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Old 02-19-2009, 12:08 PM   #127
Groin Redbeard
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
 
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Join Date: Nov 2007
Location: Facing the world's troubles with Christ's hope!
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Groin Redbeard is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.Groin Redbeard is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.
Trór

A smile slowly came over Trór’s face. He could t help but enjoy the way this coversation was heading: soon his purppose would be known. Trór hadn’t smiled all day and it felt good to have forgotten his cares

“A brewer?” Trór flung his head back and laughed. “So you are responsible for good ale that the colony has been blessed with! I have met some brewers in my time, mostly drunks and dotards, but, Kórin, you are different.

“You say that you are better with an axe than at brewing ale. I am giving you a choice to join the fight that’s coming; Mahal knows that I need every man I can find. I need fighters! This is not the time for council or hesitation, Kórin. Action is needed and I sense that you are that sort of dwarf. Will you join?”

Trór tried to read Kórin’s thoughts. However, the expression on her face looked blank. The proposition was tough to make, and she knew it.

“Know that I am not forcing my will on you, Kórin, as I soon must do to all the able bodied men of Khazad-dum. This is your choice, choose it carefully. I will not ask you again and I will not release yo from service until this crisis has abated, if you accept.”

A stiff breeze blew up the old road into Trór’s face and stole his attention to the sands of Mirrormere. Even though the lake was to far off to be seen, especially since the dark reign of night blinded everyone's vision. Trór thought that he could see its waters dancing in the moonlight. He could see dwarves scattered about the lake’s banks searching the precious roots and herbs that covered the area. On the horizon, dark clouds were gathering; Trór could hear screams of the woman and the horrendous laughter of the cruel invaders. The vision faded as the sound of many stomping feet reached his ears. He calmly turned to see the arrival of his troops. This was the core of what would stop the orcs.

The soldiers began to organize themselves in ordered lines; their huge statures belittled Kórin’s.
What are you thinking, Trór? A woman amidst the ranks of these warriors? Come to your senses! She has no training or knowledge in warfare; she will be kill in the first skirmish. Kórin will be better off with the other inexperienced dwarves. Your offer will kill her.

Although fighting woman were not out of the ordinary in dwarven culture, it was certainly not the normal thing to do. Nevertheless, those eyes of Korin’s held back a fire: an untamable spirit that reminded Trór of himself. If her steel would not prove worthy, then that would be the price she would pay. It was no concern of his if she died. Hundreds will die before this engagement would cease.

Last edited by Groin Redbeard; 02-19-2009 at 01:02 PM.
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