- Not to be confused with Ragged Jong.
What you wanting? *hic*
Tell me a story. John.
Aright *hic*...Say, you look famillar *hic*. Have I ever told you about the time me and Windsor fought off thir, er...a thous...a million orcs?
Let me grab popped corn kernels, sire.
Windsor was particularly ornery that day - and believe me, for Windsor, that's a monumental accomplishment. He kept telling me that 'something feels off.' Well he wasn't kidding!
We were in that middle of Blackrock Mountain when the filthy animals attacked. I'm talking about the orcs, of course. Pay attention, will ya? All you could hear were grunts and that clanging of steel as they rushed us.
So what did you do?
Me versus fifty orcs? I'm no fool, <player>. My pappy always told me, 'Discreditin is the better part of a cracked.' or something, and I knew what that meant.
Start making sense, dwarf. I don't want to have anything to do with your cracker, your pappy, or any sort of 'discreditin.
Alright, alright. Anyhow, so I sorta slipped into the shadows.
That didn't sit too well with Windsor, seeing as how he was already extra cranky, Well he started spinnin' old Ironfoe around and screaming like a mad man at the orcs.
Yep, You never heard of Ironfoe? The legendary orc slaying hammer? Yep, yep, that was ol' Windsor's hammer. He told me that Franclorn Forgewright: The Dark Iron responsible for stonewrought archimetenc...building stuff. He also said that hammer had a twin that Franclor kept for himself. Think he called it Ironfel or something.
So where was I? Oh yea, so the orcs rushed Windsor and Windsor, well, he didn't move ah inch. He stood tall as they charged him, ten at a time. All I could see was the glow from Ironfoe and a lot of blood. This went on for hours, maybe days. I don't remember. Anyhow, FINALLY, it stopped
So that's how Windsor died...
Died? Are you cracked, <player>? Excused me, miss <player>! Windsor wouldn't have died from no fifth orcs. As sure as Thelsmar blood sausage is the tastiest food the world may ever know, there he stood: He was covered in orc chunks
So he did he die?
Why do you keep saying he died? Who told you he died? I never said he died.
He went missing is all.
You see, apparently we had gotten into the middle of some big orc Versus Dark Iron dwarf battle. The orcs, being the filthy, miserable curs that hey are, were our early, setting up some traps and other diabolical things you probably wouldn't understand.
Ok, So where that hell is he? Wait a minute! Are you drunk?
Dwarves don't get drunk, missy. I'm just a little sloggy.
Anyhow, Windsor? I figured he's somewhere in Blackrock Depths. That's the Dark Iron city for you unedumecated peoples
WHY is he in Blackrock Depths?
Slow down! I was getting to that!
So there he was, standing tall with all the blood and guts dripping off him when who shows up?
The Dark Irons! Didn't you hear a word I said??
Well, the Dark Irons are a little craftier that those Blackrock orcs. They came prepared. by prepared I mean there were about 300 of em... *hic* 'scuse me.
300? So the Dark Irons killed him and dragged him into the Depths?
Missy, If I didn't know better, I'd think you were one of them 'special' peoples. We call em Troggs.
Windsor didn't have no beef with the Dark Irons, after all, his great, great, grad pappy's best friend was a Dark Iron. Which is also probably why that army of Dark Irons didn't kill him on sight.
Finally! Put some fingers in your ears, your brain mighta just grown five sizes and I'm worried it might leak out.
So, the Dark Irons spared his life and took him prisoner. Their leader, some self-important, uppity fella named Thauris-something took Ironfoe for, himself. And that was the last I saw of ol' Windsor... *hic* 'scuse me.
Thanks Ragged John. Your story was very uplifting and informative.