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The path before you is blocked by a massive tower. You see crossbow bolts aimed at your direction and out of narrow arrow slits. At the foot of the tower is an entrance, with portcullis drawn up like the impatient jaws of death.
A grim looking dwarf scowls in your direction and demands, “What is your business at Karak Azgal?”
His pronouncement made more ominous as you see the various grisly remains of intruders who have defied the defenders.
Korgidd responds with typical dwarfen demeanor, "We've come for the depths of the Dragon's Crag. Let us pass."
Korgidd eye's the guard and also inquires, "A stout brew would be which way? I can't kill nothin' on an empty stomach..."
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The grim looking dwarf doesn't change demeanor, "Proud words for one whose beard is barely adequate."
"Pay the entrance fee of five schillings each and you can pass. That is after you place your mark in the book."
The dwarf points to a table near the inside of the tower. A large open book rests there with a quill and inkwell ready.
The dwarf mutters something.
In Khazalid
Korgidd pays the guard the 5 schillings, makes his mark (a shield flanked by hammer and axe) and presses on, making his way to the Hold and taking in the sights and sounds of the dwarfen city.
Vulpert smiles to himself when the dwarf sentry challenges the burly Norscan, pointedly ignoring him despite Vulpert's own height and eccentric appearance. Kol had been the one drawing the stares of everyone they chanced to meet on the road, and this was perfectly to Vulpert's satisfaction. It was better to be coldly disregarded than the focus of a crotchety dwarf with a crossbow.
In truth, Vulpert was surprised that Kol had made it to Karak Azgal at all. Since they had set out, he had been waiting for the Norscan to anger someone he could not best in a brawl, or wench the wrong woman away from some bloodthirsty mercenary and get himself killed. Norscan folk art sold well in the Empire, and he certainly wouldn't need such trinkets in whatever wolf-worshiping afterlife he believed in. The drinking horn was a particularly nice piece. Very nice.
Vulpert had befriended the befuddled foreigner, offering his services as a guide during his travels through the Empire. The Norscan had even been amenable to his ridiculous fee (Vulpert suspected he didn't quite have a handle on the rate of exchange yet, not a bad thing). Vulpert just never expected the scam to last so long. With his brash nature and poor language skills he fully expected to be pawning the brute's armor long ago.
The funny thing was, every scrape the pair managed to get into (even the few Vulpert had inadvertently begun) they managed to survive. The Norscan was a beast when roused, and the bonepicker had lost track of how many men he had eviscerated already. That was when the seed of an idea formed in Vulpert's mind. He had suggested the wealth to be gleaned from Dragon Crag, and the Norscan had been so enthusiastic it had taken very little convincing at all. Now against all odds, they were here. Vulpert even thought the poor lummox genuinely liked him! Looking into his purse, Vulpert counted out five bent shillings leaving a solitary one behind. Whatever may happen, he planned to leave this place with his purse full again.
Rubbing the coins together, he walks purposefully behind the hulking Norscan, trying to remain as unobtrusive as possible, whispering to the northerner:
"Kol, show the dwarf the coin in your hand as you approach so that he does not feather us. I will happily translate if you wish, but the coin in your hand is the only real language dwarf folk converse in or understand."
Vulpert crouches when Kol turns back toward the dwarf tollkeeper, unashamedly making a human shield out of the Norscan.
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"That'd be 20 shillings for two manlings. Dwarfs get a discount. Elves, if deign to let them in, pay one gold per head."
Two more gatewardens appear to flank the toll master. They all have waist long beards and fine armor.
Perception Check please everyone
Vulpert warily scans the tower. Hoping the dwarfs didn't hear his whispered comment.
Rikarus hustles up behind Vulpert, "Hold up Vulpert, I told you to wait for me while I did my business, what if I'd been attacked?" Rikarus slows and holds his hands up as he notices the crossbows aimed their way.
Now ve go en.
Korgidd stops his lone march to the Hold and turns to regard the group of manlings he had been traveling with. Seeing their delay at the toll collector, he waits and grumbles into his beard.
"C'mon manlings! Pay and enter before the stouts and ales go flat!"
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Vulpert skittishly adds his coins to the pile and makes his mark. He then turns to Rikarus and hisses,
"Is your wineskin never empty? Could you not have picked a better time to water the ground? These dwarf-folk are already on edge, there is no need to rouse their ire any further by failing to follow custom. Here, add your coins!"
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After collecting your coins, the toll master watch you make your mark.
High up the gatehouse, you see a cannon being cleaned and primed.
Satisfied that you have acted in accordance with relevant procedures, the toll master wave you through the gate house.
You admire the sheer deadliness of the gate house as you consider the number of murder holes that riddle the passage through the gate house.
Kom Vulpert stop Vhining like a Voman. Ve have Ale to drink! Ve well turn you into real men yet.
"Come manlings! The ale in the Hold will make your urine smell like a warrior's. Instead of drinking the ale in the shantytown. Which is urine."
Setting his short legs pumping like pistons, Korgidd makes his way to the Hold.
"Pfeh. I think that Rikarus has piss enough for the lot of us if his little act by the gate is any indication. Just the same, it will do these tired bones good to find a warm hearth and bed after such a long journey. I could also abide a round of spirits or two, as well..."
Vulpert then mutters under his breath, "but Sigmar help me if I want to smell anything like either of you after a draught."
Vulpert discretely peers at his surroundings as the group navigates the streets. By his very nature he finds himself looking for anything of value that may be unattended while simultaneously speculating on the severity of the dwarf penal codes. The uncomfortable thoughts of slaving away for the rest of his days in some forsaken mine did not appeal to him very much, so he turns his attention to their guide,
"So, err, Korgidd, where was it that you said we were going?"
Time passes quickly and you are now at the outskirts of the DeadGate. Here and there you see signs of abject poverty side by side with decadent luxury. You are torn between torching the whole place and joining the debauchery. Or perhaps there is a third option?
Ey girl. How vould you like a varm meal, and a couple of drinks? Step out of the cold vor avile?
Raising his eyebrows apprehensively, Korgidd turns to Kol, "Careful lad. Even the rabbits in a place like that have the teeth of rats. you may end up sharing more with her than you intend...."
Turning to the others, "Best we press on to the Hold. Not linger here too long."
I vas only offering zhe meal, und drinks. Vust vanted to bring a smile to a pretty face.
"Fair enough lad. Just be cautious..."
Vulpert winces when he realizes that in the second he was looking over his shoulder to make certain that Rikarus was keeping up, Kol has managed to begin sniffing around the skirts of some ragbound waif of a girl.
Worse yet, he notices the pair of lean and feral looking young hoodlums that are even now watching the warrior with thinly-veiled enmity from the shadow of a half-collapsed porch of some alms house. If he is lucky they are only her pimps, if not, they could be her brothers.
Trying to remain nonchalant so as not to upset the delicate situation, he calls over to the Norscan in a friendly and measured voice,
"The dwarf is right, Kol, my friend, we must not tarry overlong. Truth be told, I am sure there are many more young ladies with a bit more meat on their bones that will welcome you with a tankard in hand."
Grumbling to himself Vulpert wonders,
'....how did he survive this long, how?!?'
Rik, Vhat is taking you so long? Kom, ve vant to find good lodging before it is dark.
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Suddenly a scruffy-looking man burst through the doors of one of the taverns screaming, "Help!"
After him follows a well-muscled dwarf, "Ye don't renege on a bet, manling! You hear me!"
The dwarf slaps the man senseless with one of his meaty fists. He then takes his pouch, "Damn ye! Ye don't have the gold for the bet!"
The dwarf then pulls a dagger. The man will be dead shortly if no one intervenes.
Korgidd watches the dwarf tackle the man with little interest, until the dagger is drawn, "Now hold on just a minute! Is there no order in this pit? If he bet what he didn't a'have he deserves punishment, but that's the anvil, not yer vengeful blade!"
Korgidd readies his hammer and shield and moves to confront the dwarf.
"Back off him now, and I'll help ye escort him to the magistrate."
Vulpert eyes the unfolding scene with an upraised eyebrow and more than a little bit of relief, seeing that it has managed to distract the players in Kol's little romantic drama. However, when Korgidd begins blustering about dwarven law while trying to intervene on the man's behalf, the smile on Vulpert's face disappears as quickly as it came. Here we go again.
Walking a good distance behind the dwarf so that he can beat a hasty retreat if things go very badly, Vulpert stays close enough so that he can assist Korgidd with a well-timed bow shot if the need arises, and the risk is worthwhile.
"Ah, Korgidd...Korgidd...perhaps, ummm..."
"He may have cheated good dwarf, but what of the Law? I have heard youdwarves were a rough but fair race. Then again a cheat is a cheat..."
If he is a kheat and kan not pay the wergild. Then zhe dwarf has zhe right to make him his thrall. No blood zhould be zhed over zhis.
Without looking away from the dwarf, Korgidd says to Kol, "Maybe up where the ice is thick, that's the law. But in dwarf lands, thralls are slaves, and no one is to be made a slave. Not even a wretch of a manling."
To the dwarf, "Now, what's it gonna be? To the magistrate for him, or the healer for you?"
Rikarus quickly looks around for some guards
"Guards! There's an alleged cheat being held by this lovely dwarf!"
Vulpert elbows Rikarus sharply in the ribs.
"No guards!"
The guards will likely arrest or beat the lot of us if they show up. Let our grouchy dwarf speak to the infuriated dwarf and see if he can sort this out. I'm tired of being everyone's 'manling' anyway."
Vulpert watches the dwarf closely just the same, trying to determine if he can be reasoned with or otherwise gives any sign as to what he intends to do.
looks perturbed
"But what is Infuriated dwarf kills the man, then blames it on us? What then Vulpert?, what then? I doubt grouchy dwarf could get us out of that one!"
looks perturbed
"But what is Infuriated dwarf kills the man, then blames it on us? What then Vulpert?, what then? I doubt grouchy dwarf could get us out of that one!"
Vell if zhere is no blood on your veapon zhen your innocent eh?
Eyeing the dwarf and the manling beneath his blade, Korgidd pauses only a moment before responding in Khazalid, "It is no Dwarfen custom to slaughter those that are obviously weaker, even if they are cheats. That is not glory, it is only base murder. How great is his debt that it requires his death to settle it?"
Vifty! You can buy three or vour fat cows vor zhat cost.
Blustering at the obvious bluff, "Fifty Gold Crowns?!?! I'd sooner let you negotiate with my hammer than believe that to be the sum. I'll give you 3 crowns for the manlings life, one for each decade of his pathetic beardless exsitence, and not a bit more."
Spinning his hammer once in his hand, Korgidd adds with a scowl, "Its a far better deal than you'll get if you slit his throat... Take the deal."
"No. Fifty. Or the manling gets a new smile." The dwarf presses the blade, drawing a drop of blood. He grins, his eyes hinting at madness.
Korgidd...?
Setting his face into a grim mask of death, Korgidd raises his hammer, "You asked for it." Then lowering his arm, he points his hammer at the dwarf, shouting in Khalazid, "Dar A Grund!" and charges his foe. Swinging his hammer in short powerful strikes, like a smith to hot metal, Korgidd presses his foe, seeking to move his attention from the manling on the ground, to a more capable target. Himself.
Rikarus steps back into the crowd, not wanting to get involved in dwarf business in the dwarf city