Come o' muse, and sing with me the tale of Shash Laborgeared, known to the folk of The Citadel of Permanency as Unfaltering Eritholon!



She came to the fortress of Omristetur, Wildboulders, in the year of 91. Shash was but 13 years, only just of age, when she arrived. Shash was a true dwarf. She loved good porter and admired the intricacy of the turrets that guarded the mountainhomes. Her parents had raised her to be a fine young fisherdwarf in her mother's tradition, though there was no obvious spark of a hero in her. She doubted her importance in the world. Indeed, even her very appearance was unassuming: an uneven smile, an undwarfly belly, and long hair tied in the common fashion of the dwarves of The Angelic Picks.



Yet, there was something powerful, something undeniable hidden in young Shash's gray eyes, and only in the fires of chaos would it at last manifest itself.



Only a year past her arrival, the fortress was beset by a terrible band of goblins. Their wicked archers tore down the fall caravan as it approached Omristetur's unbarred gates, and turned their eyes toward the precious goods within.



It was clear nothing but cold iron would turn away these devils, yet while the fortress had iron a'plenty  shaped into fine weapons, even  there were only a handful of arms to wield it!



In desperation, a militia was cobbled together. Dwarves of every profession and walk of life took up arms and charged to the gate. Were the circumstances any less dire, Shash would have been content to avoid the bloody business; however, these were truly dire times. The two true legionnaires who watched over the fortress would be no match alone for the goblin raiders. One of those brave souls thrust a weapon into her hands  a fine iron zweihander, a two-handed greatsword  and pulled her toward the gates.



Muster was brief and simple. A dozen dwarves total charged the goblins. Their arrows, keen and wicked, fell upon them. Three, four, five neighbors and friends fell beside young Shash. She leaped across an obstacle, a person she might only later recognize: the very legionnaire who first gave her the blade.



Another volley. Only four dwarves stood. At last, weapons clashed. The goblins, armed as raiders rather than warriors, could not stand against the stout charge! Their unkind knives took the fight out of two of her comrades, and fear might have seized Shash then and there; yet, something awoke within her: peace. A sense of perfect, ordered focus  the fabled battle trance of the dwarven heroes!



One goblin fell, bleeding and broken before her. Another, cut clear in twain. The might of Armok flowed into her arms, and she honored Him in her foes' blood. Two goblins closed about her, but they too fell in bloody fury. Through their numbers flew Shash, her eyes fixed on a single over-mighty goblin. He did not wield a bow and knife as the others, but a cruel barbed whip and ornate greathelm that set him apart from his fellows.



Neither did much to aid him.

The goblins who remained fled before Shash's wrath. Only two of her companions still stood: a fellow militiadwarf who soon died of his wounds, and the battlebrother of the fallen Legionnaire. His name she would learn was Metshades, but the people of the fortress knew him as Bonebreaker, oweing to his utter clobbering of a terrible Night Mare with only his unloaded crossbow.



Quickly, Shash found herself awash in the praise of a hero. The bravery she bore that day was a surprise to her, yet she welcomed it and embraced it. She would prove an ideal leader: caring, compassionate, and well-balanced in compromise. In the months after, she would even form a romance with the very dwarf she stood beside in battle: the Bonebreaker himself. In spite of his reputation, he proved a kind and dependable partner.



Together, their virtue built the mighty garrison of Omristetur  and their love bore a growing family. At the time of writing, Shash the Unfaltering is a hero of her fortress  a militia captain, wearing fine steel plate and trailing a deadly cobalt-runed zweihander into battle. When she isn't rearing little Urist, she trains the fort's new recruits in the arts of fighting and swordsdwarfship  and of course, fishing in the swift rivers that meet at Omristetur's heart.



At the time of writing, a personal hall of honor is being established for Shash and Metshades.







The end for now. (Until the next time she does something badass.) Hooray!