I credit all the authors of Warhammer and Warhammer 40k (just incase I
accidentally take and idea from them).
Fatherdale was a small town near the fallen mountains where all sorts of marauders and bandits had hid. It had been built sometime between the fifth or twelfth alliance between the dwarves and the humans. It was all ancient dwarven architecture and could probably survive anything. Even if a horde of marauders came out of the mountains and assaulted it the town would still be there, unfortunately dragons flew on air and the ancient dwarves had not calculated an air assault on their fortress.
The townsfolk of Fatherdale had seen trolls and werewolves attack their town, but the dragon was something new. It was a great silver one with blue eyes as cold as the frost in the north. Luckily it couldn't breath fire, which had some good in it, but unfortunately it had ice breath, which could easily freeze a volcano. The dragon had come to Fatherdale a few weeks ago. It had landed in front of the town hall and demanded for everyone in the town to clear out otherwise it would destroy the town, most people where either too lazy to move or too foolish, And so the majority of the town stayed.
The weather hadn't improved and Fatherdale still lay in a thick fog. Every inhibitor of Fatherdale knew that fog season could last for nearly 3 months and during that time people prepared for the worst. The many inns that the town was famous for where all open, they all had torches set up in the front and some even hired mages to put charms on their signs so that people would go to their inn. There were at least two inns per block so competition was high.
One such inn The Hanged Mans Haven had no lights because its usual customers didn't need it. Marcus was a Bertronnian. He had a smooth face that always looked the same and eyes the color of moss. He was of average build, his arms where covered in dragon tattoos and his armor was made of dragon hide. On one of his gloves he had a protection from fire symbol and on the other an ice. He was a dragon slayer and knew the trade well. At eight he had killed a small drake and from then on his trade started.
Marcus entered the tavern at ease. The undead din't care much for the living and so gave him no trouble. Marcus sat down at the bar he sat there for a few minutes. He ordered some cheep ale from the undead bar keeper. And sat there drinking it. Next to him sat an old dwarf who looked like he was still alive. On closer examination Marcus noticed that the dwarf had no legs and that only his lower body still remained. The dwarf noticed the young man and with slurred speech asked Marcus "what the Hell do you want" after which he collapsed of his chair. Marcus was the kind of person who didn't want to start trouble so he stood up paid for his drink and went outside.
Marcus walked a few minutes until he found The Hydra a popular inn where he was supposed to meet a friend.
Fatherdale was a small town near the fallen mountains where all sorts of marauders and bandits had hid. It had been built sometime between the fifth or twelfth alliance between the dwarves and the humans. It was all ancient dwarven architecture and could probably survive anything. Even if a horde of marauders came out of the mountains and assaulted it the town would still be there, unfortunately dragons flew on air and the ancient dwarves had not calculated an air assault on their fortress.
The townsfolk of Fatherdale had seen trolls and werewolves attack their town, but the dragon was something new. It was a great silver one with blue eyes as cold as the frost in the north. Luckily it couldn't breath fire, which had some good in it, but unfortunately it had ice breath, which could easily freeze a volcano. The dragon had come to Fatherdale a few weeks ago. It had landed in front of the town hall and demanded for everyone in the town to clear out otherwise it would destroy the town, most people where either too lazy to move or too foolish, And so the majority of the town stayed.
The weather hadn't improved and Fatherdale still lay in a thick fog. Every inhibitor of Fatherdale knew that fog season could last for nearly 3 months and during that time people prepared for the worst. The many inns that the town was famous for where all open, they all had torches set up in the front and some even hired mages to put charms on their signs so that people would go to their inn. There were at least two inns per block so competition was high.
One such inn The Hanged Mans Haven had no lights because its usual customers didn't need it. Marcus was a Bertronnian. He had a smooth face that always looked the same and eyes the color of moss. He was of average build, his arms where covered in dragon tattoos and his armor was made of dragon hide. On one of his gloves he had a protection from fire symbol and on the other an ice. He was a dragon slayer and knew the trade well. At eight he had killed a small drake and from then on his trade started.
Marcus entered the tavern at ease. The undead din't care much for the living and so gave him no trouble. Marcus sat down at the bar he sat there for a few minutes. He ordered some cheep ale from the undead bar keeper. And sat there drinking it. Next to him sat an old dwarf who looked like he was still alive. On closer examination Marcus noticed that the dwarf had no legs and that only his lower body still remained. The dwarf noticed the young man and with slurred speech asked Marcus "what the Hell do you want" after which he collapsed of his chair. Marcus was the kind of person who didn't want to start trouble so he stood up paid for his drink and went outside.
Marcus walked a few minutes until he found The Hydra a popular inn where he was supposed to meet a friend.