The Dwarven Horde

This series of short stories is centered on a chaotic neutral dwarven barbarian named Träumerei Kneebiter, known to her friends as Mauri. She is not a Bhaalspawn, but has gathered the dwarven NPC's into one party. The majority of the stories take place in Amn and the surrounding countryside. Her group enjoys drinking, fighting, causing trouble, and saving the world.

The Dwarven Horde consists of the following: Träumerei "Just Mauri" Kneebiter, Kagain "Spike" Dragonaxe, Korgan "Bookworm" Bloodaxe, Yeslick "Why me?" Orothiar, Unger "I'll give ye duergar!" Hilldark, Vincendevole "Violent Vince" Brighthammer, and Ember "The Gnome" Bonesong.

If the settings on your browser are different than mine, the stories may be out of order. They can be read by themselves, but they make more sense if you read them in this order:

1. Dwarven Pride
2. A Lovely Shade of Brown
3. Hydro Havoc
4. Bring It On
5. Shopping Spree
6. High-Class Entertainment
7. A Grand Vacation, Parts 1 & 2
8. Babysitting



This is a picture of Mauri.

"Oy, Mauri! O'er here!" Korgan called, raising his tankard. Träumerei Kneebiter waded through the thick evening crowds at the Copper Coronet. She was quite fast for a dwarf, her strength was rarely equaled, and she could drink even Korgan Bloodaxe under the table (though it was a close thing). Her other comrades, Yeslick Orothiar and Kagain Dragonaxe, were also on the bar stools, their ankles being well over two feet from the ground. Mauri climbed onto a stool and Korgan pushed a tankard of mead into her hands.

"Drink, lass," he said.

"What're we doing after this?" Mauri asked. She fiddled with the long, coarse reddish-brown braids that were tucked into her belt. Unlike some female dwarves, she shaved, but still braided her 'head-hair.'

"Arm wrestling!" Kagain said happily. Mauri grinned.

"I be nay complaining," she said. "But I meant what about after we leave the Coronet?"

"Ach, I donnae care as long as me axe is planted in a body," Korgan said, taking a large swallow.

"I still wonder why ye agreed to have these two on our team, Mauri," Yeslick said. "They are most assuredly evil."

"That they may be, but I put up with 'em 'cause they're good at what they do, and what they do ain't pretty."

Yeslick sighed and took another drink. Mauri was Mauri, and the cleric knew he couldn't change her no matter how hard he tried (or how much he nagged).

"Oy, who be that dwarf o'er there?" Kagain asked, pointing to an orange-haired dwarf in the corner who was studying them.

"Unger Hilldark. I asked 'im las' night, and he told me to piss off. But I did nay such thing, and finally he agreed to come wit' us," Mauri explained happily. "Just donnae make fun o' duergar to his face." She shuddered and touched a large black and blue bruise on her cheek.

"Why not?" Kagain asked.

"'Cause he be one, ye blasted fool!" Mauri said, smacking him upside the head. A startled Kagain fell off the stool, scattering a group of humans behind him. He scrambled back up.

"Go pester someone else, Mauri," he said moodily.

"Nay!" she said with a grin, and hopped off her own stool. The barbarian was about to stroll over to Unger when a hand on her shoulder stopped her. She looked up to see an elven sailor there.

"Finally, I am privileged to meet the goddess I have gazed on from afar for so long . . . your eyes are like whirlpools of chocolate, your hair is brown velvet," he said. "Tell me, o dearest dwarf, what is your name?"

Mauri snorted. "It's Träumerei Kneebiter. Would ye like to find out the hard way how I got me last name?" Mauri cracked her knuckles threateningly.

The elf beamed. "I am Salvanas, and I would die to know everything about you . . . to be entwined in your muscular arms for a fortnight . . . to drown in your sea of dreams . . ."

"Ye'd die, would ye?" she asked, raising a bushy brown eyebrow. "I donnae think we need to take it that far, but a demonstration o' me last name would suffice."

She lunged at his knees and bit down hard. The elf screamed, and in a matter of seconds, he was out of the Copper Coronet and on the way to his ship, making up his excuse on the way.

"Congratulations, Mauri!" Kagain called, as Yeslick, Korgan, and Unger cheered, raising their mugs in salute. "Elven long lives are nay match fer dwarven pride!"

Mauri grinned. "Still up fer an arm-wrestle?"

"Yer on!"

"A little more to the left, if you please," the painter said. Träumerei Kneebiter, Korgan Bloodaxe, Yeslick Orothiar, Kagain Dragonaxe, and Unger Hilldark obediently shuffled one step to the left.

"I cannae believe ye talked me into this," Korgan growled to Mauri. The group of dwarves had entered Waukeen's Promenade, and had been immediately accosted by the artist who was now painting their portrait. He had offered them one thousand gold in exchange for their services in sitting for a picture. A wealthy noble in town had a fetish for dwarves, and was willing to pay any amount of gold for a piece of art featuring one.

The painter had been beside himself with glee, because he had been looking for a dwarf for at least three weeks. And now, he had found not one, but five of them. The resulting picture was likely to fetch an astounding sum.

They were positioned in the artist's idea of the midst of battle: Mauri, mouth open in a silent battle cry and her hammer raised high over her head, Korgan and Unger to either side of her, hefting axe and hammer respectively. To finish the picture, Kagain was sprawled in front of the three warriors, red paint brushed over his face and armor to represent blood. Yeslick was kneeling beside him with his hands on Kagain's chest, as though healing him.

They had been positioned for only a half-hour, and already they were getting impatient.

"Oy! Get yer hands off me chest, ye elf-lover!" Kagain said for the twelfth time.

"I am nay doing this for the fun o' it," Yeslick said through gritted teeth.

"Shut yer bonebox, Kagain!" Mauri said from above him. "Think o' the gold we be gettin' fer this!"

"I nay be carin' at the moment!"

"We be gettin' drinks after this . . ." Mauri taunted.

"Aye, but I cannae wait that long!"

"Hurry up, ye longlimb!" Korgan growled. "I got better things tae do wit' me axe!"

"Was that meant tae be threatenin'?" Unger asked.

"Aye!"

An hour into the picture, even tolerant Yeslick was complaining, and the artist seemed to be getting nervous whenever he looked at their weapons.

"Are ye done yet?!" Korgan grumbled.

"You cannot rush art," the artist replied, and he stopped painting, thoroughly expecting an axe in some treasured part of his anatomy. Forturnately, it never came.

"Ach, ye longlimbs be all the same. Ye be thinkin' wit' yer head, not yer axe," Korgan said, and was rewarded with nods of agreement from Mauri, Kagain, and Unger.

Finally, with a swipe of pale blue around picture-Yeslick's hands, the image was completed, and the dwarves gathered to have a look at it.

The positions of the dwarves were the same, as were their weapons, but the background was of a bleak, dun-colored wasteland, sprawled with dead bodies. What made the picture realistic, though, were the expressions on their faces (obviously not imagined — Mauri, Unger, and Korgan had surely been wearing those murderous looks) . . . and the colors.

Yeslick's beard was the same, odd, strawberry-blonde color as it was in life. Kagain's eyes, though glazed with imagined pain in the picture, were the same hue of dark aquamarine. Unger's hair was still as fiery as ever, and the artist even captured Korgan's beard, which was greying around the edges. But Mauri . . . the artist had not been able to darken his paints enough to match her dark brown braids.

"Me hair . . ." she said, touching her own. "It be too light."

"Nay, Mauri," Kagain said with his winning lopsided grin, clapping her on the back. "It be a lovely shade o' brown."

“Nay! I won’ go tae the Docks!” Kagain Dragonaxe howled. After the portrait incident, the dwarves had headed to the Five Flagons in the Bridge District to have a drink or ten and settle down for the rest of the afternoon. Then Träumerei Kneebiter, their leader, had talked to a halfling by the name of Jerry Jamtoes, who wanted them to go get a pair of boots from his brother in the Government District. The guilty brother, Jeremiah Jamtoes, had informed them that he had sold the boots to a sailor. The most obvious place to look for a sailor was the Docks, which was what they were arguing about this time. The group of dwarves was seated at a table in the common room, eating an early dinner.

“Are ye addled? Dwarves an’ water donnae mix,” Unger said incredulously. Mauri turned to Korgan, who was wolfing down a roast chicken.

“Can ye nay see that I be eatin’?!” Korgan said crankily, spraying the table with bits of meat.

“Ach, be that way,” Mauri said disgustedly, and looked at Yeslick.

“Ye know I hate water, Mauri,” Yeslick said calmly. He was combing the last few peas from his beard and re-braiding it.

“Ye be all a bunch o’ ninnies,” Mauri said decidedly, getting up and heading for the door. Her plan worked; the barbarian was barely out the door before a racket signaled that Korgan, Kagain, Unger, and Yeslick had decided to come with her after all.

—

“NOT THE BEARD!” Kagain roared for the third time since they had entered the Docks.

“Ach, shut up, ye big baby,” Mauri said. “Yeslick, hold it tighter.” The cleric nodded and stiffened his grip on Kagain’s beard.

“If he be screamin’ ‘bout his beard one more time, I be choppin’ it off with me axe!” Korgan growled with a grin of anticipation.

The dwarves were descending the stairs to the lower docks after passing a Cyrican priest ranting and raving about eternal damnation or some such. Yeslick was still dragging Kagain by his beard. Mauri was in the front, leading, while Unger and Korgan brought up the rear, each glancing at the water repeatedly in a nervous fashion.

“Awright, listen up,” Mauri said when they had stopped by the Sea’s Bounty. “We be pairin’ off. Yeslick an’ Kagain, Unger and Korgan. I be by meself. Ask every sailor ye meet if he’s bought boots lately. Meet back here in an hour, boots or nay.” And the dwarves set out.

It was nearing the end of the allotted hour when Kagain, still being led around by Yeslick, spotted crates being filled. Several humans were engaged in this activity, all on one individual dock next to a small ship. In went a ruby the size of Kagain’s palm, followed by a sapphire, slightly smaller, but sparkling a million shades of blue in the waning sunlight.

The next was an emerald, an uncut oblong gem that was as thick as his thumb. It was slightly speckled. A gloved hand pushed it out of sight as Kagain drew up level with the packing crates. The next jewel was probably the least valuable in the whole lot, being a fire opal.

Kagain had never seen one before, and it did, indeed look like dancing flames as the human hand tilted it, examining it in natural light. In the part of his mind that was still coherent, Kagain vaguely remembered Mauri telling him that it was her favorite gem on Toril. The dwarf didn’t register the fact that these beautiful gemstones were right next to water; he just knew he wanted to have a closer look at that fire opal.

Yeslick had loosened his grip on Kagain’s beard, and Kagain tore himself free of the cleric to make a run for the fire opal. Yeslick looked helplessly at Mauri, who was right next the dock Kagain was heading for.

Kagain misjudged the distance as he dove for the stone, and instead of landing next to the crate, he flew right over it and created a tremendous splash as he landed in the Sea of Swords.

By this time, Korgan and Unger had arrived, wondering what was happening. The humans who had been loading the crate pulled Kagain out of the water as Yeslick, Unger, and Korgan watched. Mauri flew at him and hugged him fiercely, almost sending the both of them right back in again.

“Donnae ye know that ye cannae swim?” Mauri said furiously. Kagain was dripping salt-water all over her, but she didn’t particularly care — and neither did he.

“I knew somethin’ was goin’ on a’tween those two,” Unger said confidentially to Korgan and Yeslick. “Knew e’er since she hit ‘im in the Coronet.”

Mendel Stoneroller was sweaty, tired, and in dire need of a drink. But instead of heading for a tavern, the young dwarf was running all over the blasted city looking for a group of adventurers.

"This be it!" he growled. "I be nay wantin' this apprenticeship! I be quittin' as soon as I find me some adventurers!" Mendel threw his cap on the ground and jumped on it before stomping away to find his mentor.

Now he really needed a drink.

---

Mendel was so intent on his fit of temper that he didn"t see the dwarven female in front of him until he had collided with her. When they both had gotten back to their feet, it didn't help her furious look that two of the dwarves around her were rolling on the ground with laughter. The two that weren't included a bad-tempered black-haired dwarf that was soaking wet, and a strawberry-blonde cleric with an expression that seemed to say 'I'm-too-dignified-to-be-seen-with-these-people.'

Mendel was not exactly the sharpest axe in Faerun, but he knew that he was a complete numbskull if he let these adventurers leave without telling them of his mentor's problem.

"I be sorry, ma'am," he said, inclining his head at the female barbarian, "but I be in a hurry to find me some adventurers. Ye see, me boss's daughter 'as been kid-napped, and he's been frantic wit' worry. Oy, if ye be interested, we be on'y a few feet from me mentor's house." Mendel pointed. "Aye, ye wit' me?"

The party followed Mendel to the forge, where a dwarf in a comfortable, scarlet outfit sat on a bench, chin in his hands. He stood as they entered.

"Well met," the dwarven woman said. "I be Träumerei Kneebiter, barbarian o' the North, and this be me party o' adventurers. Korgan Bloodaxe, Kagain Dragonaxe, Yeslick Orothiar, and Unger Hilldark. We be lookin' fer work, I guess."

"I'm Cromwell Brighthammer," the dwarf introduced himself. Then he rounded on the young dwarf who had led them there. "Mendel, do ye realize how long she's been gone? We hafta find her. She's been out longer than this, but she's been kidnapped! Who knows how long she be livin'?" Obviously, fatherhood had never prepared him for this — Cromwell was an emotional wreck.

"Easy, Cromwell," Mendel soothed. "I be findin' ye these adventurers. They be dwarves, so they're trustworthy. Do ye know any more 'bout her captor?"

Cromwell's eyes narrowed. "Aye, it be a gnome by the name o' Neb. He be infamous all up and down the Sword Coast fer killin' children."

Mauri gasped. "Aye, I be rememberin' that blasted gnome. He tried tae kill me fer walkin' down the street wit' a child." She smirked. "Me, Kagain, an' Yeslick took care o' him. Couldn't sit fer a week, he couldn't . . ."

"But that donnae help us now," Cromwell said grimly. "I asked the Magistrate where he be, and she pointed me tae the Bridge District — by the Temple o' Helm. The irony that they haven't cleaned 'im out yet.

"Please, Träumerei —" Cromwell started.

"Mauri."

"Please, then, Mauri. Find me daughter an' bring her back," Cromwell pleaded. Mauri nodded and her party headed back out the door.

The group of dwarves found the Bridge District with no difficulty, and they stopped at the Five Flagons on their way to drop off the boots they had recovered from the sailors. Jerry Jamtoes had been elated, and had set off to show his brother Jeremiah at once. Getting out of the Five Flagons was only a minor issue of keeping Korgan from engaging in a drinking contest with a dwarf in the corner named H'rothgar Firehammer.

They found the derelict house behind the temple and busted the locked door open, courtesy of Unger and Mauri's hammers. Kagain and Korgan rushed in with their axes raised, with Mauri and Unger not far behind. Yeslick rounded off the group, keeping a tight hold on his mace.

A gnome was inside, twirling a wicked-looking dagger in his hands idly. He seemed to be in a trance; his eyes were unfocused and they jiggled every so often. Korgan seized the opportunity.

"A SKULLBREAKER!" he shouted gleefully, and threw his weight behind the axe, propelling himself towards Neb. Unfortunately, the gnome's trance had been feigned, and he easily sidestepped the attack, giggling madly as Korgan collided with the wall, carried by his own momentum. Neb leapt nimbly over the counter of the makeshift kitchen and suddenly vanished. Mauri and Unger swore simultaneously. They heard the muffled giggling moving quickly, and they tried to gauge Neb's position by it.

Mauri suddenly heard a female shout from the darkened corner of the room. "Hey! None o' that! Keep yer claws tae yerself! Did I be sayin' ye could touch me? No! I dinnae! So stop that! I donnae want yer fingers all over me! Get yer paws off me!"

Mauri looked over to see a dwarven woman, scarcely younger than herself, fending off the faintly glowing souls of three tortured, murdered children. The reality of the children's fate made Mauri sick, and angry. Kagain recognized the signs — he had seen Mauri lose control on more than one occasion. He was right next to her as Unger and Korgan attacked Neb and Yeslick took on the spirits. Mauri's rage grew as she glanced at the scant outline of the gnomish murderer. Her adrenaline-enhanced strength allowed her to carry out her next actions.

Mauri grabbed Kagain and lifted him over her head. He squawked in surprise. "NOBODY TOSSES A DWARF!"

"This body does," Mauri growled, and heaved a screaming, protesting, axe-wielding Kagain over the counter. The black-bearded dwarf crashed into Neb, finally dispelling the invisibility. Korgan, Unger, and Kagain made short work of the vulnerable child-killer for good.

Meanwhile, the spirits had turned on Yeslick, freeing the trapped female dwarf and allowing her to use her blade. The others rushed over to help, and within minutes, the children were finally put to rest.

The dwarf lowered her hood, causing Yeslick and Unger to gasp audibly at the sight beneath. Her hair was currently in two plaits on each side of her head, and it was a vivid shade of green. Her grey eyes seemed to be dancing, smirking, and grinning like one about to ride a dragon for the first time, all at once.

"I be Vince," she said. At the looks on their faces, she continued, "Aye, I know it be a male name, but me full name be Vincendevole Brighthammer, and that be a mouthful for me enemies to scream as I stab 'em in the back."

Mauri grinned approvingly. "Bloodthirsty little savage, eh? Ye should fit right in. Welcome tae the Dwarven Horde, me little band o' dwarven misfits." She paused. "That be havin' a ring to it, aye? I be Träumerei Kneebiter — Mauri fer short." Mauri introduced the rest of the group.

"I be one o' those nasty little buggers called thieves," Vince smirked, "an' I cannae wait tae terrorize Faerun wit' ye, Mauri. Bring it on!"

Träumerei Kneebiter and Vincendevole Brighthammer strolled (or in Vince's case, skipped) into Waukeen's Promenade. Kagain Dragonaxe, Yeslick Orothiar, Korgan Bloodaxe, and Unger Hilldark were following — grumbling, moaning, and generally complaining about what they were about to do next.

"Oy, do we hafta go shoppin'?" Unger complained. "It be too . . . girly fer me tastes."

Mauri spun and caught his fiery beard in her fist. "Ye just be glad I donnae have me hammer wit' me." She released Unger and the dwarves continued toward the Adventurer's Mart.

"Why could ye nay leave us tae our drinks, Mauri?" Kagain asked.

"'Cause Mauri hasta drag us all o'er Faerun 'till she be happy," Korgan answered in an undertone.

Mauri shook her head in an exasperated fashion. "I donnae see Vince whinin'," she pointed out.

Bells rang out as the Dwarven Horde stepped through the door. After telling Cromwell of his daughter's fate, they had gone to a tavern. The group had heard of the store from a merchant in the Copper Coronet, but they had not sufficiently prepared themselves for the sight that met their eyes.

Nobles, adventurers, guards, and mages mingled freely in the shop. There was a member of every race and gender present. People in every color were milling around, searching for rare scrolls, testing armor, browsing history tomes, and hefting weapons to try out their balance.

Korgan's complaints vanished instantly when he saw a sizable bronze-colored axe being hung carefully on the weapons wall, and he ran over to take a look. Mauri and Vince headed for the dwarven-sized armor rack, and Yeslick spotted a priest selling scrolls and potions in the back corner. Kagain and Unger were looking at helmets and crossbows, respectively.

Suddenly the Dwarven Horde wasn't complaining one bit.

—

"Oy, elfie!" Korgan called. "I be wantin' tae have a look at that axe!" He pointed to the bronze-colored axe, noticing a tiny topaz stone embedded in the butt of the haft. The axe was placed in his hands — the balance of it was perfect. It also appeared to be mildly enchanted.

"Mine," Korgan said, wiping drool from his beard. "How much?"

"One-hundred-fifty gold, mister dwarf," Ribald said. "And not a copper less; it's a great deal, I assure you."

"Aye," Korgan said absently. He looked over at the girls. "Oy, Mauri! 'Undred an' fifty fer me axe!"

Mauri cocked her head, raised her eyebrows, folded her arms, and stared at him. A knowing smile slowly spread across her face. Korgan snorted. "Och, alright, alright, lass. Ye win." He dug the required gold out of his belt-pouch, leaving only enough for a drink or two. Now he had nothing to do until the rest decided to leave.

"I be hatin' shoppin'," Korgan growled, sitting himself down next to the door.

—

"I cannae decide," Kagain grumbled to himself. "Should I be gettin' the one wit' fake horns or the one wit' the wing-things? Or maybe this one wit' plumes . . ."

"Havin' troubles?" Vince said, sauntering up to him. "Go wit' the spiky one. Ye know, this one." She held up a helmet that had a smattering of large spikes clustered all over the top of it and grinned mischievously. "Mauri said it be makin' ye look sexy."

Kagain gaped at the helmet, then at Vince. "Mauri did?"

She nodded, stilling wearing that sly smile that played on her lips. "Aye," she confirmed. Kagain looked at the helmet as though seeing it in a new light. Vince strolled away, and if Kagain had listened hard enough, he would have heard an indignant shriek, then female, dwarven laughter explode from amongst the armor racks.

—

"GET IT OFF ME, GET IT OFF ME!" Unger screeched after a large pitcher had come sailing through the air, drenching the red-haired dwarf with freezing water. In his frantic anger, he began grabbing at anything he could reach and throwing it in every direction. It should be noted that Unger was quite close to the sword rack. The gangly half-elven youth who had accidentally tossed the water gaped at Unger wide-eyed from the safety of the backroom doorway. Ribald and his dwarven friend, as well as the wyvern 'Lucy,' were crouched behind the counter. A mage and the guard stationed by the door had leapt behind a display of shields, and the customers that hadn't made it out before the chaos started were hiding behind the bookshelves in the back of the shop. The advertiser had sealed the door from the outside to prevent the secrets of the Adventurer's Mart's stock from leaking out. He could be heard bribing two Cowled Wizards outside.

"Och, I be likin' this show! Who be wantin' tickets?" Korgan called gleefully from his post by the door. Vince and Mauri peeked out from behind a suit of chainmail, snickering. Kagain was using the helmets near him to fend off flying objects. Yeslick had taken shelter underneath a table along with the priest he had been bargaining with.

"That be nay funny, goblin-kisser," Unger growled, wiping his face.

Korgan's eyes went wide in rage. "Yer mother was an orc!"

"Yer da was a drow!"

The exchange of insults continued along this vein for several minutes. Then the argument turned physical.

"AAARRGGGGGHHH!" Unger screamed, and launched himself at
Korgan. The greying dwarf leapt out of the way, leaving Unger to smash into the wall while Korgan laughed.

It was contagious. Mauri and Vince's snickering erupted into full-blown laughter, and within minutes every dwarf in the store was laughing, and the other races were wondering what was so funny. Except for Unger, however.

"Ach, both of ye quit it!" Mauri said, jumping between them. "Ye be actin' like babes!"

Unger and Korgan gaped at her. She continued. "I be wantin' ye both in the Dwarven Horde, so ye cannae be fightin like this." Mauri grinned. "But it do be entertainin'."

Vince came out from behind the armor, a cheerful grin on her face. "Ye both be ill, that's it. An' I know the best med'cine." The look on her face told what was coming. "A tankard o' dwarven grog makes all yer ills vanish! Aye?"

"AYE!"

As they left, singing a dwarven drinking song with their arms around each other's shoulders, Yeslick could be seen leaving gold on the counter to pay for the mess, sighing and shaking his head as he followed the dwarves he dared to call his friends.

Träumerei Kneebiter (also known as Mauri) and Unger Hilldark were seated in the basement of the Five Flagons, a mug in each hand, chatting amiably about elven lingerie. Nobles made up the majority of the audience, but Mauri and Unger were in the front row, and when a noble looked down at them and tried to sit beside them, they shoved him rudely to the ground, saying they were 'saving this here bench fer friends.' Everyone pretty much avoided them after that.

A rumbling alerted the crowd to the four dwarves stomping down the steps. Kagain Dragonhammer was carrying a large pitcher of ale that was as big as his midsection. He was followed by Vince Brighthammer, Korgan Bloodaxe, and Yeslick Orothiar.

"I be more the chain type, meself," Mauri said thoughtfully. "Comfortably supple, yet firm, aye?"

At this point, Unger was overcome by a fit of giggles, which was quickly transformed into more masculine coughing, and couldn't talk for several minutes.

The pitcher was set on the floor, with the Dwarven Horde gathered on the bench around it, as the play started.

"My dearest, um, Juliana," the understudy said nervously. "I love you like . . . er . . . the sea loves the . . . uh, the shore." He attempted a winning smile and failed miserably. The dwarves snickered.

The actress gave him a glare before switching into her role with a sweet, flirtatious expression. "My darling Rodolfo, you are too kind. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Cup of tea?" Korgan snorted. He raised his voice. "Oy, offer 'im a mug o' grog! A proven dwarven aphrodisiac!"

The nobles shushed him, and the cast pointedly ignored him. The next hour of the play was incredibly boring, and the dwarves swilled down a good portion of the pitcher before them. Finally, another scene began in which Juliana was lying dead by her own hand and Rodolfo had just encountered her corpse.

"How often, when a man is pointing at death," he began shakily, staring at the prone actress, who had her eyes open to slits and was glaring at him for all she was worth. The dwarves snickered again.

"Has he been married, which the people . . . no, the keeper calls a light before death," the understudy continued. "Oh, my dove --- I mean, my love . . . my life!" He continued to stutter through his monologue. The dwarves were laughing quietly, just a step up from snickering.

"Tyrone, you lie through your bloody teeth," the understudy said, screwing up his face, trying to remember his lines. "Ummm . . . Here I will take a rest and shake off those stars from this dwarven flesh ---"

At this point all six dwarves stood up, dead silent and angry. Then the shouting began.

"Honestly, ye call yerself a dwarf?!"

"Ye blubbering mass o' human slime!"

"Feed 'im tae the otyughs!"

"Imposter! Imposter!"

"In all me life, I never!"

"Ye ain't got a drop o' dwarven blood in ye!"

The understudy looked about ready to cry. The actress sat up and yelled back, "Sit down, all of you!"

Korgan reacted first. He reached for the empty ale pitcher and flung it as hard as he could at the two on stage. Then, quite literally, all hell broke loose.

Mauri and Kagain pried up one of the benches and tossed it into the crowd. Nobles were screaming and running around, trying to escape, but the upstairs door was magically locked from the outside until a play was over. Korgan followed the ale pitcher and had Rodolfo pinned to the ground by sitting on his chest. He was pummeling the man with his meaty fists. Unger and Vince were attacking random nobles, and also helping Mauri and Kagain with the benches. Yeslick, normally the voice of reason whenever a brawl broke out, was either too drunk or too insulted to call order. So he went through the backstage area, ransacking the prop rooms and terrorizing the other actors who had been sitting behind the curtain, sipping wine.

"Oy!" Mauri hollered over the crowd. She and Kagain were living out one of their more childish joint fantasies, in which they smashed the toes of countless nobles by jumping on their feet. "This be what I be callin' 'high-class entertainment!' HAR! How 'bout ye, Kagain?"

"AYE!"

“We be goin’ mummy-huntin’, aye?” Träumerei Kneebiter said to the rest of the Dwarven Horde.

“AYE!” came the general shout of agreement. One dissenter stood out among them, however.

“Book-huntin’, lass!” Korgan growled. “We be goin’ book-huntin’!”

“Ach, yer no fun, Korg,” Vince said. “Cannae ye just imagine mounds on mounds o’ mummy guts? Piles o’ skeletons? An’ the yeller blood o’ them eight-legged crawly things . . . errmm, what do they be called?”

“SPIDEYS!”

“Shut yer bonebox, Mauri, I’m thinking,” Vince said. “Aye, I be knowin’! They be spideys!”

Kagain, Korgan, Unger, and Mauri rolled their eyes. Yeslick sighed as the group trudged through Athkatla.

“Here be the graveyard,” Korgan said as they approached it. “The book be beneath our boots, I be knowin’ it!”

“Ach, who be carin’ about the blasted book?” Unger asked disgustedly. “I be wantin’ the treasure.”

“AYE!”

Before long, the group had found a staircase leading into the gloom of the crypts beneath Athkatla’s graveyard.

—

“Why do ye be wantin’ this book so bad, anyway?” Vince asked Korgan. “Wait, there’s a trap there . . .” She talked as she disabled the pressure plate. “Ye donnae seem tae be the bookish type.”

“I nay be carin’ what be a’tween it’s skins,” Korgan said. “It could be the memoirs o’ Drizzt or Elminster for all I be carin’. Pimlico be the one who be wantin’ it.”

“Pimlico?”

“Idiot noble book collector. Rich though.”

“Ah.”

“SPIDEYS AHEAD!” Unger shouted suddenly. The rest of the dwarves rushed forward, taking out their axes, hammers, and swords as they ran. Vince skidded to a stop. “Wait, there could be traps!”

But the rest of the Dwarven Horde paid no attention. Vince shrugged and ran after them, diving into the mass of spiders and slashing with her short sword.

The floor was littered with spider guts, legs, and torsos. The dwarves ignored the gore and stepped into an enormous cavern, which was dominated by a large hive. Several members of the party glared at it, and Yeslick shuddered.

“I nay be wantin’ to go in there,” Unger said, and the rest of the dwarves agreed without question.

“The air be smellin’ older, here,” Korgan said, leading them to a dark corridor.

“Hold it; that be a trap,” Vince said, and disarmed it. The dwarves headed into the tunnel.

They emerged into a rectangular room with doors on each wall. An arch had been blasted into the wall further up, and Korgan shrugged and headed for it. Vince hauled him back by his collar, already muttering under her breath about traps.

“Now, see ‘ere —” he began indignantly, then broke off as the doors flew open and assorted undead made a beeline for their group.

“Uh-oh,” Mauri said unnecessarily. They pulled out their weapons, bunched into a tight circle, and waited for the worst. Korgan, Unger, and Kagain (bedecked in his favorite ‘sexy’ spiky helmet) started slashing.

A streak of lightning zipped towards the group out of nowhere, but it did not strike the dwarves, taking out a zombie and jumping from mummy to skeleton, and finally fizzling on a vampire. Yeslick immediately began casting a spell, and a ray of dazzling sunlight sliced through the room. The vampire shrieked and fell into dust.

The axes of Korgan and Kagain were making little headway, and Vince’s sword was no help at all. Mauri and Unger were having some success with their hammers, but the skeletons, once knocked down, just kept getting back up again. Yeslick was too busy trying to turn them, so his mace lie abandoned a few feet away. Vince finally threw her sword down in fury and snatched up the mace.

“Why don’ the blasted things just die already!” Mauri roared, frustrated.

“DUCK!” a melodic feminine voice shouted. Mauri didn’t think; she acted, pulling Kagain and Unger down with her as she threw herself to the floor. Korgan was already on the floor, out cold after a blow from a ghoul. Vince was tugged down by Yeslick. A blast of fire exploded over their heads, incinerating the monsters above them. Ash and cinders settled over them as a ringing silence fell.

“Are ye alright?”

Yeslick looked up first, to see a woman above them. She was short and slender for a dwarf, and the hand she offered to help him up with was slim-fingered but firm. She had short, curly, flaxen-blonde hair and dark green eyes. The forest green robes she wore matched her eyes, and a belt was cinched around her waist. A hairy leg was slung lazily out of a leather pouch hanging from the belt, a sure sign the leg’s owner was asleep.

“I’m Ember Bonesong,” she said as she brought the last of the Dwarven Horde to their feet. She was quite soft-spoken. “I am a sorceress, and I’ve been looking for a certain magical artifact in this place. I suppose you are after treasure, yes?”

“This one,” Vince gestured at the limp, ashen-faced form of Korgan she was holding up, “he be lookin’ for some book. The rest o’ us be treasure-hunters.”

Ember nodded. “Well, I’ll just be going, then.” She shouldered her pack and a strangely shaped instrument case and started off toward the tunnel they had come from.

“No, wait!” Yeslick called. “Ye’ve just saved our skins. We need your help!”

Unger opened his mouth furiously, no doubt to protest, but Mauri clapped her hand over it before he could speak.

Ember paused. “Well, I suppose I could help you through these parts, since I know my way around a bit. But then I must leave you. I have pressing business in Trademeet.”

Yeslick healed Korgan, Vince disabled several traps that were hidden under the floor tiles, and Ember led the way through the uneven archway.

"So what is this book you're looking for?" Ember asked. She kept an alert gaze on the door as the dwarves around her pawed through the crypt.

"I dunno," Kagain replied with a grin, "but ye can bet it be makin' us filthy rich!"

"Well, yeh've managed the 'filthy' part already!" Vince said brightly, peering into an ornamental urn. Kagain glowered at her from under his spiky helmet.

"But what does it look like?"

"Big," Korgan looked up from the central sarcophagus and made wide gestures in the air with his stubby hands. "Gold an' stuff on the front."

"And mold," added Unger. "Lots of mold on it."

How do ye know?"

Unger snorted. "Korgan be tellin' everyone in the blasted tavern 'bout it, whether they wanted tae listen or nay."

"It be gone!" Korgan growled suddenly. "Gone! The thieves 'ave made off wit' it!"

"Who? What thieves?" Mauri asked.

"Me old crew," Korgan said, cracking his knuckles. "When I be finding 'em, they be BEGGIN' FER MERCY!" And with that, Korgan grabbed his axe from the floor and sprinted out the door.

"Let's go!" Mauri cried gleefully, and the dwarves took off.

All of the traps and monsters that had barred their way before were gone now, so it didn't take them nearly as long to emerge into the sunlight. The sun was just setting, and Korgan was still running. He had a head start, with Mauri not far behind and the rest of the Dwarven Horde and Ember at her heels.

"Where's he goin'?" Kagain wondered aloud.

"Dunno," Vince replied.

They arrived in the slums a short time later, panting slightly. "Thar they be," Korgan growled softly, pointing to the top of the Copper Coronet. "That be headquarters."

There were a few whispered 'ayes,' and nodding heads. Most of the Dwarven Horde was completely confused, but eager for some action.

Korgan, oddly enough, motioned for silence and began attempting to sneak up the stairs to the roof. The stairs, however, had other ideas, and creaked loudly under his weight. Some were missing, but a longer stride fixed that issue. The real problem happened just near the top. The last three planks were gone. The companions peered downwards. They were now behind the Coronet, and the ground below them was probably a good fifteen feet down. Apparently, Korgan's old group still couldn't see them from the top of the roof, so they had a precious few minutes to plan.

"Toss me," Kagain said suddenly in an urgent whisper. Mauri stared at him.

"What?"

"Toss me," he repeated, even more urgently.

"I can't!" she said desperately. "I donnae have the strength wit'out the bloodlust!"

Unger and Yeslick immediately came to her aid, and between the three of them, they hefted Kagain and heaved him up onto the landing. There was a thud, then several surprised shouts and yells. Then Kagain's voice hollered, "BACK UP, YE MORONS!" The dwarves still on the steps obediently hurried backwards onto the first landing.

Kagain came flying off the roof. He had apparently taken a running leap and presently he landed hard on his bum in the midst of his comrades, knocking over Mauri and Unger. Three people followed him.

Ember was working quickly, casting a spell. As she completed it, a golden sphere shot from her outstretched hands and exploded in a burst of light. Kagain's trio of pursuers froze, then dropped like stones through the missing steps. Three thumps told Ember she had done her job.

The Dwarven Horde approached the steps slowly and tentatively, and looked down. The three bodies were, indeed, about fifteen feet below, and were bent at strange angles that were not at all anatomically possible without bones being broken. They were, at the very least, unconscious, if not dead.

"Och," Korgan said, grinning wickedly as he turned back to his party. "That be takin' care o' them. Now we just be needin' tae get up there again an' get the blasted book!"

This time, they threw Korgan up onto the roof. They heard him stumbling into things, various curses, and finally a triumphant shout. He had, it seemed, found the book. Korgan ran to the edge.

"HERE IT BE!" he crowed, and jumped down.

"I want tae see!"

"Let me see!"

"Can I be holdin' it?"

"I would very much like to read that, as soon as you're willing to part with it."

"What do it be sayin'?"

"Ye can have it after I'm done wit' it!"

"Nay," Korgan said indignantly. "We be sellin' it."

The rest began protesting loudly. After ten minutes of this, Korgan finally grumbled, "FINE! Ye can be havin' a look while we be goin' tae Trademeet!"

"We be goin' to Trademeet?"

"Aye," Mauri confirmed. "We be escortin' Ember here to her bizness, and then a round o' drinks fer all o' us."

There was a great shout of agreement from all but Ember, who had wrested the book from Korgan and was reading it with voracious, wide-eyed curiosity.

Trademeet was quite loud for a town of its size, and it soon became louder. A dwarf with purple tattoos on her face and dark brown plaits in her hair entered the tavern, followed by another dwarf wearing a spiky helmet. After them, a grey-bearded dwarf with a menacing look on his face and a green-haired, grey-eyed, sour-looking dwarf stomped in. Two red-headed dwarves and a slender blonde dwarf brought up the rear. The seven seated themselves around a table, the grey-bearded one immediately calling for drinks.

"Well, it is here I must leave you. I must go to my home and see what needs doing so badly they've called me away from my profession," Ember, the blonde one, said to the party.

The rest of the Dwarven Horde was not listening. The purple-tattooed one, called Mauri, was blushing while talking animatedly with Kagain, the one with the spiky helmet. Korgan, the one who had called for drinks, was engaged in a drinking contest with Unger, one of the red-heads. The green-haired one had a dagger out and was scratching rude messages into the wood of the table-top. Only Yeslick, the second red-head, was listening to her.

"I can help ye," he offered.

Ember glanced at the Horde again, then nodded warily. "Alright."

The pair of them stepped outside. It was a crisp but sunny day, and altogether it was a pleasant walk across the square to Ember's house. Ember and Yeslick stopped in front of the door.

"Oh, hold on," she said, reached into her belt pouch and extracting a large tarantula. She put the spider on her shoulder, where it clicked its mandibles happily and settled in. Yeslick stared at it, wide-eyed. Ember noticed.

"Don't worry about him," she advised. "This is Oscar, my familiar."

"Your . . . familiar?" Yeslick said faintly.

She nodded. "Yep. Oscar's a sweetie, really. He sleeps most of the time, but he's awake today. Aren't you, Oscar?" She stroked the spider's stomach and it chirped in pleasure. "Shall we go in?"

Yeslick followed Ember inside and was immediately blasted with a group of chattering people. He looked around in amazement. There were some dwarves present, but also some shorter, thinner people with large noses. The majority of the group looked to be somewhere in between.

"Oh, Ember! We're so glad you've come home!"

"Hey, cousin! Who's this? Is he your boyfriend? Ember's got a boyfriend, Ember's got a boyfriend . . ."

"Where have you been, dear?"

"It's great to see you, sis!"

"Killed any big monsters, Great-Aunt Ember? Have ya, have ya?"

"Did you get me anything?"

Finally, the talk died down and Ember spoke. "Everyone, I'd like to you meet Yeslick. He's a friend of mine, and I expect you to treat him as such. Now, down to business. Why have you asked me to come home? Is something wrong?"

"Ah . . . no," an older woman said. She seemed to be Ember's mother. "We need you to babysit."

Ember's eyes grew wide in horror. "You can't mean . . . oh, no."

The crowd parted and a small gnomish boy emerged from around the thigh area of the group. He had the same blonde curls as Ember, but his eyes were bright, shiny blue instead of green. Yeslick didn't know what Ember was so worried about; he appeared to be a pretty sweet kid.

"I'm afraid so," the woman said, sighing heavily. "You've got to babysit him for the day. It's only for today, dear. Please, we need this favor."

"Alright," Ember said resignedly. She held out her hand to the little boy. "C'mon, Seth."

He took her hand docilely and she led him out of the house.

"What's so bad about this lad?" Yeslick asked quietly as Seth skipped in front of them, his flyaway curls bouncing.

Ember swallowed hard and cleared her throat. "Well, you see, Seth . . . he's incredibly smart for his age, and curious about everything. That can be a dangerous combination. Seth, don't touch that!" The little gnome had just spotted a dead mouse in the courtyard and had gone over to examine it more closely. Ember hurried over to the boy and steered him away from the decomposing animal.

"Seth, this is Yeslick," she said. "Yeslick, this is my nephew, Seth."

Yeslick was slightly confused as to how her nephew could be a gnome when she herself was a dwarf, but he wisely said nothing, instead smiling in what he hoped was a kind way at the little boy.

"Have you ever seen a real dwarf before? One that wasn't related to you?" Ember asked Seth in a strained, bright voice.

"No," Seth said, fixing his unblinking blue stare on Yeslick. "But I seen a dragon. An' I killed a bunny once."

Ember gasped. "Seth! Why would you kill a defenseless little rabbit?"

"It had sharp teeth, Aunt Ember," he said. "And it talked."

"Oh, it talked, did it?" Ember looked over Seth's head at Yeslick and hid a smile.

"Uh-huh."

"What did it say?"

"It said it was gonna be king of Toril 'cause it was a Ball-something."

"Well," Ember sighed heavily. "Go on and play, Seth. Stay where I can see you. Yeslick and I will be sitting on this bench." Seth wandered away as the two dwarves sat down.

Ember shook her head and put her face in her hands. "I try," she said through her fingers. "The gods know I try."

Yeslick wasn't quite sure how to answer this, so he tried a question of his own. "Ah . . . how is it that your nephew is a gnome and you . . .um . . . you aren't?"

Ember took her head out of her hands to stare at him incredulously. "You mean, all this time you didn't know?"

"Uh . . .what?" Yeslick was quite sure he was making himself look like an utter moron, but he didn't know what else to say.

"My family's been intermarrying for generations, Yeslick. I don't even know if I'm half and half; or if I'm more gnome than dwarf, or more dwarf than gnome," Ember explained. "Suffice to say, I'm part gnome and part dwarf. Although there might even be a little halfling sprinkled in there somewhere along the line."

Yeslick was stunned by this revelation. "Ah . . . no. No, I didn't know that."

"Oh. Well, that's fine. As long as you don't have any problems with it."

"Nah. Gnomes are alright little buggers, as long as you stop their stories before they start."

Ember chuckled. "You're right about that. My relatives can be long-winded, to say — SETH! What are you doing?!" The sorceress sprang up to drag Seth away from the new entertainment he had found — jumping in mud puddles.

She brought him back over to the fountain, muttering to herself. "A simple cantrip will clean you up," she said, casting the spell over her nephew. The muddy spots and water-stains on his skin and clothes vanished as if they had never been there.

"Now don't get into any more trouble, alright?" Ember scolded. Seth nodded mutely then waited for Ember to turn away before immediately climbing the statues of the Heroes of Trademeet. The statue of a young knight seemed to frown at the little gnome as he scaled the statue's armored stone leg.

"Seth, how much candy have you eaten today?" Ember asked, exasperated. She craned her neck to look up at him.

"Mama let me have a cupcake for breakfast, Aunt Ember," he replied. "And candied turnips."

"Oh, yuck," she murmured under her breath. Yeslick grinned. It seemed that Ember had not inherited the usual gnomish love of root vegetables.

"If you come down from there I'll tell you a story," Ember said. "I'll tell you about how my friends and I defeated a big group of undead."

"What's undead?"

"If you come down, I'll tell you. Come down, Seth. Don't hurt yourself."

Seth replied by sticking out his tongue. Yeslick snickered, then went into a coughing fit as Ember glared at him.

"I'll give you money?" Ember bribed him pleadingly.

Seth paused in his ascent. "How much?"

"Five gold."

"Wow!" Seth climbed down the statues as fast as he could and held out
his hand, blue eyes shining in anticipation. Five round gold discs were deposited into the tiny palm, and Seth ran off to spend it at once. Yeslick and Ember stood up slowly to follow the rambunctious six-year-old.

"See, Yeslick," Ember began. "This is why I never married and had children of my own. I have my hands full already with my sister's son."

"I . . . see," Yeslick said.

"Ah, but Seth can be a real sweetheart sometimes," Ember said, smiling fondly at her nephew, who was currently jumping up and down in front of a stall in the market that sold all sorts of pastries and confections. He looked over and waved cheerfully before accepting two cubes of fudge. Ember waved back.

"He is . . . bearable, I suppose," Yeslick agreed, not really understanding what she meant. From what he had seen, Seth was not 'a real sweetheart.'

Seth bounded over and handed one of the fudge cubes to Ember. "I got you some fudge, Aunt Ember," he said, beaming, before attacking his own. Smears of chocolate covered his face and hands, which Ember soon cleaned off.

After they finished their snack, Ember picked up Seth and put him on her back, his small arms twined around her neck. She looked at Yeslick. "Well, I suppose I'll be going now. Perhaps I'll come back to the tavern tonight, perhaps not, but as for now, I'm spending some quality time with my nephew." And she trotted off, Seth perched on her back, calling 'Faster, Aunt Ember, faster!'

Yeslick watched them go, then turned and headed back to Trademeet's tavern. He had a lot to think about.