Crisp white snow crunched under the boots of an overweight, dull witted, abnormally short dwarf. Fierce winds howled throughout vast plains which were covered in a sheet of white for as far as the eye could see. Most dwarves are accustomed to the bitter cold, their stout compact bodies and full beards are a natural defense to chilly weather, but the dwarf of this tale was of a different sort.
Dundle enjoyed the mild weather of his hometown, where winter was a bit chilly but never required more then an extra layer of clothing. Where a days work consisted of making rounds about the farm then enjoying a frothy mug of beer with the sun overhead.
Back to the present, where Dundle was realizing that he should have worn more then two layers of clothing. Every bone in his body ached and every step he took seemed to be one step closer to death. Dundle's fiery red beard had been extinguished by bits of snow and ice, and his unusually long nose was numb to the core. He wanted nothing more then to plunge into the soft white power with open arms and drift into a welcoming sleep from which he would never awaken. Only his proud dwarf spirit kept him going.
The trudging continued until he spotted what looked to be a vast mountain range. Upon closer examination Dundle noticed a crack in the wall of rock and made a sprint for the prospect of a safe haven. Using his wooden shield as a battering ram through the wind he arrived at the cavern and immediately collapsed upon entry.
He awoke suddenly, perhaps by a sound, perhaps by something else, and dug through his carrying bag eventually emerging with a rolled up sheet of paper. He rolled out the paper on his lap and slowly began to read what was written.
To Dundle,
You are hereby charged to travel to the Ancient Mountains in order to assist the Iron Beard Clan in the purging of goblins and other vermin. The fighting has already begun so commence your journey as soon as you receive this notice. Bring your own gear and supplies, be ready for battle.
-Iron Beard Council
"Curse the Iron Beard Clan for taking me from my nice warm home! Curse them!" Dundle snarled. "My body ain't fit to take cold such as this, no sir, give me rain over snow any day."
One might ask why Dundle would make such a perilous journey to help the Iron Beards. The answer would be his father, who was a dwarf in every sense of the word. He was very proud of his heritage and used to teach Dundle their ancient language and tell stories of glorious battles with his Iron Beard brothers. So when Dundle received the letter on his doorstop one sunny morning he could not turn down the opportunity to meet the dwarves his father used speak of so highly.
After a short reminicance Dundle decided to light a fire but was interupted by a raspy voice which gave him quite a shock. He fought off his first reaction to dash back out into the cold and grabbed his axe in one hand and his shield in the other.
"Who's there? Speak up unless you want to be slashed into little bits!" Dundle shouted.
A horrible stench began to permeate the cave which made the dwarf's eyes water.
"Mmmmm is that a fat little grub I smells?" the raspy voice cackled.
The stench began to take the shape of a creature three times the size of the dwarf. It dragged a club covered in red and brown stains behind it. The creatures pale gray body was barely visible in the dark cave but its bright yellow eyes glared directly at Dundle.
"I have not had a tasty meal for a looong time little grub. I think I will mash you into a jelly, yes, there is plenty of fat on you!"
Dundle's legs shook and his teeth chattered, he could not takes his eyes off of the creatures misshaped face as it gnashed its teeth and licked its black gums. Globs of droll fell from the creature's mouth as it charged at its prey with awful speed. Dundles legs forced him to spring forward as the giant club swung overhead and landed with a resounding crash on the cavern floor. Before the confused creature had time to react Dundle swung his axe with all his might at the creatures arm. A roar of agony burst from the creature's mouth as blood poured from the fresh wound. Its arm had nearly been sliced in two and only a small piece of flesh kept it from snapping like a rope. With a last surge of energy Dundle dislodged his axe and swung it at the middle of the creatures belly. Innards flowed out from the stomach wound as the creature howled in pain cursing at the dwarf in some horrible launguage that would make any creature tremble with fear. But poor Dundle had collapsed from exhaustion already and the howls of agony fell on deaf ears.
It took hours for the creature to bleed to death while the dwarf slept, snoring loudly and dreaming of a tall glass of beer and with the warm sun overhead.
