3rd Bitterstone Thunderers RPRvR Dwarf Guild

[Elftwin95]

Wonderful writing! Very atmospheric, well done

[Glorian]

Lesti Ardisson looked ahead. The burning ruins of this town looked like a mouth of broken teeth. And this mouth have swallowed a lot of good Thunderers already. He have forgotten how often they have taken New Emskrank back. The Regiments Book of Grudges might know for sure.

While the column marched he thought of that latest Recruit. 'Stumpi' Cogwasher, by the Ancestors! It was like Sergeant Drengk allways said. "The Karaks send their best." The best of the ones they don't need for their own armies Lesti added in his mind.

Well he breath, can hold a gun and follow orders. That is all he needed from a recruit.

"Recruit .... Cogwasher! You think that gun is a trunk to wander around like you are on a evening stroll with your lassie!?"
Lesti barked at the new recruit.
"Hold it in both hands! And if I see you again leaving your powderhorn alone on the ground I will make sure it will be knotted to your beard!"
On a second thought maybe breath, holding a gun and following orders wasm't enough.

[Thunderforge]

On the other hand, thought Stumpi, who had been shouted at his whole life, maybe it wasn't so bad here...


Ooc; my Ironbreaker chickened when I tried entering the PvP, luckily I'd got Cogwasher as lvl3. How did you get Lesti Ardisson into the PvP without chickening him?

[Glorian]

For Debolster look here:
viewtopic.php?f=8&t=16398

[peterthepan3]

Edit: Also... It's always kinda sorta bugged me. The main banner on Page 1. Does it intentionally not have the ending D for Settled? "There's Grudges to be Settle" sounds funny. And not Dawi funny...

something I always wondered. deliberate typo? =p

[Thunderforge]

The first part of being a dwarf is never admit being wrong...

[Glorian]

The first part of being a dwarf is never admit being wrong...

Aye!
Thats why I ignore any +d Comments. Be it in the Forum or in channel /5.

Even if I admit it, the Thunderer made it is currently in parental leave....

[Noergl]

„Cursed be that bloody southern rainy weather! “
His boots sank into the mud and every step he took was accompanied by a sucking noise that was clearly to be heard even upon the constant rain. Water was pouring into the holes his feet made in the ground… `…just like new recruits and young beardlings filling up our ranks and replacing the positions of our fallen comrades. Damn war, so many brave lads gave their live to defend these umgi lands! ´
He shook his head and again followed the path between the tents to the far end of the camp.
He had just made his daily report to the captain about their losses and had received the list with the new recruits. Again, the same drill as always. Basic tactics, weapon and combat exercises, fitness training… and much too soon in his opinion the newbies would have to face the grim realities of the battlefields. Well, they wouldn´t like him, they would call him names behind his back and they would curse the drill… but he tried to convince himself that in the short training time he would do his best to prepare them… and perhaps even see a few of them grow into full thunderers or longbeards in the days to come.
He took a deep sip from his flask and narrowed his eyes as water was running from his bushy brows and hindering his view. Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six… that had to be the new recruits tent.
He straightened up before he went inside. The murmur and laughter died abruptly. “Attention!” someone was shouting, but he waved his hand and answered with a direct “At ease, lads. Just shut up and listen…and fetch me a stool, will ya. There´s a good lad.” He sat down in the middle of the tent and his one good eye was mustering the dwarfs around him.
“Heja lads, me name is Finvjer Hugnirsson, I’m the sergeant around here and I’m the one the captain will blame if you beardlings don´t do your job properly. And then I will get really pissed and believe me, you don´t want that. So I hope we understand each other. And now…
Welcome lads in the 3rd Bitterstone Thunderers regiment. I have your enlistment papers right here… and also I’m bloody wet and tired and I don´t have the slightest intention to do this bureaucracy crap tonight! I hope you all agree, that a good ale as a welcome present is better than a long and tedious speech, and so I have this small barrel right here under my cloak that speaks for itself. You´re welcome.”
He watched the astonished recruits and smiled when they slowly and shyly filled up their mugs.
“Cheers lads! I will leave you now, tomorrow at sunrise we will start with the good stuff…meaning early morning exercises… and then we will make some proper soldiers out of you.”
Just before he left the tent he turned around a last time.
“One more thing. Who of you is Bjarni Cogwasher? To me, recruit!”
He stared for a moment at the dwarf standing before him. As always the mix between his good right eye and his blind milky left eye seemed to unnerve his counterpart.
“Well laddie, the captain has mentioned you to me. You will report at 10am to me, understood?”
Without waiting for an answer he turned around and marched outside into the pouring rain.

[Thunderforge]

The fresh sea air tugged at Stumpi's comb-over, the lapping waves soaked into his boots. His head thumped from the previous night's drinking. What had they done again? He remembered drinking the strong stuff the sergeant had given them, then Olvur, the recruit from Kislev had pulled out a jug of home brew... Then someone had suggested popping out to the Grey Lady, oh yeah, then they met those elves who said they could get them in the Festenplatz Arms...
He sat up on the beach rock and realised he was naked. Well, apart from his boots, hammer and tool belt.
What in Gazul's Grindstone was 'skinny dipping' and why had it seemed such a good idea?!
An Imperial Guard leaned on his halberd and regarded him cheerfully as he rolled a cigarette. "Morning beardo!" he said. "Good night was it?"
Stumpi tried to cover all of his exposed skin and looked around for his rugged workshirt. "Probably, have you seen a blue tunic?"
"Nah, here, use this" the guard flung an old window-drape to him. It had embroidered pine-martins. "Is that shouting anything to do with you?"
Up on the cliffs a Norscan voice boomed out orders "One-Two-Three! One-Two-Three! Front Rank ADVANCE!!"
Stumpi remembered the instruction from Sergeant Finjver and leaped up in a panic. "What time is it?!"
"Stead on" calmed the guard, "It's twenny past ten... You've got plenty of..." He trailed off as he watched the dwarf hammer up the hill, wrapped in a pine-martin drapery. His wooden leg left a trail of pock marks in the damp sand.
"Join the Griffins they said, see the sights they said." He lit his cigarette as the dwarf disappeared from view. "They should really be more specific..."

[Glorian]

In the command tent Lesti Ardisson shuffled through the pile of papers that clocked his portable writing desk. Different request forms, notes from the Quartermasters that the stockpiles of Blackpowder was low, several promotions. Some of them so old that Sergeant Finvjer has already stamped the KIA runes on them.

This has to end the dwarven Captain thought. With all this paperwork it was a miracle they had the time to fight a war in between. One of the notes caught his eye. Very fine paper and a finely handwriting of an artisan. An invitation tot he High Elf Ambasadors banquet.

„Ach, Krutt!“ Lesti said to himself. The banquet was dated to the last week. On a second thought he was still alive and an evening with elven musik and fleshless meals was more dour than a dwarven funeral.

He checked his finely „Made in Zhufbar“ clock and said to himself: „One more minute and you are a case fort he firing squad.“ From outside of the tent he heard the drill trainings of the new recruits. The Sergeant was in his element, shouting and explaining at the same time. The Recruits should be drenched in sweat by now.
Suddenly the door canvas flapped into the tent and Lesti could hardly believe his eyes. At the same time panting and trying to stand still stood there Recruit Cogwash. He raised his left hand and gave a very bad try at saluting while stammering something like: „Sir … Recruit … Ardisson … Sir Reporting for ah ... as requested!“

„By the Ancestors!“ Burst it from Lesti. He looked the Recruit up and down. The Buttons on his Hauberk were closed in the wrong order, his beard looked like two squirells had there a fight about who was the furry king under the mountain and he stank after at least four different kinds of alcohol.
Lestis reight eyelid began to twitch instantly. It started in Troll country half a year ago after an mob of Orc Boarriders slammed into the first rank. A dozen Thunderers died instantly, but Lesti survived unharmed. Well not physically harmed it seems.

The regimental Priestess of Valaya has said to him later he should look after himself and try to avoid stressfull situations. He has laughed at that advice. He is trying to win a campaign against mad orcs, crazy humans and pale emotionial distressed elgi while herding a bunch of never grown up Dwarfs who are at each others throat, completely drunk or both.
And that lad Cogwasher striggered his stress eyelid in an instant.

„Attentshun!“ he barked. His Eyelid increased ist twitching frequency.
„Stumpi“ Cogwasher lowered his left hand.
„Who said you could lower that hand Recruit! You will salute mea s long till I retaliate with my own salute! Ist hat CLEAR!“
Cogwashers hand shot back to his temple. This time with the right hand. „Aye!“
Lesti glared at him for a little longer. More and more details were obvious to Lesti; What the Recruit has eaten yesterday, where he has slept and what he has drunk. His Hauberk was like a live menue card. Was that lip-red on his collar? His right eyelid was twitching so fast Lesti felt like he was in a minecart, driving through the dark tunnels only seeing lanterns flashing by.

„If I ask him now what he has done yesterday my right eye will explode“, thought Lesti.
He saluted the Recruit and released him from his torment. Rubbing his right eye, while closing the left eye he began to talkt o the recruit.
„In your recruitment papers is mentioned that at your last post you sorted the requests at your guild.“
„Aye!“ Cogwasher replied. „I sorted the request to my guild into different kinds of importance, escpecially the paper that could go to the privy.“
„Hmm, so you could read Reikspiel then?“ asked Lesti, who had suddenly a good idea what to do with the elven Ambassadors Invitation.
„Aye, Captain.“ Came the answer.
„Good. Good.“ Lesti concluded, he handed the Recruit a formular. „Fill that out, it is your promotion to be my adjutant.“
His sore and red trimmed eyes were about to burst out of Stumpis face. „Captain?“, he began.
„Your duty will begin tomorrow. Take this!“, Lesti handed the dazed and more than usual confused Stumpi a small sheet of paper.
„That is an request for a quill, ink and the usual gear of an regimental adjutant. You will acustome quite fast I’m sure.“
You will be dead before winter, was what he thought.

„Good, now Recruit Cogwasher, you are dismissed. “
Cogwasher saluted and turned to leave the tent. His face a battlefield of confusion and disbelief. Turning his back to the dwarven Captain, Lesti saw that an enthusiastic lad has painted an naked elf lass to the backside of Cogwashers uniform. Clearly the artisan was very optimistic of what elgi lasses had been hiding under their long skirts.

„Recruit!“, he began, but instantly his right Eye had remembered what was expected from it and began pounding again.
„Aye Captain!“ Cogwasher replied, while saluting with both hands for good measure.
„On a second thought, nothing, could you please send the Sergeant to me if you see him?“ Lesti replied while turning his back on his new adjutant.
„Aye Captain!“ came Cogwashers reply. He liked already the Army. Everytime he said ‚Aye Captain!‘ everyone was happy with him. And he was promoted on his first day. I couldn't get any better this very day.
He left the tent and almost ran into Sergeant Finvjer.

„Ehrm … Sergeant Sir, the Captain wants to see you.“
Sergenat Finvjer stepped towards the Recruit and brought his eyes a hand broad in front of Cogwashers own eyes. So close that the Recruit could see the small veines in the Sergeants eyes that seem to grow from small red streams into big red reiksized rivers.

„Is that so recruit?“