In a snowy tavern..
-
_The older dwarf opened the door with fervor, the fangs of the bitterly cold air chasing him towards the hovel-like tavern, and more specifically the empty table in the corner.
Once inside he leaned backwards against the door, fighting the full force of winter which was trying with all its might to get hold of another victim.
Quickly the color which been muted by the fury of winter quickly returned. But the normal sounds of a tavern did not. Save for the slow tap of the staff which the dwarf was leaning heavily on. A slow methodical tap, echoing around the room drawing all the eyes to the stranger who had wandered in.
The empty table by the fire felt like heaven, if he believed in one, or was it the depths of the damned? He thought to himself and chuckles as he removed the heavy bear skin cloak, soaked from the heat generated by his body and the avalanche of snow pouring from the sky.
Slowly and with the aid of his staff, he lowered himself into the chair, the wood groaning at the weight, while the dwarf did the same in relief.
The bartender cleaning a mug, while glaring straight at the dwarf nudged the ale wench with a free elbow, nodding his head towards the stranger in the corner.
The dwarf looked around the room and as he made eye contact with the few scattered patrons in the tavern, they turned back to their own business.
Wasn't the best reception he had ever had, but it wasn't the worst either. No one had reached for a weapon, and no one but the ale wench was approaching him.
He didn't process or care what the wench had to offer.. Just bring the strongest of whatever they had… Keep it coming.
The wench looked at the bartender, who hesitated until the dwarf tossed some assorted coins and a gem or two on a table. This brought a strong nod from the barkeep as the wench grabbed at the currency with a dexterity worthy of a halfling pickpocket as opposed to a sausage fingered dwarf.
With an apron holding the coins and gems she moved with an urgency not seen in this tavern for some time, as it was clear that most patrons could barely afford the half piss half ale concoction served at the bar.
She returned quickly with a bottle covered in dust and tossed a half clean mug on the table. Pulling the cork out with his teeth and spitting it aside, the dwarf poured some in the mug and sniffed it.
Looking into the bottom of the glass he gave a quiet chuckle.. Poisoned.. This should be amusing. He poured more into the mug until some spilled over.
Peering at the bartender he raised his glass for a moment and downed the contents, slamming the mug on the wooden table once done. He savored the feeling of the alcohol and poison.
The tickle on his gums and tongue was pleasurable, the same as the nails of a female being run down one's back in a fit of passion.... with the intent to cross that fine line between pleasure and pain.
The dwarf could see the bartender begin to turn red as enough time had passed and the poison had not had its intended effect. He cast his gaze downward feverishly cleaning the glass that had been in his hand since the dwarf first came in.
He filled his glass again and as he was about to drink from it again.... The door opened a second time. Everyone in the tavern except for the older dwarf were stupefied by this event. One stranger finding this hidden tavern in the armpit of this mountain in a blizzard was rare, but another one? Unheard of.
Except this time the door opened with purpose and force that was more than just winter's cold..._
[End part 1]
-
_Foilir slowly placed both his hands on the table in front of him, his eyes fixed on the bounty hunter.
This was not out of fear or to re-assure the bounty hunter at all, it was simply that he was unsure of how to kill the dwarf that had come to take his life for a small bag of coins.
This happened from time to time, so Foilir just trusted whichever God from the Pantheon inspired him. Use a hammer? Strip off his armor and do it with his hands? What to do…._
You mind if I finish this before we start?
_Without waiting for approval he poured the rest of the poisoned spirits into his dirty glass.
Left hand firmly on the table, his right hand pouring deliberately while still staring at the bounty hunter. He placed the bottle to the side, empty without purpose, just like he felt at the moment.
And then again, his death muse delivered a most unexpected result.
In a moment of brashness, the bounty hunter took Foilir's glass and downed the poison in one gulp, throwing the glass against the stone wall behind the seated dwarf.
There was no reaction from Foilir, raised eyebrows and his mouth opened as if to say something, but he was paralyzed by incredulous surprise.
The same poison that the bartender intended for Foilir was now going to be the means of delivering this bounty hunter to his death. He didn't even have to get his hands dirty.
A mental countdown started in his mind. He had worked with poison so many years he knew them as well as an anvil and crafting hammer.
So slowly he stood, his brain still ticking away the seconds when this bounty hunter's throat would constrict to the point to force his tongue out of his mouth.
The two dwarves stood a mere arm's length apart, the bounty hunter's hand on his dagger the other in a balled fist.
Only a few seconds now.
And then Foilir's muse inspired him. As he counted down from 3….2... he saw in the bounty hunter's eyes that his body was informing him something was terribly wrong.
At this point, the bard hidden inside of him took over. He reached for an imaginary dagger hanging off his belt and began to twirl it with a flourish.
The poison was attacking the bounty hunter quickly now, as his tongue started to swell and it was true labor to get air into his blocked off lungs.
Then with one swift stabbing motion of a dagger that was not there, he thrust it through his throat.
He could picture it mentally, having done it in the past. In right under the adams apple and just off to the side, severing one of the arteries that supplied the brain.
He held his arm out in place as the bounty hunter started gasping and tugging at the collar of his armor, trying to create space for air!
Foilir took in all the visual cues that one who has played extensively with poison is familiar with. The bulging veins in the neck, the eyes starting to protrude from his skull, the veins starting to creep red and bright like vines into the whites of his eyes.
When the eyes started to roll into the back of his head, Foilir grabbed the back of his head by his hair with his left hand, and with his right still holding the mentally constructed dagger, guided the lifeless body to the floor.
This death was not on his soul, and he glanced at the bartender who had watched the scene in horror.
True to his bardic art, Foilir feigned effort as he placed a foot on the corpse and pulled the 'dagger' from the body and wiped it clean on his sleeve before returning it to his belt.
Adjusting his beard, he looked at the second bounty hunter, the one who was guarding the door.
Fight or flight?
Flight it was, as the door opened with abandon and the dwarven mercenary ran back into the grips of the cold and snow. Better to chance dieing in the mountains than facing some mystical certain death at the hands of that death merchant.
With the door still open Foilir picked up his axe and walked over to the bar.
The patrons scattered from their stools to get as far away from him as possible.
The only noise in the tavern was the sounds of the leaden steps and metal armor clanking out each motion of Foilir.
Taking a half full bottle from the bar he poured himself a drink before addressing the bartender,_
You the owner of this establishment?
The bartender was cowering behind the bar with the waitress, holding each other as if a hug would prevent further violence.
Yes… I bought it from Grumvar Battlesong, back during the second troll wars.
Foilir downed the drink then waved to the waitress to move away.
Best move away from there lass.
_Without warning Foilir picked up his axe and hurled it into the chest of the bartender, sending him to the floor.
One of the patrons blurted out in horror._
You just killed an unarmed lad!
Foilir turned around to face the patrons, talking through gritted teeth and narrowed eyes.
Well he should have farkin armed himself! Especially since I tracked my horse to his stable!
_The door closed and the smell of death filled the tavern. None of the patrons were quite sure how it got there or how long it had been there. It was clear he was with Foilir.
With the same deliberate steps he moved around the bar to retrieve his axe and using the same motion as he did with the slain bounty hunter, he used his foot on the corpse's chest as he returned his axe to his killing hand.
With a narrowed eye and looking down his arm so that the axe appeared under the chin's of the patrons he was addressing, he could picture killing them all._
Now which one of you sons a bitches is going to tell me how my horse got here?
_It always came back to that damned horse. The one that had started this whole mess and led him hear. All these folk better hope its still in the stable and his saddle is still is still with it.
Or no one leaves this place alive._
[End Part III]
-
_The two dwarves entered the room with purpose, eyes scanning the room and one taking a spot near the door while closing it with his off hand.
The other's eyes searched the room until they settles on the dwarf who had preceded them into the tavern.
He nodded to his cohort, and started his way towards target._
"Are you Razthanunduk?" He asked of the seated dwarf.
"You a bounty hunter?"
_The reply was instant, through clenched teeth and with narrowed eyes.
These two had followed him for months through the mountains.He was well aware of their prescence and wasn't running from them at all. In fact he thought the end result would be the two would eventually give up their chase and go home.
Apparently he was wrong.
The name amused him. "Razthanunduk", red beard of death. It wasn't the worst thing he had ever been called and it rather amused him.
His idle thoughts were interrupted by the bounty hunter's reply._
"Its a living."
He had heard this before. And he was going to tell this bounty hunter the same as warned the rest.
"Dieing ain't much of a livin, boy."
_With that he raised his gaze to meet that of the bounty hunter. Even after coming in from the cold, the sweat on his face was visible. Young dwarf, probably poor and without training in any trade.
Chasing bounties was his only means of income.
The next few motions of "Razthanunduk" looked like a dance. He slowly stood up from his seat, and purposefully stood on the foot of the bounty hunter.
Quietly he muttered in guttural dwarven and as he did so, the color seemed to drain from the bounty hunter's face.
The dance was almost over, and as he stood he pulled out another chair at the table, guiding the bounty hunter into it. He was weakened, but not dead.
To everyone in the room it seemed like an accepted invitation to sit at the table, join him for a moment, before the ugly business of death was addressed.
Razthanunduk, as Foilir Dolvak was known in these parts, returned to his seat and looked at the pale and listless bounty hunter.
He was the only one fit to speak._
"I am going to tell you a story with a moral."
Foilir waited for the bounty hunter to blink in reply, but he was going to continue either way.
"Long, long ago, there was a tireless warrior in these parts. Some who knew him loved him, others feared him, most loathed him. They called him Razthanunduk and so shall we.
One day, while hunting, he lost his way in these mountains and while he slept that same night, he lost his horse. While he was looking for his horse he wandered into the lands of a rival kingdom.
But because his reputation preceded him, they treated him surprisingly well. The dwarven king of welcomed him as a guest and arranged a feast in his honor.
After the feast, the king's daughter paid Razthanunduk a visit in his room and proclaimed her love for him. She told him she wished to bear his child.
She seduced him with her beauty and her finely woven words, and before long they took a chance on being granted the Thunder Blessing.The following morning, Razthanunduk left, but he left a token behind for his future child, if Moradin willed it to be. It was a chained wristbrand, crafted by his own hands, will the lore of the family blood line. Heavy and full of runes, there was none other in the world like it.
When the child was born, they called him Korul, so let's call him that too.
Years later, his mother told him who his father was. The boy was stunned. He told his mother he was going to unite the two kingdoms and depose the kings of the two lands and install his father as their successor. Eventually, he would be king and bring just rule to all the lands.
So said the pure and good hearted Korul, not realizing that his enemies were far more cunning and devious than he was. The current king, his grandfather, went to great lengths to prevent Korul from recognizing his father. The two kingdoms were at war for seemed like an eternity. It was just a matter of time before Korul was a part of it.
After many tricks and ruses, and cruel twists of fate and coincidence, engineered for all he knew by Moradin himself, the day arrived when Korul and Razthanunduk stood face to face on the battlefield, each with an army behind them.
Neither knew the other's face, but wearing their full armor and helms, it was impossible for one to recognize the other.
Razthanunduk tried to remain anonymous inside his armor, changing it often. The reason for this was that if his adversary knew who he was, then they would unleash their full fury against in him in battle. It gave him an advantage.
So it came to be that these two great warriors, father and son, watched by their respective armies, stepped forward and drew their axe and hammer.
The two warriors begin to fight. For hours then days the fight rages on, with the eyes of their armies on them, neither able to defeat the other. Soaked and exhausted, they bow their weapons and return to their respective camps.
Its here that I hope that father and son will be unable to kill each other and find some way out of their predicament.
Again father and son square off in front of their armies and resume their battle. Then unexpectedly, Clangeddin smiles on Korul and he is able to knock the Amn out of Razthanunduk's hand and him to the ground.
Then a smile formed on Razthanunduk's face as he watched Korul reach for the axe. That holy relic had drained the life from so many dwarves before him, and he enjoyed watching the axe drain the life of the dwarves unworthy to wield it.
So you could imagine the fear and surprise in his eyes when Korul seemed to grow stronger when he picked it up. Soon the Amn was being held at Razthanunduk's neck, ready to sever it from its body.
So imagine Razthanunduk's surprise when Korul stands and returns his axe informing his defeated adversary that there is no honor in taking an adversary's head on the first occasion. That there is no honor in it.
So Korul does not kill his father.
As for the third day, despite all expectations, is over in a moment. Razthanunduk waste's no time and does not hold back, quickly knocking down Korul and killing him with a swift and efficient manner, driving his axe deep into the place where helm and shoulder plates meet.
The speed of the event is shocking and horrifying.
Its only when Razthanunduk is stripping Korul of his war trophies that he finds the wristband he had left for his son that he realizes what he has done.
He takes his son's bloody corpse into his arms and he weeps openly on the battlefield. Moradin tortures him yet again."
_At this point Foilir Dolvak, Razthanunduk, pauses and looks at the bounty hunter, who has been listening to the entire tale, unable to move in his weakened state.
Again, Foilir mutters in a guttural tone, and the color returns to the bounty hunter's face._
"I told you this tale, not to explain things, but inform you that you can walk out the door. I could have taken your life the moment you entered through it and if we meet again I will."
_The message of the story sinks into the bounty hunter's conscious and he stands unsure if he is going to leave, and slowly he makes his way towards the door.
He reaches the second hunter standing guard and they exchange quiet words before the bounty hunter returns to the table._
"I had to come back."
He says this almost apologetically to Foilir, who still seated replies as if he knew that all along.
"I know you did.."
[End Part II]