-1
The next day found the grouping on the road once more. By noon, the city walls were within sight. Toren sighed audibly.
"An ale is gonna taste so damn good."
The other dwarves nodded, Strom adding an affirmative grunt.
"Ale?" Piped up a muffled voice.
"Ale?" Chirped another.
Armin glanced over at the closest wagon. A blond mass of curls was hanging upside down underneath the wagon, a giant grin on the face, so big in fact that it seemed almost ready to encompass the entire head. Another head, or bucket rather, appeared next to it, an eye peering through the ear hole. Armin groaned.
"What are ye lads up ta now?"
Amidst giggling, the two managed to answer. "Camelflags"
Strom blinked. "Camel what?"
Kendrac snickered. "Hidin'"
"Ahh...Camouflage." Toren offered, to which the bucket shook up and down rather violently, knocking the both from the wagon.
"But now we's home. Time ta drinks!" The blond dwarf said, spitting out a mouthful of dust.
"Yesyesyes! Drink!" Rom replied. He stood up and grabbed his bucket helm. "HEY! Who turnt out da lights?" He began wrenching the helm back and forth on his head. Kendrac climbed up onto his shoulders and began to tug as well. Armin sighed.
"Aye. An ale do sound good.
By the time the sun dipped behind the mountains, the caravan had reached the city. The dwarves were paid and the caravan drivers dispersed with their goods to find a place to set up. Armin, Strom and Toren took the prisoners to the local constabulary, leaving Kendrac and Rom to find a tavern.
"Are ye sure lettin them two off alone be a good idea?" Strom asked.
"Git a movin' ye durned fool." Armin shrugged as he shoved one of the prisoners forward. "I never know 'bout them two. But first things first, I be wantin ta speak with the chief 'bout these three.
Once inside, the three survivors of the failed attack were locked away. The tall human who was in charge of security in the city studied the three dwarves over the bowl of the pipe. He puffed a few times then scratched his beard.
"You three beat up on a whole band of these Red brigands, you say?" He asked.
Armin replied in the affirmative. "Aye, we three, plus two others. "
The human tamped out his pipe and leaned back, steepling his fingers together.
"And you want a reward I suppose?"
"We ain't a charity pal, we fight fer coin." Toren responded. The large barbarian-like dwarf was leaning on the handle of his maul, his stern visage glaring at the constable.
"Yes, of course." He reached into a drawer and pulled out three pouches of coin, handing one to each. "a hundred gold in each pouch, for your work. The lands are that much safer with a few less Red's to cause trouble.
The three dwarves nodded their thanks and turned towards the door.
"However, I can triple that if you do something for me."
The three paused and looked at each other briefly, then looked back at the human. Armin raised a furry red eyebrow and grinned ever so slightly.
"Aye? do be tellin"
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, the patrons of the Flogged Mermaid were about to get a surprise. Gort, the bartender was happily wiping down his bar. A retired half orc adventurer, he had owned the Flogged Mermaid for 20 seasons and took great pride in its appearance. The windows were clear, save for the two that were stained glass. The tables and chairs were all polished mahogany as was the bar. He had a stage built for entertainment as well. Some nights, the Mermaid was packed full, as it was the best place in town for anything from music, to poetry to burlesque shows. Tonight promised to be the best yet. A troupe of gypsy's had arrived and had sought out Gort's tavern.
"Miryam, make sure those tables are spotless. Genine, I want that stew to be perfect. Synthia, make sure your girls are friendly tonight. I saw a merchant caravan come through today, we want to make them welcome." Gort dealt out his instructions to his employees.
"Yes Pappa bear." The three intoned. They curtsied politely, then went about their duties, giggling and tittering. Gort hated that nickname, and they knew it. Despite his fearsome visage of greenish skin, tusks, and bulging muscles, Gort really was a teddy bear, at least around his girls.
"Grrrrrr!" he snarled at the girls, who shrieked with faux fear and scattered. Gort grinned. He heard the door open and turned to greet his first guests of the night. His smile fell as he watched Rom and Kendrac trying to enter at the same time, finally popping through and landing in a heap of feet, hair, robes and giggles.
"Oh gods!" Gort groaned. "Dwarves."
Rom popped his head up and looked around
"Dwarfs? wheresa dwarfs?"
Kendrac stumbled to his feet and kicked Rom in the arse. "Wesa dwarfs!"
Rom grinned sheepishly through his beard. "oh yeah!"
The two ambled up to the bar and spent the next few moments trying to climb up onto the barstools. Once there, they looked around for the bartender.
"Barkeep! wesa thirsty!" Kendrac yelled. Rom just giggled.
Gort sighed and walked back behind the bar. Maybe they'll leave soon, he thought. He said, "Yes? what can I get you?"
"Ale!" the two shouted at the same time, then giggled some more.
"Just two?" Gort asked, trying to maintain his calm
Rom and Kendrac looked at each other with confused looks on their faces. After some quick whispers, Rom grinned and set a pouch on the bar.
"We wants two. Barrels" Rom said.
Gort took the pouch and looked inside. He blinked, not once but three times, then closed the pouch. "Mathias!" He bellowed.
A large muscular man poked his head out from the kitchen. "Yea boss?"
"Bring up two barrels of ale for these dwarves." Gort ordered. "and set them up as far from the stage as possible."
"Yea boss" Mathias disappeared, and reappeared a few minutes later with another man and two barrels. The dwarves' eyes threatened to burst from their sockets as they saw the ale. They hopped down off the barstools and ran towards the barrels, shoving the men out of the way. With practiced ease, each dwarf popped the lid of their respective barrel and scooped a mug into the golden liquid. Gort slumped against the wall, and put a hand against his forehead. This was going to be a long night. He knew it.
A few hours later, Armin Strom and Toren left the constable's office.
"We gonna have enough coin ta start our own brewery" Toren chuckled.
Strom nodded. "Aye, and all we gotta do is do what we do best: bash heads.
Armin allowed himself a rare grin as he nodded in agreement. "Aye. Speakin of ale, leave us ta find the two loons, yes?"
Before Strom and Toren could reply, a loud crash split the silence of the night. All three looked at each other and shook their heads.
"5 gold says we find what made that sound, we find them." Strom offered.
Armin quirked a brow. "Always makin the bad bets. Ain't that how ye lost yer finger?"
Strom coughed . "C'mon then." He said as he ran off towards the commotion. Toren ran off after him, and Armin followed, allowing himself a rare chuckle.
The sight they found was one to remember. The commotion was coming from inside a tavern called the Flogged Mermaid. There were patrons streaming from the door, and a few through the windows, or rather the holes where a window once resided. The strains of a dwarven drinking song emanated from within, along with the clucking of chickens.
"Chickens?" Toren and Strom looked at each other then to Armin, who shook his head.
The three stepped inside. What they saw was pure bedlam. Rom was hanging from the remnants of a crystal chandelier, throwing live chickens at the patrons below. The patrons were divided between trying to catch the flying fowls and fighting the gypsies. Working girls, and serving wenches were also in the midst of the melee. A half orc sat in a corner, crying apparently. None of this compared to the sight in the center of the tavern. Standing almost twelve feet tall was Kendrac. His mad mop of blond curls hung down to his knees. His pie pan helmet rattled and clanked as his head moved from one side to the other. His oversized white robes however, seemed not to have gone through the change. Kendrac seemed more like a very tall sumo wrestler, his robes having remained their normal size as he grew. They were stretched beyond their limits, that much was obvious, as Kendrac was in apparent pain. He swung a meaty hand, sending Rom and the chandelier crashing to the wall, nearly hitting Armin and the other two, who barely managed to avoid the shattering glass. Toren was first to his feet and he grabbed Rom.
"What did ye two do?" He bellowed.
Rom shrugged. "We wanted more ale, but the ugly one said no, so da klerk said he make ours bigger. He goofed.
Toren shook his head and was about to reply when a flying table cut him off. Polished mahogany shattered across his chest sending him and Rom out the door in a heap. Armin looked towards the source of the flying table and saw a group of the patrons, pushing Kendrac backwards. With a crash, Gort's finely crafted bar became a large pile of kindling and toothpicks.
"OOFS!" Bellowed out the large blond dwarf. "Me gots splinters!"
Armin sighed and waded into the fracas, tossing patrons and gypsies alike out of his way. He walked right up to Kendrac and rolled him over, ignoring the occasional badly thrown mug or table leg. He winced as he saw the red polka dotted breeches pinched up into neverland by the robes as he yanked out a few bits of wood. Armin rolled him back over and grabbed Kendrac by the beard.
"C'mon, ye idjit. I canna leave ye two alone fer a minute."
Strom ran over and grabbed a handful of the beard as well, and the two dragged the oversized dwarf out through the door.
"Toren! Grab th' other one and wait fer us outside o town." He yelled, then looked back over his shoulder at the tavern. As they dragged a complaining Kendrac away, the south wall of the tavern creaked, wobbled, and then fell to the ground. Armin shook his head. "Ain't comin' back here ev'r 'gain."
Strom looked over the mass of oversized blond curls at Armin. "Where did you say you found these two?"
Armin took one last look. He saw Gort, standing amidst the rubble, trying to polish a shattered chair. He shook his head and looked away.
"That be a long story."