Category Archives: War of the Soulhers

He turned to the hanging cage, where the young boy was watching the battle with intrigue. The goblin smirked and pointed his finger towards the rusty old chain holding the cage aloft. Randyst knew what the creature planned: he was going to drop the boy to those spiky stalagmites!

“Nooooooo!” Exclaimed Randyst. Continue reading →

The young man, Herminicle Vortexus, was about thirty years old. He had jet black hair worn in a ponytail with a short goatee. He carried a crystal staff and wore red and orange robes etched in protective runes. He was not skilled in close combat, but he kept a good repertoire of spells and rituals, one of which he had just completed, a disk of energy now hovering beside him. Continue reading →

After several seconds, the pain in Jecthor’s abdomen had grown to an almost unbearable level. Herman quickly circled him and, using his staff, gave three quick taps on the courrier’s back. As the third tap hit Jecthor’s back, he let out a loud, pink-coloured, strawberry-smelling belch. The burp was loud enough that it resonated with Herman’s kettle, causing it to spill over to the side. Continue reading →

Runes written in the dwarven tongue riddled the walls, accompanied by sculptures, speaking of great battles fought and won in times past. These sculptures were carved of the finest mithral mined within the deepest bowels of the kingdom. Luxurious tapestries depicting dwarven heroes cleaving the heads off of orcs, goblins and giants lined the back wall; before it stood a large throne of solid mithral – the throne of the king of Cladiggin. Continue reading →

The rain poured down hard on the lone figure walking on the dusty, now muddy path. The man held his cloak tight to try to shelter himself as best as he could. It did not matter how the weather was, he was tasked to deliver the message and deliver it he would. Continue reading →

Belda was the kind of woman that Dugar loved. Thick at the knees, stubble on the chin and upper lip, and breasts the size of watermelons. She had been a wench at the Foaming Froth for nearly a year, working long hours to be able to raise her wee little brother at home. Continue reading →

The sweltering heat emanating from the forge must have been getting to the burly Dwarf’s head. His skill was always second to none among his people, but lately, it seemed like it was becoming too much for him to handle… Continue reading →