Leatherhead
Possibly a Idiot.
Idle hands. Grimsby hated them. They let the memories creep back in.
The dwarf had signed up on this caravan to work. Simple, honest, labor. Now that work was halted, and worse still, the boss was dead.
He could feel the disapproving gaze of Dranngvit, judging him, as if Grimsby himself might be a bad-luck charm.
A commotion in the marketplace interrupted Grimsby's thoughts. A goblin, chased by some from the caravan, and others.
This was it, a sign. Just like that day. Grimsby felt his heart race and his legs move without thinking as he followed. Maybe he could prevent another accident, or at least set one strait.
The dwarf had signed up on this caravan to work. Simple, honest, labor. Now that work was halted, and worse still, the boss was dead.
He could feel the disapproving gaze of Dranngvit, judging him, as if Grimsby himself might be a bad-luck charm.
A commotion in the marketplace interrupted Grimsby's thoughts. A goblin, chased by some from the caravan, and others.
This was it, a sign. Just like that day. Grimsby felt his heart race and his legs move without thinking as he followed. Maybe he could prevent another accident, or at least set one strait.