Trials of a Burntbeard Dwarf Ch 2 The Ember Glows

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Trials of a Burntbeard Dwarf Ch 2 The Ember Glows

Postby Betandor » Sat Feb 22, 2003 4:10 am

Well met once more, friend traveller! Betandor Heartsong, Battlebard of the Honest Lyre gives you greetings, and an offer to buy the first round, with a tale to follow. Aye, the tale continues the story of the Burntbeard dwarf, you do remember the last bit? Excellent! Barmaid, a tankard of ale for my friend, and a bit of the special brew you keep for me under the bar. I know you are running short of it, but just this once, for a special private song later? Ahh, her eyes sparkle like diamonds, and she blushes as red as a rose. Now, on with the tale...

As the silver puddle soaked into the thirsty earth, the ember in the dwarf's beard began to glow with a fierce red flame as his temper got the better of his vow. "Stupid orc brained woman thinks she can kill me, and me be happy for making her feel the shame of not doing what's right? I dunna think so." Grumbling more curses against the ancestors of the druidess, he grabbed his hammer from the ground, and stompped his way through the forest, knocking his hammer against every rock in his path, to remind himself that he was strong as the rocks of the earth, and no one could change his mind when he put it to doing something.

Meanwhile, the druid stepped through the silvery puddle and strode into the gardens of the Master Heirophant druid. Her eyes flashed, and she began swearing and cursing as she started to tell the man who had been a mentor and friend what had happened in the part of the forest she called her own. "Orcs!" Her voice rose, and the druid winced as more strongly worded curses flew from her lips, "Pig faced, ugly brutes with rot where their manhood, err....orchood?" She stopped for a second, then decided, "orchood should be!" Then she grumbled, "And that's not the thing that makes my blood boil either."

The Master waited patiently, well aware of the young druid's temper and her strong earthy way of speaking. "There was something else?" he questioned calmly.

"Yes, damn the dwarf to the Blighted Lands, there was something else!" She glared at the Master. "I also met, a dwarf." She stopped as he gave an encouraging smile and scowled at him. "The rockheaded bearded ale-barrel told me I had to bond with him!" She went on to explain, with heated words, gestures, and dark looks, exactly what had happened in the forest that morning.

"I see." the Master folded his hands and began to chant quietly, asking Silvanus for his wisdom and guidance. As she saw his face relax, she began to calm, falling into the familiar cadance of the chant, sending her plea for guidance to Silvanus with all of her soul behind it. Just before she felt the connection and healing touch of her god come over her, a very loud crashing sound, followed by the russle of branches.

Outside, the dwarf rose to his feet and yelled, "By the Axes of Clangeddin and the might of me hammer, ye lets me in!" then he stormed back to swing a glancing blow at a reaching branch of the treant that protected the peaceful serenity of the druid grove. Feeling the branches pick him up again in preparation for another throw across the clearing, he wrapped his stubby legs around the branch, dropped his hammer to the ground, and bashed his helmet into the thick bark, hoping to hold on and not be tossed aside like a leaf.

As the branch moved forward, the dwarf flew off with a howl of rage and crashed into the trees. He came staggering back, blood dripping from a ragged gash along the side of his face. He collapsed in a heap of armor as he reached down to lift his hammer from the forest floor. Groaning, his limbs twitched, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

The branches of the treant moved slowly aside as the two druids entered the clearing. The Master frowned at the newly scarred wood of the treant's bark, then glanced over at the woman who was glaring with icy hatred at the slumped pile of armor in the center of the clearing. She hissed a curse under her breath, then strode over to the battered metal of the helmet and pulled it off. "Rockheaded bastard of a gnome's teeth," she muttered under her breath as she checked for signs of life by lifting one hair from the dwarf's singed beard and yanking it out.

"Moradin smite ye with fireants in your breeches!" the dwarf howled as he sat up and grabbed his ragged and smoldering beard. Seeing the woman who had caused so much pain to him, he grunted and pushed himself to his feet. He glared at her, the normal brown color of his eyes gone black with his pent up rage. Her stare was like the breath of the Northern Waste as her pale aquamarine eyes sparkled with cold fury.

"Ye burned me beard!"

"You harmed the treant!"

"Ye ran away like a goblin's fleas!"

"You charged in like a minotaur with the squirts when you were neither needed nor wanted!"

The Master saw their hands raise in an almost instantaneous signal to continue the battle of words into a battle of faith, magic, and blood. As the two voices began to chant, the odd harmony of the chant stunned both the druid and the dwarf into silence for a moment. Confused, the dwarf scratched his head with a stubby finger and tugged hard on the remainder of his beard. Then he glanced around the clearing, noticing the Master for the first time, as the woman before him took this opportunity to reach a probing finger into the large gash along his cheek. The dwarf winced, but did not move, as the finger traced the path of the torn flesh, so near his right eye. "That must have hurt like the fires of the Nine Hells," the druid muttered softly, the sparkle in her eyes fading as she reached inside to find the presence of Silvanus and mend the torn flesh.

As his flesh mended into a livid scar, the dwarf looked at the woman. His eyes lost their flinty hardness, and softened as her touch smoothed a path over his scalded cheek in an almost seductive caress. "Ye gots power in yer touch, girl," his voice came hard, as though forced through a narrow passage in the stone of his mountains.

"Aye, more power than you can imagine," she purred back with a slow wink, and closed her fingers lightly over his hand as she helped him to his feet.

The Master stood quietly, tending those wounds upon the treant that needed attention as he watched the interplay of the two in the center of the clearing. Things seemed to have calmed like a summer storm, he thought to himself as he saw the woman bring the dwarf to his feet. They walked over to him, still holding hands, as though supporting each other in the struggle to appear dignified, though the dwarf looked as though he would fall over at any moment, and the woman, bearing much of his weight on her arm, staggered with every step.

The stopped in front of the Master Heicophant, who wore his customary small smile as he greeted the mismatched, but oddly suited pair. "It seems as though, in this small time, you have learned much about yourselves, both as people, and as a pair. I see much similarity in you both, and believe that you would match quite well, bonded, as Silvanus has revealed that you must be." He looked at the woman, appraising her spirit and commitment to Silvanus, then he nodded, "Yes, you have formed a bond. Perhaps in time, the bond will grow stronger, and more will come of it. But for now, you must share adventures, with those of like mind and spirit. There has been talk recently of a band known as the Phoenix rising once again from its ashes. Perhaps there would be a place for you both there." The two nodded, as the Master continued, "Seek one known as Gulraex, and he will instruct you further. This is all that Silvanus has revealed to me, may his protection and guidance go with you, wherever your path leads."

The Master whistled quietly as he passed under the treant's branches. The sun began to set in the western sky and two shadows stretched into their held hands to the east as the dwarf and druid went to find their fate.

....Seems a bit more than a bonding is taking place between those two, or my own heart's deceiving me. What's that? Aye, tis dark, and the poor lass who has kept our cups full is still waiting for her song there by the door. I bid you good dreamings, friend traveller. Come my dear, let us retire to a place with a warm fire and a soft place to rest my weary bones as I sing you a song of dreams...
Clan Blindhammer
Posts: 255
Joined: Wed Dec 18, 2002 6:01 am

Postby Clan Blindhammer » Sat Feb 22, 2003 9:50 pm


I'm fer thinkin' yer leavin' out a bit more'n what yer telling Bard! Bring yer flimsy flamsy tail back to me table, pour me another cup, and finish yer tale with haste! Tis not many stories o stinkin' moutain dwarves that'd I'd be waitin to be hearing!


Well written:) Seems we're entering a renaissance period of writing on these boards recently...lots of growth and rebirth of some great tales. Thank you.
King Artikerus Blindhammer
Kiaransalee responds to your petition with 'I have no opinion, keeps me out of trouble.'
Malar responds to your petition with 'you die more than a morigroup'
Kossuth responds to your petition with 'please go away :P'
Rillifane responds to your petition with 'be the nance.... you are the nance... you are one with the nance...'
Posts: 86
Joined: Fri Nov 01, 2002 6:01 am

Postby Iduna » Wed Feb 26, 2003 12:35 pm

Greetings all. She announces as she ducks herself in for a rest from her walk. Noticing King Artikerus Blindhammer she takes a seat at his table and orders an ale from the barmaid. She politely leans into the King and whispers to him.. " I suppose perhaps I have left out your fantasizes of our meeting along with my sister Eslina,but a lady does keep her secrets" she flashes him a shy glance, settles into her seat and looks to Betandor Heartsong eager to hear more of his tale of Botav Burntbeard and Sayannah of whom she has met on many occasion.

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