A fiddle to the Dwarf
The final Yrch fell, a dwarven axe separating the head from the body in one sharp strike, bathing the Silvan in blackened blood. The courage was gone, the bard had played his song and the trembling figure fell to his knees. Wide-eyed and shaking, Galtharian turned to face his savior.
Before him, covered in blood and gore, twin axes still in his hands, stood Dalbran Gurnisson. One worthy of song.