Thalin

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When we slogged our way through the piles of dead, we hadn't a clue what we had been headed for. My battalion was tasked with the grueling task in the front line of this  operation. We were ordered by my father - the High Kazahd - to "erase the goblyns and the very earth they stood upon". We were equipped with Dragonfire Casks, a highly explosive mining tool used in large quantities to sunder mountains where they stood, at least that's what my father had told me in the stories. Along with the demolitions experts, the rest of the cadre were my best dwarves, clad in the finest mithril plate, wielding axes and shields of pounded steel. We were invincible. 
  "Brother" Dhurdur waded through the cesspool of bodies along side me. "The goblyn wall is over this mound" his voice was weary, and I could hear his breath wavering. 
  I nodded and yelled a booming command, "Do not waver gents! When we reach that wall, cover the cargo!" My body weak from three days of constant marching, ran solely on adrenaline and hatred. Gnarled arrows from goblyn sharpshooters whizzed over our heads and what arrows did land their mark, bounced off of the twinkling mithril. The garrison of crossbowmen had laid down adequate cover fire from hundreds of yards away, allowing a safe advance. Dhurdur kept pace, holding his shield high as to avoid any harm from a stray arrow. 
  We reached the top - what a sight that was. A beckoning cavern, high enough that you couldn't see the ceiling if it weren't for the glow of the cave dwelling fungi and insects. Looked like twilight on the surface. A steady, slow sigh escaped my breath as my eyes were averted down to see a horde. It was about 200 yards before the wall, and between us and it was a fetid pool clamoring over one another. 
  My mind is very fuzzy here, but it was soon after that moment when we charged through towards the wall, I was knocked unconscious. Yeah I know, Captain of the Vanguard being knocked unconscious by a mere ... rock? Was I punched? For the life of me I cannot remember. I do remember waking up, I was in one of the apothecaries tents behind our lines. Apparently I was found under a few of my comrades bodies, I was close to death but I was resuscitated by a combat apothecary. Once again my mind gets fuzzy, its been a long, long time.
  A few years had passed and once again I was confronted with becoming the High Kazahd. Dhurdur was always angered and felt he were more suitable to rule rather than I. I never gave him the pleasure of seeing me feel the same way. Ever since that battle where I became unconscious, hes always belittled me, saying I was not strong enough to rule, to keep such a responsibility. I wavered it off as a younger brothers ambition and jealousy. Until it had gone too far ... 
  Dhurdur had assassinated our father in his sleep, and when I had discovered him, he put the blame on me. I pleaded, I fought, but yet I was found guilty of murdering the High Kazahd. And if you want more details on that you'll have to ask me another time, thats another long story for another time. So it was at that time that I was given a choice: Death by be-heading, or losing the Earthshaker name and exiled to the desert above. I had not lived a long life at the time, so I chose the latter. Either option was considered a death, one was just prolonged. So they stripped me of everything except basic clothing, an iron dagger, and one days worth of food and water. 
  I hated that desert. The sweltering heat, the sand cut at my already chaffed face. The dunes rolled on forever, the sun seemed to hang in the midday sky forever. I fashioned a hood from a piece of clothing to cover my eyes and face - seemed like a good idea at the time until that evening when I felt the sunburn on my back. That was when I was most miserable. 
  That evening I sat down to ration out my food. I began to cry. Yeaup, this old codger shes a few back in the day. For good reason too, I hadn't a family, no home, I was lost, and the only shelter I had found was an overturned merchants cart against a small plateau. That evening changed my life. Someone from in the desert walked towards me, the midnight sun illuminated the vast wasteland yet chilled me to the bone. I could see him walking in my direction, was he looking for shelter too? I yearned for someone, some thing to talk to. It had been two days and already i was loosing my mind.
 "H-Hello!" I coughed and shivered violently. The figure continued walking towards me, it was tall, six feet at least. It came closer and revealed himself to me to be a nomad looking for someone. 
  He looked me over and asked, "Are you royalty? Why would a dwarf of royal decent be here in the wastes"? I told him what had happened only two days ago. He was not amused. That man cursed me. A curse so foul it had changed my very being. at that point I was no longer dwarf. I was a monster. 
  
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