abstract
| - Valthur was born thirty three years after the War of the Three Hammers in the snowy peaks of Northeron to the Wildhammer dwarves. Growing up he was taught the history of his people and being only a short time after the war, the hatred felt by his clan for the defilers of Grim Batol, the Dark Irons, was still fresh in their hearts and was passed on to Valthur. This hate is still with him to this day. Valthur grew to be a strong young dwarf on the frozen mountain tops of his homeland. At the age of ninety he was finally made a Gryphon rider after years of practice and completing all the trials laid before him. Unfortunately on his first mission he and his wing mates were attacked by a black dragon. The beast killed the other two dwarves before moving to attack Valthur, but he proved to be a tougher opponent. Their battle dragged on, what was only moments felt like hours and in the end the dragon won out. Valthur's gryphon was killed under him, disemboweled by the dragon's claws, and he was thrown clear in it's last moments of life. Falling to his doom Valthur in one last moment of spite threw his stormhammer at the black beast's face. The hammer, whether from impurities in the metal or lack of spirit from it's wielder, cracked when it struck the dragon and only caused the beast to loose an eye and half a horn. Valthur fell to the ground with a mighty SMACK-CRACK and lay still. The dragon, assuming he was dead, flew back to where it came from, it had caused enough death to sake it's appetite. However, Valthur was not dead and was later recovered by a search party.
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