Thorek Raven Mane, Exile of Clan Ironfist

horek Ironfist, also known as Thorek Raven Mane or Thorek the Black, is an infamous dwarf pirate that roams the western coast of the Old World from the city states of Tilea to the frosted fjords of the Skaag Mountains. As an outcast of his clan he prefers to be called by his epithet Thorek Raven Mane, but on rare occasions he has also been called “Clan Forsaker” and “Banner Traitor” and such. On all recorded occasions, however, the dwarf unfortunate enough to have referred to Thorek’s indiscretions has been gutted by his razor sharp waraxe – the Raven’s Edge.

Thorek’s notoriety stems from his having lost the clan Battle Standard in a foolish, and unsanctioned, venture into the Border Princes. While he has subsequently managed to regain the standard, both years of use as an ogre’s cloak (having almost irrevocably damaged said banner), as well as the fact that he has yet to return the standard to the clan, have not mitigated the magnitude of his dishonour.

While he was originally exiled from the clan by his elder brother Gotrek Golden Hand, the current Lord of the Hold, his nephew Graell Ironfist has upheld his father’s wishes and the clan’s traditions - Thorek has yet to be forgiven.

In desperation, the now aged Thorek attempted a courageous, but nevertheless foolish, sortie into the elven kingdom of Ulthuan to retrieve a legendary elven artefact, the existence of which remained an eternal blight upon dwarven honour. The infamous Cloak of Beards, crafted in the aftermath of the original War of the Beard, is said to be woven from the beards of slain dwarf lords – one of which belonged to the original Thane of Kazad Valdahaz, and first Lord of Clan Ironfist, Kurgan the Great. Thorek’s plan was to recover this abhorrent relic and return it, with the standard of Clan Ironfist in order to redeem his honour.

Unfortunately for Thorek Raven Mane, his efforts did not go according to plan...

The messenger's tale

he dusty great hall thrummed with quiet anticipation for the messenger’s words, the dusky silence seemingly punctuated by the young dwarf’s rasping breath. Gaunt and exhausted, the dwarf had paused a moment to rest and clear his thoughts – his message was of utmost importance, and his words must be carefully chosen. The gyrocopter pilot departed the port hold of Barak Varr a fortnight ago, with express instructions to deliver a missive directly to the Lord of Kazad Valdahaz with utmost haste, however, due to his rush he was incautious. His flying machine had been poached out of the sky by an orc watchtower, and crashed into the expansive forest carpet that surrounded the Shiverpeaks. Barely evading his would be captors, the pilot had run for many day’s without rest or provisions – from the wooded foothills of the Shiverpeaks to the lofty hold he now found himself in. Believing his nightmarish journey at an end, he however realised had yet the hardest part to complete...

Raising himself heavily off of the floor of the great hall, he met the iron clad gaze of the surprisingly young dwarf lord. Nodding grimly he began:

“My Lord Ironfist, I bring you the direst tidings. Of your uncle Thorek... And of your sister Bethrigen..”

The disapproving glare at the mention of the first name was only superseded by the look of shock at the mention of the second. A nervous murmur rippled around the hall, and a long moment passed before the resonant voice of Graell Ironfist, Lord of Clan Ironfist and steward of Kazad Valdahaz, boomed out.

“Continue.”

And the pilot told his tale...