Iceclad

Continued from yesterday’s “Forging My Future…”

As Kuron stared at the ring, glinting in the sun and feeling quite chilly in his bare hand, his mind wandered to events long-passed…

The Coldain, first to harvest the powers of Velium, are a distant cousin to the Dwarves. They live in a hidden city called Thurgadin nestled within an icy valley known as Great Divide and hidden behind a waterfall. The day Kuron discovered this city he knew he’d never want to leave. So much time was spent in Thurgadin, that many of the Coldain came to accept Kuron as one of their own. Kuron was a frequent visitor to the Dain, whom he still has never beaten in a drinking contest.

On one of of his attempts to do just this, Kuron learned of a great conspiracy among the Coldain people. It seems some betrayers had revealed the location of Thrugadin to the most hated enemy of the Coldain, the Frost Giants. War was imminent. As defense and (Brell forbid) escape plans were being drawn up, Kuron worked through the web of lies and deceit to find all the conspirators. Their heads delivered, the Dain realized he could truly trust Kuron. Advisors and Senechals rushed up the stairs and called for the Dain, their attackers were advancing in large numbers. No time for thanks, the Dain rubbed his chin curiously and then scribbled hurriedly on some parchment, which was then folded and sealed with his signet ring.

“Deliver this t’ Sentry Badain at th’ line o’ defense fer this city. And don’t be lookin’ at it! I know ye like surprises me boy, and this’ll be a biggun fer ya!” he said with a gruff laugh, though his voice was decidedly grim.

“Ya can count on me!” was all Kuron could find words to say.

The Dain, in his wisdom, decided Kuron should relay orders to the militia gathered outside in order to defend precious Thurgadin from invasion. He knew Kuron had done a lot of legwork around Great Divide to find all the traitors, and figured no dwarf would be more knowledgeable of the lay of the land than him. Kuron couldn’t believe what he heard when Sentry Badain read the document. He vowed to slug the Dain right in the nose if they ever survived this.

“O, great surprise yer majesty! I GOT ONE FER YE MESELF IF’N WE EVER FIGGER A WAY OUTTA THIS MESS!” he yelled back towards the gates.

There was no more time, the Kromrif giants were in sight now. Feeling his call of duty, and possibly with some influence from the Cerebrodex 9000, Kuron barked out several maneuvers to the troops. He had a lot of help, but still many lives were lost. The war raged on, the arrows flew, Velium weapons shredded flesh of Dwarf and Giant alike, the snow melted under gushes of steaming blood, Giants fell to the ground with bone-jarring thuds, the screams of all races echoed in the valley, but when the last cry was heard – it was one of the Coldain Generals in complete victory. The war was won! Thurgadin remained! The roaring of the Coldain shook the very mountains, causing minor avalanches.

Kuron was weary as he trudged back through the halls of Thurgadin to Icewell Keep. Battered and bloody, Kuron himself had seen some action in battle when a small team of giants broke into a dead run for Thurgadins gates. Kuron was more than happy to chop them down with the rest on the last line of defense. Commondwarves cheered as he passed, but he wasn’t able to react properly, he was too humble and tired. All of Thurgdain was in celebration, even those who’d lost family members. The passing of loved ones in order to achieve victory is as great a reason to party as any for the Coldain. Kuron felt too strange to celebrate, all of this had happened so fast, he hardly felt as though he deserved it.

The Dain laughed boyishly as Kuron approached his throne. Kuron had to laugh as well when he saw the war room now in complete disarray, the map-table crushed into splinters, no doubt danced upon by the Dain himself at first news of victory. The Dain grinned and handed Kuron an overflowing mug, which he gladly sucked down in two large swigs. The council all around him was doing much the same in the joyous victory party.

“Knew ye’d do it! Good fer ye lad! Good fer all o’ us! Thurgadin is saved, and them Kromrif r’ sure t’ be knowin’ what we’re about now! I knew I wouldn’t be regrettin’ countin’ on ya!” the Dain gleamed.

Kuron clenched his fist and socked the Dain in the shoulder and roared. “YE DURN DOLT! I AIN’T ABLE T’ MANAGE ME OWN CLEANLINESS! HOW’D YE GET DUMB ENOUGH TA PUT ME IN CHARGE O’ YER THURGADIN! I COULDA KILL’D US ALL YE KNOW! I HUV HALF A MIND T-” but the Dain quieted him with an outstretched hand. The rest of the room fell silent having seen the Dain struck.

“My Thurgadin?” The Dain blinked as he looked around him and smiled, lightly rubbing his shoulder though he felt no pain.

He chuckled quietly in his gruff voice as he took off his thick gauntlet, displaying the ring on his open hand to the gathering of Dwarves nearby and finally to Kuron. All watching beamed in awe at the artifact, Kuron too could not ignore the amazing craftsmanship and nobility of the piece.

“This ring was my father’s, an’ his before that, an his before that, an y’see where I’m goin’ with this.” He chuckled. “Every generation adds their own rune t’ this ring, an’ mine is this one here…” he said as he pointed to a rune resembling the letter “H” but with the line crossing between at an angle, and striking through on each side.

“Ever since th’ day we left Froststone, we Coldain huv been in constant strife. Whether from th’ harsh ice outside, or th’ wicked things down the Well underneath our very feet. With Brell’s blessing we Coldain huv surviv’d any trials what come our way, an’ this day we’ve stomp’d down another, th’ biggest of all fer that matter. But, this time, it weren’t only Brell that help’d keep Thurgadin belongin’ t’ th’ Coldain this day, friend. It were you, Kuron Steelfeather, that made it possible.”

With reverence the Dain slipped the ring off his hand, admired it a moment, and then placed in on Kuron’s finger. The he leaned in close and spoke plainly and proudly.

“Me boy, this is as much YOUR Thurgadin as anyone’s this day.” He smiled.

Kuron looked down at the ring on his hand as everyone around began to clap and cheer. The Dain had removed his other gauntlet and started clapping as well. Praise was everywhere! Kuron grinned sheepishly, unsure of how to react, but the Dain slapped him on the back.

“Well what are ya just sittin’ there for? Get up ya fool and take a bow! Ya look like we’ve been married or somethin’!”

Kuron stood up and went to the center of the room on the raised section of floor which served as a window into the Well of the Deep below. He bowed low and honorably, to which the crowd cheered and clapped even harder. The Dain yelled above the applause “SPEECH! COME ON LAD MOVE YER BEARD!”

Kuron chuckled and positioned himself carefully at the center of the dais as he marveled at his new ring and began to think of what he could possibly say to thank the Coldain for this honor. He was no diplomat, and not at all a public speaker, but he managed to come up with something he thought would do just the trick. He began by shouting “HONORABLE COLDAIN, I THANK YE ALL!” but nobody could hear his words over the ear-splitting crack of ice that rang out the moment he opened his mouth. The entire room gasped.

Kuron stood completely still, very worried about where he thought the sound was coming from. He slowly looked down to his feet, and saw his fears were confirmed. The floor of the dais, made of Velium ice, had a tremendous crack spidering out all around him. As Kuron looked down at the shattered window to the Deep he whimpered, it was a long, long drop, but as far down as the ground was he could still make out things moving around below that he could safely assume were not friendly. Kuron looked up, helpless.

“Oh no, lad! DON’T…” was all the Dain had time to say before the ice shattered completely inward, spilling Kuron down the Well and into the gnarling, icy depths below.

Kuron snapped out of his daydreams then, realizing he was in Plane of Knowledge. Rubbing his head and wincing from the memories, he put the ring back on his finger. He knew exactly where he wanted to get his Velium now. A cruel stroke of bad luck kept him from honoring the Coldain’s praise that day, but it would not stop him this day. He thought back to the history of the Coldain and their ancient homeland of Froststone which they were forced from. He would honor them this day, and get his Velium.

Froststone: centuries ago it was the home of the Coldain, but today it is a crumbling ruin full of Orcs and monsters. Deep below the surface in the Crystal Caverns, only a small group of Coldain remain there today, too stubborn to leave though the bulk of Coldain society abandoned it long ago. The precious Velium that was mined there was too valuable for the Ry’gorr Orcs not to want. The monsters unearthed in the depths below were always hungry. The poor Coldain were sandwiched by danger at all times, thus their exodus to Thurgadin was necessary.

Kuron sloshed through the snowy Eastern Wastes towards the entrance, nearly chin-high in snow. He found it and numerous Orcs ready to be killed as he tromped down the mine shafts going ever-downward. He yelled “FOR THE DAIN!” with each skull he cleaved. His ring, now surrounded by Velium on all sides, glowed blue with pleasure as he continued deeper. He grabbed up all the Velium he’d need to forge up the Shurikens on his descent, and even managed to find the remains of Froststone!

The defenders of Froststone, still there after all these centuries, immediately recognized the glowing blue ring on Kuron’s hand, and welcomed him with honors. He found the forge of Froststone and thought it a novel idea to craft the shurikens right there, deep below the earth, like a true Coldain of old would have. He thanked the noble Coldain for keeping their ancestral home in Coldain hands, and with a heavy heart, began the long ascent back to the surface.

The Shurikens assembled, and every other task on the Smithing test complete, Kuron shed many tears as he left Froststone and returned to Freeport. How dull and criminal this dirty city seemed in comparison to shining Thurgadin, and slumbering Froststone. Kuron’s work was immaculate, mostly. Some of the items, a few cook pots to be exact, were horribly dented from a fall he suffered in the Grimling Mines. Kuron somehow talked his way out of this, and received a passing grade. He held the trophy out on high, truly proud of his accomplishment, though it did look a bit silly. Instead, Kuron thought it best to think of what the trophy meant, and of all the adventures he went on to receive it. That, to him, seemed a much better reward.

“Keep yer frilly soup bucket, I got better prizes in me noggin’ with more meanin’ than a hunnerd o’ these ugly things…”

Grats Kuron on his Smithing trophy!