Archive for October, 2008

The tavern that Dugar enjoyed visiting the most was the Foaming Froth. It wasn’t because the ale here was better than elsewhere, because quite frankly, it was quite bitter. Rather, it was for the service, specifically, the service of one Belda Glistedgul. Belda was the kind of woman that Dugar loved. Thick at the knees, stubble on the chin and upper lip, and breasts the size of watermelons.

Belda’s parents both took part in the defense of Claddigen when the great attack occurred. Wielding axe and hammer, they fought valiantly, but both were felled in the attempt. She had been a wench at the Foaming Froth for nearly a year, working long hours to be able to raise her wee little brother at home.

Dugar first visited the Foaming Froth Tavern with a contingent of friends on a night following military training.  While tales were being shared among the trainees, Belda happened to walk by and brush her knee up against Dugar. A chill went up his spine at that moment, and as he turned to look at her, he immediately dropped his mug to the floor, spilling ale all over. He was captivated with her ever since, but never drew the courage to tell her.

This night was like all other nights. Many of Dugar’s friends were already at the Foaming Froth, gulping down their draughts like there’s no tomorrow.

“What brings ye here so early, Dugar?” said Ivel, Dugar’s life long friend, “We thought ye had work ta do with yer pa.”

“Aye, that I did, but the old kook’s mind was too far out, I could na help him.”

“S’too bad then.”

Ivel then looked over his shoulder, “here she comes me friend. Ye gonna tell her finally?”

Dugar simply sighed in response.

“Hey there fellas, another pint?” asked Belda.

They all just looked at Dugar as he just stood there with a glassy look in his eyes. It seemed like time stood still for him as his eyes looked right into hers – and then rolled down to her lips, then her chin, then to her breasts, followed by a big stare down of her knees. Oh, how he would love to take all of those and…

“Another pint?” she reiterated.

Dugar snapped back to reality at that point with a big gasp of air. “Err yes, please.”

“Be right back then,” she responded with a wink.

“Me thinks she likes ya, Dugar”, said Piknen, Dugar’s friend from their military training, “and she ain’t bad, but me, I’d rather have one of them elf human crossbreeds. Two flavors wrapped into one.”

“And if ye ever get one, Piknen,” responded Ivel, “ye durn sure none of us will want details of something so orc durn degrading.”

A bellow of laughs from the lot of them followed, and Dugar sat down. A few moments later, Beldar returned with pints for each of the fellow dwarves. She left, once again brushing past Dugar, sending another shiver up and down his spine. His attention was soon drawn to Piknen.

“Have ye fellas heard? It seems the Lacidin, our clan elder, is looking for some hardy folks to take on a mission, something about the nearby Kingdom of Tarra.”

“What could the Kingdom of Tarra possibly need of us dwarves?” replied Dugar. “tis’ a kingdom of humans o’er there.”

“Yes that it is,” said Piknen, “but it seems trouble has befallen them and apparently they be seeking aid from their neighbors.”

“Indeed,” chimed in Ivel, “from what I hear, they be needin a stalwart axe to lend them a hand. Seems Lacidin could no afford to spare any of his top troops, so he be lookin for some spare, brave souls. Mayhaps we have the courage to take up this job.”

Dugar scratched his beard at that then took a swig of his ale. “Aye laddies, me thinks that a bit o’ adventurin could help me take my mind off me pa. I been working on a shield o’er at the forge that I could take with me, plus I have the hammer my pa used on the anvil back in the day before his mind was lost. An besides, this may help ta eventually build some stability in the kingdom onceagain.”

Piknen stood up suddenly. “Me battle axe has seen the blood of ferrets only till this day. I say we go and see what Lacidin needs of us and get me axe dirty with other kinds of blood!”

“You with us, Ivel,” Dugar asked.

Ivel downed the rest of his ale and grabbed his own axe.

“By Moradin’s beard, you durned right I’m in.”

“Hotter! The forge, she needs to be hotter!”

“Are ye quite so sure about that lad?”

The sweltering heat emanating from the forge must have been getting to the burly Dwarf’s head. Dugar’s father, Bagdin, spent the last few centuries working the forge in the underground city of Adgad for the dwarven kingdom of Claddigen, located within the great icy mountain ranges of the north. The past few decades were dedicated to teaching his son how to use it. His skill was always second to none among his people, but lately, it seemed like it was becoming too much for him to handle.

“Don’t ye be calling me lad, laddy. I’m yer father, so ye best be showin me proper respect, aye?”

Dugar ran his dirty hands through his beard and looked at his father up and down, “Aye pa, my apologies, I’m just sayin that the forge is at peak temperature already. We can start workin on the new axes for the clan right this moment.”

“Son, ye shall either add flame to the forge or get yer sorry carcass out so I can get it done right proper.”

There it was. Bagdin Gedoon had officially gone over the edge. His mind was shot from spending too much time breathing in the fumes from the forge.

“So be it then pa. I’ll be headin for the tavern if ya change yer foolish mind.”

“Out with ya then, ya filthy mongrel”

Dugar couldn’t stand to see his father acting in such a way. It was hard for most of the clan that used to rely on him for the steady supply of axes used on the battlefield. But mostly, it was hard on his family, his wife, his son Dugar and his two daughters. The clerics of Moradin did their best to try to cleanse his mind, but as they said, there was too much damage for even their divine powers to fix. Age had quite simply caught up to him.

Better to have been a valuable hard working member of the clan and desist over your last years of life than to frolic around like some silly elf till the day you die, thought Dugar. Ah well, off to the tavern then.

***

Many years ago, at a time of greatness within the Kingdom of Claddigen, darkness came and swept the dwarven land.  The Dwarven Kingdom was sieged by a swarm of Orcs, Gnolls and Kobolds: a surprise attack that was unexpected, and of which the goal is still unclear to this day.

At that time, the kingdom of Claddigen had consisted of three great cities – Adgad to the west, Grabdek to the east and Liekad to the south.  Liekad was ultimately destroyed by the great battle, but the dwarves mounted a final, desperate attack against the dark forces and were able to drive them out, sparing the two remaining dwarven cities from destruction.

In the end, the battle cost the dwarves many lives, including the life of their King, who was replaced by an aid who had no governing experience.  Without strong leadership, Human influence over Claddigen slowly divided the Kingdom into two clans, and within several years, it was no more.  In order to protect themselves, Dwarves from Abdag soon gave their allegiance to the Tarra and started calling themselves Mountain Dwarves, whereas Dwarves from Grabdek eventually gave theirs to the Aquis, calling themselves Water Dwarves.

Although the dwarf community remained somewhat stable, tensions grew as both clans became suspicious of each other.  Growing fears of an all-out civil war were becoming more and more common and elders for both clans further encouraged missinformation between the clans.

Despite the propaganda, some dwarves spoke out and lamented the lack of a strong and united Dwarven Kingdom, similar to the one that existed prior to the great attack.  These Dwarves were laughed at and persecuted, and most now kept their thoughts to themselves.  They gathered in places away from both clans, places where no one cared who you were or where you came from, as long as you were a Dwarf.

One of these places was Dugar’s favorite tavern: the Foaming Froth.