Krak-Thun
The Outskirts of Krak-Thun (K-rack th-une), a small camp of six or seven tents and a campfire, and a large number of Dwarves patrolling and doing their day-to-day business. The cheery tune of a dwarven song, played by one of the bards, is heard throughout the camp.
Hrothgar stood leaning over a large table in his tent, with Fat, Krimil and Seth around it. Two guards also stood at the entrance of the tent, and a squire carrying a small barrel of Hrothgar's favorite ale.
"If we attack now, we'll be able ter take the back of the castle, and get 'em from there. But, if we tek the front, we can easily use the towers ter ar advantage..." Seth said, pushing small dwarven figures across the huge map of Altera, which was sprawled across the table.
"Aye, but if we tek the front, we all 'av ter charge through the gates, givin' 'em an advantage..." Krimil replied, putting back the figures Seth just moved.
"Hmm, Ae say we tek the back tonight at dusk, when they're not as prepared, an' we send a smaller band o' men to the front first, meanin' they 'av ter divide their forces. We can then move in from the back, tek the men there, an' then the men at the front, an' then move into the castle..." Hrothgar planned, as he took a large swig of ale from his mug.
"Aye, sounds like a plan, m'king" Krimil replied, nodding at the plan.
"Hmph, very well. Seth, prepare yer men to attack the back, Krimil, organised a band of weaklin's an' prisoners ter attack the front." Hrothgar said, putting his mug down and preparing to leave.
"Aye, but where're yer goin' m'king?" Seth said, as he turned to leave.
"Ter get me armor yer fool!" He replied, chuckling.
"'An on, yer fightin' with us?" Seth replied in surprise.
"A good King fights for his people, Seth." Hrothgar answered, solemnly.
"Aye." Seth and Krimil replied simultaneously.
Several hours later, snow began to fall rapidly, and the whistling howls of the wind came with it. All fell silent within the camp, as Seth and Krimil organised their men, as Hrothgar sat on his horse in front. A glow of yellow could be seen just north, Krak-Thun's watchmen still awake.
"Tonight men, we are outnumbers two to one, we have three rams, they have four strong, stone walls. Tonight, we have a battle. A battle we will win. We will win this battle, because, no matter how many bloody fags o' men they 'av, The Dwarves of Yearnen will always be victorious, for we will 'av our glory, our Glory of Yore! For Yearnen!" Seth cheered, quiet enough so it would not alert the people of Krak-Thun, but loud enough to be heard.
"Glory of Yore! For Yearnen!" The Dwarves replied, shouting and cheering.
Hrothgar took the last swig of his ale, and raised his shield.
"Right then! Let's go kill some bloody men an' take that effin' castle!" Hrothgar shouted and pressed against his horse, starting into a charge.
Two Hours later, the blizzard still covering the lands with white sheet of ice cold snow, and littered with the bodies and armors of both Dwarves and Humans. Hrothgar stood, pick in hand, covered in blood, and a womb in his right leg. Seth stood with him, looking out for any survivors.
On the other side of the castle stood Krimil and few of the men he had taken with him. Blood and men also littering the floors. The walls, collapsed and broken, were flooded with dead bodies, fire and tar.
Hrothgar smiled as a glow of fire could be seen from the top of the castle, as a flaming flag was risen to the top of the tower.
And the simultaneous crescendo of cheers began.
"Oohrar!"