by A Uscila
It was practically pouring gold.
With a broad smile and an energetic gait – a fellow that stood out stepped out of a large wooden building that stood smack in the middle of the fort. His bulky, short frame swung in tandem with each step taken by short, stubby legs. A long, braided light brown beard, bushy eyebrows and red eyes that glared from between narrowed eye-lids at every single passing person. He was clothed in leather and pieces of plate-armor, while a long, bulky mace hung from the waist – its’ head dragging against the dusty ground, leaving a furrow behind in passing.
Regardless of the somewhat comical appearance, respectful greetings and deep bows seemed to flow from every side, while those who refrained from doing so kept a fearful distance.
“Good morning, boss!” – Another greeting came from nearby, as a middle-aged human wearing studded leather nodded politely in the direction of the bearded man, stopping in place as if in wait of something.
A slight furrow appeared in between the bushy eyebrows, as the greeted stopped in his tracks.
“You! What did I tell you about greeting me?!” – A shout came from within that plentiful beard, as the boss bellowed. Rugged arms crossed against the chest, while dust rose into the air after each tap of a boot.
“Apologies sir!” – Visibly startled, the middle-aged man bowed more deeply, eyes cast downwards to avoid eye-contact.
“Too late, newbie, get over here!” – Yet, it did not seem like the bearded boss was in a merciful mood – as a fat finger pointed at the spot right in front of him – indicating where the accused was supposed to be.
Somewhat reluctantly, yet swiftly enough – the newbie shuffled to the indicated space, the head still lowered. Yet even still, he was still taller than his billowing boss – almost two-thirds taller, actually. Which created a somewhat silly sight.
“Lower your head!” – Another command was shouted.
Complying, the underling quickly did as told, unaware that the effort or the humiliation experienced was not enough. Why? The beardy was still unable to reach – since he needed to jump a little bit to do so.
“Lower, damn it!” – This time, he seemed genuinely angry, thus the newbie practically crouched to accommodate the command and with that – a loud smack echoed, while a big red hand-print was left on the victim’s left cheek – the head turned to the side as far as it could manage without snapping off.
“That will teach you some manners! Didn’t I tell you to never stand higher when greeting me!? Huh!?” – With barred teeth and a grizzly frown, the cruel overlord complained over a failure to comply with an impossible command. Adding injury to insult, he even landed a solid kick to the victim’s leg – a painful squeal and a few frustrated hops coming in reply to the undeserved act of violence – “Let that be a lesson to ya, newbie” – Without paying much heed to the damage done or any possible repercussions for whatever was said or done – the bearded shorty strutted away with a self-satisfied and confident gait, too busy to worry about others. Too busy looking for trouble – and trouble he did find, as his experienced eye caught upon a gathering at the gates. A couple of onlookers, some local guards and two peculiar fellows – clearly the culprits of the issue. One – a skinny, pale fella, clothed in dark, worn robes that seemed to be turned inside out, while an improvised piece of cloth covered the head, casting an earie shadow upon the upper facial features. Pale, narrow lips - the only visible feature that would indicate an expression. They were not angled upwards. To the right stood another weirdo – a figure covered from head to toe in dark plate armor – a leather-clad sword handle sticking out from behind the right shoulder, while darkness met the gazes of anyone curious enough to stare from within the slits of the rounded full-helm.
A minute glance at the stumped guards that stood around with their thumbs up their asses and an assessment was made. Trouble. Clearly.
With a grunt, followed by a mixture of a frown and a smile – the big boss dwarf started walking in its’ direction, clearly confident in being able to resolve it all.
"Look, I'm telling you, your type are not welcome here...!" - The guard beloved, his tanned, somewhat disfigured features – a week-old stubble covering most of them, twisting into a scowl - "Now get, before I shove this leg right here..." - He elaborated, a thumb pointing towards the right foot - "...three feet up your..." - and right at the most essential part of that colorful explanation, another foot stepped into the conversation - quite literally, as it connected with the guard’s backside and kicked hard enough to knock the fella off his feet and face-down into the dirt. A painful, muffled yelp coming in reply.
"Now now, that is quite enough of that. We don't treat guests that way in this respectable establishment" - Quite brazenly, a smug grin plastered upon that bearded mug of his, the small boss intercepted the conversation, while taking the previous position of the knocked down guard - "Which just so happens to belong to me" - he added, with a wink towards the two mistreated guests. With an awkward exchange of glances between them both, being the only forthcoming reaction. Which was relatively unsuccessful due to certain obstacles - since the improvised hood, worn by the pale-as-milk fellow, was getting in the way. Thus, the act was more of a gesture, than a practical action.
"It's the boss man" - quite ominously, did a ragged-looking observer whisper to a nearby colleague, eyes nervously looking upon the short newcomer.
That's boss dwarf to you" - only to receive a playful glare and a stern warning in reply - "No, make it, mister boss dwarf" - he even added after a brief pause of contemplation.
"As you say m-mister boss dwarf, sir" - cowering under the glare, did the ragged individual reply, his feet shuffling in retreat.
Visibly satisfied with the results, the self-identified dwarf turned towards the two guests once again - "Now then. I do apologize for this outrageous mistreatment and you can be sure, that we'll make it up to you. How about..." - With a professional smile, which was hard to recognize due to all the facial hair, the boss dwarf continued his tirade in quite the self-important manner. Yet, some of his subordinates seemed to disagree.
"But boss dwarf, sir, they..." - A dark-skinned man objected in quite the tamed tone, his figure covered in studded leather, a spear held in one hand, with its’ blunt end sunk within the loose earth beneath.
With an abrupt turn and a forceful tug by at his clothes, the dwarf pulled the spear-wielding guard close enough to smell his breath, a pair of bronze-colored eyes glaring right at the stunned fellow - "Now listen to me real careful, jackass" - he said, through gritted teeth - "Look at these two fine individuals" - A hand gesture that guided the confused guard’s gaze right towards the two guests - "Look at their attire, at the quality craftsmanship of the black plates this fine gentleman is wearing..." - He continued, now emphasizing one guest in particular for some reason, turning back and meeting the still confused gaze of the gripped victim soon after - "...and tell me, do they look like suspicious or problematic folk to you at all?" - As if to imply something, the dwarf practically articulated the final part of his litany, all the while maintaining eye-contact.
"Umm...yes?" - Was all the guard could stammer out, before a loud smack echoed across the field and he was lying face-down in the dirt, just like the colleague that quite recently received similar treatment.
"God damn simpleton!" - The bearded shorty fumed.
Awkwardly coughing, a plated hand rising as if to draw attention to himself - one of the guests seemed bent on voicing a question, yet before that could take place, his pale colleague elbowed the metal-man. An action that drew-in even more attention once the skinny fellow silently swore under his breath, while rubbing the recently used joint.
This time, it was the dwarf that was left bewildered and staring on with a raised eyebrow. An uneasy silence lingering in the wake of recent events.
“Mister…boss dwarf, was it?” – After a moment to recover, the robed guest began, while addressing the dwarf in quite the uncertain manner. His head shifti
ng slightly to the side as the last words were voiced.
“Please, you can call me Bossdwarf” – With a smile, did a reply fly over energetically – “That’s my actual nickname, by the way” – followed by an overly-friendly attitude and a wink.
“A pleasure. I’m Wail and my acquaintance…” – the familiar warlock replied back, without letting out not even a snicker, a pale hand extending to indicate the nearby plate-wearing colleague. Before the continuation could be provided though, Wail’s lips pressed into a clearly dissatisfied line, while a glare was undoubtedly there, glaring from behind the hood. Because, apparently – a certain someone did not manage to hold-back – “…Bob” – He finished, through gritted teeth, the left hand shaking ever so slightly from some sort of strain, as if two opposing intentions collided underneath the relatively calm visage. A tightly formed fist forming during the visible strain, just as the sounds of scraping metal spread to the surroundings - since Bob’s shoulders shook in silent laughter. Not silent enough, clearly.
Bossdwarf, being an obviously keen fellow, narrowed his eyes at the sight, only to follow up with a complete flip and resumed his professional smile – as if driven by some sort of inner strength that propelled his very being towards positive outlooks. Drove and motivated him to be nice.
“I assure you, the pleasure is all mine” – He finally said, after a brief pause, the smile now almost frozen in place – with a set of herbivorous teeth coming into view from within that plentiful beard – “Now then, if you please, I would like to welcome you inside and offer myself as a personal guide during your visit” – he added, with a slight bow and a guiding hand within the fort.
“Thank you for your generous offer, we will gladly accept” – the gesture was quickly accepted, as Wail stepped towards the indicated direction – making sure to, somewhat too powerfully, slam Bob’s plated shoulder in passing, a loud smack echoing from contact. Which, once again, drew in a few curious glances when Wail visibly shook after the contact and swiftly withdrew the tool of violence – hiding it within the folds of his robe as both hands crossed. Yet, even though clearly overdone, the action did have an effect, since Bob was finally done with his antics and after a confused shrug, followed closely behind the moody magician.
Once inside, the two walked in pursuit of mister Bossdwarf, enjoying a brief, yet clearly exaggerated story of how the fort came-to-be and its’ rise to success under his leadership – all the while passing tightly clustered wooden structures and numerous individuals that bustled to and from – most of which seemed to be players just like Wail. Why? Because no self-respecting non-player-character would walk around with a pink wizard hat, light-blue, tight fitting pants and black cloth shirt – all the while obnoxiously shouting something about how good he was at shooting fireballs and what fantastic stats his underpants offered.
Obviously, that was just one example of many, but there was a surprisingly large gathering of similarly out of place individuals everywhere one looked.
“Boss, boss! We’re under attack! It’s those goblins again!” – It was then, that a ragged man, covered in dirt and various cuts – a feathered arrow-end protruding from the left shoulder, ran over screaming, his attention clearly set on the bearded shorty – “They killed off two of our patrol groups and stole a supply wagon! They’ll be here any minute now!”
“Oh for fuck’s sake…get a detachment to deal with them, you bloody simpleton!” – seemingly out of character, Bossdwarf explosively replied, the shout coming into play as he swung his body to face the newly-arrived, fierce eyes shooting down any further comments by the underling, as the poor man stopped in his tracks like a deer caught in headlights – “Sorry about that, now where were we?” – the dwarf then turned back to Wail with a smile as if nothing had happened, an expression clearly bent on starting another boastful tirade any minute now.
“…but boss, we already sent out a detachment and they’re almost done for! We need permission to use the reserves!” – Yet, the underling would simply not relent, no matter what – the objection forcing Bossdwarf to freeze up for a moment or two – only to turn abruptly and with a hasty shuffle of stumpy feet, he sprinted towards the fool and started kicking at the shins in a fury.
“How.Much.More.Are.You.Planning.On.Interrupting.Me?!” – A word squeezed out through clenched teeth in-between each kick and follow-up squeals from the victim, as the bearded-shorty seemed to have finally snapped – “Send the fucking reserves then! Do I need to guide you by hand through every single little thing? Huh!? Fuck am I paying you for!?”
While the two were at it, Wail’s lips twisted into a sneer, the shift twitching as if the man attempted to control the display of emotions. Yet, without a doubt – the abusive dwarf was probably a man close to the deranged warlock’s own heart, maybe even deserving of a certain amount of admiration. Too bad.
With a quick turn and a few silent steps – the magician quickly dived in-between and around one of the many wooden structures that stood on both sides, slipping into the darkness that ruled there. Bob, being unquestionably loyal, turned to follow in unhurried, careful steps – as if attempting to reduce the noise that the worn armor caused. Of course, being Bob, that effort seemed to have the opposite effect, with the jeering and scraping becoming almost as loud as the whimpers, thumps and scrapes that the ever-swearing Bossdwarf was responsible for. Almost, and soon enough – even louder, after which point Bob was simply forced to stop in his tracks, movement ceasing at the very threshold between the street and the alley – where light and darkness clashed, his visor directed towards the former destination with the stillness of a statue. From it? A barely audible snap echoed out – heard only because the recent racket seemed to have ceased completely, a fact that demanded immediate attention, yet was attended to only when a bare glimpse of a shimmering speck of light at the far end of the alley could be tracked. Its’ shaky, floating form so faint, that it might as well been an illusion, a result of over-straining the eyes. Finally, Bob turned his attention back to the bustling, dusty street behind, the motion stopping just as his visor met a narrowed stare from below – for Bossdwarf was standing right next to the plated underling. For how long? Hard to say, but the victim the dwarf was pummeling to dust not-so-long-ago was nowhere in sight.
For a moment the two stood motionless, gazes locked in silence – at least it was to be presumed, since the eye-slits in Bob’s helm were directed at the stumpy beardy.
Finally, Bossdwarf seemed to have decided to act, as his back straightened and the chest expanded somewhat – the dwarf taking a deep breath of air, presumably, before speaking. An action that was halted in its’ tracks, once his eyes seemed to have caught onto an emerging figure of Wail from within the dark alley – the black robes the magician wore more than enough to have kept him relatively unnoticed till departing the shadows.
“And where did you go while I was disciplining my underling?” – Bossdwarf asked with a tone that was in direct contrast with the smile that the stumpy fellow displayed once again.
“Apologies, I was taking a leak. Seemed like as good a time as any” – Unperturbed, Wail shot back quite boldly, following up with a few swipes at his own robe, as if to get rid of lingering dust.
Regardless of what Wail intended, the reply did seem to catch the dwarf off guard, as he stared back wide-eyed, the professional smile all but forgotten.
“…that’s quite hardcore of you. Isn’t there a chance that you’ll wet yourself outside the game if you do your business here?” – Even more so, the act of a detached guide seemed to have been scrubbed off as well, since the dwarf suddenly raised a question that balanced on the boundaries between friend and close acquaintance.
This time, it was Wail, who ended up stumped, for it took a moment till the warlock managed to utter a reply without looking like a fool. A result, that could be somewhat attributed to the efforts of Bob, who attempted to, quite irritably, inquire what Bossdwarf was talking about – only to be shooed
away once Wail came-to-be.
“I don’t believe so, since it never happened to me” – Predictably, the insecure warlock made sure to not only rebut the claim in a way that didn’t invite an argument, but also protected his own reputation by rooting out any embarrassing accusations. Smooth.
“Uh-huh” – Clearly unconvinced, the short guide let out a half-assed reply, making sure to quickly change the topic before it could be addressed – “Either way, let’s resume our journey. Please, follow me” – a professional smile back in full-swing, a polite, guiding wave of the hand and the group were off once more. A lovely sequence that seemed to successfully lull both guests under a false sense of ease and comfort, a result that any self-respecting salesman would reach for. Too bad it got interrupted right at the victorious moment, as a procession of armed figures advancing in a three-man wide, five-man deep formation passed them. Each one making sure to both salute and loudly shout-out their respects towards the bearded boss and having the nerve to ignorantly pass between their boss and the two suckers that were so recently under the Bossdwarf’s spell, once again. Hell, they didn’t even bend down low enough to not be higher than their insecure overlord.
Swearing and shouting in a childish tantrum, while attempting to kick at least one soldier in passing, Bossdwarf’s attention was soon caught by a peculiar phenomenon. From the other side of the passing column of troops, a transparent purple line seemed to flash in and out of existence – trailing off high into the sky for the briefest of moments, to the point that one could doubt it even happened to begin with. Yet, upon careful observation, the guide’s gaze did manage to latch onto a black dot, floating up there – a presumed link to which that purple line connected.
“Did you see that?” – Bossdwarf inquired Wail, once the noisy troops were through and away, his narrowed gaze darting about in search of both confirmation of what recently took place and if it did – the source.