An Oath

Greetings, Travance.

Throughout my life, I have been called a great variety of names. To many of you, I am your Pit Dog, he who fills the Grand Nexus to its brink with the souls of ruiners and would-be conquerors. To others, I am called an Artisan, one who creates order and structure from the raw elements in order to precipitate life and industry. Others still would call me 'Pig-Headed', 'Brutish', or perhaps, 'Outlaw'. The twin Empires of the greenskins would have even less kindly honorifics for me, something along the lines of 'Scourge', or 'Murderer', however those sorts of things translate to their guttural tongues. Despite all of this, I found myself bestowed with a title entirely foreign to my ears this past feast: 'Hero'. Long have I heard the word, long have I seen others decorated with it, and, of course, I have heard the entirety of Travance referred to as 'Heroes' on a few occasions, but on that day, a wizened old Dwarf, whose home and clan were decimated by the prior invasion, looked me straight in the eye and called me, personally, a Hero to our people. It was such a small event in the grand scheme of things, but it set off a veritable wildfire within my mind and soul. I realize that I will always be a brawler, a drinker, one who eschews otherworldly powers out of a lack of comprehension or any particular interest, but what I am more than anything, is what I am NEEDED to be. And with our capital all but razed, with an untold number of my kin dead and desolate, I see that what my people need now is a Paragon to remind them of their proper path.

And so, I extend my hand to all Dwarven clan-families who have been so sorely wronged by the demonic incursion. Be you from Calisvorin, Glangsdale, or Pendarvin itself, if you are in need of shelter, of food, of drink, bring yourselves to my domicile within Honor's Peak, or find me within the Proper. I wish to hear your stories, to listen to the hardships you've faced. If you fought valiantly to stem the demons, yet found yourself overwhelmed and forced to retreat, tell me of your heroic stand, of the frustration you felt having to leave behind your fallen comrades to survive another day. If you crept in the shadows out of cowardice and watched in horror as the demons razed everything you once knew, tell me of your shame, of the powerlessness you felt having to witness such atrocities while being unable to prevent them. I will not hold your actions accountable, but I wish to hear the full truth in what occurred and will meet any attempts to deceive me or abuse my generosity with harsh repercussions. In return for your tale, I will tap into the ample resources of Pendarvin, as well as my own personal assets, to see you and yours properly housed and accommodated for living, and will make sure your able-bodied are set to work to earn their way and ply their crafts towards rebuilding our world. In addition, I shall engrave the names of every clan who visits me upon my gauntlets, to serve as my constant reminder to always stand tall for the sake of my people, and as a relatively temporary reminder to all who would seek to see this world enslaved or in ruin of just how terrible a Dwarf's vengeance can be.

It is this that I swear, for all who gaze upon this parchment to witness.

<A faintly-glowing rune is pressed into the bottom of the parchment, with what looks like a smear of blood running over it>

This is more than generous of you, I'm certain that many will take your offer.

My name is Thalia Burdorn. I believe we've met a few times during the feast days. I've recently returned from Calasvorin with news - not all of it good. I was wondering if you'd be available to speak. I'm staying with family in Honor's Peak, so distance would be no issue. And it would be nice to another familiar face.
-Thalia

I can stand behind this oath as well. Though I would out reach it to many of my own Northman. I think many of us that reside in Travance need to come together, share our culture, and become stronger as a people.

With Honor,
Jack Dimms.

Hengis, you gave me shelter this past feast when I had none. Though I am not of dwarven kind, in the North we take seriously the laws of guest rite. Should you ever be in need of my sword, or anything else I may have to offer, simply say the word, and Jorik Wulfsbane will stand at your side as shield brother.