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  • scratch_flannigan
    scratch_flannigan  9 hours ago

    The IC posts over the Crater Lake events for Nature Night are finally finished!

  • scratch_flannigan
    scratch_flannigan  10 hours ago


    It really was something..a bit like a can..that the Sandworms went into !

    Magic and Gnomish Technology to the rescue!

  • Vaedryan
    Vaedryan  10 hours ago

    *chuckles* Love the name of the most recent NN, Scratch!

  • scratch_flannigan
    scratch_flannigan  17 hours ago

    Nature Night will start in about 2 hours!

    Please join us in the Wild Grove in Grauer Suden.

    I will be IG as Dauken. Feel free to shoot me a tell with any questions. smile

  • AmberOfDzu
    AmberOfDzu  1 day ago

    Hi Scratch!

  • scratch_flannigan
    scratch_flannigan  2 days ago


  • AmberOfDzu
    AmberOfDzu  2 days ago

    *wave* @Vaerdryan grin

  • Vaedryan
    Vaedryan  3 days ago

    Omg! I spy an Avarith!!! grin

  • Jandari
    Jandari  3 days ago

    DORF night has kicked off with epic bouts of arm wrestling!

  • archgrendel
    archgrendel  3 days ago

    Payne is just jealous wink

The Island of Thain :: Forums :: In Character Discussion
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LAN_402 LAN_403
12:28:21 pm GMT 11/28/09
Wolfman Registered Member #842 Joined: 11:59:42 am GMT 08/25/06
Posts: 184
His shame

“I’ma ready ta figh’,” the young Falkral said defiantly to his father.

No, he was not. Barely into his adolescence, dwarfs did not normally begin their combat training for another two years. But these were desperate times. The long years of war against the goblins had taken their toils; many warriors had fallen as the dwarfs were slowly pushed back in the tunnels. With little more than a month of training and wearing a mail shirt that was too big for him, Falkral would stand no chance against battle-hardened goblin warriors. Now the goblins were flooding out of the tunnels as they launched their final assault against the citadel.

“I kno lad, bu’ I need ye ta be wit yer motha,” replied his stoic father. The sounds of metal clashing in battle got louder as another column of clan warriors marched past. “Go now son. Look afta yer motha fer me,” the veteran warrior strapped on his helmet and turned towards the battle.

Deflated, the young dwarf lowered his head as he turned to leave. His three older brothers nodded silently at him as he walked past.

The Deldukr Clan had a proud tradition in the Iron Guards, the elite defenders of the citadel. His father, his grandfather, his great-grandfather, his great-great-grandfather, his brothers, and countless uncles and cousins all served in the Iron Guards. The Iron Guards were renowned for their shield-wall formation, capable of holding the line despite overwhelming odds. They would be responsible for holding the gates of the citadel, allowing the retreating warriors to regroup behind them and prepared for the last stand.

There was no hope of victory, only hope that they would buy enough time for their people to escape. The defence would be led by the king himself. His only son, the prince, was killed in an ambush a few months ago. Too old to father another heir, too overcome by his grief, he would fall defending the citadel that his family had built over so many generations.


Falkral looked around him as he followed the refugees, women, children, the elderly and the sick. Yes, he would protect his people; he would form part of the rearguard. “Le’ ‘em gobbos com’,” he thought to himself as he gripped his axe tightly and clenched his teeth.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The beats of the goblin war-drums reverberated around the caverns. Falkral’s heart pounded with each beat as he quickened his pace. All the sudden, explosions could be heard that shook the tunnels. He did not know when he started running, but that was all he could do. All thoughts of protecting his people went out of his head. He only wanted to run away, as far as he could.

He just ran. He ran like a coward.

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12:48:15 pm GMT 12/04/09
Wolfman Registered Member #842 Joined: 11:59:42 am GMT 08/25/06
Posts: 184
The intervening years

Left leaderless and without a home, the survivors scattered to the four winds, going their own separate ways. Falkral’s mother took him down south to a human settlement where she found work in a brewery.

Falkral worked in the mines and quarry from dawn till dusk. It kept him occupied and helped him to block out his unpleasant memories. In the evenings, he would drown his sorrow at the local tavern. He had not picked up a shield or bore arms since that fateful day. “Falkral Rockhammer,” he called himself these days. The name of the Deldukr Clan both haunted him and intimidated him. It was all part of a past that he desperately wanted to forget. Initially, his mother tried to console him. Eventually, she decided just to let him be.

As the years passed, Falkral grown into what most people would consider as quite an imposing physique. If he wasn’t so busy being drunk and wallowing in his own self-pity, he might have realised this himself. In his own mind, he was still this weedy teenager who abandoned his people when they needed him the most.

When his mother passed away a few years later, he drank even more heavily.

He had never stopped running after all these years.

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