The Weregild

Reflections of Addarah


Addarah’s backstory

When I was a pup, I lived on the outskirts of the Foundry with my brother K’Drax and our father. In his younger days, my father was a fierce fighter and contributed to the clan by protecting our people from anything that threatened our land. In times of peace, he made his living as a hunter of monsters and animals alike.

As soon as K’Drax and I were old enough to learn a task, he taught it. From setting traps to meticulous ambushes, his plan of attack was always perfection and he expected the same from us. He would often track a creature for months at a time leaving my brother and I to carry on hunting everything that came too close. We easily provided enough for ourselves and whatever was left, was sold to the highest bidder.

K’Drax would often make trips to the forge to trade and always returned with my equal share of the loot and any books he could find. Through studying, he trained me in combat, challenged my ideas, and kept me sharp. Even when our father died and we were sent to the foundry, he was always there for me.

Our time there was well-spent, we learned to work metal and the value of a gold coin. K’Drax thrived in his new environment, his skill with metal and charismatic demeanor quickly made him a favorite among the tribe. I wasn’t unhappy working the forge, but I often found myself wandering out into the wilderness, often only returning when forced to do so.
After four years, the time has come again.

Returning to the Steel Eaters clan

I have argued with Anok about taking back the Foundry for weeks. The scum that killed K’Drax is polluting the halls we walked together as children. The molten anger that fuels my blood ensures my victory. I am eager to reacquaint the dwarven filth with the axe he lost in my brother’s back.

It’s time to steal back the place my brother called home and Anok is wasting time. The coward’s afraid, he lost control of the situation while trying to profit from anyone who had a copper piece . We’ve already sat here for too long, and I think he’s finally realizing that we don’t stand a chance on our own.

A group of adventures has crossed our borders. They look… impressive actually, I’m surprised anyone worth their metal would come to this place. Anok has taken it upon himself to recruit these Harbingers to resolve our dwarf problem. While they look capable, I find I am too impatient to analyze this situation properly. If they are trustworthy, this is our best chance at taking the forge. The blood of my brother is calling to me, urging me every moment to avenge him.

Meanwhile Anok is prattling on about how the foundry will be restored and I can see the gleam his greedy little eyes as he talks about providing weapons for battles in far off places. He seems to forget the dangers that lurk closer to home, even when the dwarves are defeated, the fight will continue.

I can feel the imbalance in the air, evil seems to be pouring out of every fissure of this place lately. The days of peace are behind us.I breathe in the chaos and feel the power of it surge through me.

The steady slow burn of an unending rage.

I’m hungry for revenge.

Addarah’s final letter to K’Drax

_We were victorious brother. Your killer’s skull will be worn on my belt until I am dust: a reminder of what we have accomplished. These Harbingers have allowed us to survive by tipping the battle in our favor. They fought masterfully. Had we met them as children, we would have begged them to stay and teach us their art. While I admire them, I don’t fully trust them. They have secrets motivations that I can’t even imagine. Yet they seem to have a deeper understanding of the world than any of our people. I wonder if they feel the same imbalances as I do.

I spoke with Gutja , he told me about your warband. Father would be so proud. You fought for our people, our rights, Steel-Eater rights.
I only came back to fight for you.
I thought that being back here would bring you closer to me, but the light of the forge is as dull as ever.
Now that you are at peace and your purpose fulfilled, I have to leave. A part of me will always be here with you, and you with me._

Garros Garamonde - The Foundry Aftermath
Preparing to Return


The ancient fortress that is the Foundry was once a standing testament of the powerful heights that the Dwarves claimed upon the surface of Golarion. Since that time, it has seen its former glory lost to Orcish hordes and now Anok would see his clan renewed with purpose – it did not take long before the forges were roaring and hammers beating down upon anvil. Rival and lesser orc tribes alike knew full well the futility of any attempt on Anok and his Steel Eaters for he is both a warrior and master smith in equal measure and the fortifications the Foundry provided were nigh impregnable.

With the preparation of armaments for the Blackravens underway, Garros gathered his new companions; Reginald Barclay, Nergui Li and Addarah along with Anok and rolled out a map of the surrounding areas over top of a long work station.

“It seems that the Foundry is now in your more than capable hands Anok, I can only imagine what horrors would have been unleashed lest the Mistbreather clan had not been put to heel. Yet I cannot linger here any further.”

The Retainer pointed at various points on the map, explaining the layout of the lands and the natural benefits of this route and of course, the potential dangers of the proposed travel path which saw the last mark land upon Kalsgard.

“There is one last thing that I ask of you Anok. In order to preserve as much time as possible, we will require your fastest horses and routes that would see us away from the Kodar Mountains in the quickest possible fashion.”

With a grin, Anok knew that this ask was a trivial one in comparison to the gold the Steel Eaters would soon be reaping as benefit to the aid Garros and his companions had provided in re-securing the Foundry. And with a thunderous snort he turned and walked away, motioning at some of his orc clansmen.

Now, the work station saw the swordsman and the others standing around gazing at the map and the path set out before them. Seizing the moment of privacy, Garros went into further detail explaining how he expected the journey through the Kodar Mountains would see them into the southern boarders of Irrisen within the province of Winercrux which would ideally draw the least amount of attention. At which point they would then travel via the Thundering River, unmolested by any attack on ground and would see them follow into the Rimeflow river and then straight onto Kalsgard. At least, this is what the Retainer had hoped.


Truthfully, the swordsman was unsure if they would all follow him or if this was where their paths parted ways and yet so far, he was speaking as if they were already all in agreement. He was certain that Nergui Li would stand by his side to see her father’s wishes through to the end but Addarah was a Steel Eater and Garros was not entirely certain of her motivations or desires to leave the clan – he did know her capabilities with Magicks would be an asset and ultimately, would welcome her in his journey.

Reginald Barclay was still just a lad – at least – in the eyes of the Retainer and he had already began to form his own assumptions about the young Pathfinder. Garros had figured thus far that Reginald would be keen on a sense of adventure and wanted to carve a name for himself within the Society and if that were the case, he knew there would be much glory and opportunities for fame to be claimed given the path the swordsman was currently set upon. For now, until the Retainer understood Reginald a little better, this would be how he would attempt to appeal to him for he would be a valuable ally to have at his side.

“There is one stop we will be making before we set down upon the Thundering River,” Garros motioned over Wintercrux and placed a mark in its south western region, “Thanegraves”.

When Baba Yaga swiftly crushed the Djustor Confederacy and Raemarrund in equal measure both and only within a matter of weeks in 3313 AR she also brought the unending winter. Prior to Baba Yaga’s complete annihilation of this region – families would entomb the most ornate and priceless worldly possessions with their dead at this burial site. Naturally over time, this tomb where every noble and petty king had been interred was now all but forgotten, save for a select few or those stupid enough to stumble across it.

“I can’t say for certain what lies there now in that crypt but taking possession of what rightfully belongs to my people…” there was a long pause, “What STILL belongs to Raemarrund…”

“This will provide us with a means to afford our preparedness for what is to come and what we will do.”


Gutja bids farewell
Steel Eaters lose one of their own...


Gutja approached Addarah. He was a relatively lithe and gaunt half-ulfen half-orc man passing into the elder years by his kinds standards. Addarahs’ brother had been well respected in his craft and skill at arms.

The girl was younger than her brother and had been away from the Foundry for coming on 4 years by his counting. Anok had always had favorites among the clan and both of these youngin had excelled with their learning and benefited from special attention.

“Ey ‘Darrah. Listen ’ere. Thing is. Listen. Gyal. We, I uh…I bin meanin’ to tell ya…” Hearing himself struggle to find the words frustrated him and he became angry despite himself

“Damnit! I been some sore ova’ your bruddahs death. Been meanin’ to tell ya he fought damn good. Betta’ than me. Harda’ than the rest. Good an’ ARD ya know?” He took a deep breath to continue. His eyes glassy and intense.

“Anok not be tellin’ ya he dun made ‘him Boss o’ his own warband. Propa’. Him an his boyz was the first ones topside ’ere up outta the forges when the fight started and lasted right till the end when Anok sound da retreat to the boats.” He exhaled sharply through his teeth.

“Too eager to impress us old boyz and Anok. We shoulda’ stayed on and on ya know. Fought widdem and his boys…I tried. I was ’avin a go at them dwarves but Anoks boys pulled me off. Shoulda lemme go on. Shoulda been me puttin dat axe through that dwarves belly ya know.” Gutja snarls and spits.

“You done right by avengin’ him and we gotta thank you. You ain’t like these and them. Different. Right grand. Big things in store for you me thinkin’ and we knowin’ you will be back to travellin’ on” He regains his composure and continues.

“You always remember us ‘ere up in the mountain. We settin’ to work helpin’ your new friends there. Anok swearin’ to help them Blackraven boys meanin’ ALL the Steel Eaters swearin’ it too. If we gonna be workin’ widdum we need be showin’ them what we about.” He grins, tusks showing proudly.

“You bein’ our ambassador now me thinkin’. Showem what the Steel Eaters about gyal. Show all them North people what we about. Most of all…” His brow sets lower as well as his voice.

“Be makin’ sure they pay.”

He offers a scarred fore-arm and clasps wrists in a warrior handshake. Nodding, he moves back down into the Foundry.

Garros Garamonde - The Last Harbinger
Yet Another Page Turns


Walking side by side with death
The Witches mock their every step.
The snow drives back the foot that’s slow
The dogs of doom are howling more.

They carry news that must get through
To build a dream for me and you,
They choose the path where no one goes.

The mind is often never considered a weapon – yet left neglected or simply pushed beyond it’s capacity to endure – it will weaken, it will crumble and inevitably it will break. This, of course, is not unlike the weapon a man wields when going to battle and so it is easy to see the similarities between the two. The differences lie in that after one is damaged and broken – it can be reforged and remade.

The other could not.

Garros knew this as much as his body knew to draw precious oxygen and fill his lungs, his heart to pump blood through his body – what he also knew was doubt was beginning to sink in. Like a fissure in a rock, it would only continue to grow in time if left unchecked. The Retainer was far from unhinged, yet the recent events in the Kodar Mountains had certainly pushed him to extremes.

So many have come and gone and while not all have been permanent, Garros could not stop and wonder if the Gods were mocking him, for those closest and dearest to him were no longer of this world. The swordsman hoped that with the advances made, the alliances forged and most recently – securing of The Foundry – all that has been lost was not in vain.

But the death of Zhixian Li was just as recent and just as heavy on the swordsman and weighed most profoundly. The Kodar Mountains were no final resting place for a man such as Zhixian Li and it had killed a part of Garros that he could not give him the proper respects by returning him to the land, however, he honoured him the only way he could and had lit the funeral pyre. He had only hoped that wherever the venerable Tian would end, he would be at peace.


Putting such thoughts as best as he could from his mind, the Retainer would fortify his mind and cope the only way he had ever known how to deal with loss – focusing on the task at hand. This was something the swordsman had become increasingly efficient at and was not to be mistaken as cold-hearted.

The fact remained – Garros was now the sole surviving Harbinger as deemed by Eldrim Wyrdmake before leaving Kalsgard. Yet the Retainer could not help but feel wonderment concerning his new companions. The young lad, who devilishly wielded a whip and despite feeling a slight pang of frustration when he spoke, not out of any sort of malice towards the man, rather he sometimes wished he got to the point. In spite of this, Garros was remarkably impressed with Reginald Barclay and would undoubtedly come to rely on him in the future, for someone who was apart of the Pathfinder Society was an asset in of itself.

There was, of course, Nergui Li. The Retainer felt elation and sorrow and equal measure when it came to Zhixian Li‘s daughter. This duality would present itself in sorrow because it would forever be a constant reminder of what was lost, elation because it would be an opportunity to learn about the progeny of his best friend. And though he did not know much about her, Garros was deeply honoured by Zhixian’s final request to his daughter and would do everything in his power to see that the Witches of Irrisen would not extend their tyranny any further.

Addarah the half-orc was a curious one. The Retainer had respect for the Steel Eater Clan and she could no less handle her own. Magicks had always been a bitter pill to swallow for the swordsman and would sooner put his trust and faith in his own two hands yet if it was not for Addarah, King Ezelgard would not be lying lifeless – innards spilled on the onyx floor by the sheer onslaught of the swordsmans blades. Anok, Steel Eater Warlord would not be the only ally gained and thus the war effort would be vastly improved for the Ulfen peoples.

Despite all of this, in his heart, Garros knew that there was still so much that needed to be accomplished before a true strike against the Witches of Irrisen could be successful. His personal coffers were next to depleted and gold would be needed mobilize their own war efforts let alone any sort of large scale assault. There had been no word of Irrisen or the Land of The Linnorn Kings and their current state of affairs, for much could have changed since their departure.

He thought back to his single combat against Duke Arvanoff and the sheer power Queen Elvanna had wielded. He also thought of the Ulfen people, squabbling over petty raids and petty kings, divided and weakened. Though more personally, he though of Raemarrund and the weight he carried as last of their kind.

It was time to unite the clans and the people’s of the Land of the Linnorm Kings. The Retainer knew full well the stakes and what was on the line and thought back to his audience with Sveinn Blood-Eagle before the Harbringers left Kalsgard that now, felt so long ago.

“Now, you’ve achieved more than anyone has dreamed but fighting these odds, it looks like rage, not courage.” proposed the King of Kalsgard.

Letting out a deep sigh Garros looked directly at Sveinn Blood-Eagle, “It’s well beyond rage. Help me. In the name of the Gods, help yourselves! Now is our chance. Now! If we join, we can win. If we win, well then we’ll have what none of us have ever had before: our country united and our lands reclaimed!”

The proud Ulfen people will bow only to those who can prove their worth. Lofty words and charismatic leaders hold no respect to the people of the Land of the Linnorm Kings. Only those who can take the head of a Linnorm are worthy – only the hard. Only the strong.

“It is time return to the Land of The Linnorm Kings,” whispered the Retainer.

Retribution of the Steel Eaters
A short siege. A long road ahead.


Anok turned from the Harbingers and looked high into the sky above the Foundry. Doomguides dropped like flies. Their mounts uncooperative and attempting to dismount their riders. The foreboding red sky and accursed lightning was subsiding. Javelins and arrows rose up from the broken ranks of Steel Eaters as they fired recklessly. He fought the urge to shout them back into order and instead, laughed heartily.

“Go on ‘ave yo fun boyz! Gon’ be a long time ’for anyone git tha stones ta test da Steel Eaters again!”

He had been unable to hold his army in line once the first wave of attackers had sallied out from the fortress and broken against their concentrated arrow fire and ballista salvo. He knew too well that if the doors had not swung open their attack would have stalled on the bridge and they would have been massacred. Whatever spell or power had bound the Mistbreathers creatures to purpose was broken. The foundry was theirs again thanks to the Harbingers and the young Adarrah.

The girl had promise, he knew that from early on, she mastered the forge with ease and had moved on to study wild magicks. She seemed to like the newcomers. He looked over at her and grinned. She was threading the jaw onto a decapitated skull so it would stay whole. He was curious what she planned now that she had had her vengeance here.

The other members of the group where returning through the gates into the courtyard and beginning to pick through the detritus of the battle and conversing amongst themselves. He would honor his word to help them. Their patrons promised to pay well. Despite owing everything to them he was excited by the prospect of Blackraven gold. Such an infusion of wealth would help him put the Foundry back into proper business.

He felt the warmth of the Bloodflame ring surge through his veins and he roared in excitement.

“Aight ‘ere we go Steel Eataz back to work den! Git to clearin’ out the hall and yard. Git it back way we ’ad it.”

He pushed his way inside and made for the forges. He would see about these arms and armor for the Linnorm Kings war against the witches.

Kodar Mountain Pass
Harbingers remade


Awaking in the shelter of an embankment along the road North of the Foundry to Sigreirs Pledge the Harbingers had little time to collect themselves before they where set upon by two of the more vicious creatures they had encountered to date.

With one of the beasts immediately in their midst Garros and Li set to work attempting to flank it and land some blows. Using his far more agile steed Gorbachov to occupy it Li set to work weaving his spells. Shaking off the fog of sleep that only minutes before had felt so welcoming Garros and Li struck a few blows but it became obvious this corrupted spawn might soon get the better of them.

Unbeknownst to them – just above – a similar battle was playing out. Tyraad and Reginald, adventurers in league with the Heralds of Summers Return, where dealing with their own six legged horror. They seemed to have more success and dispatched the creature with the sure strikes of Tyraads Alce Griffon, Capall.

Before the newcomers could rush to the aid of Garros and Li the bandersnatch overcame them. Laying Garros low with several brutal sweeps of its barbed tail as he tried to put it down from its flank to prevent any further harm to Li and Gorbachov. Reginald jumped down the embankment to save the fallen Ulfen man but was too late. Zhixian Li, the venerable friend of Garros through many trials, stepped around his horse and confronted the creature to distract it from ending Garros life.

Though valiant, the maneuver wasn’t enough. Spawned from the cruel intentions of the rough beast god Rovagug the creature lashed out at Zhixians fragile frame as he moved and the old Tian man fell dead into the snow.

As the beast hovered over its kill Reginald saw his opportunity and dealt it a grave wound causing it to flee. A few more opportune attacks adeptly delivered as the creature fled finally put it down.

Garros was revived and helped upright by Tyraad and Reginald who gave him a wide berth to process what had happened. Tyraad and Garros where only brief acquaintances from some early skirmishes with Irrisen forces near the border. It would take some explaining, more than there was time for now, before they could possibly come to an understanding again. Perhaps they could be united in their goals to thwart the white witches again but time would tell.

A funeral pyre was made for Li and though the fuel was meager the fire burned brightly as if Li himself was made from dried leaves and kindling. Gorbachov wandered away quietly after being ushered on by Garros.

Though little did he know now, he would see the great steed again very soon…

Then there was two.
Some comrades are lost along the way...

Aldrych Betyrina wakes. The stars on this frigid night in the Kodar Mountains are incredibly brilliant in the inky dark blue sky. He had only enjoyed a few hours rest, all that could be managed before he jolted awake again from the moaning complaints in his head from Bel’akor, the fey spirit trapped in his blade.

The creature wanted violence. It was frustrated by the long journeys and staying in the sheath so long while Aldrych slept, ate, walked or conversed with his comrades. Every waking moment was spent assuring and persuading the possessed weapon there would be death to deliver. “We are going back for justice” he promised. “WHEN” it demanded. Again and again. They where so close again now to wretched Irrisen.

Both of them had been wronged terribly by the White Witches. Cursed or betrayed. Tricked into servitude. What they where living now was not the freedom they imagined. It was more dirty work for the Blackravens and their masters. Aldrych looked down at his sleeping comrades. His first adventures with them almost a year now in memory. He liked them. He did not however, share their identity as true Harbingers of Spring (As they where called by the Ulfen patriots.)

He bends down and rolls up his bedroll. Resolved, he looks North. There is enough light to make some ground through the Mountains. Ultimately it was not a hard decision. He felt ready to confront the Witches on his own terms. No more time would be wasted doing errands for Linnorm Kings he had sworn no fealty to – and his new closest friend would feed on the flesh of the Jadwiga.

Vassily Rudevic Nabokov hears the crunch of boots in the snow as Aldrych steps over him. The steps echo seemingly forever. It makes him feel nauseous. Like vertigo. It is vertigo. He’s falling.

He jolts awake. No he’s behind the wall of sleep again.


One of the denizens coalesces before him. He grips his axe and charges with a roar. It happened again. He knew his escape wouldn’t be so easy this time.

Aldrych looks back at Vassily to ensure he didn’t wake him. He’s still sleeping soundly.

Like the dead.

The Foundry
Not the expected welcome...


The Foundry was not what was expected. What was once a great Dwarven hold was a motley collection of miscreants and outcasts. Strangely devoid of places of worship (Namely great temples to Torag) and lacking much of the trade and craft that even a newly founded settlement would offer, the Harbingers make their stay short.

Even with only vague rumor to attract them here their mission was still clear. The lords of the Foundry would need to be made allies of Blackraven Hall in the coming conflict. King Ezelgar was either a puppet or a genuine fool by their reckoning and was poorly squandering the opportunity to lift the hold back up to its former glory.

…and who where the Mistbreather Clan? Why where they lying about their conflict with the Orcs? Dwarves certainly tended to embellish their stories but that could be trusted. Blatantly fabricating a deed was a terribly dishonorable thing to do.

At least this ‘Curse’ was a lead and potentially something that would make Ezelgar and his cohort more pliant when negotiating if it was dispelled.

The Harbingers decided to investigate the source. Sigreirs pledge.

Something that was forgotten

Vas ached with every exertion of breath. The fight with the Shadows outside the Nidalese nobles’ house had left him as week as a toddler. It would be a long recuperation. He would not abase himself before some preaching quymn again so quickly. No, some days of bed rest, a little help from Li and this would all be like another bad hangover.

So, Vas sat in the bed the nobles had given him. Befitting his current weakness the bed seemed to be made for someone significantly smaller than him. If not for his sickness he’d sooner sleep on the floor. Despite is inner protestations, Vas fell into a trance deeper than slumber. He could feel himself awakening again behind the wall of sleep. Leng. He hadn’t been here since he left Molthune so many months ago. That could only mean…

“Hello, Lover”.

“Hello again, Cassandra”.


The Next morning Vas was gone.

Vas pulled himself from the lake. He supposed he should be used to being dropped back into the most interesting of places by this point. A tower loomed in the distance. He was back in Golarion. Back on solid ground. He thought about what Cassandra had told him before he left. Was it true? Were the rest of the Brotherhood of Butchery really dead? He hadn’t given them much thought since his imprisonment at Blackraven Hall. He supposed it was only a matter of time. One didn’t rack up such a body count without making a few enemies. And Figgus was dead, too. Something was coming for him, and everyone else connected to him, it seemed.

Cassandra had bought him a reprieve in Leng. It would be short one, though. If what she’d discovered about his heritage was true he’d be in for the biggest fight of his life. Who better to drag into it than the only other people he even came close to caring about? The Lords of Leng told him they’d be in Varisia, so that must be where he was now. The coming weeks promised blood and carnage in equal measure. Vas hoped the Harbingers were up for the hell he kited with him.

The Kodar Mountains
The Long Road Home


The road was long and arduous north along the Mindspin mountains as the Harbingers answered the call to the legendary Dwarven Foundry made by Eldgrim Wyrdmake.

Supplied with fresh mounts from Braganza the Harbingers headed for the border. Tom knew well to give Fort Ramgate a wide berth so the group made for the westmost river crossing in the foothills. Upon reaching what the locals called the “Inkwater” river, Tom chose to scout ahead, encountering two Nirmathi scouts bracketing the river he engaged and killed one before returning to the party.

Deciding it was the best course of action to cross the river and gain as much ground as possible before the patrol returned with reinforcements the Harbingers force marched North west higher into the foothills before sheltering in one of Zhixian Lis’ famous Groves of Respite.


Awaking in the night Garros Garamonde spotted a flight of Harpies headed into the Mindspin mountains. This proved useful when the group ascended into the pass leading to the Bloodsworn Vale. Knowing their song could be lethal the group followed Li’s example and packed their ears with clay earth which, while causing some disorientation, did aid them in the coming confrontation with the avian hags. Bloodied, only one harpy escaped the ambush they had laid.

Victorious the Harbingers descended into the Bloodsworn Vale to rest.


Days passed on the road. The relative safety of the Varisian roads was a welcome respite. Horses where watered and fed regularly and the group was able to take in the beauty of the fertile plains of Varisias lowlands.

Their destination however would again lead them high into the Kodar mountains. According to Aldrytch knowledge of this area south of his homeland they would need to find a 400 foot high section of the Plateau called the Storval Stairs.


Halfway up the climb, while resting on a convenient ledge, the Harbingers where approached by a giant who introduced himself kindly to Zhixian Li as “Cliff”. After a brief discourse Cliff offered to take first watch while his new friends rested. He then promptly fell asleep.

In the morning the new friends parted ways and continued the climb.


Encountering some odd formations in the ground and almost losing a comrade to the toxic affects, Li carefully reasoned that the fissures where in fact rifts that leaked negative energy into the material plane. Barely detectable tracks showed that a group of Guiltgorgers must have emerged and now wander the Mountains, but at whose bidding?

Cautiously the Harbingers continued on into the mountains on the final approach to the Foundry.


The bridge leading into the Foundry from the south was packed with Varisian Merchants, Dwarven emissaries, and many other folk looking to capitalize on the news that the Foundry was back in Dwarven hands. Soon after they joined the crowd attempting to gain access to the bridge a crashing thunder ripped across the mountains, the sky filled with dense red clouds and began spewing Doomriders and torrential rain at an alarming rate. Engaging the first few infernal goat mounted riders the Harbingers quickly decided to aid the people trapped on the bridge by forcing the gates open. Grateful travellers abandoned their goods on the bridge and rushed into the Foundry.


With all safe inside the gates where sealed. Survivors within listened in fear or anger as the storm raged on and the Doomriders screamed their curses or bade their mounts beat upon the gates with their massive horns. Negative energy crackled around the hinges as those riders with magical affinity cast spells in vain attempts to gain entry…

Things where not off to a good start for whomever these upstart Dwarves where that had liberated the Foundry.


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