“By Billiam’s Beard, I’ll never get used to this much sun!” Bowen shouted, wiping the sweat from his brow, the top of his bald pate glistening with perspiration. The old dwarf surveyed his crops, replacing his weathered hat on his head. His lips curled into a smile underneath his white mustache as he looked out upon the farmers under his employ.
Carefully, they picked only the ripest of kafe beans. Although these dwarfs were new to this crop, more accustomed to the droning act of mining ore or farming deep cave mushrooms and tubers, they gave it the same care and attention to detail that they would give to goldsmithing or fine stonework. Not typically a flexible race, the dwarfs of New Gal’Durak have had to adapt in order to survive all the tribulations their people have faced.
Pride beamed on Bowen’s face as he looked across the fertile valley, watching his precious crops in their various stages of harvest: ripe cherries freshly picked by deft dwarf fingers, the soothing sound of the rolling cherries in the automated drying pits, and the roaring fires of the forge fire roasters. The dwarf reminisced about the time he had first tasted the kafe following his visit from the goddess, Fulgria, so many moons before. The dwarfs of New Gal’Durak were grateful for their new livelihood, and it showed in their workmanship.
***
“My lord, please take these last scraps of my rations,” Bowen pleaded, “You’ve marched for days on end with little to no food.”
“Save it for yourself, Bowen. I need your wisdom now more than ever,” the king replied.
King Billiam XXXVII’s retinue had marched endlessly through the Dragon’s Teeth, a most treacherous mountain range that spreads across old Primavantor, riddled with hidden passes, deadly storms, and deadlier beasts. Though the dwarfs of Gal’Durak were growing thin and weary, their resolve to find a new home was still as strong as the day their ancestral hold had been taken from them.
Bowen sat at the fire, embers dancing high into the night sky, ultimately burning out and changing into grey ash as they drifted slowly among the treetops. Toebiter, the king’s massive canine mount, lay peacefully on his side, curled, long-haired tail wagging ever so slightly as Billiam scratched his favorite spot behind the dog’s long ears. A smile crept across the king’s road-weary face. Bowen stared around the fire at the faces of the others in the king’s retinue, the firelight flickering across their beards and glistening in their tired eyes.
“My lord,” Bowen began as Billiam turned his focus from his dog to his advisor. “What if we never find a place to settle? All of the abandoned holds and caves have been foul with goblins,” he paused. “Or worse.” The king, though weary from endless travel and the burdens of his new crown, never lost his warm smile.
“Fulgria shall guide us,” he started. “And if not, one of us stubborn bastards will!” Billiam chuckled, but it sounded a little weaker, more defeated than Bowen had ever heard. Bowen reached in his belt pouch for another scrap of dried meat to share with his friend. Smiling, Billiam took the scant ration, bit a small piece off of it, and passed the remainder to Toebiter. He gobbled it up gratefully.
***
A hunter stared down the scope of his rifle at a camp of greenskins. “Damn things are everywhere,” he cursed to himself. “Even on this lonely rock.” His holo-sight shun in the darkness, showing each of the orcs’ vital signs, their heat signatures a blinding white at the center of each body. A small party of seven. Scouts most likely. Lightly armored.
The hunter shouldered his weapon, taking a look into the carbon steel pouch at his belt. Precious cargo. A handful of red berries with a hard seed in the center. “Kafe beans” they’re called back in Corporation Space. The last major farming world for kafe beans was just declared a deadzone and wiped from the star maps. Fortunately for Blaine, he knew of a way to get a hold of more: this dusty old rock. The locals called it “Pannithor,” but Blaine only cared for his quarry.
Normally, Blaine made his living off bounty hunting, but when Solarbuxx, the largest kafe conglomerate in the Third Sphere comes calling with a billion credit bounty for some seeds, well, who can refuse? Especially since this mountain range had a hidden valley full of the things. All he needed was a few. Solarbuxx had the tech to genetically reproduce this small amount. Now, all he had to do was get back to his ship parked just over the ridge.
Blaine pulled his rifle back to firing position, staring down the scope at the orc party. Six of them. He could’ve sworn that there were seven. Suddenly, a twig snapped behind him. With a seasoned bounty hunter’s reflexes, Blaine spun, shooting his rifle from the hip, and struck a skulking orc body directly in the chest. The greenskin let out a bellowing howl as he fell to the ground, a hole burned directly through armor, flesh, and bone.
The other six orcs, hearing the death cry of their companion, darted up the embankment toward the hunter. They all let out a fearsome warcry as they charged. “Not again…” Blaine sighed as he unsheathed his telescoping spear, the point glowing blue with plasma, and activated his energy shield.
