No pictures, but because we don't need no stinking pictures. For this update anyway. Images up, by the way.
Unknown
They got off the ship at a busy dock, bustling with people shouting at one another, exchanging money, papers, goods and several other items. It was snowing, something dwarves rarely experience and several of the dwarves were looking round in amazement. Kogan turned towards the human.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Not a problem,” replied the human. “If you’re looking for work, the tavern's over there,” he pointed at a large round thatched building with smoke coming out of the top. “and here, you might need this. Best of luck to you!”
With that he threw Kogan a bag of alien looking coins, disembarked and walked over to a hut with the sign ‘customs office’. Some foreign custom no doubt. Kogan turned to the now scarily few surviving dwarves.
“I say we do as he says and head to the tavern. There’s bugger all else to do and a little money goes a long way,” he said. The dwarves nodded in agreement. They headed over to the tavern, ignoring the stares they got from some humans at the sight of over a dozen heavily armed dwarves. Entering the tavern, they were momentarily blinded by the smoke and noise that filled it. The place was full of people singing, drinking and shouting at the top of their lungs and it took a while for the dwarves to find a free table. They did and Kogan worked out how much money they had. It was just enough for a round of ale and the general consensus was ‘sod it, lets get drunk’. After the ales arrived, the dwarves began to discuss exactly what to do.
“We could get work as labourers,” said Quote. “It’s not like we were born into the military.”
“No,” said Workerdrone firmly. “I refuse to shovel shit for these fools.”
“What if we hired ourselves out as mercenaries?” suggested Vilien.
“That… isn’t such a bad idea actually,” said Barbarossa. “Look around, most of the people in here don’t seem that professional.”
Looking around, the dwarves saw that he was right. Most of the men in the tavern were dressed in the garb of mercenaries, weapons shown prominently, but few seemed well trained or totally at ease.
“So, do we hire ourselves out as mercenaries?” asked Kogan.
“I’m fine with that,” said Workerdrone. “As long as – who’re you?”
A man had come up to the table. He was flanked by several large men who had the blank stares and bulging biceps of hired muscle. The man looked down at the dwarves and smiled the friendly smile of a man about to do an extremely unfriendly thing.
“Well, hello there friends!” he exclaimed. “It’s not usual to see dwarves so far from their homes, especially at a slaver port.”
“Aye,” said Kogan. “We were captured by some slavers, but we killed them. We’re free dwarves, so piss off.”
The man’s smile grew.
“Ah, my friend dwarf, it seems you are not too familiar with our customs. You see, whether or not you are free dwarves currently, you can still be enslaved and I think that my company could benefit from a few labourers. All that remains is will you come quietly, or do I have to have my friends chop a few heads off?”
“Well…” began Workerdrone and the man did not have time to blink before the head of the man next to him was separated from its body. The tavern exploded into activity as the dwarves rushed the men, decimating them within seconds. Everyone in the bar, except those trying to get away from the dwarves, had stopped moving and were looking at the rapidly expanding circle around the dwarves. The man was still standing, coated in the blood of the men he had hired. He was shivering. He smiled nervously.
“I don’t suppose we can forget this e-ever happened. C-can w-we?” he asked. Workerdrone looked him up and down.
“Not really,” he grinned. The man was dead before he hit the floor. Limul searched the corpse.
“Hey, there’s quite a bit of money in here!” he said, delighted.
“Well,” said Workerdrone. “Let’s get boozed!”
The dwarves cheered and the chatter in the bar resumed.
five or six minutes later
A man came up and stood next to the dwarves. They looked up at him.
“You want to make slaves of us too?” asked Workerdrone, gripping his axe.
“Uh, no. Don’t worry, no,” said the man.
“Oh, I wasn’t worried,” grinned Workerdrone. “What do you want?”
“I, uh, I have a proposition. I must say, you’re surprisingly coherent for someone who’s had as much ale as you and your men.”
“We’re dwarves, this is nothing. What was the proposition?” asked Barbarossa.
“Well, I couldn’t help but notice your prowess in combat,” said the man to the amusement of the dwarves. “And I overheard you talking about hiring yourselves out as mercenaries. Well, have you heard of the concept of mercenary companies? It’s quite a big thing over here. All you really need is a banner, materials to set up camp and money. I happen to have some materials and quite a bit of money and I was wondering if you wished to go into business with me.”
“Wait,” said Barbarossa. “You’re saying that you wish to start a mercenary company with us? That’s quite a bold move. Why?”
“To be honest, you weren’t my first choice. Dwarves aren’t all that respected around here, though I don’t share the sentiment. before you killed those men, I was asking around to see if I could start my own company. There’s good money being a mercenary, but only if you’re a good mercenary. There’s been a bit of natural selection in the mercenary bands and the ones that remain aren’t ones to trifle with. Everyone here is hoping to join a band but no-one is interested in creating one. You guys seem to be exactly what I’m looking for.”
“So, does this wretched place not have a standing army?” asked Kogan.
“No. The entire continent is split between several warlords, who use the mercenary bands to their own advantage. Any attempts at raising a standing army have been quashed. People just aren’t stupid enough, what with the power struggles going on. I was working as a smuggler until I sank my boat off of a reef. I lost a friend doing that. Well, when I say friend, I mean acquaintance. Well, when I say acquaintance… The guy had no concept of personal hygiene. I hated the bastard. Anyway, I decided that if life was worth living, it was worth living to the full. I think we could make a lot of money out of mercenary work. Are you in?”
“We’ll discus it. Give us a minute,” said Kogan.
”It’s a good idea. We can make a lot of money and prestige whilst we decide on what to do next,” said Workerdrone. “I say we go for it.”
“I hate to say this, but I agree,” said Kogan. “This could be useful.”
“Actually, I agree as well,” said Barbarossa. “Any of you lads have any objections? We aren’t in the military any more, you can speak up.”
No one said anything. Kogan turned back to the human.
“All right, we’re in. Tell us what we need to do…”
“Bjorn,” smiled the man. “Bjorn Dirkson.”
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Topic: To venture north, into Hell: Othtar Noloc, world at war (Read 106561 times)