Aldrik Frostbeard – Blood, Iron & Ale
*errp*
Truly, this had been a great night! The caravan of goods was loaded and ready to move out and you could soon leave this gods forsaken town to and return to the proper wilds where your hunt could continue. You’d only come for the coin and information within the town and guarding the caravan of lumber down from the higher reaches of the forest had been any easy and well paid job.
So much so, that you had more than enough coin left over for a drink or twelve of the diluted, tasteless dink the humans thought to call “ale”. Hah! They clearly needed a proper brewer in these parts...maybe once the job was done he would come back here.
You are pleasantly drunk, with the warm glow and hazy eyes that only alcohol gives you these days. Slowly, you became aware of a loud, foul-smelling human who was in your face. Looking up at him, you realised you had just heard the word “stunty”. Suddenly this night was about to get even better.
What was that you said laddie?
Giving the ox like human a wide, toothy grin seemed to do little more than unease the fellow. Of course, it may be his habit of running a thumb down the blade of his axe until a bead of blood trickles down the digit. Suddenly looking a little more sober, the human backed away slightly before his courage or possibly his drink took hold one more.
I said your kind ain’t welcome here, stunty!
Chuckling to yourself, your eyes met his once more before you arm, thick as an oak branch, lashed out and caved in the obnoxious man’s nose. Screaming in pain – he pointed at you and called out for the guards.
Oh well, it won’t be the first time you’ve had to spend a night in prison, and Moradin knows you need the exercise. Leaping from the table, you wade into the quickly forming barroom brawl, your ham-sized fists whirling.
You have a funny thought as you're pumelled into unconsciousness - those guards aren't wearing any uniforms...