After a two day hike up the Greenstone mountains, the merchant finally reached the dwarven citadel. A proud fortress, that spoke of the power of the dwarves, and the woe to all that would cross them.
While the dwarves allowed the merchant to enter their citadel, the short warriors were gruff at best. From the hassles at the inn, to the snubs at the market, the merchant was kept at arm's length by his short hosts.
Finally after his goods were sold, the merchant retreated to the tavern, but once again found the dwarves to be less than welcoming. All the tables were full and none of the dwarves seemed accommodating enough to share space with him. As he was about to depart however, one particularly old and lonely looking dwarf waved the merchant to his empty table.
The merchant thanked the dwarf and bought him an ale, and after a brief conversation he found the short man quite friendly.
"So, friend dwarf, why do your brethren shun your company?" asked the merchant after he had a few too many ales.
The old dwarf looked at the merchant sadly and shook his head. "Do ye know what's the greatest problem in this world lad? It's the lack of respect."
The dwarf then pointed to a great dragon skull mounted on the wall. "Do ye see that beastie laddie? Old Firejaws himself, greatest dragon that ever laid waste to a village in the Greenstone mountains. I along with five of my stout companions, killed it you know. We tracked the beasties' lair down, fought his guardians tooth and nail, and I even lost three of my mates to his flames. But in the end we lopped his bastich head off for all to see," said the dwarf proudly. "But….do ye think these wretches here call me McKinly the Dragonslayer? No lad…they dun't….."
The dwarf then stood up and pointed at his great golden belt. "Do ye see this belt laddie? It was originally a bracelet of the giant king, Ole Gnarlnose. A ruler of a band of man and dworf eattin rotters that marauded through the seven kingdoms, raiding one city after another. Mah brothers and I scoured the hills for five months till we ambushed him and his blokes. Mah best mate was squished flat as a bug, but in the end I personally chopped Gnarlnose's head clean off. Outside of Ragnarock, it was greatest victory over giants ….EVER!," he declared proudly."But….do ye think they would have the decency to call me …oh I don't know…McKinly the Giant Killer? No lad….they dun't…"
Then the dwarf waved at the inn, and outside around the surrounding Citadel. "When ye entered our kingdom lad, were ye accosted? Of course not, though orcs and goblins infest the surrounding mountains, none dare step foot near our fortress. That's cuz I led my army and waged war on them fifty years ago, that I did. Rivers of green goblin blood, and black orc ichor ran in those days. I killed twenty orcs to the left of me, and twenty goblins to the right, and I didn't think it too many lad. We won this land through iron and blood, till none dare stand against the dwarven host," he said pounding his chest. "But….do ye think the locals here would have the decency here to call me ... McKinly the Conqueror? No lad….they honestly dun't," admitted the dwarf in a sad voice.
The merchant at this point, wasn't sure what to say. He began to wave the waitress over for another round, but was suddenly interrupted by the old dwarf.
"BUT! YOU SHAG ONE GOAT….ONE TIME!"