The cry of the ancient frost dragon swept across the frozen island like a sudden blizzard. A huddled group of cloaked dwarves shiver not from the cold but from the fear reliving the horror of their defeat. Not a day had passed since the horrid beast and his cohort of frost drakes arrived. They brought frigid death to the small mountain that the dwarves once called home. Fraegonhelm, as they called it, was lost in an instant. The frost dragon Glycerion wasted no time shattering their gates and freezing their few citizens. Now, refugees, once again, the survivors of Fraegonhelm, made for the coast, praying that they had a place in Soulforge if the dragon took flight yet again.
One among the group trudged ahead of the others. The arctic wind whipped her braided pink hair behind her. She brought a mailed fist to grab her hood and replace it over her head. Under that cloak, two icy blue eyes stared out into the passing storm. She knew the docks were not far now. “Arandor will not take us in,” a familiar voice called out to her over the storm. The young dwarf looked over her shoulder to find that someone had made their way to match her speed. “We do not sail for the elves, Uncle Brom.” Her tone was cold and almost devoid of passion. Her gaze, too, was stoic and dispassionate. “Our people need food…and rest,” his tone was even, but there was a hint of reluctance. “Our people NEED vengeance.” She said through bared teeth. “The elves will give us a warm meal and then a cold boot to our arses. No…we will sail for our Kin.” Her uncle took in a deep breath and rolled his eyes unbeknownst to her. “Hanamoria…you wish to bring justice to the ice dragon…truly I can understand. But marching these people ragged and starving will not bring us any closer to achieving our ancestors’ oath. They have lost almost everything…” She continued to march, seeming to pay the older dwarf no heed. He took a breath to try to convince her again when she sighed. “Fine, we sail for Arandor…we supply, eat, and then move on to Karagard.” Her uncle smiled to himself…she was not nearly as impossible as his brother had been. The thought of his brother suddenly sent a pang of sadness to his heart. Truly, they had lost almost everything.
The refugees had finally made it to the docks when the storm faded away. From the coast, they could see the mountain, their mountain, towering high above the frozen plains. Before, it was a symbol of safety and clan…now it only embodied their suffering. Hanamoria took in her people’s trepidation and anxiety. Her uncle pumped his eyebrows and gave her a knowing look. In a quick motion, she tossed some boxes from the docks together to make a stand. She brought herself on top of the boxes and stood tall. Reaching for her side, she lifted the symbol of their clan…The Broken Blade. “Some look upon our sword and whisper, ‘Why do they keep such a useless weapon. Do they not have the skill to make a true weapon?’” Her voice was like a whip, and it snapped the attention of those lamenting at the sight of the mountain. “And I say to all of you…do not heed the clucking of those who cannot see greatness before them. This sword was broken on the very dragon who stole our homes ages ago by our great ancestor. Did he throw this symbol of defiance away? No! He refined it, he sharpened it, and he honored it. We are like this blade…people look at us as if we are broken because of our past. We did not get the luxury of having numerous clans to call upon to our aid, like Karagard. But each of you, regardless of where your families once hailed from, came to Clan Broken Sword. And we refined you, we sharpened you, and we honored you. We did this in the past, and we shall do it again.” She held the shattered blade high for all to see. “Saerin, hear my oath of vengeance! One day, Clan Broken Sword shall return to these frozen plains, and we shall bring death to Glycerion with the very blade he broke ages past!” She lowered her hand, not to find applause or smiles. Rather, she found what she was looking for in the hardened gazes of the crowd before her. Not hope…but will and determination fueled by something deep within.