A crazed-looking dwarf enters the tavern reeking of gunpowder and sulfur, smoke still wisping from his clothing and his beard adorned with clipped-on, smoldering slow burn fuses. The air in the tavern instantly fills with wisping bluish mist.

"HOHEEHAHAHEEHA!!!" the dwarf chortles insanely as he bellies up to the bar and hops onto a stool, eye-level with empty mugs and tankards. "This must be the place, be the place, indeed! Pour a frothy ale ye bastard, me throat is burnin'... an' trust me, we don't want that around what ol' Lexel gots in his pack!"

"Guess I'm drinkin' alone agin" the sullen dwarf slurs and knocks over a pile of tankards, one of his slow burn beard fuses extinguishing in spilt ale froth with a farty pfffsssst!

"Old as the stones themselves" so the saying goes, and Rhengar was no exception. Runes mark every piece of clothing, weapon, and patches of weathered skin, seemingly carved into the dwarf himself. His robes are faded and torn in spots, and his staff marked with notches and dents, from many arduous battles. His beard however is long and well cared for, as if it held all the pride of his race in those long braids.

With purpose he enters the tavern, and stumps up to the bar. Climbing up on a stool, he plunks a tall tankard upon the polished wood along with two pieces of silver, and knowingly the tender fills it from a frothy pitcher.

After a long drought, the dwarf settles into the stool, and takes in his surroundings. The first thing that assails his sences is the bitter wiff of sulfur and charcoal. Looking about, he notices one of his cousins bellied up to the bar.

"So, the gatherin' 'as begun 'as it?"

"M'hey, wassat...?" Lexel muttered as if slowly pulling himself out of a barrel of mud. Or at least one would hope it was mud.

Lexel peered at the voice through wild unfocused eyes. "Sheeyea reckon so... gatherin' hey? Not whats t'gether kin be blewd up jussaz good. Anyways ol' Lexel here seemsa be low on ale, meister brau anudder round fer me an this'n..." he trailed off, tongue thick with drink. Lexel produced a large potato stuffed with gunpowder and fused.

"Hey, wassay you an me play a bit o' hot potater?" he grinned .

The door opens, and all heads turn.

They see a sturdy dwarf, wearing heavy armor and carrying an immense shield emblazoned with a golden Boar. He has the look of one who cannot be moved. One who is willing, able, and in fact enjoys being face to face with evil and looking them in the eye as they breath their last foul breath.

A smile slowly appears on Tehrtles weathered face as he recognizes his camarades from years ago and another land.

AAAAHHHRRRRGGGGG RING THAT BELL! A Round for the House!

The gathering has begun, and this Boar will be at the Fore

Tehrtle

"Huzzah ye ol' door-blocker! Now we're talkin'!" Lexel raises his tankard to his dwarven brethren and bellows "BOAR TO THE FORE!!!"

As the too low door opens, a tall lean man from the far corner of the empire enters slowly....With robes of bright red to vibrant yellow, Cuthiel walks in ( stooping to enter the meadery ) and offers Lexel the round of of hot potato he waits for with a wave of his hand, the fuse ignites...." There Dwarf, the winner buys the round for the house", Cuthiel Says, as he walks to join the long missed friends, "Good to see one and all, are we the first to belly up ta the bar, where be all the others". Cuthiel readies himself for the Dwarf to throw the home made bomb of potatoy death, with a smile on his face....orders a mug, hoping to live long enough to finish it.....

throwing Lexel a dark look, Rhengar raises his hands Don' be throwin' tha' thing at me lad! with a deceptively quick move the old dwarf throws his ale at the potato minus the tankard BLAST I MISSED!!!!!!

the dwarf quickly launches himself through a table and runs as fast as he can only to run headlong into the brightly colored stomach of the human

the last thing Rhengar remembers is the thud of the human's back hitting the door, and a loud crack from the homemade bomb shattering into hundreds of little pieces.




(( nice to see ya again Freddy))

Lexel sat up after being knocked back over a stack of ale barrels, his singed beard smoldering as he spit out a tooth. "BWAAHAHAHA!!! He blewed up good! Reeeeeeeeal good!"

Then the insane dwarf fell onto his back again and gurgled down a stream of ale pouring from a busted barrel above his head, raising his hand with a thumbs-up.

The brightly colored soul lay on the ground waiting for his mate to help him up.....<note to self don't tease the short ones>......"Me head", but that mean ya are buying Lex....It never came near me"....< DAM, REMEMBER NOTE TO SELF>....good see to ya lads....<walks over to Rhen>, "Remind me why I hang out wit ya an ya friends".

Bar Keep, Ale for my lords, <gesturing to the table that is fast becoming filled with Dwarf's> and keep them comin til we can't see.

A bald human with an eyepatch lifts his head up from a back table. "Wh th hell is my bedroom gettin so crowded. I became a priest ta get a little privacy.. well, that an' ta smack th' hell outta non-beleviers. Barkeep, another ale fer me an rum fer me hammer!"

The tavern door opens yet again and a stout, female dwarf enters. Her purple robes are in mild disarray, decorated with an assortment of runes and the occasional scorch mark. The attempt to tame her masses of dark auburn hair into a collection of braids has only been partially successful and the braids dance about her head as if trying to escape their confines. She surveys the mayhem of the drinking establishment with a grin and a nod.

"Aye, this place looks like it'll do jus' fine."

Tehrtle eyes the beautiful dwarven rune-maid, and is immediatly mitten.

"ello lass, is this seat taken?" "Barkeep, a mug of your finest for my new friend"

"Wow, i must say, those are some of the most beautiful runes i have ever seen!, do you have the time to tell me about em?"

"Aye, they are lov'ly, ain't they? So delicate yet so powerful. A good rune is a thang of beauty! 'Course, learnin' 'bout them takes a lifetime, ye know, and talkin' 'bout them can take a'most as long. A body builds up a pow'rful thirst speakin' o' the runes."

With that, she drains the fresh mug set before her in a single swig.

"Ah, that slicked me gizzard right good. Now which one ye wanna hear 'bout first?"

The tavern door opens yet again and a stout, male dwarf enters. His split pack spilling grenades and a bent blunderbuss swinging wildly as he approached the bar. "Pour me a stein of that life bringing ale as most of mine is gone!". He turns at the sight of the rune priestess and shouts "Gyda, so good to see ya! I thought that Orc had done ye in!" and gives her a great hug.
After a long guzzle that drains his vessle of ale he says "Don't worry about that grudge as I finished that squirrly brute within an inch of me own life".

<OOPS>

((bro, you posted in the wrong thread.........
Charlie gets the mistell hat this week!!!!!!!!!))

The old door drifts open slowly, and a human stands silhouetted in the opening surveying the scene in the tavern. His tunic is tattered, his skin is weathered and leathery, and a cluster of scars stand out on his cheek, but the hammer on his shoulder is oiled and polished.

Without a word, he carefully hangs the hammer on a peg behind the bar, picks up a rag, and begins mopping up the puddle of golden mead under a leaking keg on the bar.

Barkeep......Another round if ya please......Me friends er dry......<Lookin at Rhen>, Who be the new Barkeep.....and can he pour a mug a mead to save is life.......