The sound of slopping mud and curse words rung out through a valley just west of the Ironwoods and every few minutes a low grumbling growl joined in with the sounds only to be cut off by a
"Oh shut it, ya brute!" The growling and huffing would cease, but only for as long as the cursing would, which wasn't very long at all. The eagles that soared above the treeline would look down on a curious pair following a rather unappealing path through the woods. A dwarf man and a bear, both with hides as brown as the fertile soil of these lands, trudged through the aftermath of the storm that hit the area last night. It had been a vicious and ruthless storm, the kind not often seen this far east, but it had hit nonetheless and it hit hard.
Far beneath the coniferous tree-tops a dwarf by the name of Moren Ironthorn struggled onward down a dirt path that more resembled a bog after the downpour of the previous night. While he was indeed known to curse aloud and spout vulgarity at many an inanimate object, this was not the case today, for Moren was not travelling alone and therefore he needn't find an object to yell at at all: he had Grimsfeldt for that! The dire bear trekked after the grumpy dwarf, flicking his massive paws up with every step in an attempt to free himself of the sticky muck. This wasn't particularly enjoyable for the burly, earthen toned bear, but as it stood he was having a substantially less difficult time than the stout man before him.
"Curse that bloody storm, curse this damn path, and curse that god-forsaken dream that put us here in the first place! If I hadn't seen it for m'self I'd think I'd lost m' damn mi-" His words were cut short, no pun intended, by a branch or a root somewhere under the mud that stole his footing and landed the now fuming man, beard and all, in the sloppy mess below him. What came out of mouth behind that mud-covered beard after that is best left unsaid, for the sake of younger ears. Mud covered from head to toe, the dwarf struggled to right himself in the slippery mess but failed miserably. It wasn't until massive jaws took hold of his chainmain tunic and hiked him out of the mixture that he stopped flailing about like a fish out of water and that the man reverted to a silent, stone faced creature that swung about under the jaws of a great bear, arms crossed and face red with silent rage.
The beast of a bear carried that dwarf a good ways down that mucky path, finally dropping him, with no great care, on the hard earth when they reached a drier patch of earth.
"Mawwwrrr." Said the lombering giant, now sitting on his bottom, scraping the mud from between his toes.
"Yeah, yeah! I get it! Don't go thinking a smartass move like that is gonna get ya any extra portions at meal time! I never offered a word of need or want of your help. I'da done just fine without your drooling jowls soaking my hide!" Pulling himself up, the dwarf dusted off his ego and then went about tidying his attire. When he was reasonably pleased with his appearance he turned to the bear he had been fuming at while he worked only to have a fresh slop of mud flung at his face by the bear's recoiling paw from his gnawing grooming process.
Needless to say, most the valley was made aware of Moren Ironthorn's presence in those woods and would have gotten a clear idea of his vocabulary.
Despite the rough beginning, and it was rough indeed, the pair had made it far beyond that muddy valley, past the chance of turning around the see the great pines of the Ironwoods beckoning over the horizon. Moren hadn't a clue where he was going, and yet he couldn't have been more sure. This wasn't the first unusual bit of behaviour to come from that particular dwarf on that particular day. Earlier, so much earlier that it could have seemed like a late yesterday, he had woken to the crack of thunder and the stressed grunting of Grimsfeldt outside. Normally this wouldn't have been much of a deal at all, but that night, things were different. Moren had entertained the most curious of dreams that stormy night and when he woke he found himself very much burdened within his mind and very much bothered. So much so, in fact, that instead of shouting at his companion to man up and brave the storm, he tugged on his ram's skin bathrobe, tugged on his usual work boots and lit a candle to lead him up the hall to his front door. Instead of tossing the bear some fish to calm his nerves and stalking off to bed once more, he collected a jar of honey, the beast's favorite, and trudged through the whistling rain and wind, into the stone shelter nearby. The dire bear was pacing back and forth, anxious and in distress for it had never truly liked the booming and crashing of thunder and the shrieking display of lights brought on by lighting.
As the creature chuffed and huffed about, shaking its head and clawing at the ground, Moren relit the now extinguished candle and cooed the beast to get its attention and to calm it enough for his approach to be deemed safe. He lathered up a deer's leg bone with some of the sweet, sticky treat and offered it to the panting creature. He pulled up a stool he kept in the corner and sat down next to the great bear as it lay itself down on the earth, gnawing and licking at the bone nervously. The dwarf pat the bear firmly on the side and began to stroke its thick coat almost out of reflex and as he did so he sang a most curious song.
When the night is dark and the moon is red
Hatched will be a dragon of dread
Eyes like amber and scales like the earth
More than the world his head will be worth
The dragon of dread will be a shifter and more
The kind of monster you read of only in lore
He will seek to rule the last of his race
And make the whole world know of his face
The storm seemed to rage on, rearing up, bearing its fangs as the man's low voice filled the stone shelter and mixed in with the screaming winds outside. The cold seemed to bite a bit harder and the lighting and thunder crashed and flashed harder than he'd ever seen before. But he kept singing, for this ballad was in his mind, stored there by the most curious creature from within his dream.
Six in tide, six are true
Six to be lead by a spirit of hue
Long awaited in the endless sin
They are the saviors of many a skin
While they live, he cannot survive
While he is here, they cannot thrive
As the last of the words left his lips and lingered in the air, Grimsfeldt looked up from his bone and met his master's gaze. That bear didn't often look like it knew anything or that it had any intentions of learning anything, but that night, in the wavering night of the candle light, that bear's eyes told Moren so much more than an onlooker could have know. He looked back at the bear, peering into the molten, gold eyes of the beast and he knew his dream was not of a natural nature. There was darkness in the winds that night, and it wasn't only he that knew this. The bear was a beast of the land, it knew the winds better than any other, and it was clear that Grimsfeldt had felt the uncertainty in the storm that night, that he'd smelt death and chaos on the winds. Of course none could know for sure what the bear was thinking. None but Moren Ironthorn.
And so he pair heed to urges of the strange illuminated creature of his dreams. He travelled where he knew he should without knowing at all where he was travelling to. He accepted within himself the responsibility he had been given by something that wasn't there to give anything in the first place. And Grimsfeldt followed, as he always had, and as he always would.
The pair journeyed for 3 days and 4 nights, seeking certainty that they have arrived at their unknown destination, but each time they found themselves under the Cherry Blossoms they soon after found themselves continuing on their journey, not yet satisfied by their destination. On the morning of the fourth day, however, Moren felt a shift in the winds, sudden and unnatural, and he somehow knew he was close. By the time evening stole the sky, he found himself a few hundred yards away from a collection of pink-capped towers of crooked, earth-toned wood.
They had reached their destination.
He hadn't a clue where he had wandered or how far he had come, but for unexplained reasons, he felt such a feeling of... peace, of absolution in his location that he couldn't bring himself to stop now. He trudged forward to the place where the Cherry Blossoms offered their petals to the wind. As he approached, he heard the voices of several others; some female, some male, none dwarf from what he could tell. Perhaps and elf or two? Could he count 5 other voices?
As his feet carried him further into the grove of trees, a low growl came from the jaws of the great beast behind him. Moren turned to see Grimsfeldt's hackles standing on end and his powerful nose working furiously to decipher whatever scent had set him off. The look in his eyes should have told Moren to act sooner, but then, the bear never listened to damn thing he said anyways.
"Don't even think about it! You stop that damn nose twitchin' of yer's before I st-" The bear was gone. And Moren was left shaking his head, walking after the thundering steps of the bear. He reached a point where he couldn't help but say
"Ah, that's what set him off."
The bear had taken up a defensive, aggressive stance a few yards away from what seemed to be a massive, unusually toned tiger. Moren picked up his pace when he saw a woman and.... a girl? Cursing under his breath he stormed up to the bear, planted himself between it and the exotic cat and stuck his index finger out towards the snarling mouth of the bear.
"Listen here, Grimsfeldt." He said, thwapping the bear on the nose with his think, callused finger.
"Can't you see there's a lady in your company? Two, in fact! What kind of a beast are ya to be snarling about and spitting your fowl spit in the presence of a lady? You put me to shame, you do." The bear stopped dead in his motion, a puzzled look taking over his expression. Moren turned around, folding his arms and facing his back to the massive beast.
"I won't have nothin' more to do with ya until you apologize to these here lasses. No bear o' mine is a bear that snarls at a lady."
The bear's curled lips flopped to their normal place and shortly after, the ground shook as the bear flopped his rump down on the ground, a low whimper resonating from his deep chest. Moren wasn't letting him have it that easy. He shifted his weight, huffing a bit, his eyes closed, his nose to the air. The bear howled dramatically and flung itself forward onto its stomach. It placed its head on the ground and clapped his goliath paws over his eyes, whining and howling like an injured hound. Moren peeked one eye open then, looking at the grovelling giant. Finally, seeing the bear felt guilty enough, he turned to it and place his hands on his hips.
"You're done making a fool of yourself now are ya?" The bear responded with a meek growl.
"And you're done with disrespecting these fine women?" The bear lifted one paw from his eyes and looked at the she-elf and the young girl. Nodding his head, he chuffed quietly.
"Right then, get up. I think a formal introduction is in order." He turned to the party before him. Taking the tip of his beard in his right hand, he folded his right arm across his chest to keep his beard off the earth as he bowed deeply before rising to meet the gaze of the group.
"Moren Ironthorn at your service. This big lug is Grimsfeldt. He's all bark and no bite. ... Well, most the time. I'm hopin' at least one of you can tell me I'm not losin' my gems and that you've been summoned here by some eerie dream dragon as well?"