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Fenrik Ironhide

A Dwarf from the Eastern Mountains, Fenrik is a powerful old warrior who has taken an interest in the struggles of man.

0 · 281 views · located in The Kingdom of Kregune

a character in “The Fate of Kregune”, as played by TheRose202


Name: Fenrik Ironhide
Description: Standing at a squat height of only four feet even, this Dwarven man nevertheless strikes an imposing figure. Like many of his people, he has broad, muscular shoulders and a thick chest, as well as extremely powerful, if short, arms and legs. He has light brown, deep eyes, his stoic, steely gaze speaking of experience and power, hinting at his great age. He has shoulder-length white hair, some of the locks twisted into braids in the back, spaced evenly between the thick, free hair that makes up the majority of it. His most striking feature, however, is his long white beard, trailing down to his waistline, several thick braids tying it together. He clearly takes great pride in the care of his facial hair, as any self-respecting dwarf should, as it's always clean and healthy, and he strokes it regularly while he speaks. His voice is low and powerful, harshened by the accent of his people, like a rough diamond ground against stone. His old, wisened face speaks of many human generations of experience, and his flesh is scarred in many different places, although none are immediately visible upon his face. When outside of battle, he normally wears a thick Dwarven-made long coat, crafted from fur and leather, over a simple yet resplendent silken shirt. The ensemble is completed by a pair of loose black leather trousers and a set of sturdy leather boots, both of which offer great protection from the elements.
Alignment: Throne Loyalist
Historical background: Hailing from the Eastern Mountain ranges, Fenrik is the son of Snorri Mountain-Breaker, emissary to the Lands of Men and formerly the Dwarven King's right hand. While most Dwarves are isolationist and maintain little to no contact with the outside world, Fenrik's upbringing gave him a unique perspective on mankind. He would often go with his father to the twelve villages when a trade agreement needed to be hammered out or an ultimatum delivered. He would interact with the people, carouse with the other men in the taverns, and generally mingle with the humans, much to the chagrin of his father. The humans fascinated him by how much they were able to accomplish in their measurably shorter lifespans. He was intrigued by their almost Dwarven resolve in the face of adversity, despite many from his home calling them soft. He relished the visits to the villages. However, when the dragons awoke, the Eastern Mountains bore the brunt of their initial assault, and Fenrik, at the young age of fifty, was suddenly left without a father. Snorri Mountain-Breaker died fighting off the draconic assault, and Fenrik was left to take up his mantle. He took over as emissary and right hand to the King and has since fought in many battles and organised many pacts, gaining grizzly scars and a reputation to match. Ever since the death of his father he's been a gruff, stoic man, although he still has a soft spot in his heart for humanity, and has been a loyal friend to the Kings for generations. Now, with war breaking out, he prepares to answer the call to arms from the King, honouring pacts his father made in the past, even at the cost of his relationship with the Dwarven Lords. With an army of Dwarven warriors loyal to his name at his back, he marches toward Kregune.
Place of origin: Eastern Mountains
Likes: Battle, Dwarven Ale, travel
Dislikes: Insubordination, betrayal, disloyalty, human-made ale
Equipment: He wears a set of expertly-forged Dwarven Plate into battle, engraved with dozens of Dwarven power runes, likely very, very old and clearly crafted by the best smiths under the mountains. His weapon of choice is the ancestral battle axe of his house, a heavy monster of a weapon made of mithril, the edges serrated and stories of his house engraved in gold into the haft and head. His secondary weapon is a straight, thick-bladed dwarven shortsword and buckler, of fine make but comparitively plain.
Biggest fear: He fears for his people, as with the resurgence of the dragons comes dragonfire, the thing that almost destroyed his home once before.
Starting Location: Alabaith, to answer the call of the King.

So begins...

Fenrik Ironhide's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Vesta Character Portrait: King Ferin Alabaith Character Portrait: Alexis Randle Character Portrait: Fenrik Ironhide Character Portrait: Lilandra Oscarl Character Portrait: Alex Chrome
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Today marks the beginning of the fourth year that King Ferin has sat on the throne. Rumors of the rebel army's plans circulate around the kingdom. The dragons guarding the castle are getting restless, snapping at random people going in and coming from the castle. Rebel bands have been ransacking army caravans and stealing their materials. Other than that it's been calm, as though a storm has been looming over everyone. People are preparing for it. Shops are closing residents of Alabaith are up and leaving,

Today is also supposed to be the festival of the Kings crowning but the decorations are minimal at best. All across the kingdom people are holding their breath, going about their normal lives as quietly as possible. The army has been stationed in every major city, leaving about three of their numbers at the smaller villages. They talk of their protection as they take over their homes for their own needs. You hardly see children out anymore, least they laugh and get a lecture about how there is nothing to yell about. The impending war has caused silence to fall over the kingdom. The Kings crest rest at safe houses for his army, as the generals have thought of almost everything.

In the forest the Rebel army prepares, their leader pouring over maps in search of what she believes will be their saving grace and turn the tides for them. Their outposts in the select few caves around the kingdom ready their messenger ravens and prepare to receive them as well. Correspondence is necessary in a war and what better they thought than a raven to carry their messages. There is a symbol that only the one's who have been part of the rebels long enough know signaling a safe house for them if they need it. The symbol is a crescent moon with a raven beside it. They do this knowing that they will need them at some point.


Feara slammed her hands down on the map. She had this disheveled look about her. Her hair had strayed from it's braids and hung loosely around her shoulders. Her eyes were tired as she hadn't slept in three days pouring over the maps relentlessly. She sat down and rubbed her eyes, trying to clear them of the fog that had clouded her mind. She looked over at the one who had been with her since the beginning, Hera.

"Why is this search so hard? Why does he keep eluding me so?" she asked her.

Hera smiled kindly, "Maybe it's because you need rest. I'm sure everyone will understand if you take a break."

"If my brother does not rest, how can I? As he sends his army out to control the subjects, how can I take a break?" Feara said.

"You're no good half dead either My Lady Feara." Hera said and guided her over to her makeshift cot. "They will be fine as long as you get the rest you need." she added.

Nodding, Feara laid down, and closed her eyes, immediately falling asleep showing just how exhausted she was.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Fenrik Ironhide Character Portrait: Alex Chrome Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Somewhere near the center of the coronation festivities sits a gruff old Dwarven general, dressed in ceremonial garb made of rich hides and embezzled with precious stones, a heavy diamond pendant hanging from his neck, refracting any available light and shining as brilliantly as a star. This brilliance is in stark contrast to the dark grimace upon his face, however, as his eyes glance over his surroundings. The king's coronation should be a grandiose event, he thinks, not this poor excuse for a village harvest festival. The entertainers are sparse and the crowds are worse, and while Fenrik would normally be quite content with this lack of noise and distraction, the circumstances make this a foreboding sign. Very few people were compelled to join the festivities, it seems, and this shows a fundamental and potentially deadly weakness in the King's power base. A newly crowned king should establish his strength and power from the second that crown sits upon his head. As it is, it doesn't look too promising.

An old, raspy, and yet somehow strong voice breaks his concentration, coming from his second command, Balin Dragonsbane, sitting beside him and drinking a powerful-smelling Dwarven stout. "You look troubled, my friend," he says, "is something bothering you?"
"I cannae say. Saying it out-loud in such a place could garner the wrong kind'o attention, I'm sure," responds the general in his own wisened, yet still booming voice, before taking a long swig from a stone carved tankard within his own hands. The two of them make quite the unusual pair, standing out from the rest of the crowd like a sore thumb. The Dwarves of the Eastern Mountains are a reclusive sort, and as a result it's very likely these two are the only Dwarves in the entire festival. Fenrik ignores the stares of the humans as they pass.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Fenrik Ironhide Character Portrait: Alex Chrome Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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#, as written by Edgeout
Alex was twirling his sword, poking the dragon from time to time making sure it was still awake. What a bore this festival was, even the food was poorly done. Alex grazed over the party until his eyes spotted two dwarves. This was an unusual sight. Usually the Dwarves are an exclusive folk why would they be here? Judging from the armor that one of the Dwarves were wearing Alex could tell he was one of the kings guard.
"Great." Alex mumbled. "More guards." He was oblivious to the fact that he was addressing the general of the king's army. As much as Alex would have loved to go down and play with the Dwarves, he was not allowed to leave the castle gates, as it was a requirement for the job, but who cared? Certainly not the the king, nor the people here.
Alex walked towards the table filled with food to see if he can get any, but then decided not to after seeing the quality.
"I rather have dragon meat than this." He said face looking annoyed. He turned to go back to his post, but were too curious about what the Dwarves were talking about, and proceeded to hide near the trees to ease drop on them.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Fenrik Ironhide Character Portrait: Lilandra Oscarl Character Portrait: Alex Chrome Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Lilandra glanced out of the shaded window of her coach, a black carriage with the coat of arms of her family etched in black thread on the side and pulled by a pair of dark mares, watching the walls of the capital growing closer while she lightly traced her finger against the darkened glass. The journey had been tiresome as far as she was concerned, made even worse by the temperature down here on the lowlands. How people could deal with this heatwave on a daily basis was beyond her and her irritation showed, twisting her porcelain features into a look of disgust. She was broken from her internal grumble by a low chuckle from the seat opposite her where an older man with black hair, peppered with grey and a heavily scarred visage sat shaking his head.

”Something funny Taric?”

“Aye, just reminded of when you were having to do something you didn’t want as a child. You made that face then.”

She rolled her eyes before smiling a little back towards Taric.

”Maybe I did. So any word what your nephew has been up to in the capital? I still don’t know why my father made him the ambassador for?”

“I know as much as you about the activities of your brother, but we’ll find out later today. The festivities for the king should be in full swing over the next couple of days though the city ahead seems rather… quiet.”

Nodding, half to herself she turned back towards the window and couldn’t help but agree with her uncle’s assessment. The city did seem to lack the hustle and bustle she’d have expected from the city, least of all in the run up to the celebrations around their king’s birthday. As the coach passed near the town square Lilandra noticed that the decoration seems sparse and shoddy in places which struck her as odd. She called for the coach to stop which raised an eyebrow from her uncle but ignoring him she stepped out onto the cobbled street and stared across the groups of peasents milling around and continuing with their lives. She slowly ran her hands through her silvery hair and turned to look back at the coach, watching her uncle descending the steps after her and two armoured guards climbing down from the rear roof to stand either side.

The two guards are attired as appropriate for the knights of Trigathis, with large Nagamaki strapped across their back and dressed in heavy black full plate and take up their position close to their mistress, glancing for a moment towards Taric for any difference in their orders.

“Your brother will be expecting us, and I highly doubt he’ll accept our dalliance.”

”My little brother will most likely throw a tantrum but not in public. Which is what matters. If you want you could always ride on ahead and speak with him? No? I thought not, he is an irritable bore at the best of times.”

Shaking his head Taric turned towards the pair of guards still stations on the front of the coach and ordered them to ride on towards the housing of the Trigathis embassy with word that they would arrive later once they had dealt with business elsewhere. As the coach pulled away and made its way elsewhere in the city Taric nodded towards the two remaining guards and looked at his neice before somewhat overly exaggeratedly extending his hand out towards the square around them.

“Lead the way my dear. But try to keep out of trouble.”

Smiling sweetly as if just an innocent little girl Lilandra slowly began to walk through several of the stalls, her staff clinking against the stone ground with every other step. Her interest was piqued a little as she spotted a pair of dwarves but she decided to indulge in an crisp apple first and see what other delights might reside in this rather demure tribute to their king.