As Snorri and Bulk made their way up the hill, Snorri was able to pick out a wooden fence, maybe five feet high, that extended around the stone buildings. He followed Buulk along the fence's perimeter as the dwarf led them to a large gate defended on each side by a large guard tower. Serveral dwarfish guards sprung into life as they neared, looking down on them from atop the gate towers. “WHO GOES THERE?” one of the guards called down to them as they reached the large wooden gates. “It’s Buulk; let me in.” Buulk grunted up to the tower. The guards mumbled amongst themselves at the dwarfs identification before finally one of them yelled, “The Man-Flayer approaches! Open the Gates.”
Snorri raised an eyebrow at Buulk as unseen dwarfs eased open the wooden gate. Buulk looked shiftily down at him. “Human, not Mann-Kidd, Promise” he tried to reassure his little companion before leading him inside the trading post's outer walls. Snorri’s eyes widened as he made his way inside the outpost. Five or so largish stone buildings with low, sloping roofs were arranged in a vague circle around the hilltop. each opening onto a central open space where the tip of the hill had been dug away to create flat ground. Several dwarfs in plate mail approached them.
The group came to a halt in front of Buulk and saluted, one of them in slightly more ornate armour, then the rest stepped forward and offered Buulk a handshake. Snorri’s dwarfish companion shook hands with the leader of the group, grasping the warrior's armoured forearm in a tight grip. “You finally return from your hunt, brother,” the warrior grinned. Buulk did not return the smile. “Where are the council, Franken?” He asked in a hushed tone.
“In bed,” Frankin said, removing his helm to enable him to speak clearly and also to allow his long red beard to flow freely in the evening air. “In bed? But it is barely sunset,” complained Buulk. “It’s two weeks past midsummer; Buulk in may be just going to sunset, but it is also midnight. there all asleep, even the commander.” Finally, Frankin set eyes on Snorri; the gnome met his eyes steadily. “Another one? The last one you found went nuts.” He jokes with Buulk. Snorri eyed the dwarfs as they stared at him. “This one isn't like the others, Frankin. He can speak Dwarvish. properly clever.” buulk exsplained. Franklin raised an eyebrow at Snorri. “Can you?” He asked the gnome.
“I can,” replied Snorri to muffled gasps from within the heavily armoured goblin helms and a look of shock from ranklin. Buulk punched Frankin in the shoulder. “Don't worry, you get used to it. Anyway, like I was saying, go get the council," he mutted to the shocked-looking dwarf. “But there are asleep,” mumbled Frankin absent-mindedly.
"Well, wake them up. This is important.” Buulk commanded the warriors. "NOW,” with a final word, the unti and commander saluted and ran away to the various buildings. "Now,” Buulk muttered to Snorri as the warriors disappeared. “Let’s go get a drink.” Upon finishing his words, the dwarf led Snorri into one of the stone buildings. a room full of large wooden tables, arranged around a large central fire pit with a large metal cauldron bubbling away, mounted on a large chain swing from the room's stone ceiling. Snorri climbed up into a wooden chair and watched as Buulk crossed to the back of the room, where two large barrels sat, and returned with two huge glasses filled with amber liquid.
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After placing the glasses on the table, the dwarf busied himself, finding two large bowels and filling them with a thick, viscous stew from within the cauldron. He passed one of the bowls to Snorri as he sat down and joined him at the table. taking a deep drink of the amber liquid before relaxing into the chair with a long sigh. Snorri smelled the stew, allowing its smokey scent to fill his nostrils as his stomach rumbled. He tentatively dug out a spoon full of the brown liquid with a metal spoon slightly too big for his mouth. He sipped at the liquid. After days of dried meat, the stew tasted like liquid gold. He hastily slurped and began to slurp down the bowl. "So,” he managed to spit out between mouthfuls. “What happens now?” Buulk to another long sip of the amber liquid before replying. “Now we wait for the council to arrive,” he huffed before beginning to eat his own stew, albeit much slower than the snorri.
The gnome raised his bowel to his lips, emptying the last of the stew. Once every drop had been slurped down, he placed the bowel back on the table. “Can I ask you something?” he tentatively asked the dwarf. “You just did. Go ahead, what is it?” asked Buulk.
“Why do you then call you Man-flayer?”
It took awhile for the dwarf to respond; he had nearly finished his stew before he finally began to exclaim, "Well. During the Wars of the South, I, err, might have gone a bit overboard when the humans killed my commander. After I rallied our forces and took the Huan Castle, we wanted to send a message to stop them from trying to retake the place. I guess you can work out the rest."Snorri tentatively took a sip of his own huge glass of amber liquid. The sweet mixture that washed down his throat warmed his belly and left a slight tingling feeling in his mouth. “So now that's your name?” He asked, still trying to gain a better understanding of the dwarf.
“yep, Buulk The Manflayer Duke of Green Hill. It still could be worse. Ionce met a guy named Jareth Goblin-Licker; he got his name because he got cuaght licking a goblin’s ar. Buulk suddenly cut off mid-word. The room’s door suddenly flung open, and in marched Frankin, followed by blearly-eyed dwarves dressed in dark green robes. As the dwarfs took their seats at the table, where Snorri and Buulk sat, Franklin approached them, coming to a halt in front of Buulk. “The clock has arrived,” Franklin said in a loud, important voice. Buulk grunted. "I can see that. Get the book and take a few minutes." He muttered in a tone of annoyance at the armoured dwarf. Frankin disappeared out of the room, quickly returning with a large, leather-bound book and finding a table of his own. “Noble Councillors” Began Buulk in a rather more official tone than usual: “Thank you for coming.”