With the campaign over this isn't really necessary anymore, but wanted to share it anyway. This was written awhile back, but has been sitting in our section.

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Echoes In The Dark
Wartales: A Dragonback Tale
May 25, 2017.

There was the sound of a horn in the dark. It echoed strangely off the stone walls, and rang through empty rooms. These hall’s hadn’t heard anything like it in centuries, mostly they’d seen nothing but the scampering of goblins. Now once again the sound of dwarf horns echoed in the dark halls of Ankor Drakk. The sound of horns was closely followed by the echoing of boots, many boots. These footfalls where soon joined by the voices of many dwarves, chanting a song. All these sounds mixed together and swirled through the empty halls, passageways and rooms of the fallen dwarf city.

Yet it was fallen no longer. Word had spread quickly that the crown of Ekrund had been discovered. The dwarf realms already buzzed with news of the reclamation. Of those brave warriors who had marched out to take Ekrund back in the name of dwarf-kind. The news of the crown had been accompanied by letters written by Lord Freyr Fairhair himself. One of the Thane who was risking life and limb to retake Ekrund, his letters spoke of his passion for this project. More then that, the letters had spoke of Ekrunds need. The Dalazidrungak Drekaz needed settlers and craftsman. They had secured the northern gates and locations of the mountain (no matter what the Orcish attempts at siege might try), now they needed the people to populate those places. Already a thriving community was growing in Khaz Vithang, not to mention smaller such colonizes at the gates themselves. Mount Bloodhorn had been taken after a fierce fight, yet an Orc Waagh still threatened it’s doorstep. The foul greenskins would see all their hard work torn down again. Ekrund would live again, or so Freyr promised, but it needed your help...

The letters had been circulated throughout all the great holds. Copies were read aloud in taverns, drinking dens and even private homes. People heard! Crowds would gather around to hear a speaker or bard speak of the glories being won far to the south. To hear songs of what the future promised! Freyrs words echoed in their heads, just as the sounds of fighting echoed in Ekrunds halls. Beardlings became infected with the passion of the Dalazidrungak Drekaz, while even their elders couldn’t help but nurture a glimmer of hope despite their grumblings. Not only were the great victories being spoken of, but the letters also spoke of the combined contribution to the hold. Lord Freyr might have been from Karak-Hirn, but he marched beside lords from Barak-Varr, Zhufbar and even as far afield as Kraka Drak. This would be a triumph shared by all of dwarf kind!

The leaders of the effort were quickly becoming legend. Even the tiniest beardling was learning the names of Rakam Ironhammer and Luthor the brave, let alone their steadfast defence of the gates! They knew all about King Durak Ironhem and his brave assault on Mount Bloodhorn! They wept openly when word arrived that Brask Alpsbane had fallen in the same assault, vowing that the Red Thane’s efforts would not be for naught, only for celebrations to break out across entire holds when Luca Alpsbane avenged him by taking Bitterstone. Even the human Lorenzo Aquila ranked up there with the greatest of lords. After all was he not one of the first to march in support, one of the only humans to stand by their oaths of friendship.

Of course, if it was Freyrs gold that payed those messengers to spread their song of glory what of it? If it was his request that the bards sing it openly in every tavern, what harm is that? Everyone should know of the colossal effort being undertaken. It was only fair after all. If those listeners got caught up and sent kith, kin or gold to support the Dalazidrungak Drekaz… well then Ekrund would live again…

***

Now the Fairhair stood in Ankor Drakk and watched as people poured in. Ankor Drakk was a big place, once one of the vital hearts of Ekrund. In fact it had once been the original home, before it dishonored itself by barring the gate to the rightful king. That dishonor was gone, now to be replaced with honest sweat and soil. These new colonist where setting up in one of the residential areas. Freyr had brought a company of soldiers to aid in the effort. The colonist had come from all over the worlds edge mountains, not to mention a strong contingent from the vaults. They were exhausted from the trip, but excited to be in their new home. It had been tough for them to sneak past the orcs at the gates. Da Kaptain raided Mingol Var and Barak Ongazi lay under siege, but the garrison at Barak Gorm had welcomed them enthusiastically. The soldiers were helping to repair buildings, find places for all the newcomers to sleep, and aiding several priestess of Valaya in constructing a mess hall. In the dark under the mountain, lanterns were being lit in Ankor Drakk. Light, like life, was reclaiming this empty place.

Soon however these new arrivals would begin more vital work. They would power the workshops, make food for the warriors, tend wounded, even begin crafting the fine goods that would go out into the wide world and bring back gold. The soldiers would win the mountain, but the civilians would be what made it worth it. Already the thane was watching several immigrant engineers working hard on a water pump. Yes, Freyr thought, the letters had been a good plan. The industry would soon thrive.

“Ekrund lives!” he whispered fiercely to himself, before turning back to the dark halls. As he left all he could hear were the echoes in the dark around him. Echoes of life renewed.

(How’s that for a little dwarvish Propoganda?

Although I may have gone a bit overboard on using the word echo.)