With a well aimed swing of his axe, king Thor Atar of the lion clan, dispatched another orc. Retrieving his notched axe from the dead orcs head, Thor turned and surveyed the battle field, before the gates of his great city, Tebla-A-Khoro, better known as the lions den.

Wiping gore and orc brain matter from his face, Thor spotted his next victim, Drunord, the insane norseman, and Dgaro Halforcs second in command of the orc horde.

Thors helmet was lost in battle, and his blood covered hair and armour glinted in the torch light from the walls of his city. He bellowed to the dwarves engaging the wildman to stand clear, then issued his challenge.

Drunord snapped his head around, and his insane gaze fell on the gore spattered dwarf king.

Thor, whirling his axe in front of him defensivly, picked up speed as he approached, using his forward motion, he launched into an offensive flurry of strikes that caught the norseman on his heels, it was all Drunord could do to parry and side step King Atars precise blows and feints.

Stepping back, bleeding from half a dozen nicks and cuts inflicted by Thors blinding fast strikes, Drunord tried to change the momentum of the fight, launching his own offensive, bringing his huge broadsword down, then around from left to right.

Thor hopped to his left, avoiding the downward chop of Drunords sword, and deftly ducked under the backswing. The dwarf came out of his crouch swinging, he stepped inside the insane norsemans return swipe, blocking it at the hilt with his gauntleted left forearm. Bringing his axe around from right to left, Thor felt the blade make contact with the big mans hip, parting leather breaches, flesh and muscle, then grinding off the pelvis bone. Smelling victory, Thor grasped his axe in two hands, using his momentum, he spun, bringing his bloody weapon around, only to feel it swoosh through the empty space that just a split second ago, was occupied by 300 pounds of smelly human.

Drunord felt the dwarfs axe bite deeply into his left hip, and knew he was in trouble. Instinctivly he hit the dirt, anticipating Thors next move, he rolled painfully onto his injured left side and kicked up with his good leg, making solid contact with the off balanced dwarfs face.

Thor immediatly regretted underestimating his opponent, as he saw the vikings boot to late to avoid it. His vision was obscured by a white flash of pain, as his nose, and several teeth, broke from the force of the kick. His split lips throbbed painfully as blood flowed freely from his mouth and nose. King Thor Atar shook the fog from his brain, and the blood from his eyes as he picked himself up quickly, ignoring the pain, he assumed a defensive posture. He watched as Drunord stood, using sword for support, giving his mind an extra moment to clear.

Both combatants shut out the battle that raged around them, as they circled eachother like two injured animals, Drunord limping badly and Thor blinking away the tears from his quickly swelling eyes, trying not to gag on his own blood as it ran down his throat.

Drunord made the fist move, feinting high, then when Thor commited with a high parry, the norseman, with surprising speed for someone his size, stopped his sword, and swept it low in a reverse arc. Thor jumped over the sword, almost losing his balance on the slick ground, and brought his axe down, scoring a glancing hit on Drunords sword arm, at the same time he spit a mouthfull of blood and teeth into his opponents eyes and face.

Thor landed on both feet to Drunords right, and with a one handed back swing, caught the momentarily blinded human in the back of the head with flat of his axe, sending him staggering forward.

Howling in pain and rage, Drunord planted his feet and turned, swinging his sword around in a wild arc. Thor once again ducked under the swing and moved inside, bringing his axe up, he slammed its head into Drunords exposed chin, driving him back, giving the dwarven warrior king the opening and arm space he needed.

Quickly, Thor drew his axe behind his head and struck, bringing it down with a “thwack”! On Drunords chest, imbedding it deeply in the shocked humans sturnum.

Drunords death howl was heard all acros the battlefield. All eyes turned to see King Thor Atar pulling his axe from the dying humans chest. The king then collapsed in a heap, injured and exhausted.

All the dwarves from the lion clan ran to their beloved king, sweeping him up and retreating back to Tebla-A-Khoro, as the orc horde pursued, only to be driven back by dwarven crossbows from atop the wall.

The dwarves of the lions clan staved off Dgaros first assault, but reinforcements were needed soon, how many times could the badly outnumbered dwarves of the Lions den repel Dgaros savage horde?