DK: Dwarves will go where morons fear to tread [29 Samheen]

[Grimhyge]

Grimhyge squinted his close-set eyes up at the castle that loomed ahead, silhouetted sharply against the sunrise. The dwarf stomped towards the gate as if he were trying to squash a bug with every step, jabbing the butt of his poleaxe into the ground with each stride. Beneath his beard, his mouth worked itself into an irritable scowl, and he ground his teeth as he recalled the events of the previous evening that had brought him to this pass.

I'll help you in any way I can, the caravan leader had said, right before he'd fired Grimhyge, after two months of good service. Help, indeed. He could have helped by lying on his back in the dirt and licking the dwarf's boots with his hypcritical tongue. That image brought a momentary smirk of amusement to Grimhyge's face, and he was still wearing this smirk when he arrived at the big wooden doors that stood between him and Dragonskeep.

Planting his poleaxe in the ground, Grimhyge stood up straight, almost at attention, as he responded loudly to the guard's challenge. "Grimhyge, from the Howling Ice Mountains!" Realizing he would probably have to say a bit more than this, he added: "I am a warrior looking for work. I know how to use this poleaxe," he hefted the weapon in his hands, "and the tools of a smith. I'm strong and hardworking. So let me in." Almost as an afterthought, he amended: "Please," spitting the last word out like a bone he had unexpectedly found in his soup.

[Maeve]

From afar the castle could be seen as a light yet foreboding structure overseeing the desert. It was made of the sandstone that was so abundant in the area. Centuries old the castle main had been enlarged and improved upon time and time again, and now looked oddly mismatched. The large main structure of the Castle stood five stories high, with towers on top of that, overwhelming all visitors.

Dwarves were not an unfamiliar sight at Dragonskeep. The proximity of the Howling Ice Mountains made them regular visitors. Yet it was not with the usual interest and curiosity that his appearance was met. For Dragonskeep had been under siege of the most terrible horrors in days past and was only just recovering "Yer arriving a tad late. The fun is just done," the guard remarked with dry humor, writing down a pass for the dwarf "Good luck to ya at any case. If you are in want of food or drink Pet's cafe has just reopened."

OOC: you are cleared to entered in the town, which you can do in this thread or a new one. I'll be creating a thread on the 30th which is a recruitment thread for the War where you might want to show up. Meanwhile though, feel free to step into the hold.

[Grimhyge]

The dwarf leaned the shaft of his poleaxe against his left shoulder and drummed on it with the fingers of his left hand while he waited for the guard to finish yapping and let him in. "So I heard," Grimhyge snorted sourly when the guard informed him that he had just missed the 'fun'. The caravan leader probably kept him all this time on purpose just to watch the baggage, rather than let him go do something useful like fight, waiting until he was sure the 'fun' was over to let him go.

When the guard finally handed him the pass, Grimhyge accepted it with his right hand, and took a moment to scowl at it suspiciously, continuing to drum the fingers of his other hand on the shaft of his weapon. The dwarf hardly knew his letters at all, so he didn't trust documents; he scrutinized the pass for several moments before finally deciding that it probably didn't say something like: "To all those to whom these presents shall come greetings, and feel free to give the bearer of this letter a swift kick in the arse."

"Great!" he exclaimed at last, and tucked the pass into his belt before walking through the gate and into the Keep. Food and drink sounded like as good an idea as any right now, so he decided to look for this Pete's cafe place. It occurred to him a bit after the fact that it might have made things easier if he had asked the guard where the joint was; however, Grimhyge had the usual male aversion to asking for directions, so he resolved instead just to follow his nose and other senses in order to find the cafe.

[Maeve]

It did not take long to find the cafe. A grouping of tents dotted a clearing behind where the new building was being stood up. Some seemed to be actual, hardy tents where others were clearly sewn together bedsheets. Even a few lean-tos had been built to provide the shelter these folk needing refreshment from Pete's.

Citizens of the Keep meandered about but visitors noticed a buzz of excitement in the air. Conversations between goodmen were lively and faces seemed brighter as relief spread over the recapture of the Keep. However, it was not news of the recent turmoil that most visitors were instructed to seek. It was Pete, and according to directions, all one had to do was follow their nose. And, indeed, that was all it took.

It was on makeshift benches, no more than logs and stumps that Pete had decided to serve his meals to the good citizens of the Keep. He had managed to salvage a few supplies as had others. The people of the Keep were getting too familiar with what things were needed for survival and what wasn’t. Food was always critical. Pete knew that as sure as he could flip an egg. A man couldn’t fight and a man couldn’t think on empty stomach. So, limping back and forth from fireside to makeshift bench, Pete served up platters of potatoes and onions and tankards of ale, food that was readily available from the countryside and perfect for nourishing the traveler's soul.

The limping cook was out front and noticed visitors, waving them in to an open seat with a now cheery hello.

[Grimhyge]

For the first time in a few days, Grimhyge's expression brightened into something resembling an actual smile as he caught sight -and scent- of Pete's eatery. As the lame cook greeted the dwarf brightly, the dwarf greeted him brightly back. If Grimhyge was nice to others, it was almost always simply because he wanted something, and right now he wanted something to eat.

Catching a whiff of potatoes and onions, he told Pete: "I'd like some hash, and I prefer cider to ale if you have it." Finding a seat, he leaned his poleax on the bench next to him and looked around at the other patrons. He was looking for a knight, or anybody else who looked like they might be able to tell him what he was to do next to find employment here. If he didn't see anybody promising before Pete returned, he would ask the cook.

[Maeve]

As Grimhyge sat himself down on one of the rough benches he noticed that the other patrons of this popular hang out were looking worse for wear. Clothing sometimes carried rips or were threadbare. Any armor was dirty and dented. There were no knights. Presumably they took their dinner in the nearby barracks inside of the castle. Still the local folk carried arms as well, with a causal fair that suggested they were using them regularly. They kept to themselves, avoiding the searching eyes of the dwarf.

"We are all out of Cider," Pete apologized as he put down the hearty food for the dwarf together with a tankard of ale "We are down to basics I'm afraid, just the food from the most recent caravan of the Mouth. You don't look familiar. Come from the mountains have you?"

[Grimhyge]

It looked like the denizens of Dragons Keep had seen some action. Lucky them, Grimhyge thought a tad bitterly, especially those who were sitting here, because it meant they were still alive. The glum dwarf cheered up slightly when it occured to him that perhaps enough people had died in the recent battle to create vacancies he could fill.

A tankard of ale and the cook's voice brought Grimhyge out of his reverie, and he gave both of them a sour look. "No, cider, eh?" he grunted: "Well, I *am* a dwarf, so I ain't allergic to ale, either." Raising his cup in a slight toast to the cook by way of thanks, he took a careful sip, not that he really cared what the ale tasted like. Putting the tankard down, Grimhyge smirked at the rest of what Pete said.

"Don't talk to me about caravans!" he growled. "I probably escorted my breakfast through the mountains as one of the guards- did a fine job, too, and what does the caravan leader do? Lays me off right after we got here. Cheap bastard. That's why I'm looking for work, now. I've a strong arm, a good poleaxe, and I know a thing or two about blacksmithing, too."

He looked at his ale silently for a moment, then took a second gulp. Setting it down, he looked up inquiringly at Pete. "Any ideas where I might find some work?"

[Maeve]

The ale tasted nice and fresh, if a tad watery compared to most dwarven brews.

Pete meanwhile looked at the grumpy short legged man before him and then leaned in to whisper "You've not heard it from me, but... there will be a recruiting effort startin' tomorrow. The Kings fighting another one of his Wars apparently for the Legion Purificatio send an urgent call in for mercenaries for hire. I hear Sister Diana has been up with her council discussing it."

[Grimhyge]

Grimhyge listened intently to the cook, so intently that he momentarily forgot to chew his breakfast, letting it hang as a soggy mass inside his mouth. "Thmn ymm m-" he began, then realizing that he was spraying food back onto his plate, he swallowed hastily and then resumed: "Then you must tell me where I can find this Legion. Is it within the castle walls?"

His eyes were bright and eager now. The Legion Purificatio! Could it be true? The holy wars agains the infidel were about to begin? As he listened to the cook explain what he knew (and didn't know), he began eating his food with renewed gusto.

[Maeve]

Pete shrugged "The rumor doesn't say, but my guess would be a tent near the barracks of the guards. What other place would there be? And the remains of this village are all within the walls these days. So much danger."

The cook removed himself from the dwarf with a lost nod, leaving him to his food and thoughts.

[Morg]

Skilled