves of Clan Helmshigh descend the last few miles out of the Nether Mountains headed for Silverymoon.Along the way rousing songs of women and bravado echo from the throats of the seven hearty dwarves.Once down into the foothills the dwarves knew without a doubt the pace would quicken and the small, sturdy mountain ponies would make great time.Shortly after noon the small party slows the pace as they approach a small child and an elderly male limping towards a copse of trees.Hard on their trail is a group of howling orcs brandishing spears.Without a second thought a cry goes up and the dwarves jump from rumbling wagons forming a wedge and charging between two small hills to face the snout faced contingent.Almost at once, as soon as the orcs see the charge they skid to a halt and turn tail to dissapear behind a larger hill behind the two small ones.Not about to be thwarted from the killing of an orc the dwarves pick up the pace and with another battlecry charge around the small hill never noticing the shadowy figures pacing them along the tops of the hills.
Rounding the small hillock and just short of the base of the larger hill the jaws of the trap snap shut.Arrows rain down like snowflakes and the orcs now midway up the hill turn and joining their fellows coming from the backside of the hill surround the dwarves.Sheildors face though barking out commands suddenly furrows in surprise as the orcs contingent is bolstered now almost enitirely of humans.With savage roars and a pride that belies any other races notion of ferocity they wheel and turn, swipe and chop until their arms weigh as if of iron and begin to slow.Once small openings slowly become gaps and small nicks and cuts become savage wounds.Slowly one by one the dwarves gallant defense collapses as do the dwarves themselves.
"Hey Gorlin?!" yells Mafice."This one here still breathin." even as the halfling bends down to slice the dwarfs throat."Hold!" comes the command dripping of steel venom."Bring Derloon over here to keep him alive.Goods are not the only thing of profit we may take this day."A tall willowy figure a bit stooped with age with long gray hair hobbles over to the trio and almost nonchalantly if it weren't a divine incantation says a small healing prayer over the dwarf and his once ragged, blood bubbled breathing grows stronger and more steady.Looking up from under two bushy eyebrows he declares in a slow monotone."He will live, though knowing you Gorlin he will certainly wish whatever god he worships had taken him this day."
Stopping his picking of the wall which loomed in the darkness before him Sheildor wipes the sweat from his brow and thinks back to that fateful day.Sighing to himself and leaning on his pick he looks to a thin but wiry human working beside him and says "Twenty years today Solourn.Twenty years."Stopping in mid swing the chestnut haired man with a hawking nose responds "Twenty years what old friend?" "My slave anniversary." gruffly replies Sheildor."Ahhhh" says Solourn "tonight I shall give you a bit of my gruel in celebration." Chuckling, Sheildor reaches over and claps him roughly on the back and resumes his work.Suddenly his pick breaks through exposing a small meandering tunnell.Poking his boulder like head through the opening he feels air rushing to dry his face.Rescinding his head and nervously looking both ways he begins to chop feverishly.Meanwhile Solourn looks at him a bit and chuckling again continues his picking of the shaft wall.
Once through the wall with a hole big enough for him to squeeze through he whispers hoarsely."I thinks we gots us a way out lad."Solourn looking over, tries to size up the hole and sending the message to the other two of the group goes to follow Sheildor as he is stepping through.At that instant a torch flares to life and a guard of eight dark skinned men brandishing scimitars stomps down the corridor.Knowing that his friend will only escape with a diversion Solourn picks up his tool and with a yell charges the guards.As if on que the halfling and the elf present pick up on the message and charge as well.Sheildor hearing the commotion steps back through the wall only to be shoved roughly back through with the command "Run you stupid stubborn dwarf! Run! We'll hold them off."Hesitating a moment but rationalizing bringing kin back to save them Sheildor with heavy heart dissapears down the corridor.
Without home or kin.Broken hearted at his seemingly endless loss he worked his way to Dagger Falls as a caravan guard.Still with dreams of returning to his friends he must first make a name and a fortune for himself.The Falls has gained a new hero and ally and his name is Sheildor Draftshaft.
Home 
Latest images 
Subject: Sheildor Draftshat...An Insight 
Tue Oct 21, 2008 9:12 pm
