Beers and Beards: A Cozy Dwarf Tale

From the Diary of Peter Roughtuff

10th Day of the 6th Month, 8000, A More Serious Entry

Writing this diary has been a great way to jot down my thoughts of home, old recipes, and to save something for any future children I may have.

Yes, children.

Because, I’m not going home.

I only realized it recently, but I’m not playing this little game to win it anymore. I want to see my craft succeed out of a love of the craft, and nothing more. I guess that’s why I was chosen for the job. It just takes looking at Harmsson to see how everything can go off the rails when you’ve only got eyes for the prize.

Speaking of Harmsson, Richter and Starshine managed to get him healed up between a combination of [Minor Blessing] and healing magic.

I’m not sure what to expect there, but I have some hope. He could’ve left me to die in that sewer by just running off – his stats were way higher than mine – but he didn’t. Is he a good person? I honestly don’t think so, he’s dangerous, but I don’t think he’s evil.

Not that he's doing much at this moment, given his imprisonment. He actually took all the blame for the One Minute Revolution at the Garden of Graves. He backed my innocence, with evidence from Mcshave and his approved speech, and even lauded me and Schist for our proper riot planning. He also sent me an incredible lawyer, Vanillatart, and she thinks we may be able to get off with some fines and warnings.

The semi-finals of the various contests came to an end, of course. Bran won his round handily with his unfortunately named balls, and while it was close, we won too! Turns out that most dwarves are not spice aficionados. So even though it’d seemed a done deal to everyone at the start, we pulled through in the end!

Schist has been more than gracious, and I think we’ll be life long drinking and brewing buddies. He’s also gotten incredibly invested in Harmsson’s crusade, and is doing the circuit pushing the somehow-not-dead Great Charter now that he’s not busy with the contest.

That's right. With Harmsson out of the picture Schist has taken control of his entire operation. Don't ask me how.

Speaking of which, with all the kerfuffle, the next rounds haven’t been announced yet, but we do know who we’ll be facing off against. It's a company called “Brazen Bull Brewing” from Goma, a city in Southern Crack. I tried all of their drinks so far, and they’ve been pretty good! Their ‘most valuable brew’ was simple enough – an ale made with local ingredients, much like ours, but with the addition of a magically chilled bottle that always kept it cool. They called it a ‘Winter Ale’, the flavour of which was pretty standard Sacred Brew. Their next drink, the ‘hardest hitting’ had been something different, with a flavour profile that closely resembled our own Goldstone Brew. I was pretty sure they were straight up cribbing our work, which gave me a lot of confidence in winning the final round. To meet the requirements, they’d gone all in on tech again, with an extra large drinking bottle that doubled as a mace. It had some minor runes etched into it that caused it to act more like a big poofy mallet when swung as a weapon in a fight.

It was really popular amongst the bar crawl crowd.

In other news, Balin is back! Team Starshine successfully defeated the boss monster – a something-carp – and came back with shiny new Abilities. Balin’s is a fancy interposition Ability that lets him instantly swap places with an ally. It isn’t quite a teleport, but it’s fast; dizzying to watch and even more jarring to experience.

And one last piece of good news! According to Tourmaline, a certain dastardly gnome got picked up by the army at beerfest! A warrant was still out for Ambermine’s arrest and with Copperpot's lawyers leaning on the law, he was quickly shuffled into a maximum security prison for murderous adventurers.

Couldn’t have happened to a more terrible piece of shit.

In all of this, I have to wonder about ‘Birch’s motivation. Why did he/she put the lock on that door?

—

Somewhere Else

On the side of a cliff stood a white stone gazebo. Mist fell from a great waterfall that stretched beneath it, vanishing into the clouds below. A black mountain rose up behind it, seeming to touch the sky. A circular marble table covered by a complex game-board sat in the centre of the gazebo. The edges of the board stretched into the distance while still somehow filling a defined space. Seven ornate figurines sat upon the board – a dragon, an elf, one human, two dwarves, a gnome, and a beastfolk.

Seven Gods sat around the board, each radiating an aura of power and majesty.

One of them, a Goddess in the guise of a black skinned elfess bedecked in a raiment of stars and moonlight smashed her fist on the board in rage. “WHY DID THAT GOAT HAVE A BLESSING!?! You all saw that, right!?”

“I’m surprised you weren’t more concerned about your chosen ending up in prison.” Aaron said lazily, examining the movement of the pieces still on the board.

“His work continues without him.” Tiara pointed out. “I’m quite thankful for it, it’s been making things easier for my Chosen. And besides, maybe he’ll get out eventually, like Aaron’s Chosen.”

Aaron, who wore the guise of a proud beastfolk of the northern plains grumbled. “He’s taking too long. I sent him an oracle! He knows what to do next!”

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Midna, goddess of Spirit and Communication swirled a glass full of Dragonator and stared into the smoke that erupted from it, as black as her mood. “The elves won’t help him. That’s why Tiara chose who she did.”

Aaron gripped his antlers with consternation while Tiara giggled.

“WHY DID THAT GOAT HAVE A BLESSING!?!” Lunara screamed again. She gripped the table and tried to flip it.

“ENOUGH LUNARA!” Solen roared, his draconic jaws snapping with anger. Light flashed within the Gazebo, blinding all those present.

“Agh, turn down tha’ light ya shiny lizard.” A dwarven voice drawled from where Barck lay lounging in his chair. He had a similar mug of Dragonator and was alternating sipping from it and blowing smoke rings that coalesced into planets before whisking into the sky.

Solen whirled on the dwarf. “Don’t test my patience Barck. Your deal with Lunara earned you entrance back into the Game, but you’re still on brittle ground.”

Lunara’s attention focused onto Barck. “You! That was your Chosen's goat, what did you do!”

Barck shifted uncomfortably, turned his chair into a recliner, and slowly tipped it back. When he was done, he gave Lunara a wry look. “Saved ‘yer Chosen. Like we arranged.”

Lunara stepped forward, rage crackling in her eyes, and a mace springing to her hand. “AGH!!!”

“He recycled its Spirit.” Midna muttered, her voice barely audible above Lunara’s warcry. Barck winced.

Lunara turned to face the mopy Goddess. “He did what?”

“Recycled its Spirit. Each time it died, he siphoned it into the next ‘Penelope’. It’s barely even an animal Spirit anymore, it’s closer to a mortal Soul. It’s been his pet project for millenia.”

Six sets of eyes turned to Barck, who grumbled and buried his face in his smoking drink.

Archis leaned forward with interest, his eyes sparkling. “Oho! Now that is interesting! In my experience, the Spirit goes mad when you do that. Why isn’t that goat a screaming psychotic mess?”

“Have you met a goat?” Aaron asked, rolling his eyes.

“The Spirit only goes mad due to the constant changes in stimuli and life experience.” Midna said, continuing to stir her smoking beer as she spoke. “That goat spent multiple millenia being named Penelope, sitting around drinking beer and eating good food all day. As far as her Spirit is concerned, it’s always been the same life.”

“We’re going to need rules about that.” Lunara frowned. “I don’t like the idea of a sudden influx of animalistic souls that we’ll need to stuff into mortal bodies.”

Archis whistled appreciatively. “So you gave it a Blessing, Barck? That’s a sneaky way of getting extra souls! That goat used [Nothingness] to keep out of sight so the other must’ve been Yearn?”

Barck shifted uncomfortably. “No. I’ve been locked out of the Game, remember? I haven’t paid attention to the goat at all.”

This time every gaze shifted to Midna, who gave a quiet little “*Yip*” before vanishing in a swirl of grimy hair.

“Yearn….” Lunara said, her eyes widening. “That’s what she’s been doing! Where is she!?”

Archis scratched his long beard. “She’s, ah, driving.”

“She’s been driving a lot lately.” Aaron frowned.

Lunara’s face was growing frantic. “And none of you found that odd!?”

“You’re the one that usually keeps tabs on her.” Archis shrugged.

“I’ve been trying to peek at her Chosen! I wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing here!!” Lunara dashed from the gazebo, her strides capable of covering galaxies in an instant.

Silence followed her departure as the other Gods considered what they’d heard. Barck was the first to speak.

“I cannae help but notice there’re only seven pieces? Who died?”

“Midna’s Chosen gave up.” Solen said matter-of-factly. “She’s left the human lands and abandoned her craft.”

“A pity.” Tiara sighed. “I liked her writing.”

Aaron nodded. “And I think she would’ve sold well too.”

“But her first choice of material!!” Solen laughed out loud. “I will forever cherish the Count’s face when he read it!!!”

Suddenly, the mountain shuddered, and the rainbow of light surrounding the gazebo shimmered. Solen’s eyes snapped to the waterfall outside, which had split in two. The great waters arced into the sky, the stream pouring upwards into the vast expanse of space.

There was another shudder, and a quaking *BOOM* that echoed through the universe.

A moment later, Lunara stepped back into the gazebo, a petulant young gnomess under her arm.

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT SHE’S BEEN DOING!?” Lunara bellowed, throwing Yearn to the ground.

Yearn shifted into the shape of an elderly elven woman. “Agh, my hip! You need to treat your elders with more respect, young lady!”

Lunara ignored her. “SHE’S BEEN STUFFING SOULS INTO MONSTERS!!!”

“They were my souls. Besides, it was Barck’s idea.” Yearn muttered. “I tested on his goat first. I only tried with the rest after Ricky was ready.”

Tiara gasped. “Your Chosen!”

“He’s been working with the newly sentient monsters in the dungeons.” Yearn nodded eagerly. “He’s molding them into tribes, teaching them language, and giving them tools. He’s gotten so much Karma!!!”

The silence was deafening as the assembled Gods ran down the ramifications to their various portfolios.

Archis was the first to react. Far be it from the God of Knowledge to turn his nose up at something new. “Anything interesting?”

“The Southern Orc tribes have been cooking some really neat dishes!” Yearn nodded excitedly. “And the goblins are fascinated by magic!”

“She’s broken so much.” Lunara groaned. “It’s going to be a nightmare to fix!”

“If it needs fixin’” Barck laughed. “I agree with Archis! This sounds interestin’!”

Lunara sputtered. “But… But… She’s cheating! She’s supposed to influence the mortal races! Not monsters!!”

Her wails echoed over the mountain, but were lost to the crashing of the waterfall as it resumed the course it’d followed since time immemorial.

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