Role

Chapter 6

'O'er the ways, an inta da fire, the greatest of smit's in dwarven kin
be da Dhrummin's!'

***A self-proclaimed tabloid instigated by the Dhrummin clan***

A cacophonous argument rang through the bar, silencing the rowdy crowd
in a heartbeat.

'Those crazy Dhrummin's are arguing again. Better get the bouncer'

As is the common occurrence in this particular bar, the High Smith from
the Dhrummin family was in a heated battle with one of their customers.
Normally, any argument between the proud Dhrummin and another party
usually lead to a gladatorial style matchup, where the strength of the
Dhrummin prevailed. However, the air around the customer, a stranger
enshrouded with a chilling aura, was nothing to be trifled with. Beady
red malevolent eyes peered unconcerned and haughtily through its blood
stained clothes.

'As ah be sayin', we Dhrummin clan be da best of da dwarves! Dere be nah
negotiation - ya be payin wut ya agreed 'pon, an dat be dat!'

The large fists of the High Smith, Ghrummin, strenghtened his statement
as it pounded onto the wooden table. A loud groan punctuated his
statement - one might expect that the table was used to the Dhrummin's
fists, as it was his favorite table, but even a table has feelings.

'Foolish dwarf. The price has changed, as I deemed it to change. Your
silly desires are nothing. Your art is quite impressive - however, it is
simply a tool.'

'A tool? A TOOL? By mah mammies bushels o' beard, ya be daft an blind
an stupid! Da Dhrummin work nah be tool! It be life!'

Smirking sadistically and yawning briefly, the wraith whispered in a
bored, if chilling, tone.

'Then you will not agree to the new terms?'

'Ya be wantin' yer 'ead pounded in? We Dhrummin nah only be gud at
ironin' but at 'ead poundin as well!'

'You have named your price.'

A prehensitile tail emerged from under the clothes of the wraith as a
small imp scurried and deftly snatched up the recently crafted staff.
The inscription 'Dhrummin', the mark of the Dhrummin clan, masterfully
etched onto the staff, seemed to scream in protest at the injustice done
to its creators before it was carefully concealed within the cloak of
the wraith.

'Ya fargin' scud of an orc's bottom! BE RETURNIN' DAT!'

With an unnatural grace seemingly absent from his large and stout frame,
Ghrummin leaped across the table to wring the wraith's neck, but to no
avail. A mocking laughter emerged from the wraith as it, and its
snickering imp, dissipated into nothing.

'YA BE PAYIN' IN BLOOD, YA 'EAR? AH BE DRUMMIN YER 'EAD IN!'

The dragon's roar of Ghrummin Dhrummin, who has never been bested in
negotiations before, or for that matter, had been cheated, nearly
deafened the entire bar.

The table groaned for the last time before it collapsed to the ground.