Oooh, nice one!
I hope there will be more of this.
Thanks for the encouragement!
Story continues...
One of the town guards, attracted by the commotion, entered the tavern and shouted something unintelligible from the doorway. I thought they'd lock us up for sure. (Not that we had reason to worry; their jail wouldn't hold us for long. It has dirt floors! Hahaha...) But to my surprise a big bear of a human suddenly interposed himself in the doorway between us and the guard. "Wot Destis? You think I can't take care of me own tavern? Yon patrons just got a little overexcited; I'll soon put a stop to it. Be off with ya!" The young guard stammered a feeble protest, but the tavern owner closed the door in his face.
Then he turned to face us. The guard's shout had startled us enough that we all stopped what we were doing. The tableau caught me with a bar stool raised above my head, about to smash the table that Kubuk the metalsmith hid under. I had no stake in the dispute that started the ruckus, but a dwarven leader must set the first example in any situation. But the tavern owner just stared me down until I lowered the stool sheepishly. "I'm Batow," he growled, "You lot - come with me, lest you want me to turn you over to our Hammerman."
He led us out the back way of the tavern, and along the way hissed warnings to the few human patrons left inside that they better pretend they didn't just see seven mythical creatures engage in a bar fight. (For dwarves are rare enough in this part of the world to be barely more than legend.) He led us out the back alley, to his cottage behind the tavern. "In here."
"You're probably wondering why I sent the guard away."
I simply smiled and attempted to wrestle him to the ground (for I was still quite drunk). Rather than helping, my fellow dwarves laughed and discussed placing bets on the match. Batow was Very Strong, and Unbelievably Tough, and I could not hold him. He reversed my hold and put me in a headlock. He continued his speech while I choked and gurgled. "Oh, I've known you were here all along. That human child who saw you break into that abandoned cottage? That was my son. He told no one, but, he told me. I've been waiting for the opportunity to... talk... with you ever since."
Batow released his hold and spun me around to face him. "Dwarves are no friends to the Elves, correct?" he suddenly demanded. He did not wait for an answer but continued on, "The boy you saw? The Elves killed his mother. ATE her. I've sworn revenge ever since. But the mayor of this town, he doesn't understand the seriousness of the Elven menace. He won't help me, even forbids me from taking vengeance. Every Spring those pointy eared bastards come to trade trinkets and bring their horribly mutilated animals, God knows what unspeakable things they do to cause the animals such injuries... And every Spring I watch those cannibals come through my town and I can NOT do anything about them. The mayor knows my intentions, and has the guards keep an eye on me. But YOU, you could do something about them. And with dwarven engineering... who knows..."
"So here's what I'm offerring you: you help me deal with the Elves, and I'll keep your secret and even lend you the use of my tavern and my cottage. Deal?"
I smiled and said, still hoarse from the choke hold, "Dwarves need no prodding when it comes to killing Elves. What do you have in mind?"
"This," he said, and with a flourish unrolled a large parchment on the table, blueprints, I now saw. I looked them over and then looked up at Batow, "Nice. This plan is... very dwarvish." Batow understood it as a compliment, and beamed. "But of course it'll never work," I finished. Batow became crestfallen; ironic that my words hurt him more than my wrestling. I gave the plans another look, "Well, it's just this part here: the roof of your tavern is 2 Z-levels high; you can't get a wagon up there with a single ramp." Dishmab the carpenter, who is also a Competent Building Designer, leaned in. "This cottage has a flat roof," she said, "What if you build a ramp to the roof of this cottage, and then from there another ramp to the tavern roof." "OK, OK, that could work," I said, "But what about the cave-in? You'll punch right through the tavern." Dishmab scribbled on the blueprint. "Central pillars," I said, "I like it."
"Wait," I said, "We're not accustomed to building in the open. Digging is one thing for us but how will we disguise this thing above ground?" Batow grabbed the quill and scribbled his own addition to the blueprint, "Fortifications... Here, here, and here. They'll block view from ground level of what we're building on the roof." "And we can train markdwarves to make use of them for defense too!" I realized, "But there's still the problem of people seeing us."
Batow laughed, "I'll let it be known I've hired foreign contractors to spruce up my tavern. You stilts to disguise your height work well enough - when you're not hitting each other over the head with them!!"