Thorsten and his three retainers stood invoiliable, without an ounce of fear ushering into their minds. The Gods had called for their fates and at the Gates of Reyn they knew what was to come. A somber silence flooded the valley as all they could do was wait. A challenge to the Umri had been made; consequently - it had been heard.
The ever growing silence had been quenched as quickly as it came about, the thundering noise of hooves against cobble echoed throughout, followed swiftly by the hollow marching of an army. Unwavering in their resolve, the four dwarves remained still now facing a force outnumbering them near 10 to 1.
The prayers to the Gods were bellowed out to the sky, as the Grand King of the Dwarves and his small number of retainers dismounted from their steeds. Without another glance, they threw themselves into the fray - for if they were to perish, they would do so at their Gods’ will.
Thorkyl Ironeye served his king honorably up until he was sent to meet his creators. There was one thing for sure: he had lived an honorable life.
Against great odds, Dutrig Flintbrow fearlessly charges into battle alongside his King and fellow dewizim- for the final time.
Skokock Goldpouch The legend lived his final moments beside his King; for a promise he had always made to himself. He should fight for his King & bleed for him. Now, his body collapsed against the rough pathway of a mere road, red liquid oozing from his wounds- he had paid the ultimate sacrifice for his King. A Warrior's death had befell him, For Ordheim.
And the last of them, Thorsten King of the Dewizim, the Champion of his people would be the last to fall. Fighting for the honor of his gods, he would persevere the longest until his body finally gave way, the sound of clashing metal coming to a halt as his gaze fixated on the skies above. His day had come, and he would be known as a legend to his people. The most honorable of Dwarves, a true Champion.
Long Live The King.