Eagleheart Band:

Valttor Eagleheart

Cleridin Eagleheart

Mort Eagleheart

Kive Stonewill

note: italics indicates speaking in dwarven unless otherwise specified.

Valttor: “Keep up, pebble. I see the gates now”

Riding on war ponies, the two dwarves arrive at the entrance to Calgary.

Cleridin: “I’m here.”, he says out of breath and riding as fast as he can.

Inside the gates the pair lead their mounts to a stable, tossing a coin to the stable hand, Valttor grunts, “keep the change” in dwarven which arrives to the young human boy’s ears as, hav-bee-arrr. he just gives a strange look and quickly pockets the coin.

The wonders of the city are vast and Valttor stretches his arms up to the sky in a gesture as if there is so much to see, hear and smell that he needs to use his arms to take it all in.

Cleridin, just cowers in his big brother’s shadow, keeping his head down and trying not to make eye-contact with any of the humans they pass.

After several minutes of travel they find a dwarven hall named the “Stone Mountain Tavern” and are allowed passage inside where they order food and drink after their long and demanding journey.

Barmaid: “You boys seem to be looking for someone.”, she says kindly after bringing meat and ale.

Valttor: Speaking up, “This is such a fine tavern, I was wondering if you know who is the owner?”

Barmaid: “Why it’s Ulfgar Torunn, you two must be from other parts?”

Valttor: “I would love to talk to the guy, is the entire tavern made of stone?”

Barmaid: “Sorry, Ulfgar is not to be disturbed, he’s in his private chambers doing ‘gods know what’, may be there for days… and yes, this place was build from the ground up, all stone and if you notice, only dwarves are allowed.” She takes the finished plates and winks with heaving bosoms and a flirtatious smile. “You boys leave me your name and I’ll let him know you were calling for him.”

Valttor exchanges pleasant conversation with the very attractive dwarven barmaid while Cleridin just stares at her and listens. The entire place seems so familiar to him yet completely foreign and uninviting. All other patrons seem to pay these two no mind.

They spend a few hours chatting with some of the friendlier patrons and without much effort get directions to one of the Moradin temples nearly on the other side of town.

As the brothers leave out of the tavern, Valttor slaps Cleridin hard on the back, making him stand up-straight and catching him completely off-guard. “How did you like that lass, Genna? Dwarven women look a lot different here in the city don’t they?” Cleridin, slightly embarrassed just nods and falls in-line behind his older brother.

Dodging through the chaos of the streets, the two walk for several minutes before their attention is taken by what sounds like dwarven swear words as a chair leg comes crashing out a bar window.

Valttor looks at Cleridin and chuckles, “This is going to be good.” Signaling for him to rush into the human bar to see what the ruckus is all about.

Kive: “I don’t like the way you cheat at cards!” Says the stout but strong-looking dwarf who appears to be surrounded by angry men holding make-shift weapons: bottles and broom handles.

Cleridin: Speaking softly, “This does not look good.”

Valttor: Almost shouting says, “You’re no dwarf if you don’t take pleasure in good ‘ol fashioned bar-brawl.”

Human Brawlers: Recognizing the dwarven tongue, the men pause and shout, “Look, more dirty dwarves in our clean house!”

Cleridin quickly gets off a couple spells before any punches are thrown. (casts mage armor and shield on himself)

The three dwarves are pushed together and backed into a corner.

Cleridin: “How did I let you get me into this?” (casts bull’s strength on Valttor)

Kive: “Hello brother…”, he says in common and looking at Cleridin, ”...a little help here?”

Cleridin: “I’m not your brother. You unkempt fool.” As he completes the somatic components he embellishes one of the gestures by holding his nose with one hand and touching the dwarf with the other. (casts bull’s strength on Kive)

Kive: “Well thanks either way…”, now speaking in dwarvish, ”...it’s just that you remind me of me own brother.” He smiles a wide grin and then looks towards the men quickly closing on them and beings to shake and scream, his eyes widen and spittle flies from his teeth. (Kive begins to rage)

Valttor: “Yeah!”, he gives off his own battle cry before engaging the hapless commoners in this bar.

After less than a minute of fighting the two stand victorious over moaning bruised and beaten humans as Cleridin shakes his head in disapproval.

Kive: “Now is our chance to escape!” With fast moving legs the dwarf disappears into the street.

Valttor: “Six men against two dwarves really isn’t a fair fight but I think I’ve had enough fun for now.”

He grabs his brother by the robes and rushes as fast as he can towards the swift stranger. All three of them stop in an alleyway to catch their breath.

Kive: “Kive Stonewill. I like your style.”

Kive extends his arm to Valttor who latches on and gives him a firm and nearly violent handshake.

Valttor: “Stonewill, you’re a hill-dwarf, aren’t you?”

Kive: “Low-mountains, but I won’t hold it against you for calling them ‘hills’”

Cleridin: “You both are insane. Brother, we can’t associate with this guy, he’s a lunatic and must have some kind of death wish.”

Kive: “Aye,” he chuckles, “with words like that you must be me own kin.”

Both Valttor and Kive share a long hardy laugh as Cleridin rolls his eyes, folds his arms and pouts.

Valttor: “Come with us, we were just heading to the Moradin temple. You ‘low-mountain’ dwarves follow the old religion now don’t you?”

Kive: “Nay, I like Moradins enough, I like their style, but my clan says Kord is a dwarf. If you ever find me in a temple that’s where I’d be.”

All three agree to head towards the Moradin temple laughing and bantering the whole way there.

Mort: “Valttor, it’s good to see you after such a long time. What do you think about this new temple?”

Valttor: “Well, for starters, it’s above ground.”

Mort: “I recognize you, Cleridin. You look just like your big brother.”

The Eaglehearts talk about family matters for a while before Mort notices that there is another companion and he speaks up and although Valttor and Kive both laugh in the re-telling of the brawl and how they met, Mort simply nods and fails to change his expression once until they are done.

Mort: “Fine. The stones are never changing, beware the rolling stone. However, welcome to the temple of Moradin, please come in and find yourself a room in the back, you are all welcome to stay.”

That night at dinner, Cleridin is given the stage to discuss his research in a lost and ancient Eagleheart tomb. During his time in the library under the mountain he was able to match passages from old tomes with scrolls recovered recently from the city. The Tomes described a group of separatist who left the safety of the mountain but the location of their settlement was lost over time. Cleridin’s discoveries place their location close to where Calgary stands today. Learning this information the high priest of Moradin charged Cleridin, by way of a holy quest, to uncover the location of these separatists and to recover any artifacts or documents that can be found.

Cleridin’s family cringed at the thought of sending their fradgle child on an adventure of this magnitude and so Valttor, the seasoned and worldly older brother was also charged with a related quest as Cleridin’s protector on his journey.

Mort sat silently as he listened to the events unfold and when all had been said he spoke another parable about the destiny of mountains to form together to make ranges.

Mort: “Before announcement of your arrival I was visited by a vision of Moradin. He held a hammer and crushed a foul beast and pointed to the lands around the city. I to must be part of the quest, for the vision clearly foretells of an evil that must be stopped in order to recover this site.”

Cleridin: “Thank you, cousin, your assistance in the quest is much appreciated.” He performs a ritual Moradin gesture as a sign of respect.

Kive: “What the Hells!”, he begins in common, “I want to come along too. Must be fate that I ran into you today.”

Cleridin: Looks at his brother who is simply nodding in agreeance. Then looks at Mort who also agrees and then cries out in the most sarcastic tone possible, “That’s exactly the kind of help I need.”

All three dwarves smile in agreement while Cleridin lays his head on the table and pouts.