Volumes of Sin

Sample : Volume?? Prologue

The Whistling Dwarves

Grumblebeard, or Grumble for short was the name that Flintside had earned for his incessant moaning, he didn't choose to be stuck in some middle of nowhere outpost but he did like to grumble about it. The Maroon outpost was a rough out of the way place built for unsavoury purposes which attracted its many 'varied' residents. 

Situated on the eastern borders of the Kingdom of Daunt The Maroon was built for the purpose of surveying and protecting the kingdom from any dangers seeking to invade from the Somber, it was a place originally made for a good purpose, only later becoming subverted after many years of idleness and abandonment. Now Maroon outpost was a well known den for smuggling and other shady deals, it was ignored by the kingdoms patrols as long as certain palms were greased, having expanded over the years Maroon now resembled more of a rural town than the original wooden fort that it was. 

"Pissing humans, thinking the world is theirs," Grumblebeards grumbling reached ears that were all too used to it. Continuing his heavy march his feet pounded on the ground warning the locals to get out his pissing way as he neared them, only the foolish stood between a dwarf and his beer. Ranting to himself about the uselessness of humans and the piss they call beer Grumblebeard barged through the throngs of people that didn't move fast enough, his goal was already in sight. 

It always amazed Grumblebeard that despite humans claiming to have fierce intellect they still failed to brew a good drink, even a goblin could brew something vaguely alcoholic yet humans couldn't even manage that much. Grumblebeard wanted a real drink. The stout ogre, a dingy and run down bar on the outskirts of the town but only one of the few that would accept Grumblebeard as a patron, due to his 'violent' tendencies. 

Arriving at the stout ogre Grumblebeard barged through the doors without a care, if they got damaged then it was the owners fault for having shoddy doors made with human hands. Without ceasing his momentum Grumblebeard barrelled through the bars patrons, no one dared to start a fight with a dwarf who was after a drink. One drunk took it upon himself to teach Grumblebeard a lesson for the others, his liquid courage was flowing strong. Ducking the awkward swing of the drunks punch Grumblebeard floored the man with a swift kick to the nuts and a solid head butt, not even bothering to check on the man Grumblebeard resumed his march. 

Grumbles loud call for beer was louder than the mans cries as he rolled on the floor. "Thrana's balls Grumble, stop attacking my loyals!" The barkeeps angry voice roared across the bar as he threatened to ban Grumble and collect on his tab if he didn't stop causing trouble. "Bad business to bar a dwarf," muttering to himself Grumble moodily stomped across the room to a table in the corner of the bar, shadowed by the beams and receiving warmth from the corner of the hearth, it was the perfect place for him to conduct business. Shouting and pounding on the table with his fists Grumble ordered two tankards of the finest piss this goblin hive had to offer, knowing better than to keep Grumble waiting for a drink the barkeep hurried over carrying two tankards of his fine home brewed amber ale, the brew that had made him famous. Downing the tankard in one Grumble slapped a few silvers on the table to 'keep em coming,' Grumblebeard planned to enjoy himself tonight as this was the best beer he could find in these parts, not that he'd let the barkeep know. Now comfortable and drinking his steady supply of beer Grumble cast a cautious eye on his fellow patrons as they in turn observed him. 

Everyone knew Grumblebeard, not just because of his drunken tendencies, alcoholic rage or the endless grumbling that came from his beard but because he was the best scout available if you wanted to cross the Somber and access the lands beyond. Every one knew who the good scouts were, as they were the ones who came back alive. 

The Somber was full of dangers, from lurk stalker lairs to miasma hallows and an incessant goblin infestation. Grumblebeard was one of the few scouts who could consistently and safely guide people through, one of the reasons he always demanded payment up front. No point dying with good coin in your pocket was his motto. Dark brown and worn leather armour, throwing axe and daggers hanging from their sheaths across his back, steel shod shoes that he used with surprising dexterity and a smiths hammer hanging from his belt. Grumblebeard was one very dangerous dwarf, as he had proven many times. Considered small by human standards Grumblebeard was tall to dwarfs, standing a head taller than most of his kin whilst sharing the same broad and muscled physique, giving him a very imposing build, only ruined by his off character grumbling and drinking. Grumble's braided beard reached down to his waist showing the years of growth, locks of unruly hair ran down his face as they jangled and shined, reflecting off the crude iron lumps scattered through his hair, covered in detailed carvings and engravings, brand new when compared to the rest of him. G