The World of Anima Volume 1: The Defenders of Homeland

Chapter 1: The Grave Meeting Of The Bold Power

     On the dreadful winter night from the continent of dwarvilum, the kings adventurers was sent to the snowy mountain in searching of the lost legend named Dwain Ironfist. As they enter in the mountains of Mithrim there in the dwarven halls he is found.

    Rein approach Dwain Ironfist, a towering figure clad in heavy armor adorned with intricate engravings. His broad shoulders and muscular build speak of years of rigorous training, while his stern expression and piercing gaze reveal a stoic determination. Dwain stands in the center of an ancient courtyard, surrounded by crumbling stone walls and overgrown vegetation. The air is thick with the scent of moss and damp earth, and the distant sound of birdsong echoes through the silence. Despite the desolation, there is an undeniable sense of power emanating from Dwain's presence.

     "Dwain Ironfist. I am Reign Spark, I've heard of your conquest and I've come to seek your aid over something interesting." As Reign speak to the dwarf needed of his aid to what journey that lays upon.

    Dwain Ironfist turns his gaze towards you, his eyes narrowing as he assesses your presence. He crosses his arms over his chest, the muscles in his forearms bulging beneath the weight of the armor.

"You seek my aid, do ya?" Dwain's voice rumbles like distant thunder, carrying an air of authority. "Speak then, Reign Spark. What is this interesting matter that you bring before me? And mind ye, it had better be worth my time." His tone holds a hint of skepticism, as if he expects nothing less than a true challenge to pique his interest.

     "We are in need of brave warriors to fight along side with us. We have a dreadlords attack from our homeland in mount penumbra. We need your strength" as spark speaks truthfully to his quest.

    Dwain Ironfist's expression remains stern, but a flicker of curiosity dances in his eyes. He unfolds his arms and places one hand on the pommel of his massive warhammer, its weight seemingly insignificant in his grip.

"A dreadlord's attack, eh?" Dwain's voice carries a note of respect for the formidable foe you face. "Mount Penumbra is no place for the faint-hearted. I am intrigued by your plea, Reign Spark. But tell me, why do you seek my strength specifically? There are many warriors who could answer your call." His gaze pierces through you, as if searching for the true reason behind your request.

     "More of the warriors we sent have fallen our brave orc named reckmall was pierce by the demon overlords spear as his companion have fallen. Your the last of the remnant that remains."

     Dwain Ironfist's brows furrow, his hardened features softening with a mix of concern and empathy. He removes his hand from the warhammer and places it gently on your shoulder, offering a rare display of compassion.

"I see now the weight of your burden, Reign Spark," Dwain's voice carries a solemn tone. "To face such losses and to be the last one standing... It is a heavy mantle to bear." He takes a moment to let the gravity of the situation sink in before continuing.

"Very well then, I shall lend you my strength. For it is in times like these that true warriors must rise above their own doubts and fears." Dwain's eyes narrow with determination as he grips his warhammer tightly once more. "Lead the way, Reign Spark. We shall face this dreadlord together, and I will make sure his reign of terror comes to an end."

With those words, Dwain Ironfist stands tall, ready to face whatever awaits.

     "Very well then, we shall camp 5 months at mount Penumbra over there we will find the last survivors hoping if they were some brave souls that still lives before the armies of dreadlords have arrive like wildfire."

     Dwain Ironfist nods in agreement, his eyes gleaming with a mix of anticipation and resolve. He adjusts the straps of his heavy armor, the clinking sound filling the air.