Role

Chapter 3

"Fuck it," says the small figure, "Me brother is dead, and I've had enough of
battling. I'd rather die than go on like dis." The svirfneblin Drillmasters
words drop like an egg on stone. Sliding his flail into a loop on his belt he
strides off, his head low. Bartis Hammerhand has hammered his last.

Mardrin sighs. Bartis had been a good Drillmaster, and a good friend. For
such a short time in the Village he has seen too few come, and too many go.
He watches, his stormy blue eyes glossy from the verge of tears, as the near
legendary Bartis Hammerhand disappears from view. With a sigh, Mardrin hefts
his maces and turns for the ancient Village of Barbarians.

Known as the Helmsman of the Maiden, Mardrin has gone far in pleasing the
Goddess Neltouda. In such his charge is inspiration... it's primary recipient
the BattleRagers. In present days these are rough seas to sail. Morale among
the few remaining soldiers is low. Even the Swasher of the Maiden, Faeghn,
has lost some of the bounce once in his step. Even for one with such an
indomitable spirit, the breaking of the body can dim even the fires of his
heart.

As Mardrin marches back to the Village he hears the massive giant cry out for
aid. "Imperials at the gates! Ahtieli, Tersia, Talun!"


"Farg," curses the dwarf, and he breaks into a run. The gods still see fit to
protect him from the dread lich Ahtieli (if from only her body, not her
complete lack of personality) but Talund the healer, and Tersia the fire
giant warrior are within his grasp. With Ahtieli to handle the Destructor,
Talund and Tersia will prove difficult foes to conquer.

Still, Mardrin is no stranger to poor odds. His hut is adorned with dozens of
the skulls of fallen foes. The dwarf is a master of nearly every weapon, and
nearly every skill taught in the guild of warriors. He is a specialist of
both maces and flails, and all who have faced him in combat know that even if
they are victorious, a battle with Mardrin will mean heavy wounds to be
nursed for weeks.

Upon arrival Mardrin finds the battle swinging heavily in the favor of the
Imperials. Too few have heeded the call of the giant, and those who have have
been quickly cut down. Bandaging who he can, Mardrin makes for the three at
the tip of the Imperials forces. As he enters the heart of the battle, he
finds the Destructor completed encircled by an army of undead who have risen
from their slumber to answer the necromatic call of Ahtieli. The Destructor
fights bravely, but fights a losing battle.

Despite all his skill and courage, Mardrin too is quickly turned away. The
axework of Tersia is sub-standard to Mardrins eyes, but coupled with the
prayers of Talund proves insurmountable. Quickly bloodied, the dwarf breaks
for the gates of the Village, hoping to get on the river and escape to fight
another day. As he does, the Destructor falls... the bloody head of a
powerless.