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Gwathagor · 09-22-2009, 06:21 PM

Frar leaned heavily against the stone wall and let his axe fall to the ground with a dull but resounding clatter, like heavy bones knocking against each other. His black hair and beard were matted and sticky and made even blacker with orc blood, save for a few red patches where his own blood, oozing from a gash above his right eye, mixed with theirs. The wound had ceased to bleed and was now bandaged with a strip of linen wound many times around his head. His armor was scored deeply on all sides, but only in a few places had it failed altogether, and these wounds too had been bandaged up - and the armor buckled straight back on over them. Altogether, the appearance of the titanic warrior was one of battered, ferocious dignity. Though the head-bandage unfortunately covered his right eye, his Frar's left eye burned with a redoubled fire, a fire that had been rising all day and that the recent battle had only serve to stoke. Frar cast his heavy leather gauntlets down beside the axe, took a deep breath, and looked around him.

All around him were soldiers who had just returned from the field off battle. They trickled in, most wounded, most still in their armor, some of them bearing their gear with them from more distant chambers, clearly with the intent to stay. All were dirty and bruised and beaten in body - but still strong in spirit. They were in a moderately-sized chamber just off the main hall, just an arrow's flight from the Bridge of Khazad-dum, and from here they could answer any threat immediately. In the meantime, they would rest, bind their wounds, and wait.

Frar walked among his soldiers, taking in their strength and morale. He said little, but for his faithful dwarves, his nods and growls spoke plenty. They knew: he was tremendously proud of them and heartbroken at the wounds they had taken.

An hour or so later, his task completed, Frar went in search of Tror, hoping against hope that he had survived the last furious skirmish before the orcs had retreated down the Dale. Their losses had been great and only a very few of their surviving soldiers had gone unscathed. Frar was not excited about bringing his report to Tror, but it was necessary nonetheless.

09-22-2009, 06:21 PM	#191
Gwathagor Shade with a Blade Join Date: Aug 2007 Location: A Rainy Night In Soho Posts: 2,613	Frar leaned heavily against the stone wall and let his axe fall to the ground with a dull but resounding clatter, like heavy bones knocking against each other. His black hair and beard were matted and sticky and made even blacker with orc blood, save for a few red patches where his own blood, oozing from a gash above his right eye, mixed with theirs. The wound had ceased to bleed and was now bandaged with a strip of linen wound many times around his head. His armor was scored deeply on all sides, but only in a few places had it failed altogether, and these wounds too had been bandaged up - and the armor buckled straight back on over them. Altogether, the appearance of the titanic warrior was one of battered, ferocious dignity. Though the head-bandage unfortunately covered his right eye, his Frar's left eye burned with a redoubled fire, a fire that had been rising all day and that the recent battle had only serve to stoke. Frar cast his heavy leather gauntlets down beside the axe, took a deep breath, and looked around him. All around him were soldiers who had just returned from the field off battle. They trickled in, most wounded, most still in their armor, some of them bearing their gear with them from more distant chambers, clearly with the intent to stay. All were dirty and bruised and beaten in body - but still strong in spirit. They were in a moderately-sized chamber just off the main hall, just an arrow's flight from the Bridge of Khazad-dum, and from here they could answer any threat immediately. In the meantime, they would rest, bind their wounds, and wait. Frar walked among his soldiers, taking in their strength and morale. He said little, but for his faithful dwarves, his nods and growls spoke plenty. They knew: he was tremendously proud of them and heartbroken at the wounds they had taken. An hour or so later, his task completed, Frar went in search of Tror, hoping against hope that he had survived the last furious skirmish before the orcs had retreated down the Dale. Their losses had been great and only a very few of their surviving soldiers had gone unscathed. Frar was not excited about bringing his report to Tror, but it was necessary nonetheless.