After travelling a long journey accross the desert Moris and Adin had reached Farthen 'Dur. When they had got there they met up with Orik. "Master Orik, good to see everything is good." Moris had said to him. He had replied hastily, "Everything is not well. It is a total wreck! We are on the brink of war! Please help us Moris and Adin." Of course they had both accepted. They had rushed first to a cave to get themselves assituated then they prepared for the war that was coming there way. They had not known when it had come but it was a total shock...


OOC: To let everyone know this is kinda a pull off of a story in Hardarac Desert called Not Another Sand Movie and it is just kinda where i left EVERYONE WELCOME

OOC: Longer posts, especially for an opening.

"Yes, I am leaving," Beleg told his friends.
"But why?" They asked.
"There is a war in Farthern Dur, and I mean to take part in it" Beleg said with a sigh.

"We will be sad to see you go Beleg," They murmured.

"I may very well not be coming home" It had been a week since the messengers had come saying there was a war in Farthern Dur. Since that time Beleg had been preparing to leave.

"Goodbye" Said Beleg as he walked out the door and paid the man for the mule he would be riding to Farthern Dur. Or at least as close as he could get.

OOC: oo, Faefnir could definitely do a lot here. I'm in. what is happening in brief?

Faefnir was stirring in his secret lair in the Hadarac Desert. He was alone, since the White Stag was away to visit his home in Du Weldenvarden. Grrrrrrrrr, when will this war be over? He had long knew of trouble brewing in Tronjheim, the capitol of his southerly neighbors, the dwarves. He also knew why there was war brewing, but he needed to keep it out of his mind so he could figure out what to do. He suddenly had a horrible premonition. He saw the fall of the dwarves as a result of this battle. He saw the heads of proud dwarven sons cleaven by Imperial swords and the great armories destroyed. he saw the proud holds over what was once Isidar Mithrim being used for morgues and taverns by the triumphant troops of the Empire. I must do something now before it's too late. So, for the first time in over a hundred years, Faefnir flew out of his lair in the desert, and headed to Farthen Dur.

OOC: probably been too long to get this post off the ground, but i'll give it one last shot.

IC: Wil hated the dwarven mines. He couldn't see anything but the pitch black at night, he couldn't smell anything but the odor of dwarven sweat and the fires of the blacksmiths' stoves, and he couldn't fly Kagraign. The first time he'd visited Farthen Dur, he vowed never to return. Yet, a dream found him back here.

Dwarven bodies lay strewn through the streets of Tronjheim. Their heads were hoisted on the bloody tips of spears and lined the main road. Soldiers heaved and grunted, attempting to tear Isidar Mithrim out of its perch. Other soldiers, the ones on guard, had invaded the storehouses and shouted and whooped with drunken glee. There was one survivor of the battle, all enemies of the Empire had been slain except one. Wil saw Lucia being taunted and harassed by the imperial soldiers. He saw his own body thrown on the headless corpse of Kagraign. A man, shadowed and evil, laughed and kicked the body of a dwarf, then walked into Lucia's chambers. Wil then heard something that turned his blood to lead. Lucia's scream pierced the mountain and sent shards of ice tumbling from the top of Farthen Dur

Wil had woken that night in a cold sweat. He woke Lucia and Kagraign both and informed them of the dream. They were concerned. There was a battle soon to be starting in Farthen Dur. Wil must change the future. He didn't wish Lucia to go through that, and he knew that he musn't die. He decided to break his vow and go back to Tronjheim to defeat this evil man and destroy all hopes of the Empire gaining control of Farthen Dur. Now he found himself trying to appeal to the dwarf lord to send an extra battalion of dwarves to Tronjheim. The lord was almost as set in stone as the throne to his back. He informed Wil that he would send scouts to watch if any imperial movements came through the tunnels. Wil was still adamant that he should gather his own force of dwarves, and hopefully friends of the Varden that had also had premonitions, and go to Tronjheim. Not for the first time that day, Wil thought, I hate the dwarven mines...

OOC: hooray!

Faefnir landed in Tronjheim. Fortunately, he wasn't too late. But signs of the dwarven division were apparent. Even though he knew the dwarves didn't trust dragons, he felt it was neccessary to make sure the dwarven kingdom didn't fall apart. He walked into Tronjheim, then flew up into the dragonhold over Isidar Mithrim.

Wil stomped out of the dwarf lord's chambers. He cursed under his breath. A nearby dwarf child raised her eyebrows. Wil turned down a passage, toward the cafeteria where Kagraign was at. He turned the corner and blinked in surprise. There were hundreds of dwarves packed into the cafeteria. Two of the stone tables had been pushed together to make a stage. As Wil walked further into the crowd, news of his coming passed him. The dwarves cleared a path to the table and pushed him there. He climbed on the table. "Brothers. Sisters, if there may be any here. I come to you...in an hour of need. Tronjhiem is going to be attacked." he heard a murmur of disbelief in the crowd. "The imperials know about Tronjhiem. It appears we have a spy amongst the humans." The murmurs turned angry. "But if we do not protect Tronjhiem, then in three days' time, the dwarven mines will be silenced forever." he said, trying to rally the dwarves. "To Tronjhiem!" he shouted. A wave of cheers and stampeding iron boots followed Wil out of the chamber. He saw Kagraign waiting up ahead. I knew you wouldn't be long. Kagraign chuckled. He picked up his own pace and soon was stomping and huffing right along with Wil. It took them-as Wil guessed-four hours to march through the tunnels to Tronjhiem. When they got there, Wil set up patrols of dwarves and human recruits and volunteers, scanning each one's mind to try to find the spy before giving him a blade. The city had been fully transformed into a military installation. Archers-trained dwarves carefully handpicked for the skill of hitting targets dead on from a hundred yards-patrolled the outside of Tronjhiem day and night. Wil drew a crude map of the city and divided it into sectors. He had a council of war, including Kagriagn and -at the moment- a few trusted veteran dwarves. Their plan was in motion.

Wil looked at the man. Yes, you can trust him. Kagraign said. "I'm fortifying Tronjhiem's defenses. There's going to be an attack. A big one. The imperials are on their way even now. I had a...premonition about this. Isidar Mithrim and the dwarven race, and even the Varden itself are all in danger." he explained. "A-are you willing to help?" he asked.

sorry guys...brain drain... comes and goes for me recently. i'll post again when the inspiration hits. just warning you, it might take a couple days or so though...