"Me not trust dwarf. Him trailing behind... mebee we run by and take dwarf out? Mebee Kwin an' Bug run beside him while Gaza come up from behind. Me thinks dwarf not even see it come'n?"
You notice Bug subtly motion towards Filsgerit's way when he says "dwarf".
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You notice Bug subtly motion towards Filsgerit's way when he says "dwarf".
Filsgerit is rudely snatched from his reverie by the sound of a twig snapping behind him. He had been day-dreaming of dark ale and pale wenches. His left hand twitches and moves, of it's own accord toward the axe at his belt.
Weak perhaps but better to let others waste time and energy on him we should save our selves for final confrontation where we will have advantage over those being weakened in combat.
That's not why. I said it's because you sneezed and gave our position away to those norkers. I lost two good friends to those halfbreeds, and the fact that you still live proves that the gods hate me more than others of our kind.
It tried to decide which one to take down first.
Rain begain to fall. Not cold sleet; more of a fat summer rain and it reminded Gaza of his dear old gramma and the summers he spent on the farm.
All the while, a strange weather vane twisted in the distance, dancing to a mild breeze that mortal flesh could not feel. The portent was grim.