The first thing Snorri noticed as he coughed and spluttered to life was an overwhelming feeling of hunger. As his blurry vision came into focus and the cogs of his brain began to slow and begin to chug into life, his ears were overwhelmed with a sudden dicordant trumpeting sound, and spindly runic letters seeming to be made from crimson flames began to burn into his vision.
DEMONIC BOON ATTAINED.
ALL-SPEAK is now active.
DEMONIC AFFINTY SKILL TREE NOW UNLOCKED!
As the letters burned away from his vision, Snorri heard a sudden shuffle of movement to his left. He was only now realising that he was no longer in the cave. The memory of the giant rushed back to him as he spun his head, only to find the creature staring tentatively down at him from six feet or so away, a huge hammer clutched nervously in his hand. Snorri’s stomach grumbled audibly. He eyed the giant carefully from where he lay on the ground. The creature didn't seem to be an enemy, but its grip on its weapon left Snorri in no doubt that if he so much as flexed his hand towards Arcop’s hilt, it would not be long before it was. His stomach rumbled again, and hunger panged through his body. “Do you have anything to eat?” he grumbled in a raspy voice, almost unconsciously. The ginat dropped its might hammer as its mouth felt open in shock. Snorri saw its eyes widen at his words before the heavy head of the hammer impacted the creature's boot with a dull thud.
As the creature exsploded into a triade of swearwords he was yet to know the meaning of, Snorri was distracted as once again his ears were overwhelmed by a noise with seemingly no source as a harmonous chime rung through his head and once again text begged to scroll across his vision, this time in a golden yellow text:
LEVEL UP! INTELLIGENCE Level Five: Achieved!
NEW SKILL: Quick-read
YOU ARE NOW LEVEL TEN.
As the text disappeared from Snorri’s vision, the creature had seemingly recovered enough to stop swearing. The giant stared down at the gnome; it was maybe twice Snorri’s height with a long, dark beard and long, messy dark hair. a dark green cloak covering most of its light armour made from some form of hardened dark leather. “Did you just talk to me, little guy?” The giant asked Snorri in a low, rumbling voice with a tone as if he were trying not to frighten a dear. Snorri blinked up at the giant before he opened his mouth to anser. All that came out of his mouth was another series of spluttering coughs before eventually he managed to weeze a single word, "water," followed by another series of spluutering coughs, and then finally "please."
The giant quickly shuffled around the campfire and quickly returned with a vast water skin. Snorri gratefully drank, allowing the water to quench his thirst and finally rehydate his throat and mouth. “How can you speak, Dwarvic?” the giant asked as he sat down on the floor, meeting Snorri’s eyes as the gnome pushed himself up to a sitting position, edging slightly closer to the warmth of the fire. He stared up at the night sky with its rolling clouds and stars; it seemed to go on forever. Although the colony had possessed a vast array of telescopes in the astronomers guilds, he had never been granted the privilege of being able to see them himself, and until now Snorri had only read about the night sky in textbooks deep within the mountain colony. “It’s a skill... or a boon or something; either way, it's magic," he waved the fingers of his left hand slightly as he finally ansered the giant.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“So I take it you are a dwarf then?” Snorri asked, finally looking back at the creature as it nodded in reply. "Yes, thats right, and you are a mankidd, yes?” the dwarf asked him as if knowing he was correct. “A what?” Snorri snorted, "What's a man?” The dwarf seemed shocked but thoroughly curious. "Well, according to the books and more up-to-date scientific papers, you should be a man." The dwarf rumbled, clearly slightly annoyed. "Well, theres no point arguing about it; what are you called?” Snorri thought about his response for awhile as he stretched out his body, testing to see if anyone was in pain and yawning. “Im Snorri Snorrinson, and I am a Gnome," he said, simply finnaly strechting his right hand out towards where his sword lay, still attached to the cuff on his wrist by its magical chain.
Snorri eyed the dwarf questioningly as he reached out towards the weapon. After receiving a nod, he picked up the sword somehow, feeling more at ease as his hand clasped around its familiar hilt. “Who are you?” Snorri asked the dwarf as he examined the sword in the firelight. The dwarves eyes anrrowed as he too looked at the blade for the first time, taking a moment to examine the sword. “My name is Buulk,” he mumbled in disbelief as he began to slowly notice the dwarvic rune inscribed on Snorri’s sword. "Listen, kid, do you think you could tell me where you got the sword you have attached to your wrist?” He asked the dwarf as one of his hands absentmindedly reached for the haft of his hammer.
Snorri mulled over the dwarf’s question as he turned over the blade in the firelight. As orange flames flickered across its dark-metal alloy, reflecting purple sparks of light wear, they struck the enscrolled runes on the blade's surface. “When the goblins attacked, they set off an explosion. I was thrown into the glass case the sword was contained in, and when I woke up, I was covered in rubble, and it was attached.” He answered honestly. Buulk eyed the gnome, still clenching his hammer tightly while maintaining his relaxed, seated posture. “And Snorri, did it make you promise anything?” he pressed.
“Why?” Snorri snapped suspiciously, suddenly noticing where the dwarf had been gripping his hammer and wondering how long its hand had been on its weapon. “If that's what you think it is, it's a very powerful weapon that can take a year to master and is very dangerous to both the wielder and the foe. They can compulse warriors to act on their behalf, so I must ask you, Are you acting in its service?” The dwarf rumbled. It took Snorri awhile to respond.
“I have fulfilled my bargain,” he said slowly, the words suddenly coming to him with absolute truth. Buulk blinks in surprise at that. If the weapon was truly what he believed it was, then it was truly impressive that a creature such as this gnome would have been able to become its rightful bearer. However, if Snorri had still been in the service of the weapon rather than its wielder, Buulk was sure the gnome would have been attacked by now.
As the dwarf finally relaxed his grip on the hammer, dawn began to roll over the eastern horizon, and light began to crack across the sky. Snorri watched in wonder as the sun began to rise, painting the sky a deep crimson. He raised his hand to his head and wiped away a sheen of yellow pus that was leaking from his left eye. Buulk set about putting out the fire, and after rifling through a large back pack through a drawstring bag to snorri, The gnome peered inside at what appeared to be a red-leathery substance. “What is this?” he asked the dwarf, taking a piece of the wood-like material from the bag. “Dried Spine Goat... Its Food. You eat,” the dwarf answered, motioning, eating something like an apple. Snorris stomach rumbled; he was too hungry to argue. Hestitantly, he raised the leathery bark to his mouth, bit off a piece, and began to chew.
“Can you walk?” the dwarf asked as he lifted the large pack from the ground, testing the weight. Snorri pushed himself to his feet, and after a few shakey steps in his blood-stained work boots, he nodded. "Good,” said the dwarf, hoisting the large pack onto his back. “Follow me,” he grunted towards where Snorri was chewing on the dried goat. The gnome raised an eyebrow in response. "Look, I’d let you stay here if I could, but if I do, you’ll be dead in days, and whatever kills you, you will have that weapon. Do you want a goblin running around with that thing?” The dwarf reasoned, trying his best to gain Snorri’s trust. The gnome let out a huff, and after a few moments, Hestitation nodded and followed the dwarf away from the smoking remains of the campfire.