Dwertern
The memories wash back and forth, as a young and streetwise dwarf is pulled off the cold stone floor of the local sheriff’s holding cell in the outskirts of the Waterdeep city centre. Thoughts that stretch back about 100 years or so.
'He is a rowdy one, if ye can keep him under control he’ll be just right for it'. The sheriff slides out from the side of his mouth as the other side tenaciously holds his smoke pipe hanging off his lower lip.
The solid figure wearing an elegant cloak eyes the dwarf on the cell floor and slowly whispers to the burly sheriff, 'What’s this one in here for?'
'The little runt took on two locals on at the inn round the corner, the bouncers tried to pry him off them but then couldn’t get him off them', pausing for a moment to kick the cell door he continues 'Then when the boys came around, he thumped them out right quick'.
Then Dwertern recalls smiling and thinking to himself, ‘He must be a mage looking for a new gladiator or sumfin’’
'How much' speaks a little louder the cloaked figure, '3sp as long as we don’t see him round here again or we take is neck!' taunts the sheriff with a menacing gaze that actually scared Dwertern as he recalls, not like he would admit it to anyone.
The cloaked figure kept him shackled and hooded for maybe a whole 2 hours, and Dwertern could tell where ever he was going was not a direct route as others where thrown into the carriage and he presumed that they where in the same position as he was. A couple of hours later the carriage stopped and they all piled out, or rather where tossed out into a pile on top of one another. Thanking his lucky stars he was one of the first ones in, meant he was one of the last ones out.
'THIS IS TREIAGE TRADING COMPANY!' boomed out a voice so deafening that Dwertern remembers physically jumping a foot or two in some direction, and then suddenly his hood was removed with the afternoon sun glaring directly into his eyes.
A few moments later his eyes adjust to the HUGE figure standing no more than a yard away, petrified at this monstrous sight before he didn’t even realise where he was nor who might have been next to him.
Now it wasn’t the evening setting sun gleaming off the elegantly detailed and very shiny armour he wore, nor was it the gigantic double headed sword with an unusual eerie glow to it, no it was the fact that it was a mountain giant staring literally straight down at him.
'YOU DON’T LIKE OUR POLICIES YOU GOT TWO CHOICES, DECAPITATION OR DISINTERGRATION!' Boomed the giants’ voice yet again.
Suddenly an arc of violent blue and white electricity zapped across the courtyard, unable to control his head Dwertern follows it to its destination. Suddenly realising that he was one from the end of a line of ten and three back, minus the one that lay in a scorching heap in the far back ranks.
'Oh! And you run and your fair game for the guards.' the giant let out in a softer tone equal to that of a rockslide instead of an earthquake. 'RIGHT THAT THERE IS YOUR BUNK HOUSE TOMORROW WE START THE NEW DAY, AND DON’T TRY AND SLIP OUT AT NIGHT………' eyeing everyone that stood before him before he continues 'Cause we use zombies as guards at night.' With everyone frozen at that last comment another guard yells out 'OKAY MOVE OUT!' and they began their herding into the bunk house.
Dwertern smiles as he mentally plays out the following days, weeks, months and even long years at the Treiage HQ. There was an assortment of ‘hard cases’ collected from the various holding cells in Waterdeep, from rogues and thieves that got caught red handed (‘Which to this day they still are probably saying they were framed’ Dwertern thinks to himself), A couple of priest from various temples that ended up finding true faith in the bottom of some rank alcohol, but what he liked was the power that emanated from the giant the first day that he saw him. Harsool the giant was dragged into a gladiator pit out near Anarouch after his tribe was exterminated when he was an infant, Lauruk ‘The hood’ (as the troops affectionately named him as they never see him in anything but that same cloak as the first day I ever saw him with.) won him in a wage with the pit owner, much like the rest he took them in and trained them as best he could to help serve his company.
They had Dwertern join the smithies, a pack of dwarves and humans that could make some of the best weapons that could be had on the open markets of Waterdeep and possibly anywhere else. Dwertern worked and worked hard for the streets had no call for him, we was striving to earn recognition from Harsool as an equal, and maybe one day Dwertern might be able to even take him on and win, a thought that to this day would never be collected.
A several years had passed and Dwertern was shown how to use weapons, armours and shields that he made by the various smiths but more important by Harsool the giant himself. Harsool not only showed him how to use them but also a few tricks which he had learnt over the decades leading the companies caravans from place to place, stories Dwertern knew could only be told from someone that had been there.
With each season that passed Dwertern strived to be recognised for his abilities to join the caravans on a run, but as stated smiths weren’t required a great deal. Dwertern had approached Harsool and demand he be placed as a rider or guard on the next convoy, Harsool amused organised ‘Dwertern’s request be acknowledged’ and placed him as a cook in the convoy just to rub it in. He didn’t care, as he was on the convoy, destination don’t know don’t care.
It was a long haul to Westgate it began as 20 caravans of goods and over 80 men, a cross between orcs, goblins, undead creatures, the list just went on and on. The final count was 8 convoy guards and a mere 5 caravans after leaving behind unneeded supplies, Harsool lead the wagon into town to our destination and parked the convoy at the merchants storehouse and walked up the road and into an inn, good idea.
The inn wasn’t anything special ‘The Blind Basilisk’ it was called back then, had a few round and then crawled into one of the rooms upstairs. The following day Dwertern was greeted by a note under his door…….
'When yer done, come to the merchants storehouse!'
All Dwertern recalls is what the hell does that giant want. Greeted at the door by the few survivors of the convoy all with huge grins on their faces, Dwertern becomes curiously paranoid. By the end of the day the counting of Dwertern’s wealth was more than he had even heard as whispers, stumped with what to do he heads back to his room at the inn to think about it.
As he swings the door open and is about to enter he sees a make shift sign on the door, BUISNESS FOR SALE – ENQUIRE WITHIN. Curious we strolls to the bar and did as the sign said, he enquired within. There was an investment potential available to him the bar and the neighbouring store house were for sale, and within his new budget, without thinking he laid the gold over and signed the deed.
It took him one day to realise he got the short end of broken dagger, luckily one of the guards which if not for his healing ability all would have been lost on that trek, offered Dwertern a rather fair and appealing deal. He would supply the finances to refurbish the inn and storehouse as long as they would share the workload and profits, Dwertern agreed. The inn was renamed to its current one, 'The Stumpy Braided Dwarf' and the store house during its renovations struck Dwertern as a good building to build a smithy in and did.
Harsool slyly grinning at Dwertern and Koulath as he speaks to them with the tone of a friend and not the tone of the convoy captain or the giant staring down at you on your first day in a strangers yard, 'I’ll let the hood know ye safe and out of trouble, just careful he might someday appear in yer inn, and he be very disappointed if ye don’t remember his face aye.'
Dwertern remembers Harsool’s last laugh at him as he waved goodbye leading on a new convoy back to Waterdeep, with new guards and new goods to be traded, and all he has to do on this one is get back home.