Rigoth stared into the oaken mug of dark, stout dwarven ale, the fortress behind him, drinking and eating contentedly. He knew what was going on in the underbelly of the fort, the massive, complex cavern that he called home. He could hear the masons working, the armor smiths tinkering, and he could hear himself thinking, examining his mind. He had seen something he wish he shouldn't have, and someone knew that he had seen it. In the midst of the great hall of Hammerscar, he alone was the one in the corner, the sad, the fearful. The image was seared into his mind, one of spurting blood, one of screams and agony- and one of his friend, whom he had only known in what seemed now like a passing dream. He gulped down the strong brew and leaned back in the microcline chair.
"Rigoth, wake up."
"Whu-wha-what?"
"Wake up, it's time to go."
"Where?"
"Out. The engravers will be here any minute. Now leave."
Rigoth took leave from the dining hall, his legs moving lazily forwards and backwards in his drunken stupor. Stumbling to the staircase, he took a tumble and landed ass-first a flight down, shaken but miraculously unharmed. Three men he saw in the distance, and he was starting to sober up. Striding forward, he was going to find his way to the bed in this sprawling underground complex.
"Aye, what did he say about the humans?" one of the men, a burly, well-built dwarf in leather said.
"'e said that the men are our allies, n' that they deserve our respect," a shorter, armored dwarf replied.
"That so? Well, let's show him what WE think about that."
In a second, the third dwarf, a trader, was hunched over the brawler's fist as the blow cracked ribs. A second blow from from the sargeant's willow crossbow smashed the traders head against the wall, blood spurting out of the dwarfs mouth from the smack to the jaw. The brawler dragged the half-dead dwarf up against the wall and wailed on him, landing punch after punch, spraying the engraved wall with blood. At the end, the trader, unconscious and nearly dead, was left to die there.
Rigoth ran to him, ripped off a portion of the mans shirt, and wrapped it around his forehead. The two men had left already, presumably off to combat practice. Rigoth took the unconscious dwarf and led him to the bedroom, and laid him down to rest.
At the staircase, a militia guardsmen saw Rigoth take the man with him. Rigoth saw him too.
Risgoth woke up in the bar a few minutes later, the empty mug still in front of him, the hall fully engraved. He could still smell the blood.
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Topic: [Succession Game] Hammerscar - Politics, rebellion and war. (Read 50202 times)