There were six dwarfs at the table.
And seven tankards.
**Sean:**
“Either somebody’s late or I’ve been drinking considerably faster than I thought.”
Nobody laughed.
An old dwarf lifted the seventh tankard.
**Dwarf:**
“Dorin Baragsson.”
The hall answered his name.
The cup passed from hand to hand.
Drink.
Name.
Pass.
When it reached Sean, he hesitated.
**Sean:**
“I didn’t know him.”
**Dwarf:**
“That’s why we’re telling you his name.”
Dorin had died more than two centuries ago.
Another empty cup belonged to a son killed by Skaven eight years before.
Elsewhere stood more empty places.
The dwarfs had not gathered to forget their dead.
They had invited them.
Soon the hall thundered with songs, boasts, ale and hammerbeats.
Two young dwarfs began shoving each other.
A shove became a fist.
The next blow was harder.
The crowd roared.
**Sean:**
“There it is.”
**Eljara:**
“What?”
**Sean:**
“The moment fun decides it needs to prove something.”
An older dwarf stepped between them before fists became axes.
The music continued.
Because Chaos does not need to invent grief.
Or pride.
Or anger.
It only needs to whisper:
One more drink.
One more boast.
One more blow.
One more enemy.
One more grudge.
Tonight, however, the dead were remembered without demanding another corpse.
Sean filled his cup.
Then the empty one beside him.
**Eljara:**
“You never knew him.”
**Sean:**
“No. But I know his name now.”
Around them, the mountain sang.
**Eljara:**
“And when the dead become the reason to live more fiercely…”
She looked at the fists striking the tables in rhythm.
**Eljara:**
“…how do you make certain they never become the reason to hate more fiercely instead?”
## PLAY EPIC. FEEL THE STORY.
Enter the Old World, where ancient grudges endure, the dead are never quite forgotten, and what you choose to remember can shape what comes next.
Campaigns:
https://startplaying.games/gm/dunchan
Explore the history, religion, folklore and philosophy behind Mythveil Chronicles:
https://www.patreon.com/c/mythveilchronicles_bydunchanhuntergames
**Stories that remember. Worlds that change.**
# When you raise a glass to those you have lost, what do you want their memory to make of the life you still have?