"Battle of Kirrum'toriel"
by Cirostar Callberenth

In the days of yore, long before the victory of Lanival the Redeemer, there lay a great city around the vicinity of present day Wolf Clan called Kirrum'toriel. Peace was prevalent, and trade flourished, and the citizens were content. Until one day, the Barbarian Lord Mirkrel (distant ancestor of the founder of the guild) was bent on a quest of tyrannical conquest, enslaving the population as he went. In those days, men were generally peaceful, and the citizens of Kirrum'toriel knew little of the arts of war. So even while the legions of Mirkrel could be heard marching a thousand leagues off, the people of Kirrum'toriel were completely unprepared for the onslaught.

It is in times like these when hero's are greatly needed, and fortunately for the city, such a one was available. Trionus, the leader of a band of adventurers scouring the region in search of treasure was carousing with his companions in one of the many taverns of the ancient city when the Barbarian's battering rams started crashing down on the gates. He then petitioned the mayor for command of the city's forces, and the mayor was at a loss, so he ceded all control of the city unto Trionus till the crisis was lost, recognizing his experience in combat.

Trionus knew right away that the city in its present state could not possibly defend itself. So he summoned the Mage Council of Kirrum'toriel together and did command them to prevent the invaders from entering the city. With magical lore long since lost, they created a pure barrier of pure force encapsulating the entire perimeter of the city's wall.

For three months did Trionus direct the preparations for the oncoming battle, and for three months did the town's fearful citizens fletch arrows out of floor timbers, melt crockery down to form helmets and breastplates and forge knives into swords. At the end of the three months, the mages were starting to wear down, some of them collapsing from the fatigue of holding the barrier in place, and the city was starting to run low on food. It was at that time that Trionus ordered the barrier lifted.

Soon after, the forces of the ruthless tyrant recommenced their assault on the gate. The snapping of timbers was audible throughout the highest spire and the darkest corner of the deepest cellar in town, and the cracking sound sent shivers down the spine of the bravest warrior.

The morning after the barrier was lifted, the gates finally gave through, and the Barbarian Lord howled in triumph and confidently marched in his forced to take the city. But the savage did not expect to face an opponent so resourceful as Trionus, and as the bloodthirsty legions swept into the kill, they were met by a savage barrage of arrows. The villains fell back and retreated back beyond bowshot of the city.

Through a brutal series of kicking and cursing and making examples of some of his more disloyal generals, the invaders charged again, more warily this time, yet they could not expect what was coming. A massive wall of fire swept through the front ranks, incinerating them immediately. The invaders were taken aback, and began to feel the cold pangs of fear gnawing on their livers, and they retreated even farther back than before.

The third wave of assualt was led by the great savage himself, and nothing could stand in his path. Trionus deployed all of the citizens at this point, the richer nobles leading a charge on their stallions, looking as gallant and noble as true knights. The thieves and cutthroats dressed in the garb of the enemy, slipping through their ranks to decimate the officer corps with poisoned daggers. The peasantry were the infantry, thrusting their pikes up high in the air to defend their land.

Nonetheless, the Barbarian's forces were steadily gaining ground. It was nearing midday and the losses were great on both sides. Trionus was hard pressed, fighting alone through a horde of invaders when he came face to face with the Barbarian Lord himself.

The great savage snarled in hatred as he kicked one of his own men aside to engage the hero. He delivered a rapid series of blows that staggered the hero back, but he recovered in time to deliver a light cut to Mirkrel's abdomen. Many thrusts and slashes and feints and lunges were delivered, and the shields of both men were scuffed in an uncountable number of places. Grievous wounds were inflicted, and it was only by Trionus' courage and Mirkrel's savagery that the two remained alive. It was getting towards sunset when Trionus was wearing down, his arms so tired that he could hardly lift his sword to parry the next sword thrust of his foe when Mirkrel unleashed a particularly savage flurly of blows concluded by a kick to the chest that sent Trionus sprawling. He cackled with insane laughter, as he sensed that his victory was complete, raising the sword for that last fatal strike.

Trionus raised his shield, but not to ward off the blow, for nothing could have stopped that blow, but he directed it towards the sun. The light from the enternal flame reflected off of his shield, into the eyes of the Barbarian Lord. Mirkrel groaned in agony, raising his own shield to ward off the light, and it was then that Trionus struck. Mirkrel looked down to see the blade of the hero protruding from his chest, and he wept, for he knew that all was lost.

A great silence swept over the horde as they saw that their leader was slain. Like a breaking wave, they turned and fled from the city, leaving their wounded and dead behind them.

The hero raised his face in triumph, looking amidst the slain of allies and foes alike. The citizens rejoiced, feeling at once loss and the sweet taste of victory, and the city lived on for ages to come.

Those of you who go to the Wolf Clan will find little evidence of a city being there, and the tale of its destruction is another story. But all who pass by here will now know another piece of the history of this great place, and they will know that there once was a great city here, and an ordinary adventurer, much like themselves, became a hero.