The Gods-War (Chapter 1-B)

The dwarf stamped down the road in the early morning light, his heavy boots billowing dust around his ankles. The sun had barely risen but the day was already becoming warm and sweat beaded on the short fellow’s brow. His red beard was damp with it as well, and he constantly pulled at it with one hand. The battered helmet on his head hid most of his hair but strands of it straggled here and there, showing the same hue as his beard.1

He was short- barely more than half the height of an average man- and stocky with wide shoulders and stumpy legs. A barrel chest covered in a dented but serviceable steel breastplate held the straps to a worn pack that rested on his back. The pack was rigged to hold a broad-bladed battle-ax within easy reach of the dwarf’s hand. The ax itself was notched and scarred- obviously well-used. The dwarf himself seemed a mirror of his ax- hard and sharp and stoic. He marched on with determination.2

A crashing in the brush to the side of the road brought his attention around and he reflexively reached for the ax, drawing it from it’s holder on the pack and swinging it familiarly at his side. He stopped his quick steps and turned to see what fate had brought to him this moment.3

The brush parted and a rather large ogre stumbled out to the roadside, staggering and weaving as if drunk. The dwarf readied his ax, noticing the dried blood on the ogre’s body.4

“Well, it seems I have the luck of finishin’ ye off me bloody friend,” the dwarf spoke amiably enough, but a cold look came across his face as he advanced. The ax stopped swinging and came up as he grasped it with both hands holding it before him.5

“Ye’re goin’ to give me a bit o' a fight, at least, aren’t ye? I hate to have things come too easy.”6

The ogre appeared not to have even heard the approaching dwarf. He swayed and almost fell, catching himself at the last instant. The dwarf stood fearlessly in front of the ogre, holding his ax at the ready.7

“Ye’re bad off, aye? Looks like someone got a pretty good chunk o' ye last night... Hell, ye’d be dead in a couple hours anyway. Need some help findin’ yer way?” he goaded, but the ogre was too far gone to hear him.8

The dwarf stepped in and swung. His ax bit deep into the beast’s leg and the ogre turned, coming out of his daze. The dwarf ducked a swing of the mighty forearm but caught the foot that was thrown out right in the face. The dwarf flew backwards to land in the roadway, the breath knocked from him. The ogre advanced, a deadly emptiness in his eyes.9

“Good, I thought I was going to have to heal ye before ye would fight, ye bloody bastard,” said the dwarf as he gained his feet and his breath quickly. He shook his head and rubbed the place where he had taken the hit, wiping the blood from his lips. “Now for some play!”10

The ogre came in swinging, huge fists whistling through the morning air. The dwarf easily ducked the swings and, remembering to dodge the kicks, he waded in and slashed a cut across the beast’s belly, loosing his intestines to lie in a puddle at his feet. He backed away from the near-dead ogre and swung his ax hard to remove the excess blood. The ogre stepped forward and fell flat on his face, tripping over his own guts. The ax bit deeply into the back of the ogre’s head as the dwarf finished him off, cleaving his skull in two.11

He wiped his ax on the ogre’s back, removing most of the blood and brains, then set it once again into the rig on the pack. Glancing up and down the road, he walked to where the ogre had exited the bushes at the side of the road and wandered in.12

The trail was easy to follow. Blood and gore was splattered everywhere the ogre had been. The dwarf followed the trail cautiously- expecting more ogres to be where this one had come from.13

It was nearing high sun when he came upon the clearing full of bodies. Ogres lay everywhere in various poses of death. The stench of death filled the clearing and flies already were buzzing about the bodies of the dead ogres. The fire in the center of the clearing was nothing but barely smoking ashes and he could see the signs of struggle all about the grassy opening in the crowded forest. The dwarf took a quick look around and decided that it was safe to investigate.14

He found the seemingly dead half-elf lying in the middle of the ogre bodies. He bent close to see if there might be a holy symbol or some other sign of her faith on her person. As he did, he noticed the rise of her chest- a slow breath drawn in- and he knew she was alive. Hurriedly throwing the pack from his back, he rummaged inside and withdrew his healers kit. It was really nothing more than a few unguents and herbs with bandages and poultices and salves that helped a wound heal a little faster. With all the blood on the woman, it was hard to tell where she was hurt and he needed her awake. He picked out one foul smelling leaf and crushed it between his hands, rolling it into a small ball which he held under her nose.15

Fila opened her eyes immediately. Her hand groped for her sword and she tried to push the stolid dwarf away from her.16

“Kill you... bastards...” she croaked through a dry throat.17

“Nay, there’ll be no killin’, lass. Ye’ve taken a bit o' damage and, the gods only know, dished it out too! Lie still and tell me where it hurts. I be a friend. Kelrag Rockskin’s the name,” the dwarf comforted in a soft voice that seemed incongruous to his appearance.18

Fila’s eyes cleared for a moment and she raised her head to stare into the bearded face of the dwarf. Her body relaxed and her hand stopped it’s searching.19

“Fila... Trollsbane... my back... my hip... hurts... my sword...” She let her head fall back to the ground and closed her eyes.20

Her face was a grimace of pain- a rictus mask of sweat-streaked blood. Kelrag lightly patted her shoulder and cast about for the sword knowing how naked a fighter could feel without a weapon at hand. He found it lying a few feet from her. A beautiful slender blade of elven make with jewels in the pommel and soft doeskin wrapping the hilt. The steel was of the finest in the land and showed not a single scratch or notch though the wear on the hilt showed much use. Kelrag brought the sword to her and set the hilt within her hand. Her fingers immediately closed about it and she sighed deeply.21

“Lie still, lassy. I need to roll ye to yer side for a moment. May hurt a bit...” Kelrag grasped her shoulder gently and pulled her over to her unhurt side to examine the cut that went from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. He tore the slice in the fabric wider and inhaled between his teeth sharply when he saw the white of her ribs and spine showing through the caked and dried blood. The wound had already taken on the fevered look of an infection and he reached for a salve from the kit at his side.22

“Seems there’s a bit o' a scratch here, lass. I have just the thing fer ye though. Me granpappy showed me a bit about the healin’ arts. I’ll have ye fixed up in no time,” he soothed, though he had his doubts that she would even survive the night.23

He cut the tunic from her body and carefully packed the wound with the salve, applying a bandage and leaving her on her side while he rummaged through his pack for a tunic to replace the bloody one she had been wearing. Fila moaned and flinched the whole time he worked at her back. At last, Kelrag was finished with the gash. He began to softly probe her hip, seeking a chipped or shattered bone. All he found was a horrible bruise that would take almost as long to heal as the cut. He picked her up and carried her to her bedroll where he let her rest on her side.24

When he had finished, he stirred up the remains of the campfire and threw on some more wood. He took a pot from his pack and filled it from his waterskin, bringing it to a boil and tossing in some herbs. Shortly, an acrid smell issued from the pot and he poured a bit in a cup and took it to Fila.25

“Here, drink this, lassy. It’ll do ye good- kill the pain and all that,” he instructed the wounded half-elf.26

Fila drew her head back as the smell of the cup’s contents filled her nostrils. Kelrag held her head up and drew the cup closer again.27

“Come now, lass. It isn’t as evil as it smells, I assure ye. It’ll help ye sleep and ye be knowin’ that’s what ye need the most.”28

Whether from lack of strength to resist or from the dwarf’s calming voice, Fila finally drank and a peaceful look came over her face as she drifted off to sleep.29