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The dwarves are a hardy folk, not prone to mourning for very long, that is why the group of dwarves from The Thunderhammer clan were found sharpening axes and consuming prodigious amounts of ale and mead. The stout beers having very little affect on the tremendous constitution of the surly little creatures of stone and earth.
After much discussion the dwarves had decided that an expedition was in order to determine the origi9n of the attack, and where the monster had come from. The dwarves couldn't risk not knowing what was coming their way.
While preparations were being made, Brugner had one more point of business to persue. The girl who had participated in the battle at the gate. The humans had grumbled about upon the dwarves return, but the dwarves simply brushed them off and said the men should have been a little tougher. The fact was that the dwarves actions had taken the pressure off the rest of the humans positions.
Brugner began to ask around for the girls where abouts, without much success. On the verge of forgeting her he ambled past a pub, well almost. As he came into the pub he ordered a Pitcher of frosted ale and a bowl of the houses soup. The ale was weak and the soup more liquid than substance, but he had eaten worse. Glancing around the interior of the common room he noticed the decor of most frontier towns. Animal trophys, the crude jagged weapons of goblins and other lesser humanoids.
Finishing his food and drink the dwarve moved to stand up when suddenly the rough stool he was sitting on was pulled from under him. Now there is something that one should understand about dwarves. Eating is a scared ritual, many dwarves don't even speak when eating alone, believing that it may ruin good digestion, and when in groups they only speak of pleasant things for much the same reason. To interrupt a dwarves meal, even if it is nealry completed, is a very dangerous and stupid thing indeed.
Looking up from the floor the Brugner began to take account of his situation, it seemed that four of the guards the dwarves had left unconscious at the gate had surrounded him with less than friendly looks on their faces.
The leader of the four was a big ugly man, even for a human. Large pimples and blemishes cluttering his countenance. A large misshapen nose and bushy eye brows..well...brow.. all combined to make a truly hideous face.
The ugly man proceeded to rear back for a kick to Brugners head. Seeing this Brugner rolled into his one leg knocking him off balance. as the big man fell the other three men grappled for Brugner. hopping up he delivered a head butt to the nearest and shattered his nose. The next man a little wiser than the other kept his distance then charged Brugner. Brugner set himself for the charge and dove at the mans legs. His shoulders impacted with a satisfying crack, as the mans tibia and fibia broke on both his legs.
By this time the other three men had regained their composure and were rallying for a unified assault, when suddenly a chair cracked across the head of the big ugly man. The man collapsed to his knees and fell on his face. A small trickle of blood coming for a wound on the back of his head. The other two men turned and when they did this Brugner rushed them, throwing his small burly frame into th nearest mans gut. A tremendous rush of air as the man the man collapsed the wind knocked out of him.
As Brugner stood up he found the last man on the ground clutching his groin. Brugner laughed at the man and look up to find a man in the trappings of a forester. The man smiled, " I never like seeing folks outnumbered. Thought you could use some help."
Brugner screwed his face up a bit and sneered, "Ye shoulda help out them poor saps, they didn't bring nearly enough to take a dwarf. Impetuous imbeciles." With this he delivered a kick for good measure to the big ugly man who was beginning to stir.
The forester adminring the destruction they had caused turned and in a rather indifferent tone said, "No matter, I do suggest that you and your kin make yourselves scarce around these parts. Things are going to get very ugly." With this and a flourish of his cape the forester was out the door and gone.
Dumbfounded at the speed and grace with which the man had disappeared, Brugner thought to take the advice and after lotting the guards pockets of gold, he started towards the door....

The streets smelled of the offal of livestock and humans alike, the sunlight streaming down, amplifying the myriad of sights and smells offered by the muddy rutted street. Looking around the coast looked clear, the guards Brugner had left beaten and bloody on the taverns floor were beginning to stir with the exception of the man with the broken legs. He would never walk correctly again. Risks of the business. Soon the alarm bells would be ringing. Brugner hurried to the dwarven camp.
As he approached the camp his heart sunk, he heard the ring of steel on steel and scream.....not just human screams...but dwarven. As he rounded the last turn he was confronted with perhaps the most horrifying sight he had witnessed. The human guards were taking the subdued dwarves and impaling the upon seven foot stakes, leaving them to die a lingering painful death.
Barely able to contain his rage, Brungers training kicked in, he couldn't take the men, there were too many, but he had to get to his equipment. Rushing into an alley brugner covered himself in the refuse of the humans. He would wit for nightfall, dispatch his remaining comrades and sneak out. The humans had made the worst mistake of all. They had brought war with the dwarves.

The smell was horrendous. Brugner watched as a large variety of bugs and insects crawled about the refuse he had hid himself in. The sounds of his kind dying all day had ground on his nerves like rough sea salt rubbed into battle field wounds. It hurt, but it only made what was to dome so much sweeter. He had had all day to plan his revenge. That damned girl with her magick had only made it that much more difficult by killing the dozen guards. They had posted twice as many as they would have, but that was okay, he had made contingencies.
The sun was setting slowly. Th dusk creeping over the killing ground. As darkness enveloped him Brugner had to fight to wait for the right time. His blood burning, calling out for the revenge his brethren so richly deserved. Brugner fingered the broken piece of wood like it was a life line. Brugner felt like he knew every knot and jagged edge of the wood. It had been in is hand for most of the day. He had felt it plunge into the jugulars of many guards, slip in between the ribs and pushing trough that bit of tough muscle into the heart, life blood flowing out onto his hands. The last light of life leaving the eyes of his victims....no. not victims. Murderers. Back Stabbers. Even the grubs that even now crawled about him were better than the scum he would dispatch that night.
Brugners eyes were alight with an inner fire, the urge to take the lives of the guilty.
It was time.
Brugner slowly slipped out from the refuse pile. Looking around he saw what must have been thirty guards around the twiching nearly lifeless bodies of his brothers. This was what he had planned for. He slowly made his way towards the barracks.
Moving in the shadows, avoiding the patrolmen. Taking the back alleys and slinking with the rats and garbage he slowly advanced. The barracks came in sight.
Standing watch was a boy. No more than 17. Pity he wouldn't live to see his 18th year.
Clutching a rock Brugner hurled it towards the far side of the parade grounds. A large click click from where it hit. The boy snapped to alert. He stared into the darkness.....but he had been looking into the torchlight, it had ruined his night vision, not a mistake he would ever make again. The boy approached the rock his sword drawn, but still squinting about never saw or heard brugner come on him.
The jagged piece of wood splintered as it took the boys throat out. The blood splattering over the cobble stones, leaving a sticky red puddle, all that remained of the boys life pooling there around his face. The boys eyes looked up at brugner, as if asking what he had sone wrong, why was his life ending with so much left to do. Brugner simply looked down an stomped his heavy iron shod boot on the boys head. At least the boy had gone in a quick way, better than his mates back at the camp had been done.
Taking the sword and dagger on the boy Brugner hurried towards the barracks door. Good, the building was mostly wood, he inspected the door frame after taking a quick look around. No other exits. No windows. Typical human barracks. With loud crack he hit the weak point of the door frame. Collapsing it in on itself. Removing the torch from its bronze holder he threw it on the ruined door frame.
Quickly retreating into the shadow he watch as the flames slowly spread engulfing more and more of the building. The screams coming from inside, a grand accompaniment to the chorus of screams...dwarven screams rushing about in his head. He watched as it turned into an inferno, the flames reaching great heights, the screams dying down, outside his head anyway.
Many towns people and guards came running. It was time to go. Making his way back to the camp few noticed him, many assumed he was just a child and moved on. He made quick time this way. Soon finding himself back at camp.
He forgot much of what happened next, he had vague memories of thin steel sliding into his brethren s throats, cutting them down from their macabre perches. Pulling the bloody back pack from the pile of dwarven mail and weapons.
Running.
Running more.
Two guards at the gate.
The flash of his axe a leg gone, on the back hand his head.
A sword thrust, in brugners shoulder.
No Pain, pull it out.
Plant the axe in the humans forehead
There you go
Watch the blood spill.
Ringing, your head? No.
Bells, Alarm bells.
Time to leave.
Running
More running,
Can't feel anything.
Trees?
a forest
the fuzzy
and falling
then...


nothing.