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<blockquote data-quote="Hairy Minotaur" data-source="post: 3721944" data-attributes="member: 11574"><p><strong>To incite a dwarf....</strong></p><p></p><p>The travel to She-Wolf was uneventful, save for Haimish waking up, falling off his horse, and then loosing a tirade of obscenities in four different languages at Menthos. Only after learning that it was Doopa who knocked him out did he clam down.</p><p></p><p>She-Wolf was as far from it’s name as could be, the dingy town was a co-op of dwarves and halflings which used it’s port on the Great River to move ore form Omen to Highcastle and ports east on the river and even to the coast. After travel through the Dearthwood became suicide from the vast numbers of orcs residing therein, the river route become the next logical course. Of course it’s proving to be far more expensive as it’s nearly impossible to protect the barges from bandits along the riverbanks and under the river’s waters. Some bandits would even launch alchemist’s fire, Molotov Cocktails, and flame arrows to burn down a barge and then salvage the gold and ores from the bottom of the river. The Overlord was paying patrols nearly double a routine route would pay to patrol the banks along the river between Highcastle and She-Wolf. </p><p></p><p>The town was merely a bunch of warehouses and shacks interspersed with numerous drinking establishments. The metallic smell of the unrefined ore and that of stale ale made the taste of dust in the back of the party’s throats seem better by comparisons. The only structure that looked anything like a permanent building was the huge barracks which housed the Overlord’s paid guards to make sure She-Wolf didn’t fall into orc, Skandit, or worse Virdistan hands. Xanthos estimated that a whole company could be housed there. </p><p></p><p>“Why couldn’t we just get half of the Overlord’s men to go up the road to Omen that should take care of the goblin problem?” Turgar wondered aloud</p><p></p><p>“I suspect the mobility the rangers posses in the wild is more advantageous than announcing one’s presence with a large moving force.” Xanthos answered</p><p></p><p>“That makes it seem as though Omen’s trying to be sneaky about their shipments, or …… maybe there’s some intentional missing shipments?” Haimish ponders</p><p></p><p>“That is a pessimistic view, but a viable one I suppose. I just think the money involved in staffing the trail with guards constantly on duty this far form Highcastle wasn’t cost effective so you use what you got, a bunch of wily wilderness people who know the mountains and trails like their own spider veins and pay them to ensure the shipments reach She-Wolf.” Xanthos counters</p><p></p><p>“Looks like I picked the wrong commodity to get involved in, this scam has my name all over it.” Menthos announces</p><p></p><p>The party leaves Doopa and Turgar to stable the horses while they pick out the first bar to try their hands at recruiting a band of dwarves to help defend their brethren. The first bar they come to has no sign, just the dwarven symbol for heavy and drink on the door.</p><p></p><p>“Looks like a good as place to start as any.” Xanthos states</p><p></p><p>“Ok, let me do the talking.” Haimish pipes up</p><p></p><p>“What? We agreed you’d be better off playing with you loot while shifty here transforms into a dwarf and I rile the patrons up.” Menthos objects</p><p></p><p>“That plan got scraped as soon as you decide it would be a good idea to leave me unconscious while you dragged me here, so I’m doing this my way.” Haimish countered</p><p></p><p>“Fine, don’t need me? I’ll go find a bar to get drunk in, come find me as you’re being tossed out of town so we can all ride to Omen in demoralizing fashion.” Menthos says as he brushes away the shifter and the bard to go find his own solace in good strong dwarven ale.</p><p></p><p>Xanthos transformed into a burly dwarf, while Haimish used his oratory skills to paint a picture of brotherly unity with stories of old dwarven heroes before the fall of their kingdom. Haimish compared the coming battle at Omen to that of finding one’s purpose in life, dwarves were meant to own the mountains not goblins. These goblins were going to take that which Korak created for them so long ago.</p><p></p><p>Xanthos spoke of tactics and the smell of battle, of blood and the sound of victory. Both speeches were moving and brought a tear of remembrance to many a dwarven eye, however they could not sway any to abandon their current role in the wheel of these to help “brothers” who didn’t want it. </p><p></p><p>Bar after bar the same scene replayed itself out over and over, and each time the results were the same.</p><p></p><p>“These dwarves have become complacent in their lives, instead of standing up for themselves, they’ve resigned to defeat before the battle is even engaged. This must be the most pathetic group of dwarves in a single location to ever gather. Not even once did we even get a maybe.” Xanthos bows his head in frustration.</p><p></p><p>“Well, we should try and head north to Omen as quickly as possible no sense in staying here overnight if all it’s going to do is get us both drunk, although the prospect of finding what I think will be left of Omen doesn’t exactly inspire me.” Haimish agrees</p><p></p><p>Fuming, Menthos heads for the opposite side of She-Wolf than what Xanthos and Haimish are carousing. He stops just outside a small building that has the sounds of dwarven signing inside and turns back to look across the rest of the town. Menthos decides to watch and see just how well the other two do before he goes into the bar. After pacing for what seemed an eternity, Menthos watched Xanthos and Haimish leave the bar and head to another one. Intrigued that they had no following, he continued to watch as the duo exited bar after bar more dejected than when they entered. Suspecting they were not faring so well, Menthos waited until the closed the distance to his location and then made his way over to that bar to here the speeches given to the dwarves. Moved by their words and yet confounded by the lack of enthusiastic response, Menthos ponders how to rectify the problem.</p><p></p><p>Menthos overhears the two ogres arguing about how to stable a horse, drawn to the exchange like a moth to it’s death in a lantern, the teifling’s legs steer the warlock in that direction.</p><p></p><p>“Music man say to stable horses, this horse already stable.” Doopa argues</p><p></p><p>“He meant put the horses in the stables for the night so they don’t wander off moron.” Turgar retorts</p><p></p><p>“Why not tie horse to tree and not pay?” Doopa counters</p><p></p><p>“Because the tree could care less what happens to the horses, this way we pay for someone to make sure they’re safe.” Turgar answers</p><p></p><p>“Turdgar pay Doopa and Doopa make sure nothing happen to horses.” Doopa offers</p><p></p><p>“I wouldn’t pay you attention, let alone actual money.” Turgar responds</p><p></p><p>“Doopa horse is stable, Doopa not need pay human to tell Doopa that.” The barbarian replies</p><p></p><p>“It’s got four legs of course it’s stable, but that’s not what we’re talking about here. I realize Kindoras doesn’t have a stable and your tribe eats horse meat rather than getting the most out of them, but I assure you this is what they meant by stabling the horses.” Turgar argues</p><p></p><p>“This not Cloudwalls where Turgar tribe foul up water for Kneegnash tribe so we no drink water and plants die so have to eat horse where Turgar tribe get to use horse as plaything and carry things because Turgar to weak to lift himself.” That comment elicited a fist to the face from Turgar </p><p></p><p>The two ogres roll around on the ground trying to out grapple each other as the poor stable master fled in fear to his home attached to the stables. Menthos watched the ogres and realized he had what he needed to inspire the dwarves to greatness. Peering through the dimming light with a vision accustomed to dark dank places, Menthos spied the largest building that would house a bar and headed there.</p><p></p><p>Menthos approached the rickety door, hanging from only its top hinge, the door looked like old driftwood that an elf wouldn’t even care for. Menthos smelled the strong alcohol and listened in on the boisterous conversations about the timid dwarf and his lute carrying pansy buddy, and realized his plan was perfect.</p><p></p><p>Menthos kicked the door in, careening the door off its frame and snapping the hinge out of the frame along with about a foot of wood as well. All conversation stopped as Menthos felt the weight of dozens of stares fall upon his nimble frame. </p><p></p><p>“I’m looking for some dwarves, anybody know where I can find some?” Menthos challenged</p><p></p><p>Laughter breaks out as someone from the back of the bar shouts out, “You found some teifling, now run along and finish your scavenger hunt somewhere else after you pay me for that door you broke.”</p><p></p><p>Menthos sets off a loud disagreement from his colon, “There, paid in full. Keep the change.” </p><p></p><p>“Don’t insult me boy, I’ll rip the ancestry out of your soul and crap all over it!” Comes the response</p><p></p><p>Menthos slaps the nearest dwarf I the face, “I’m waiting, this place has no dwarves that I ever heard of. What self-respecting dwarf drinks from an establishment that’s made form wood? Elves do that. What dwarf doesn’t welcome the chance to commit genocide against a race of sniveling barrel scrapping goblins? Apparently not you wussies.” </p><p></p><p>“Hey, your buddies were already in here touting your fight, we’re not going unless they ask for help, so trudge back to Omen and wish for a miracle.” Comes the reply</p><p></p><p>“Dwarves don’t wish for miracles, they make them. With axe in hand they carve a legacy that lasts longer than a treant’s memory. You sit on your elven stools, and drink your gnomish mead, Omen will defend itself with the dwarves that are still there and it will be their legacies that your poets lament, not the languid She-Wolf dwarves who couldn’t even mount an offensive after watching a teifling smack around one of their own in a bar full of them. Absolutely pathetic.” Menthos answers and heads for the open exit……..</p><p></p><p>Followed by most of the bar, a full forty three dwarves who grab their axes and shields and strike up a war dirge for the march to She-Wolf.</p><p></p><p>Xanthos heard the dwarves first, Haimish heard as soon as Xanthos stopped to discover where the sound was coming from, the sight of Menthos leading forty dwarves through the filthy streets of She-Wolf made him both laugh and cry at the same time.</p><p></p><p>“What’s this?” Xanthos asked</p><p></p><p>“I used this product I got from an old shopkeeper called army builder, works pretty good, I’ll have to get another one.” Menthos said with a wink</p><p></p><p>Haimish collected the rumbling ogres and led the dwarves north to Omen by the light of a waxing moon.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Hairy Minotaur, post: 3721944, member: 11574"] [b]To incite a dwarf....[/b] The travel to She-Wolf was uneventful, save for Haimish waking up, falling off his horse, and then loosing a tirade of obscenities in four different languages at Menthos. Only after learning that it was Doopa who knocked him out did he clam down. She-Wolf was as far from it’s name as could be, the dingy town was a co-op of dwarves and halflings which used it’s port on the Great River to move ore form Omen to Highcastle and ports east on the river and even to the coast. After travel through the Dearthwood became suicide from the vast numbers of orcs residing therein, the river route become the next logical course. Of course it’s proving to be far more expensive as it’s nearly impossible to protect the barges from bandits along the riverbanks and under the river’s waters. Some bandits would even launch alchemist’s fire, Molotov Cocktails, and flame arrows to burn down a barge and then salvage the gold and ores from the bottom of the river. The Overlord was paying patrols nearly double a routine route would pay to patrol the banks along the river between Highcastle and She-Wolf. The town was merely a bunch of warehouses and shacks interspersed with numerous drinking establishments. The metallic smell of the unrefined ore and that of stale ale made the taste of dust in the back of the party’s throats seem better by comparisons. The only structure that looked anything like a permanent building was the huge barracks which housed the Overlord’s paid guards to make sure She-Wolf didn’t fall into orc, Skandit, or worse Virdistan hands. Xanthos estimated that a whole company could be housed there. “Why couldn’t we just get half of the Overlord’s men to go up the road to Omen that should take care of the goblin problem?” Turgar wondered aloud “I suspect the mobility the rangers posses in the wild is more advantageous than announcing one’s presence with a large moving force.” Xanthos answered “That makes it seem as though Omen’s trying to be sneaky about their shipments, or …… maybe there’s some intentional missing shipments?” Haimish ponders “That is a pessimistic view, but a viable one I suppose. I just think the money involved in staffing the trail with guards constantly on duty this far form Highcastle wasn’t cost effective so you use what you got, a bunch of wily wilderness people who know the mountains and trails like their own spider veins and pay them to ensure the shipments reach She-Wolf.” Xanthos counters “Looks like I picked the wrong commodity to get involved in, this scam has my name all over it.” Menthos announces The party leaves Doopa and Turgar to stable the horses while they pick out the first bar to try their hands at recruiting a band of dwarves to help defend their brethren. The first bar they come to has no sign, just the dwarven symbol for heavy and drink on the door. “Looks like a good as place to start as any.” Xanthos states “Ok, let me do the talking.” Haimish pipes up “What? We agreed you’d be better off playing with you loot while shifty here transforms into a dwarf and I rile the patrons up.” Menthos objects “That plan got scraped as soon as you decide it would be a good idea to leave me unconscious while you dragged me here, so I’m doing this my way.” Haimish countered “Fine, don’t need me? I’ll go find a bar to get drunk in, come find me as you’re being tossed out of town so we can all ride to Omen in demoralizing fashion.” Menthos says as he brushes away the shifter and the bard to go find his own solace in good strong dwarven ale. Xanthos transformed into a burly dwarf, while Haimish used his oratory skills to paint a picture of brotherly unity with stories of old dwarven heroes before the fall of their kingdom. Haimish compared the coming battle at Omen to that of finding one’s purpose in life, dwarves were meant to own the mountains not goblins. These goblins were going to take that which Korak created for them so long ago. Xanthos spoke of tactics and the smell of battle, of blood and the sound of victory. Both speeches were moving and brought a tear of remembrance to many a dwarven eye, however they could not sway any to abandon their current role in the wheel of these to help “brothers” who didn’t want it. Bar after bar the same scene replayed itself out over and over, and each time the results were the same. “These dwarves have become complacent in their lives, instead of standing up for themselves, they’ve resigned to defeat before the battle is even engaged. This must be the most pathetic group of dwarves in a single location to ever gather. Not even once did we even get a maybe.” Xanthos bows his head in frustration. “Well, we should try and head north to Omen as quickly as possible no sense in staying here overnight if all it’s going to do is get us both drunk, although the prospect of finding what I think will be left of Omen doesn’t exactly inspire me.” Haimish agrees Fuming, Menthos heads for the opposite side of She-Wolf than what Xanthos and Haimish are carousing. He stops just outside a small building that has the sounds of dwarven signing inside and turns back to look across the rest of the town. Menthos decides to watch and see just how well the other two do before he goes into the bar. After pacing for what seemed an eternity, Menthos watched Xanthos and Haimish leave the bar and head to another one. Intrigued that they had no following, he continued to watch as the duo exited bar after bar more dejected than when they entered. Suspecting they were not faring so well, Menthos waited until the closed the distance to his location and then made his way over to that bar to here the speeches given to the dwarves. Moved by their words and yet confounded by the lack of enthusiastic response, Menthos ponders how to rectify the problem. Menthos overhears the two ogres arguing about how to stable a horse, drawn to the exchange like a moth to it’s death in a lantern, the teifling’s legs steer the warlock in that direction. “Music man say to stable horses, this horse already stable.” Doopa argues “He meant put the horses in the stables for the night so they don’t wander off moron.” Turgar retorts “Why not tie horse to tree and not pay?” Doopa counters “Because the tree could care less what happens to the horses, this way we pay for someone to make sure they’re safe.” Turgar answers “Turdgar pay Doopa and Doopa make sure nothing happen to horses.” Doopa offers “I wouldn’t pay you attention, let alone actual money.” Turgar responds “Doopa horse is stable, Doopa not need pay human to tell Doopa that.” The barbarian replies “It’s got four legs of course it’s stable, but that’s not what we’re talking about here. I realize Kindoras doesn’t have a stable and your tribe eats horse meat rather than getting the most out of them, but I assure you this is what they meant by stabling the horses.” Turgar argues “This not Cloudwalls where Turgar tribe foul up water for Kneegnash tribe so we no drink water and plants die so have to eat horse where Turgar tribe get to use horse as plaything and carry things because Turgar to weak to lift himself.” That comment elicited a fist to the face from Turgar The two ogres roll around on the ground trying to out grapple each other as the poor stable master fled in fear to his home attached to the stables. Menthos watched the ogres and realized he had what he needed to inspire the dwarves to greatness. Peering through the dimming light with a vision accustomed to dark dank places, Menthos spied the largest building that would house a bar and headed there. Menthos approached the rickety door, hanging from only its top hinge, the door looked like old driftwood that an elf wouldn’t even care for. Menthos smelled the strong alcohol and listened in on the boisterous conversations about the timid dwarf and his lute carrying pansy buddy, and realized his plan was perfect. Menthos kicked the door in, careening the door off its frame and snapping the hinge out of the frame along with about a foot of wood as well. All conversation stopped as Menthos felt the weight of dozens of stares fall upon his nimble frame. “I’m looking for some dwarves, anybody know where I can find some?” Menthos challenged Laughter breaks out as someone from the back of the bar shouts out, “You found some teifling, now run along and finish your scavenger hunt somewhere else after you pay me for that door you broke.” Menthos sets off a loud disagreement from his colon, “There, paid in full. Keep the change.” “Don’t insult me boy, I’ll rip the ancestry out of your soul and crap all over it!” Comes the response Menthos slaps the nearest dwarf I the face, “I’m waiting, this place has no dwarves that I ever heard of. What self-respecting dwarf drinks from an establishment that’s made form wood? Elves do that. What dwarf doesn’t welcome the chance to commit genocide against a race of sniveling barrel scrapping goblins? Apparently not you wussies.” “Hey, your buddies were already in here touting your fight, we’re not going unless they ask for help, so trudge back to Omen and wish for a miracle.” Comes the reply “Dwarves don’t wish for miracles, they make them. With axe in hand they carve a legacy that lasts longer than a treant’s memory. You sit on your elven stools, and drink your gnomish mead, Omen will defend itself with the dwarves that are still there and it will be their legacies that your poets lament, not the languid She-Wolf dwarves who couldn’t even mount an offensive after watching a teifling smack around one of their own in a bar full of them. Absolutely pathetic.” Menthos answers and heads for the open exit…….. Followed by most of the bar, a full forty three dwarves who grab their axes and shields and strike up a war dirge for the march to She-Wolf. Xanthos heard the dwarves first, Haimish heard as soon as Xanthos stopped to discover where the sound was coming from, the sight of Menthos leading forty dwarves through the filthy streets of She-Wolf made him both laugh and cry at the same time. “What’s this?” Xanthos asked “I used this product I got from an old shopkeeper called army builder, works pretty good, I’ll have to get another one.” Menthos said with a wink Haimish collected the rumbling ogres and led the dwarves north to Omen by the light of a waxing moon. [/QUOTE]
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