For five years Dumplin had passed through different levels of hell and she'd learned to adapt. Even in the madness of Arrowstockades there were patterns and where there were patterns technique could be refined. With practice and dedication even a city born dwarf like Dumat was more than capable of learning to survive. But now, now the days of posturing and rolling with the punches seemed to be over. She was no longer pretending and no longer surviving. Now that she walked the halls of Arrowstockades appearing quite imperial clad in bronze armor, crossbow at rest, Obok on her shoulder, and a quiver of her own design bristling with bolts on her hip she was in control. The nervousness she felt at the thought of becoming a warrior, the sickness she felt from slaying the goblin, and the sense of unease inherent to walking the halls of Arrowstockades all burned away in the face of her raw excitement. No force on heaven or earth could intimidate her today.
She marched triumphantly, if awkwardly due to her inexperience with armor, back to the barracks. She stood proudly for a moment hoping to catch the eye and earn the praise of one of her peers but she quickly remembered that as the most junior dwarf of the most useless squad she was the least impressive dwarf in the entire military. Degel sat stroking his beard and Inod was wholly inverted, feet planted on either arm of his crossbow, and his back against the wall trying desperately to draw back his crossbow string.
“I have my equipment.” Dumplin said.
“That's good,” Degel replied. “You're a full fledged member of the Hairless Baboons now.”
“Why do they call us the Hairless Baboons?” Dumplin asked.
“I don't know.” Degel replied.
“We keep asking them to stop.” Inod said.
“Now that you have equipment you should carry some paper and charcoal to write down where you leave it.”
“Leave what?” Dumplin asked.
“Your equipment,” Degel said matter of factly. “If you drop it on the ground you'll be able to remember where you left it when it's your turn to train.”
“Why would I drop my equipment on the ground?” Dumplin asked.
“Well sometimes when it's hot I just take off a piece and leave it on the ground and come back to it when I get orders. Then if it's still hot I drop another and another, sometimes I leave pieces laying around in the barracks or in my room or in the dining hall and then when it's time to train or mobilize I forget where some of it is and I show up without any bolts, or without my quiver. Heck, last time we received orders I forgot my crossbow so I just cheered for the other archers until they asked me to leave.”
“Maybe you should keep your armor on, or store it in the armory until you need it.” Dumplin suggested.
“That sounds complicated.” Degel said apprehensively.
“It's easier than dropping it all over the fortress.” Dumplin replied.
“No, I think my ways better.” Degel insisted. “Besides, if I write down where I keep my armor on the front of the paper I can write down potential squad members on the back.”
“You could still carry the paper-”
“I'm having trouble finding new squad mates.” Degel explained. “I keep asking but nobody wants to join because everyone hates me.”
“It's true.” Inod said inadvertently launching his crossbow into the air. “Everyone hates him because he's secretly an elf.”
“I'm not an elf!”
“That doesn't stop him from fondling them.”
“I don't fondle elves!”
“He's even a flower picker.”
“I'm an herbalist!”
“He drank too much mead and said he wants to marry an elf.”
“I do not want to marry an elf I just admire them for their marital bonds.”
“See, he likes elf bondage. I saw him eying a naked elf prisoner once.”
“First of all that's not what that means and second of all it was in the middle of the dining hall, it was hard not to notice!”
“He's an elf fondler.”
“I'm not an elf fondler!”
“Now,” Dumplin began quickly cutting off the pairs discussion. “Being a soldier is a big commitment. They probably just aren't cut out for it, I'm sure they don't think you fondle elves.” Dumat assured.
“No.” Degel said. “When they say no they always say it's because they hate me for being an elf fondler. They're very specific.”
Dumplin had nothing to say that wouldn't be incredibly sad so she settled on prolonged awkward silence. While she waited for Degel to say some other horrible thing a thought struck her.
“I think I know where you can find plenty of willing participants.”
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Topic: The Increasingly Tragic Tale of Dumplin (Read 78132 times)