ROC on the Net

  The Dwarf leaning against the Hitching post outside Lights Hope chapel was none too pleased at his current Quest companions. Many times over the past few weeks they have led him away from battle with Dark forces of the Undead atrocities that plagued these lands. Many times over the past few weeks he was forced to stay his Hammer against the ever present Horde that roamed the Plague-lands completing quests to further their own devious ends. But looking at his companions now, he knew the fight of their lives was coming. He knew what he and his companions were about to undertake when they began their march up the winding pass to the Noxious Glade. A more Vile place in the eastern Kingdoms The dwarf could not think of.

Gigantic Mushrooms the size of small buildings grew there, pus and gasses leaking out of them from all corners. Skeletal Frost mages and Warriors roamed buildings that seemed the works of some mad Architect. Giant obese undead masses, Stitched together Abominations, thundered ominously in patrols around the whole of the hellish Glade. Yet they were going there and they would complete the quest they are on. The Argent Dawn needed all the info they could get on the Scourge that inhabited the Plagued Lands and the Dwarf and his companions aimed to give it to them.

   His Name was Luthin, In Shining golden armor that marked him A Paladin of Iron Forge, The Dwarf hefted a giant Hammer he found in the corpse of Plague Bat he had slain. ( how a Hammer two times the size of the bat got in its carcass Luthin had no idea, But Being a Dwarf he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth) His companions were as follows. Muerder, the Night Elf warrior. A shifty eyed prima-donna that smelled of some fruity flower only an elf would like. Trocar, the Night Elf druid. Who never seemed to bath and smelled an awful lot like a Wet bear. Unfortunately Since the druid often shape-shifted into a bear Luthin had become very familiar with the smell. Then there was Daquiri, The Night Elf Priestess. Luthin Had a low opinion of Night Elf Priests, considering them be frivolous and underhanded. Every one he had ever meet seemed to surround themselves in half truths, But that was neither here nor there. This one seemed amiable and Being a Dwarf Paladin Luthin tried to keep an open mind concerning other Holy men or women as the case may be. The Last two companions were the oddest of the group. Corp, a Human Warlock that reeked of fire and brimstone, yet had the fashion sense of a drunken South sea’s Pirate. Was devious, untrustworthy, and murderous. If it hadn’t been for Trocar the Druid, Luthin would have slain the vile bastard several months ago. Lastly there was Magicbag. The deep masculine voice of this diminutive female gnome was a scary thing to behold if you were waking up with a dark Iron Ale hangover, of which Luthin often did. The primpy little gnome was the closest thing to a dwarf in this party besides Luthin himself however, so the gnome mage was tolerated.

   On the trail to The Noxious Glade There were few battles. The thought of which concerned Luthin greatly. The Night Elf Warrior seemed to actually be trying to Avoid fighting it out with the forces of Evil that surrounded them! Luthin sensed the Undead everywhere around him yet he could do nothing to attack them because the always enigmatic Elf warrior steered them away from conflict. The others in the group didn’t seem to mind in the least. Which Infuriated the Dwarf even more. Were we out here to pick daisies and skip along singing lullabies? Or were we not out here to slaughter these vile abominations and find out valuable information to defeat them on a larger scale? Thought the now surly Dwarf.

    Luthin’s dark thoughts soon ended when they finally reached the Glade and not long after were fully embroiled in the task of killing anything the moved. Hammer, Swords, Mage spells, and Bear paws clawed, bashed, cut and blew apart anything that drew near to them. Luthin’s Hammer found contact after contact on the Heads, shoulders, chests, backs and Knees of undead abominations. Luthin, Caught up in Divine fury slaughtered with complete glee. His eye’s didn’t blink and putrid goo and tattered pieces of flesh splattered over his once shiny armor. Luthin’s arms never grew tired of hacking and smashing the undead to bloodless masses. Luthin’s words of holy power the re-energized his companions and healed his wounds time and again seemed never ending. Sure his companions did well themselves. Following in the wake of the tidal wave that was Luthin. But this was luthin’s fight. What he was born to do. What he dreamed of doing in his sleep and so it went on , for hours they slaughtered and collected parts of the dead that they were quested to find. And soon , too soon for the righteous dwarf it was over.

   Sitting around an odd looking caldron the wayward party of adventurers rested, Healed their wounds and readied their weapons, armors and spells, for the journey back to Light’s Hope.

   That of course is when All hell broke loose.

   It all started When Luthin Spied a glowing green vein of Thorium poking through one of the mountainous walls that surrounded the Glade. He knew not to breath a word of its location to the party or the always devious Corp would no doubt find a way to snag it right out from under him. So in a very unpaladin-like fashion Luthin excused himself from the group to use the "privy" and scurried over with mining pick in hand to claim his prize.

   He heard the shouts as his Mining pick made contact with the vein of Thorium. At first he cursed and looked back believing the Warlock had found him out and was creating some kind of Diversion to snag the thorium right out from under him. But the situation soon become clear.

   A Fight had broken out and there were Orcs EVERYWHERE! Muerder and the priestess went down fast. Several Troll casters and Hunters blasting them from afar. Trocar, Enraged and in bearform charged right into the Massive Orc invasion’s midst. Roaring and clawing anything in his way. Corp Began summoning a fierce demon to his aid and magicbag seemed to be working his way around the side of the Battle to get a tactical advantage on the infinitely larger force. Good move, thought the surely dwarf as he charged from his now forgotten mine waiving his mining Pick and screaming to the Gods to grant him and his companions the strength to defeat these foes! With Magicbag blasting the enemies from behind and sheeping indiscriminately, They may just over come this Ambush! Luthin hit a wall of Orcs and lost his mining pick almost immediately in the skull of the first that turned to greet him. Having no weapon at hand did not deter the inflamed dwarf though and with righteous Fury he leaped into the air and punched, bit, and kicked anything that came near.

   Through the midst of the chaos Luthin saw that the druid, Trocar, was not fairing well, Bleeding through a dozen wounds, the Druid’s movements were sluggish and tired. Luthin called to Corp to help but the foolish warlock was deeply embroiled in a fight, not with the enemy but with a fierce looking Infernal that he had summoned and had broken loose of its bonds. The Surly Dwarf had to act fast to save his Friend. First he leaped forward plowing through the enemy and called a power of protection upon the Druid. Just as a Massive Bullish Tuaren sent a giant treelike club hurtling downward to finish him off. The Club bounced off Trocar as if he were as solid as the mountains themselves. The mere seconds that blessing of protection bought luthin to get to his friend were in vain though fore just as he got close enough to Lay on hands his friend and heal him to full the blessing wore off and the druid was finished off by a gang of Orcish rogues. Blind Holy Fury embraced Luthin. A fury built from the loss of friends. A fury that was so righteous the Horde ambushers stumbled over themselves to widen a circle around the divine Dwarf.

   Luthin’s movements were slow and deliberate as the circle cleared around him. His spied his hammer not three paces from him and he also spied The Gnomish mage, Magicbag, finally gaining the high ground far behind the ambushers. Luthin knew then that this would be his last stand. He and Magicbag would kill every last one of these invaders. He would Be the distraction that allowed Magicbag the rain down fire and ice upon the barbaric horde! The dwarf never gave it a second thought. He never considered that the gnome may be beating a hasty retreat. He never considered that the gnome had not even looked back toward the battle as he gained the "high ground". No Luthin simply leaped into a roll that ended with him standing and Holding his precious Hammer and Began to swing...

   Now there are many who would have just excepted their fate that day and even some more "pragmatic" people that would have chosen a hasty retreat like the Magicbag did that day. But not a Hero. Not Luthin Lightningtoes, fifth generation Paladin, and Keeper of the Hammer that was pried from the guts of a bat ( half its size). No Luthin the Dwarf, The Paladin, didn’t even consider it and so then fight began anew.

   Trocar, Daiquiri, Muerder and now the smoldering corpse of the Warlock Corp all lay slain around him. But the grave and gruesome scene did not deter the Paladin who was still full of cold fury. It only bolstered him. His hammer burst aflame in Holy fire and Orc, Troll, and Tuaren alike died to its smashing and hammering blows. The very ground around the Paladin Burst into holy fire as the horde who tried in vain to mob the clearly insane dwarf, crowded around him. Screams of pain mingled with harsh dwarven curses filled the air.

   Yet Luthin did not go down. Minute after Minute, Blow after blow, the Dwarf would not fall. Undead, Orcs and trolls all fell around him. Casters and hunters from afar tried to bring him down with raining arrows and spells of fire and ice. Yet the Dwarf would not fall. Luthin soon stood atop a pile of dead horde. Bleeding profusely from several near mortal mounds. Yet the dwarf would not fall. Casters began to flee and Hunters began to cautiously back away. For they knew that today, that dwarf would NOT fall.

   After a long moment of silence, the Paladin stood covered in blood, recovering from the fight. He stood on a self made mountain of dead Horde. Fully ten feet high, all broken limbs and righteously burnt body parts. He slowly made his way down the corpses and found his allies still dead. He walked amongst them one by one and Brought them back from death. Casting holy rites older that the world itself. He brought each one back. Ignoring his own wounds, he healed each and every one of them until he could stand no more and collapsed in front of them.

   Luthin Lightningtoes, Fifth generation Paladin, and Keeper of the Hammer that was pried from the guts of a bat ( half its size) Died that day. A Hero