Grea’nock

The doors opened as Erik approached. It was the barkeep and his brother propping the doors open for the night. Jared and John were their names. After wedging the door open, the barkeep, Jared, looked up and in a pleasant, yet business-like tone greeted Erikk. “Hello big fellow, come on in, have a roasted ram shank and sit a while!” Erik smiled and hobbled in with the sound of his staff beating the pavement. Not two seconds sooner than Erik walked in, Kreg arose from a table in the corner and approached shouting “Where is your tabard you ungrateful heap of—” Before he could finish he was effortlessly knocked to the ground by the outstretched left arm of Erik. Kreg hit the ground with a grown and rocked back on his arms to see Erik towering above him. “I no longer work for you Kreg. Should you come at me again, I will put you down.” Erik doomed in his most menacing tone. Seeing that his threat had little affect on Kreg, who was naturally skeptical as to whether Erik had the capability to finish him, or the money to pay for the burial (which is the law). Erik then smashed the table Kreg was laying beside to splinters with one heavy stroke of his rod. Kreg’s eyes widened as he skittered backwards and away from his former ward. Jared yelped “Erik! Tables are made from trees, but do not grow on them. You will have to pay for that!”. Erik turned and approached the bar at the back of the lamp lit tavern, and slapped down a stack of gold that would pay for the table many times over. Jared understood his meaning and said aloud for everyone to hear, “That is far too much. This amount would pay for a proper burial.”. Erik looked back at Kreg and said “well make it a round for these who serve, and a ram shank for supper.” The half dozen or so guardsmen let out a cheer to help goad Kreg, who’s eyes now glinted with rage as he took his hammer from his belt. “You’re not going to use that in your condition, are you?” said a youthful voice from what seemed to be a smaller man in the door way. There the stranger stood. No eye in the tavern had beheld him before now. Dressed in a sleeveless leather jerkin over a grey wool sweater that came half way down his arms. He wore a large knotted hide belt, off which hung two beautifully decorated scabbards for the elvish style short swords resting in them. His light brown trousers were tucked into finely crafted land drake hide boots. This person was obviously a professional adventurer, or just a rich man looking to get robbed or murdered. His locks of dark brown hair were flecked with silver, and tucked back behind what looked to be long pointed ears. The luminous star fire in his dazzling blue eyes left no doubt he was an elf. “Elf-ling, are you old enough to be here or even away from your mother?” Jeered Gregor. The man answered plainly. “Your eyes decieve you child. I am much older than any hag you crawled out of, heap!” Kreg spun into an immediate rage, and swung the hammer meant for Erik at the strange man. The man quickly ducked under the blow, tumbling into the middle of the room. He sprang up to his feet with blades drawn. He then asked aloud “Is this man a public servant?” One of the nearby guards replied “No. He is a member of questionable standing with the trades guild. Will you duel or shall we intervene?”. The stranger watched Kreg approach preparing another swing with his large smithing hammer. As soon as Kreg came close enough to strike he smiled and said coldly “Duel.” What happened next was almost too quick for the eye to manage, and those who saw it were left dumb and blinking for some time before Stephan, the senior guard present, said “I’ll get Dregor.” In two blinding motions the stranger had severed the arm of Kreg that was wielding his hammer, while at the same time decapitating him with the other blade. He then plunged both blades into his quivering torso before his legs gave way. Gregor fell over in his favorite word—heap. With the stranger’s blades still sticking out of the corpse of Kreg, he leapt over the body, and proceeded to the bar. He took a stool next to where Erik was standing, his mouth hanging open in amazement. The patrons of the tavern, all now terrified with the exception of the guards, were leaving. Duels were not illegal but were still rare with in the walls and only seldom did they ever end in a death. John was now doing his best to clean up the mess now that the guards had taken the pieces of Gregor outside. John looked pale and sickly within moments, but for some reason Erik could not take his eyes off the blood. Jared was furious. “You can’t expect to be welcome here after killing one patron and frightening off the others!” screamed Jared, who was standing right across the bar from the stranger. Erik snapped out of his trance and said “That’s enough Jared. I will pay for your lost business tonight and besides, the guards will want to drink and talk about this one tonight!”. The stranger raised his right pointer finger and said. “Indeed, but no need. Keep your gold. I have some of my own fine metal.” From underneath this jerkin he produced a small bar of smooth white metal, and laid it on the table. «There you are., that will of course cover a healthy tab as well.” said the stranger. Jared picked it up and looked at it skeptically. “Way too heavy to be silver. What is this well polished steel?” Jared inquired. The stranger shook his head in disbelief and said. “Has dwarven industry become only legend? That’s platinum you’re holding.” “What in green hell is Plate'em?” Barked Jared. “True silver.” said a rough voice from behind. They all turned there attention to the middle of the room to see Dregor standing there frowning, and the towns new dwarven blacksmith smiling. He was a dwarf dressed in brown leather work clothes and covered in soot. His wetted and braided beard tucked under his smithing apron. “Grimhold is my name.” said the smith as he handed the stranger back his beautiful and freshly cleaned single edged swords. “Jase is mine.” the stranger replied as he sheathed his swords. He then produced a finely cut jewel from his trouser pocket and handed it to the dwarf. Grimhold examined it half a moment, and gave out a hoot, and said. “I’m at your service Mister Jase” “And I yours Esquire Grimhold” said Jase. “What the green hell is true silver there Grim?” blurted Jared. Grimhold took Jared aside and explained while Dregor came forward looking genuinely angry. “You had better have more riches for fines and burials or you'll be in the stocks boy!” said Dregor. Jase’s eyes narrowed. He did not like being called a boy being that he was several times Dregor’s age for sure. He restrained himself and answered.“I do, and more Good Captain.“. Jase held out his hand and dropped three large gems into Dregor's hand. There brilliance was dazzling even in the dim lantern light. The stones made the area around them dance with spectral lights. Dregor’s eye widened. “Treasures of an ancient world.” He said softly. Dregor came to his senses and beckoning Grimhold he asked. “Good dwarf, are these glass.”. Grimhold and Jase laughed in unison. “Perhaps I should know the joke too.” Dregor said in earnest. Grimhold still laughing said “Glass can’t have such a luster. It doesn’t polish that fine, or show that fire or light within. The light in here won’t tell a man’s eye these things of course. You’re holding a changeling chrysoberyrl and two blue elf stones that only they can fashion!”. Dregor’s eyes dazzled over the gems in his hands. “How much are they worth?” Dregor asked. “I mean to say, will they cover the dueling fine and the burial?” Dregor added. Grimhold stroked his braided beard and sighed “How much is something you just can’t find anymore worth?” He asked.