The Heroes of Tolmurr
The Saga of Fargrim, part 1
Fargrim walks along the rolling grasslands while speaking aloud. He does not seem to care whether anyone is within earshot
I am Fargrim, son of Fargrim, son of Feldor, son of Forgar, son of Frayfir, son of Fracknar, son of Fayvar, son of Forfarr, son of Frognar, son of Fuldin, son of Folbar, son of Falkar, son of Frey, son of For, son of Fargrim; of the great clan Stoneborn. After my father, who has headed north to find a glorious death, I am the final son of Stoneborn: heir to the Halls of Stone and to the mighty hammer Jawbreaker. I am Fargrim Stoneborn and I am a Dwarf without honour. My honour was stripped from me by my own anger.
For the last while I have been travelling with compatriots again, and I have enjoyed it. For too long did I forsake the companionship of others. Of the group there is Yorrick, a Lupin Woodsman who is skilled with the bow; Zi, a half-elf witch who despite her self-centred nature is quite endearing; Nils, a Dwarf from the hill-lands who is at one with nature; Ricardo, a human with a dazzling collection of hats (I must confess that I do not quite know what it is he does) and Darrius…..a tentacle wizard. They are a good group and together we have done much good in this land. We all have this green mark on our hands and were chosen by some goatmangnome (half goat, half man, half gnome) named Pete. Or Phil. Or Steve. Either way he trains us to be heroes because I guess unlike me thrilling heroics does not come naturally to some of my compatriots. But that’s not their fault, they aren’t Stoneborn like me.
Now several days ago, we set out on a river barge heading after a group of Centaurs who raided our town of Iron Ford. Well it turns out that they didn’t just raid Iron Ford, but all of the towns in the area: those horse-cocked-fey-cunts. They took prisoners too. Don’t know what it is about being a centaur that makes you such a fucking prick (which is ironic because they have a horse’s dick) but what can you do, they’re fey after all. Anyway so this barge we were on belonged to a fellow Dwarf named Orick Boatbeard (Boatbeard may not be his last name but I stopped listening). He was a bit of a merchant who roamed the waterways. Nice bloke. Shame he’s dead.
You see, we were approaching a bridge known to contain a vicious Troll. Not just any Troll mind you, but the very troll that broke my back all those years ago! Apparently when my axe took his head, it wasn’t enough to kill him – now the fucker has TWO heads! Well….had two heads BAHAHAHAHA. Yeah, I killed him again. Nils and Yorrick helped too and were as dependable as any Dwarven warrior (I mean Nils is technically a Dwarf, but Hill Dwarves are like Half-Dwarves because what are hills if not half-Mountains). Anyway Orick was taken captive by one of those stinking scaled fish people (think they’re called a Kuo-Unt). We found them both and the fish fucker had poor Orick against a wall with a spear to his throat. The fish wanted safe passage in return for Orick…but I was still quite angry and threw an axe at him. Wasn’t enough to take him down and he put his spear through poor Orick’s brain. We killed that fish but it wasn’t going to bring Orick back. Yet again, my anger had resulted in the death of someone innocent…..
See, the reason I wear my hair like this is because I have taken the Slayer’s Oath: a vow to atone for my sins by dying an honourable death at the hands of the biggest, baddest, meanest creature I can find. By making my death mean something, I can possibly make up for what I did to the Ironblood clan…
But anyway, I now have another life to atone for. Therefore I have left my compatriouts and am headed back to Milton to find Orick’s kin: a young Dwarven lass by the name of Gertrude. It pains me to leave my allies on the eve of battle, but until I can bring my temper under control I cannot allow myself to be in their presence. I’m incredibly strong when I become enraged, but also far too unpredictable. I hope that my lonesome travels will give me time to work on this. Also to think. There are many things which I need to think about.
Such as Nils, the half(hill)-dwarf. Have I judged him too quickly? Should I ask him about it? He is only half a dwarf so perhaps I should not hold him to full dwarf standards.
And Yorrick. Who is he really? What has he done? Where do the centaurs come from? When did he do it? Why are the centaurs after him? Yes. Those are all of the questions.
What is with this green mark and Pete the Man-Goat-Gnome? Very strange.
AND HOW DID THEY CARVE THROUGH BEDROCK IN THAT HALL PLACE WITH THE WALL WITH THEM PROPHECIES?!?!?! smashes tree with axe. Woops. I hope that tree did not belong to anyone. This is why I must learn to remain calm.
Finally, what am I doing with my life? Is death truly my only hope? If I were to do good things, could I atone for my past? And what about belly grumbles oh. What about lunch?