Azemandius, Commander of the Eagle’s Watch stood in full armor before the stairs of the keep where women and children huddled in fear. Before him, the great city of Hydel lay in ruins. Screams echoed through the streets as demons broke into homes and devoured, enslaved, and tormented those they encountered.

His lips were a thin, grim line as he gripped the hilt of his sword so tightly the ancient leather creaked.

These were his people. His charges. They’d entrusted him with their safety. How could he so utterly fail them?

But the demonic horde before them outnumbered them a hundred to one. Or it had. Before it’d slaughtered his men and laid waste to his city. And numbers were deceiving when some of the monsters were so massive they’d shattered the outer walls with a single strike.

He turned to his second in command, unable to bear the carnage in front of him for a moment longer. Carnage that would reach them as soon as the demons grew bored enough of their games in the city to advance upon the keep and the innocents it protected. Their last bastion of defense.

“Has there been any word? Anything?” Azemandius asked.

Gotharion, his second in command, shook his head. “No, my lord. We’ve called for aid across the realm, but none have replied.”

Azemandius’s heart fell. “Then, we are truly alone.”

His men looked as weary as he felt. Their eyes filled with fear and their skin drained of color as though they were already dead.

“Take heart, brothers. If we are to die this day, then we shall die with courage in our hearts and demon blood upon our blades. We shall die as men,” he said.

That seemed to perk them up slightly. But only slightly. They knew there was no winning this. They would fall in seconds once the demons attacked the keep. They could only hope their deaths would be swift. But the sickening screams echoing across the city made that hope feel a faint and distant thing…

Amid the hopelessness and despair, Azemandius felt a sense of pride as he stood beside his men. That they hadn’t run hours ago was a testament to their bravery. And even if each of them ran screaming now, he wouldn’t fault them. How could he, when his own knees felt weak, and his stomach churned to the sounds of suffering and torment all around them.

One of the men looked up, as though in prayer, and his face brightened. “My lord! A skyship!” he said.

Azemandius followed the man’s gaze. Sure enough, there was indeed a skyship. Right above them now. Its cannons flared as flying demons assaulted it.

Embers of hope sparked to life within Azemandius’s breast, and he searched the sky for others. For signs of reinforcements that might rescue them from this horrific end.

But there was only the lone skyship, and it was already beginning to turn back. An unlucky traveler it seemed.

Azemandius sighed. It’d been foolish to hope.

Deep, malicious laughter sounded from the other side of the gate ahead of them and a great blow smashed the reinforced wood to splinters as a hulking demon strode through. It carried a massive metal mace larger than Azemandius himself and looked upon them with the fire that took the place of its eyes, crackling in its eye sockets.

“Brave mortal defenders. You earn the right to die screaming by my hand. Come foolish man things. Come and beg for Krozorak The Devourer to grant you a swift death,” the demon said as smaller demons poured out through the empty gateway behind it.

Azemandius drew his sword and glared hatefully at the demon. “Steel yourselves men. Today we—” he was interrupted by the distant sound of screaming that sounded as though it were rapidly getting closer.

AAAAAAAAAAHBAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!

No… not screaming… Was that… laughter?

They all looked up to the source of the sound, to see a fat dwarf falling from the skyship. At first, he looked like little more than a black dot against the sky, but he swelled into view as he plummeted down toward them like a meteor, an axe in one hand and a flagon in the other.

The demon’s burning eyes widened an instant before the dwarf’s fat, armored buttocks crashed down into its enormous skull with a thunderous crack of breaking bone. The gigantic demon collapsed to the ground with a thud that shook the cobblestones and crushed several smaller demons beneath its bulk.

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“Bahahahaha!” The fat dwarf laughed, “it seems I’ve found myself the best seat at the party already.”

The fat dwarf then waved up at the sky ship, seemingly oblivious to the lesser demons that surrounded him. Each wielding wicked pitchforks and staring at him with the same confused shock that Azemandius and his men did.

“Thanks for the ride, Jerimiah! And the mead!” he bellowed with more of that boisterous laughter before taking a swig from his flagon and spilling a good deal of its contents down his long beard that seemed to be threaded and decorated with bands of gleaming silver metal.

“Ah…” the fat dwarf said with a satisfied sigh as he smacked his lips, “nothing like good mead and a little fighting to start the day off right. I’ve had some of the first. Now for a little of the second, I say!”

He grunted as he tried to extricate his buttocks from the demon’s skull but seemed unable to get the proper leverage. He looked then to Azemandius. “Ah, manling. Would you be so kind as to give me a hand? Demon brains are beginning to leak into my underclothes and the sensation is most unpleasant, I assure you,” he said.

“I…” Azemandius tried to speak, but found himself unable to form words, so stunned was he by the insanity before him. A moment ago, he’d been staring death in the eyes, and now the strangest dwarf he’d ever met sat with his buttocks embedded in its skull.

The dwarf wriggled and used the butt of his axe to help lever himself up. His armored buttocks came free with a wet pop and the fat dwarf shook it vigorously, splattering demon blood everywhere.

“Never mind, manling! I seem to have managed on my own,” the dwarf said, still seemingly oblivious to the demons that surrounded him.

The dwarf hiked up the body of the demon he’d killed with his entrance and looked out over the city and the endless horde of the demonic army assaulting it.

“Bah! What’s this then? Your messenger said you had an unstoppable horde of demons. Why this lot barely stretches to the horizon. Hardly enough for even a single afternoon of honest fighting!” The fat dwarf said, with a note of sadness and reproach in his voice.

The demons around the dwarf seemed to finally snap out of their stupor and raced up the body of their master straight for the fat dwarf.

“Watch out!” Azemandius cried, “to arms men!”

The fat dwarf turned to the approaching demons. “Ah, this must be the welcoming committee. Good day to you!” he said, before cutting three of them down with a single swing of his axe as he took another pull from his flagon.

A demon leapt at him, and the fat dwarf thrust out his armored belly, so the creature slammed into it as though it were a mountain and slid off with the squeak of skin sliding over metal and an agonized groan.

Another demon attacked the dwarf, but its pitchfork scraped feebly over the dwarf’s armor, doing nothing but bringing the demon face to face with the dwarf.

The dwarf bit its nose off.

The demon shrieked and stumbled backward as the dwarf laughed. “I got your nose!” he said around a mouthful of that very thing.

The demon clutched at its bleeding face and screamed.

“Bah! Don’t fret! You can have it back!” the dwarf said and spat the demon’s own nose at its face shortly before beheading it with a swing of his axe.

“Pth ptuh. Bleh! If we’re going to play this game, the least you could do is taste better,” the dwarf said as he spat demonic blood from his lips.

In moments, the entire group of demons that Azemandius had been certain would kill them lay dead upon the cobblestones.

“Aww that was over far too soon,” said the dwarf as he took another pull from his flagon, only to realize that it was empty. His eyes widened sadly as though he were a child that found there’d be no presents this winter’s solstice.

“Master dwarf, thank you for coming in our hour of need,” Azemandius said, “Are there more on the way?”

“More?” asked the dwarf, “why there’s hardly enough to go around as it is and you want to share it among even more? What’s wrong with you manling? I just got here and it’s as though you’re already trying to steal all my fun,” the dwarf said as he popped open the lid of his flagon and inspected it closely with one eye, as though searching for even a single remaining droplet of mead.

“But… master dwarf, there’s a massive invasion. My city has already fallen. My citizens are dying in the streets. My people need reinforcements! Please tell me the dwarven kingdoms have heard our cries for aid? What of the Empire of Men? What of--” Azemandius said.

“Easy, manling. You’re sounding a touch frantic. Relax and enjoy the bounty that lays spread before us. Now, if you please. There’s a matter of utmost importance I must see to immediately. Will you aid me, manling?” the dwarf asked.

“Of course, master dwarf! What do you need? Weapons? More armor? A helmet perhaps? Bows? Crossbows? A tactical assessment? Some of my men still hold parts of the walls, but we’re cut off from--” Azemandius asked.

“Bahaha now that’s more like it, manling. But no. What I need… the thing that I require above all else… Is the location of a half-decent tavern. I’ve run out of mead you see, and such a thing cannot be allowed to continue. Fighting without mead is like having sex without a woman. It’s just not the same,” said the dwarf.

“I… you want… a tavern?” Azemandius asked incredulously.

“Wasn’t that what I just said?” the dwarf said before beginning to yell so loudly the cobblestones vibrated, “IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOUR EARS MANLING? I REQUIRE A TAVERN! DO YOU HEAR ME? A TAVEERRRRN?”

“All the taverns are in the lower city. I don’t know if any of them still stand. Demons swarm the streets. You won't make it ten steps before encountering a roaming band of the hell-spawned freaks!” Azemandius said.

The dwarf’s face brightened considerably at that. “Now that sounds like my kind of city!” he said with a laugh and began walking off toward the city proper.

“Wait! Master dwarf! At least tell me your name!” Azemandius said.

“There are some who call me Silverbeard, manling. You’re free to do the same. Now forgive me, but I must go. There’s fighting and drinking to be done! And let it never be said that Silverbeard was one to forgo either! Bahahahaha!” the dwarf said without so much as a glance back.