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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
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
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
“Ya need ta speak up laddy,” responded Dugar at the top of his lungs. It was difficult to hear anything else with the wind coming down from the Stone.
“I said, DURN THAT BLASTED WAIL OF A GOBLIN’S FART!” Continue reading
The soldiers began to swing their swords systematically at the dwarves. Dugar’s shield came right up to deflect a blow heading towards Piknen’s chest. He followed this by smashing his shield into the soldier’s face, with an immediate upward arc from his hammer, right between the legs. Although he heard a crunch, Dugar noticed the soldier didn’t react to the pain of the blow and instead continued to fight. Continue reading