My right hand dripping blood, my left hand steaming, I emerged onto the parapet, the wind whipping my long hair out in a streamer in the same direction as the billows of smoke from the burning city below. Arrows from the archers on the wall burst into flame before they could reach me, the heads dripping down to the walk as molten blobs. My eyes blazed, and the weak minds of the archers collapsed. They drew swords and turned on their captain, slaying him before he could fire the ballista that he was aiming at me. Then the archers threw themselves off the crenels, falling wordlessly to the cracked stone far below. The King's champion stood alone between me and his liege. "MONSTER!" he screamed from his fanged mouth. I smiled, and dodged the bugbear champion's first thrust, stepping in to grab the furry visage in my left hand. His eyes burst, and his face smoked and melted as the song of Fassenach swelled within me. I stepped up to meet the terrified gaze of the humanoid king, lava dripping from my fingers. I would avenge the elves at last! As I reached for him and his skin began to crack with the heat of my left hand, I heard insane laughter. Looking behind the king was a dwarf, cackling and undaunted even though he was next...
He awoke with a horrible start, wide-eyed and without breath even to shriek. He looked at his left hand and was relieved to see that it was normal...his hand, not something made of stone. He took a ragged, relieved breath...
...but then he saw his right hand, and the memory of who he was returned slowly to him. He was not Kagaron, though the memory seemed real. He was...Venger...Venger Gale. Dwarf. King's Gold Inn. Stowald. Dishonor.
Revenge.
As he started to hear the murmuring of Fassenach in the back of his mind, Venger struggled to his feet and quietly busied himself with wrapping his right hand in a bandage again. He was in a common sleeping room, bunked up with others, though there hadn't been many people staying there recently. He found his night cap on the floor.
*Huh. That explains the dream. Must have fallen off in the night...* Stowing his gear in his pack, he made his way downstairs again.
The others see a young, short-bearded dwarf descending the stairs. His right hand is bandaged, and when he's thinking about it, he moves stockily, sturdily, as dwarves do. But those who've been working the Inn - who've seen him dance for coin - have noticed that when he's not thinking about it, he's often weirdly graceful, gliding along with a smoothness and poise that seems out of place with his short, barrel-shaped frame.
Seeing Maggie coming out of the kitchen, Venger calls out:
"Good morning, Maggie! If you have something ready to eat, I'll partake. Otherwise, it's off to seek my fortune again, and I'll see you at noonday..." Then Venger notices the elf in the common room and does a double-take. He starts to perform a strange, intricate bow that would've been old-fashioned in the elvish court a thousand years ago and then stops, gripping his injured hand and massaging it.
"Good morning!"
Last edited January 15, 2016 9:51 pm