I
The silence had gone on for far too long, lingering in the dank shattered temple room, a heavy shadow against possibility. The Warven cursed, echoing in the sealed door that kept the intruders. Bashing against the stone door, they had long since crushed enchantments that had protected him. If not for this rough angular features, C'ang Derr'Thorn would have appeared to be a normal blood-crazed dwarf. Yet this was no ordinary dwarf.
Built of a heartier stock than his southern-diluted kin, the Warven dwelled in the North, separated for millennia. Shut off in the once fabulous underground cities of the Isa Mountain range, , few, like C'ang, ventured forth, curious about the ways of presumed southern civilization. The cold and harsh weather had emphasized the higher cheekbones, the angular muscularity, and a thicker barrel frame that held within a heart which worked more like a metaling forge than an organ. Rare to see one of his kind in the south, and even more ironic to see one deep within the confines of an ancient underground system- let alone cornered by the ravenous undead.
Armed to capacity, the Warven carried an unusually broad double axe, its edge appearing more like teeth than steel. His armor encasing his thick torso, moved with him in an intricate display of overlaying plates. Each plate crafted to tell its own tale of show off another kill. The masterwork carried the distinctive signature and style of its bearer, a master armorer and weaponsmith.
Harnessing the powers of fire and water that once ascended his race from mediocrity to dominance of the underground by forging works of steel and architecture, C'ang considered himself an apprentice cleric. The Warven then cast a rune upon the floor to summon an astral link to his employer, the Notar. Yet despite his desperation, nothing emerged from the letter, as if Templeton no longer existed.
With increased strength, the undead bashed at the door separating them from C'ang. The Warven, in desperation, bowed in deep prayer, chanting ancient stories of smithing and war, before the giant figure of Uruz.
The silence had gone on for far too long, lingering in the dank shattered temple room, a heavy shadow against possibility. The Warven cursed, echoing in the sealed door that kept the intruders. Bashing against the stone door, they had long since crushed enchantments that had protected him. If not for this rough angular features, C'ang Derr'Thorn would have appeared to be a normal blood-crazed dwarf. Yet this was no ordinary dwarf.
Built of a heartier stock than his southern-diluted kin, the Warven dwelled in the North, separated for millennia. Shut off in the once fabulous underground cities of the Isa Mountain range, , few, like C'ang, ventured forth, curious about the ways of presumed southern civilization. The cold and harsh weather had emphasized the higher cheekbones, the angular muscularity, and a thicker barrel frame that held within a heart which worked more like a metaling forge than an organ. Rare to see one of his kind in the south, and even more ironic to see one deep within the confines of an ancient underground system- let alone cornered by the ravenous undead.
Armed to capacity, the Warven carried an unusually broad double axe, its edge appearing more like teeth than steel. His armor encasing his thick torso, moved with him in an intricate display of overlaying plates. Each plate crafted to tell its own tale of show off another kill. The masterwork carried the distinctive signature and style of its bearer, a master armorer and weaponsmith.
Harnessing the powers of fire and water that once ascended his race from mediocrity to dominance of the underground by forging works of steel and architecture, C'ang considered himself an apprentice cleric. The Warven then cast a rune upon the floor to summon an astral link to his employer, the Notar. Yet despite his desperation, nothing emerged from the letter, as if Templeton no longer existed.
With increased strength, the undead bashed at the door separating them from C'ang. The Warven, in desperation, bowed in deep prayer, chanting ancient stories of smithing and war, before the giant figure of Uruz.