Mordok
"I am a Dwarf! My honour is my life and without it I am nothing. I shall become a Slayer. I shall seek redemption in the eyes of my ancestors. I shall become as death to my enemies, until I face he that takes my life and my shame."
| 22 Feb 14:56:04 |
|
Mordok [Dlord] | Dwarven Lords [Dlord] | Skeleton Boar [SkB] | 45,000 | 187,481 | 232,481 |
| 23 Feb 00:08:13 |
|
Mordok [Dlord] | Dwarven Lords [Dlord] | Skeleton Boar [SkB] | 50,000 | 201,037 | 251,037 |
| 05 Nov 10:37:45 |
|
Mordok [Dlord] | Dwarven Lords [Dlord] | Skeleton Boar [SkB] | 69,000 | 357,994 | 426,994 |
| 07 May 06:53:33 |
|
Mordok [Dlord] | Dwarven Lords [Dlord] | Skeleton Boar [SkB] | 46,585 | 179,918 | 226,503 |
| 06 Aug 17:04:57 |
|
Mordok [Dlord] | Dwarven Lords [Dlord] | Maelstrom [VortX] | 70,000 | 246,003 | 316,003 |
| 06 Nov 18:49:47 |
|
Mordok [Dlord] | Dwarven Lords [Dlord] | Eight Hand Crow [eCrow] | 68,010 | 230,983 | 298,993 |
| 08 Nov 16:35:53 |
|
Mordok [Dlord] | Dwarven Lords [Dlord] | Harmless? [H?] | 80,000 | 276,058 | 356,058 |
A DWARVEN ANECDOTE
BY GRUMBLE
The Emperor of the Ascendancy comes to the land of the Dwarves to take rule of the lands and Dwarves. He brings 10,000 men with him. As he reaches the battlefield, suddenly on the crest of a hill there appears a solitary figure, a little short ginger-haired guy wearing a horned helm and a beard that reached his knees.
"Emperor of the Ascendancy?" yells the wee Dwarf on the hill. "Come up here, ya Ascendancy bastards, and I'll give ye a beating!"
The Emperor turns to his commander and says, "Take 20 men and deal with that Dwarven upstart!"
The commander sends 20 men over the hill to kill the Dwarf. Five minutes later, at the crest of the hill, the little Dwarf appears again.
"Ye Ascendancy bastards!" he yells. "Come on the rest of ye! Come on, I'll have ye!"
The Emperor is getting somewhat annoyed. He turns to his commander. "Take 100 men and kill that little guttersnipe!" The commander sends 100 men over the hill to do the job. Ten minutes later, the little Dwarf appears at the top of the hill again his shirt a bit torn.
"Ye Ascendancy SCUM!" he yells. "I'm just warming up! Come and get me!" The Emperor loses patience. "Commander, take 400 men and personally WIPE HIM OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH!" he yells. The commander gulps, but leads 400 men on horseback over the crest of the hill.
Fifteen minutes later, the little Dwarf is back. His clothing is all torn, his face is covered in blood, snot and Irn-Bru, and he yells, "Is that the best ye can do? You're bloody WIMMIN! Come on, come and have a go ya bunch of lasses!" The Emperor turns to his second in command. "Take 1000 men over that hill and don't come back till you've killed him!" he commands.
The second in command gathers the men and they ride off over the hill to their fate. Five minutes later, one of the Ascendancy troops appears back at the top of the hill. He's covered in blood and his clothes are all torn.
"Your Majesty!" he yells. "It's a trap! There's TWO of them!"
Born of the coldest day in the history Illyriad, Belargyle was brought forth into this realm. It is said that as the sun set, it paused only long enough to allow it's last rays of light to glimmer through the portals of the Dwarven halls to rest upon the newly born child, and then disappeared. Born of noble blood in the hallowed halls of his Dwarven ancestors, in the old mountains, now flooded with Orcs and others unnameable, where his kin were chased from their homes. Though what began as a noble birth in those once hallowed halls became a humble living amongst the other races. Hated and loathed by others for no other reason than being a dwarf, he grew in a land where honor, virtue, and valor were rarely seen and most spat upon.
Then, on his 33rd birthday he stood before his Dwarven friends and vowed that he would not only stand against those who would cast us down but would raise up a new nobility where Dwarves would be respected Lords once again. He took with him only 2 friends.. and the legend of his journeys and battles are whispered in hushed voices far and wide. They are whispered because such tales of Dwarven people actually becoming Lords once again are like fragile dreams. Thus anything more than a whisper might blow the dream away.
And yet, in silent halls of houses and hovels of dwarves alike they whisper... He's coming... and they wait.
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