The Doomed Mission

The Doomed Mission

It was customary in those days to send giftbearers ahead on missions of diplomacy, bearing the finest craftsmanship your kingdom had to offer - weapons and armor, along with the most savory foods of your lands, all to be presented as a gesture of goodwill at the opening feast. King Grimmly Fireforge sent a band of his most trusted Stormguard warriors to the wood-elf city of Kelethin to request assistance from the elves, in anticipation of the rumors he had heard of the trouble brewing - but he did not expect the ogres to begin their assault so quickly.  The dwarven giftbearers were caught off guard, and with their numbers dwindling after each skirmish, they were now cut off  from Kaladim, fleeing in a desperate attempt to stay one step ahead of the war-mongering Rakthokian ogres.

King Grimmly would have sent the doomed dwarven party from his throne room in Kaladim.

The captain frowned as he assessed the situation - he could no longer afford to send any more of his weary soldiers ahead without being outflanked, and at this point he knew his troops would not survive another battle.  He had no choice but to entrust the precious gifts to a ragtag duo that might be able to get past the enemy lines undetected - a young paladin and initiate to the Stormguard, along with a rogue that was forced to flee as he saw his family and home burn at the hands of the raiding ogres.  The dwarven party would make their last stand near the old ruins, to give the two a head start toward Kelethin.

Legend has it the young paladin bravely donned the armor and weapon intended as gifts, and loudly headed the remaining ogres off in a different direction as a distraction, as the best attempt to give his brethren a fighting chance of surviving, while fighting valiantly to his end. The dwarven battle axe and ringmail he was wearing are rumored to have fallen into the hands of the orcs that now reside in Crushbone, so it is likely that he made it as far as Greater Faydark at the very least.

The dwarven gifts are said to have fallen in the hands of the Crushbone Orcs.

The fate of the rogue carrying the dwarven miner's pies intended for the feast is a little more murky.  It was quite plausible that the rogue was able to stealthily pass by the vicious ogres and orcs blocking his way to Kelethin.  Some believe he actually did make it to Kelethin, and was laughed out of the city by the elves, showing up dirty and disheveled by himself while carrying a bag of pies in the hopes of forging an alliance. Others think that may have just eaten the irresistible pies all by himself, after days of being on the run without rest.  In any case, the dwarf rogue never returned to Kaladim, and rumour has it that he had traveled to the plains of Karanas to embark on a life of banditry.  Unfortunately, to this day there are those that harass the poor descendants of this unnamed dwarf rogue.

Ancestral home of the unnamed dwarven rogue, whose descendents are still being harassed - by Iksar monk Konz here.

The story of this ill fated mission would inspire the dwarves of the Second Age that they would have to rally to defeat the Rathokian Ogres by themselves, without the help of the elves.  To this day, the fallen dwarf skeletons stand at attention in Butcherblock, cursed to wait an eternity for the elven allies that would never arrive.  But every once in a while I see the dwarf skeletons twitch ever so slightly out of the corner of my eye, whenever I hand out one of my pies.

To this day, the dwarf skeletons still await the eleven alliance.