people
need to survive. Now imagine you put twelve people in the room. There are
supplies in the room to do just about anything, but not enough for everyone.
Some might gather the food and horde it, while others find a place they can
defend easily. Others yet might begin by seeking weapons and armor. Some may
share and barter, while some might fight for what they want. It takes every
skill each of them has to survive the trial, and actually two come out alive.
One has to accede to the other’s leadership. This part, in the past, has taken
weeks. Supplies in the chamber are limited, but two have to survive. Once out
of supplies it is a battle of attrition. The weaker will eventually give in and
the stronger will assume the throne. It is not a ritual that happens frequently
as we dwarves live longer than you humans, but it has been known to take a
month or more when the warrens have chosen their candidates well.”
“By the gods, what is the shortest amount of time it has
taken?” Linaya asked, concerned.
“Nine seconds,” Zorbin replied smiling. “My
great-great-grandfather was the first into the chamber. First thing he grabbed
was a pick axe. Killed ten men in about seven seconds, as soon as they climbed
through the portal. Only took two more to convince his last opponent to give
up.”
“Oh my,” Linaya exclaimed.
“Never missed a meal to home neither!” Zorbin announced
proudly.
“That’s not the way I heard it!” Gumbi said, striding into
the room. “I seem to recall it was eleven seconds, maybe fourteen.” The dwarf
smiled through his immense beard.
“T’was it not for my great-great-grandfather being so
convincing, Ol’ Gumbi here might not’ve been around today,” Zorbin proclaimed.
“Truly Gumbi? Your great-great-grandfather was the last
survivor to stand before Zorbin’s and he acceded to his rule?” Linaya asked,
enthralled.
“Tis true, but how could he not with the man standin’ in the
way with an ole pickaxe?” Gumbi questioned.
“What was your great-great-grandfather’s name, Gumbi?”
Linaya asked.
“T’was Gumbi as well, the seventeenth methinks,” Gumbi
replied.
“If you don’t mind my asking, what does your name mean in
the human tongue?” Linaya queried. She found dwarven culture exhilarating.
“Roughly it be meanin' man who walks with a swollen chest,”
Gumbi answered.
Linaya could not stifle a giggle.
“Hey now there, lady, ‘tis a proud name among my people,”
Gumbi said, almost sternly. “If ye wants a laugh, ask ole Zorbin what his name
be meanin’ in your tongue.”
“Zorbin?” Linaya asked.
“I ain’t sayin,” Zorbin replied.
“Oh come now, Zorbin, ole swollen chest told me his,” she
giggled again.
“Fine,” Zorbin relented. “It means, he with bearded nipples
and a bald bottom.”
Linaya was overcome again and began laughing. Within seconds
all three laughed, but even so Gumbi had one last tidbit to add.
“Funny thing is, ole bearded nipples here is named after his
mother!” Gumbi cried before he rocked back on his heels laughing so hard his
beard and belly bounced with the action.
Linaya, moments later, had to pull herself up from the
floor. She had laughed so hard her legs began to tremble and she barely avoided
peeing herself.
*****
King Robert Sigrant stood looking out upon his army. He
watched as the opposing force moved into position and suddenly had a change of
heart. It had been his intention to destroy the champions of Valdadore, for
they were really the only thing standing in his way. Now, however, seeing how
it appeared the young king of Valdadore was trying to protect the bulk of his
army behind the front lines, Sigrant decided to change tactics.
Raising his hand the king signaled a messenger.
“Tell the generals to ignore Valdadore’s champions, and
better yet, avoid them altogether. Strike the main force of the Valdadorian army.”
The messenger bowed, and turned to dash off between
soldiers, racing as fast
need to survive. Now imagine you put twelve people in the room. There are
supplies in the room to do just about anything, but not enough for everyone.
Some might gather the food and horde it, while others find a place they can
defend easily. Others yet might begin by seeking weapons and armor. Some may
share and barter, while some might fight for what they want. It takes every
skill each of them has to survive the trial, and actually two come out alive.
One has to accede to the other’s leadership. This part, in the past, has taken
weeks. Supplies in the chamber are limited, but two have to survive. Once out
of supplies it is a battle of attrition. The weaker will eventually give in and
the stronger will assume the throne. It is not a ritual that happens frequently
as we dwarves live longer than you humans, but it has been known to take a
month or more when the warrens have chosen their candidates well.”
“By the gods, what is the shortest amount of time it has
taken?” Linaya asked, concerned.
“Nine seconds,” Zorbin replied smiling. “My
great-great-grandfather was the first into the chamber. First thing he grabbed
was a pick axe. Killed ten men in about seven seconds, as soon as they climbed
through the portal. Only took two more to convince his last opponent to give
up.”
“Oh my,” Linaya exclaimed.
“Never missed a meal to home neither!” Zorbin announced
proudly.
“That’s not the way I heard it!” Gumbi said, striding into
the room. “I seem to recall it was eleven seconds, maybe fourteen.” The dwarf
smiled through his immense beard.
“T’was it not for my great-great-grandfather being so
convincing, Ol’ Gumbi here might not’ve been around today,” Zorbin proclaimed.
“Truly Gumbi? Your great-great-grandfather was the last
survivor to stand before Zorbin’s and he acceded to his rule?” Linaya asked,
enthralled.
“Tis true, but how could he not with the man standin’ in the
way with an ole pickaxe?” Gumbi questioned.
“What was your great-great-grandfather’s name, Gumbi?”
Linaya asked.
“T’was Gumbi as well, the seventeenth methinks,” Gumbi
replied.
“If you don’t mind my asking, what does your name mean in
the human tongue?” Linaya queried. She found dwarven culture exhilarating.
“Roughly it be meanin' man who walks with a swollen chest,”
Gumbi answered.
Linaya could not stifle a giggle.
“Hey now there, lady, ‘tis a proud name among my people,”
Gumbi said, almost sternly. “If ye wants a laugh, ask ole Zorbin what his name
be meanin’ in your tongue.”
“Zorbin?” Linaya asked.
“I ain’t sayin,” Zorbin replied.
“Oh come now, Zorbin, ole swollen chest told me his,” she
giggled again.
“Fine,” Zorbin relented. “It means, he with bearded nipples
and a bald bottom.”
Linaya was overcome again and began laughing. Within seconds
all three laughed, but even so Gumbi had one last tidbit to add.
“Funny thing is, ole bearded nipples here is named after his
mother!” Gumbi cried before he rocked back on his heels laughing so hard his
beard and belly bounced with the action.
Linaya, moments later, had to pull herself up from the
floor. She had laughed so hard her legs began to tremble and she barely avoided
peeing herself.
*****
King Robert Sigrant stood looking out upon his army. He
watched as the opposing force moved into position and suddenly had a change of
heart. It had been his intention to destroy the champions of Valdadore, for
they were really the only thing standing in his way. Now, however, seeing how
it appeared the young king of Valdadore was trying to protect the bulk of his
army behind the front lines, Sigrant decided to change tactics.
Raising his hand the king signaled a messenger.
“Tell the generals to ignore Valdadore’s champions, and
better yet, avoid them altogether. Strike the main force of the Valdadorian army.”
The messenger bowed, and turned to dash off between
soldiers, racing as fast
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