Dwarf Chapter 20
zone: Black Crag
Dwarf Chapter 20 Order Storyline
location: Craghelm's Hold, Black Crag
npc: Ellamina Craghelm
zone: Black Crag
Chapter Lore: Zakarin Grundison howled a battle-cry as he swung his Doomstriker with every ounce of strength that he could muster. Two Orcs fell at his feet, their lives abruptly ended by the violent impact of the blow.
The last of his foes defeated, Zakarin paused for breath and wiped stinging sweat from his eyes. His mind returned, as it had often done in the past days, to the words of his dying father, Roran.
"I'm right proud of ye, lad. You've sworn an oath to the High King, and now you'll soon fulfill it. You do me much honor... me, and all the clan."
Zakarin managed a smile, though his heart was breaking as he watched his father's libe ebb slowly away.
"Mind you keep an eye on the other Oathbearers," Roran continued. "It'll be a long, hard march through the Crag, and rumor says there's a mighty Orc fortress guardin' the road to Eight Peaks. It's goin' to be a fierce battle, an' I wish I could be there t' see it. Now I must ask one last oath of ye."
Zakarin had cradled the battered body of his father in his arms as he spoke. The words hadn't come to him easily. He'd suffered grievous wounds to the chest and throat when a band of Trolls attacked the Dwarfs mere hours after they'd entered Black Crag, the ancestral home of the Grundison clan.
"Ask anything ye will, father, and I swear on the silver beard of Grungni himself, it will be done."
Old Roran managed a weak smile as he clasped his son's arm with his last vestige of mortal strength. "Bury me?... in the ruins of Karak Drazh."
With that, the old veteran's warhammer slipped from his grasp and landed with a heavy thud on the earth. Though his eyes did not close, Zakarin knew he had passed.
"I give ye my word as an Oathbearer, father. You'll have yer wish."
An arrow whistled past his head, rousing Zakarin from the memory. Goblin scouts had discovered the marching column of Oathbearers, and they'd brought more Trolls with them. A rasping cry from above announced the arrival of a Wyvern. Another followed behind, and its rider hurled a black spear down into the fray, striking one of the standard bearers squarely in the chest.
Zakarin scraped the gore from his Doomstriker axe with the side of his boot, then hefted the weapon over his shoulder and marched purposefully toward the nearest skirmish.
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