[center][color=violet][h2]Clan Metalbeard[/h2][/color][/center]

The famine, the wretched famine had given them no quarter, no chance to come up with a solution to save the starving people that lay in the mines. Children, dead by the hundred, many more adults and the once opulent dwarven holding in the Glimmering Mountain lord in ruin. It was hard, the land was supposed to be a new start for them, a hope for their dying Clan, instead it was a new living hell as old habits in a new land plagued them, following them from their homeland. It seemed that life was eager to force a lesson upon their stout forms.

“Marum, tell me when will our food situation balance out?,” croaked the voice of the hungry miner-king, not having eaten in days.

“Soon m’lord. Ye’ should eat, we would understand that ye’ need t’ keep ya strength,” The dwarf, Marum stated, setting his metal staff against the wall as he brought a plate to the miner-king and set it on the arm of the stone throne, carved by the king himself. “We will soon be able to sustain ourselves, there is not many left to feed and even in this time of starvation, we might be able to save ourselves.”

“Aye, but, we’ve lost so much.  I fear that we may be too weak to keep our claim on the Glimmering Mountain,” Blackhand sighed, as he took the plate and looked down upon it, some stale bread and cooked meat. A chuckle from Marum took his attention.

“M’lord, we have a life ‘ere, we won’t leave unless we absolutely need to,” the metal priest stated, as he retrieved his staff and walked over to the side of his king liege. “Regardless, what shall we do?”

“We pray, pray that the metal spirits show us mercy.”