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Delta the Dwarven Fighter
"Baroom! Baroom!" The orcish horns sounded in the distance. The entire of camp of dwarves jumped into action. Dwarves ran around the camp, putting on their armor and grabbing their weapons, preparing for battle.
"Can't those damn orcs wait 'til I've had my mornin' beer?" a young dwarf grumbled.
"Ah, shut up, ye beardless oaf, and get ready for battle," boomed the voice of Delta the Fighter.
Wielding his trusty dwarven broadsword and holding his lucky beer mug, Delta the Dwarven Weaponmaster led an army of dwarves into battle, showing the orcs no mercy, gulping down the best dwarven beer while splitting the fiendish bodies apart and burning the filthy remains...
"...Delta, wake up..."
"Ah, ye ugly orc caught me beard!"
"Hey, you daydreamer, get out of bed!"
"I'll show yew who's boss around here!"
Snapping back to reality, Delta awoke from his dream. When he realized that he had put his straw pillow into a headlock, he got up and mumbled as he tried to sneak away.
"Um...um, I was jus' taking a...a nap."
"Well, ye better hurry and get dressed and help pa in the shop."
Delta sighed. The youngest of a large family of dwarves, he had always dreamed of becoming a famous dwarven fighter. While his older siblings had grown up and left on exciting adventures, he was the "little 'un with the two-inch beard" that had to help his father in the weapon shop. Delta smiled to himself. At least his apprenticeship was nearly over. His parents wanted him to become a dwarven artisan. Delta nearly guffawed out loud when he thought of this. Like any other dwarf, he dreamed of fighting, of adventure, and of slaying entire orc armies single-handedly...
"Hey, lil' boy! Get over here."
Delta frowned. He hated it when his father called him that, and yet, as the youngest in his family, he had lived through that all his life.
"Aww, don't look like a beat-up elf who just drank some dainty wine. I got some news for ye!"
Delta snapped to attention. Never would HE ever be caught looking like an elf.
"I jus' heard it this morning," said Delta's father, "and ye won't believe the news. The leadur or wahtever of that Caladun place jus' declared war on Upport!"
"Highport," mumbled Delta. He couldn't believe how ignorant his father was.
"Yeh, wahtever. Anyways, as I was jus' sayin', before ye lil' smarty correcte' me, that the leadur of Caladun jus' declared war on Lowport!"
Delta rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"Anyways," his father cackled with a twinkle in his eye, "I hear dey need sum fightas to help them."
Delta's heart jumped up. He tried hard to suppress his excitement.
"Yeh, they need sum fightas to help them, but since ye don't seem all too intere'sted, I reckon ye can jus' stay with me in the shop and..."
Delta couldn't contain himself any longer. "Come on, pa. ye know I've been wanting to go to battle since I was a lil' un." Delta thought for a second. "A really lil' lil' un I mean."
Delta's father chuckled. He looked at his son and thought back to the days when he was a child too, in his father's shop. But he had decided to stay in the shop working with weapons. The old dwarf looked at his soon and smiled. "There's no doubt that the boy will become a brave fighta' and show the enemy what we dwarves are made of," he thought to himself. "I just hope he lasts long enough to get to that point."
Delta waited impatiently as his father cleared his throat. "Son, I've decid'd that yew's about the age to see da the fight, at least I reck'n so." Delta jumped about the room, grabbing a wooden sword and pretended to slay imaginary enemies. His father cleared his throat again. "Of course, ye'll need some training. I hear there's a fighta' in High... that free town over there that is training new fighta's. Kinshell in Gnomesbarrow should be able to tell ye whare he is."
Delta beamed. He was going to see Kinshell, the legendary fighter, who had taken on an entire army of goblins and orcs single-handedly? Delta could hardly believe his ears.
"Well dun't smile that much son, it might make ye' beard fall off!"
But Delta had already run out of his father's shop to pack his belongings. "Oh, and pa, it's Highport!"
Delta's journey had just begun.