The frigid night air seeped into Erathor's hovel. A massive fire was burning in the fireplace. Erathor sat there in his chair, rocking back and forth. His eyes stared into the fire, the flame danced all around, it was almost hypnotic. A knock at the door startled him. He hopped out of his chair and hobbled slowly towards the door. He opened it, an elder dwarf stoof before him.

"Ello there, how can I be helpin yeh" Erathor asked.

"You must come with me, there is no time, grab yer things"

"And why's that eh?" Erathor replied.

"The Dark Elves, I just received word that they launched a full scale attack on the Forest Elves of Zaireth, Prince Faragon is already dead! Lord Grimbeard ordered our armies be assembled at once and all able bodied men are being drafted, we must leave at once, the townspeople have already gathered down at the docks" Erathor scratched his long brown beard.

"Aye, just give me a minute to gear up" Erathor turned around and grabbed a large battle axe from a rack. He threw on his chainmail and gauntlets. Then strapped his boots on. While walking out the door he threw a blue cape on.

It was extremley cold this time of year. The two dwarves walked down the snowy trail towards the village. Erathor could see the townspeople assembled at the docks, their torches gleamed in the distance.

"Lord Grimbeard has spoken with the Kings of Isfar and Fayle, apparently it seems we're goin to war, They came so unexpectedly that the Forest Elves had no time to even fight back." The elder dwarf spoke.

" I don beleive I caught yer name" Erathor asked.

"Me name is Gurnisson" he replied. The elder dward was dressed in armor from head to toe, and had a large mace strapped to his back. His gray beard was short and stout and his hair tied back in a ponytail. They approached the docks. Dwarves were boarding the ships and were dressed for battle. One dwarf had himself settled atop a crate and he was yelling orders.

"Grab yer gear and hop aboard, we depart in an hour"