Times were difficult in the Land of Khornor. War was raging across the plains. The Legion of Grul was mercilessly slaying everything that stood in their way. However the people of Khornor were a tough breed of Dwarven warriors. They came from the mountain ranges of Khalac, and though some still remained there, mining and working. Most had spread across the plains, and built mighty fortresses all along their borders. However the war with the Legion was taking its toll. One Warrior, Mauradin, wandered the land, aiding those in need. Trying to turn the tide of the war, in their favour.

The sunset was spreading its beauty across the plains of Loratal, not a cloud was daring to glide across the sky. The only thing in the air, were the plumes of smoke, rising from the burning town of Hamlak.

Mauradin had seen the plumes of smoke as he was riding across the hills, but it was only as he reached the peak of the valley that his worst fears were confirmed. He thrashed his steed to get whatever speed he could muster, but as he approached the town, he could tell he was too late.

He dismounted on the edge of the town, and now the buildings were nothing but smouldering ruins. There were no signs of any survivors, untill someone tapped him on the shoulder. He span around, drawing his axe from his back as he did so, ready to strike, when he realised it was Jurton.

"Jurton, its you... I thought... What happened here?"

With a look of sadness on his face, Jurton replied. "You had been gone around three weeks when they arrived. Masked and armour clad. They were looking for you. We told them we did not know where you had gone. But it was not enough for them, they looted and pillaged the town, eventually setting fire to everything. They killed all those who could not run or hide fast enough. A handful of us survived."

Mauradin looked at Jurton and bowed his head.

"I am sorry, this is all my fault. By making myself an enemy of the Legion, i put you all in danger."

"No Mauradin, we all know that if the Legion are left unchecked and unchallenged that they will not stop at anything. How goes the war on the eastern fronts?"

"Tough, the defenses are holding out, but for how much longer no one knows. I had made my way from outpost to outpost, helping to recruit and teach the next generation of warriors. We are outnumbered, if it were not for the solid stone of the fortresses, i fear all would already be lost."

Mauradin looked around at the ruins, "We should begin to rebuild, and try to move on."

They both nodded to each other and set to work.

It took many months of hard work, but eventually the town was beginning to look healthy again. The farmers had managed to salvage some of their crops from the fires, and the trade caravans had begun arriving, bringing much needed supplies. Mauradin was sitting outside the local tavern, when he was approached by a burly dwarven fellow from one of the trade caravans.

"Are you the famed Mauradin Magnusson?"

"Aye, that i am, what of it?"

"I have a letter for you from General Stoutfist."

"Oh you do, do you,"

The man handed Mauradin the letter. Mauradin uttered his thanks, and the messenger shuffled away.

The note read,

Mauradin,

Things are looking bad out on the Northern approaches. They are attacking on more and more fronts and our forces are spread thin.

We need your help, I am on my way to Herinos, if you are able, i hope to meet you there.

General Stoutfist.

So, the war was turning yet again. He sighed and drank the remains of his beer. Gathered his things from his room, loaded his horse, and set off into the distance.