"BLASPHEMY!!" screamed Balok, keeper of the oldest recorded texts of the Messanger. "'Tis to be a Dwarf...the one true People who is to be the Messanger ."
A deep, terrible laughter emanates from the woman before the dwarves, causing even the stoutest of heart to tremble in fear.
"NAY..'TIS ONLY DWARVEN ARROGANCE SUCH AS THOU'S WHO MADE YOUR RELIGIOUS TEACHINGS READ THUS!" the Voice booms out in the Old tongue. "DWARVES WERE TO BE THE TEACHERS OF THE ARTE.TO SHARE WITH ALL THE OTHERS EQUALLY!! ALL WERE TO BE EQUALS UNDER THE TEACHINGS AND ARTES FROM THE FORGE! TARIN GAZIN KNEW THIS IN HIS HEART..IF NOT WITH HIS MIND.AND THUS STARTED DWARVENKIND ON THE TRUE PATH WITH HIS PACT WITH THE HUMANS, BOTH TERRAN AND GOLEM. "
Tarin Gazin feels flustered as a wild mix of pride, awe, and amazement at the very god that he has linked his life to has named him as some kind of savior to his race.
And to think I nearly talked myself out of letting her come! he gibbers to himself
"I call for the Duel!" screams Balok, enraged beyond rational thought. "You aren't Kangester, the Forge!! Truth will be shown by the victor!"
Balok was positively allergic to magic. The woman gave off a particular.odor.but nothing that was indicative of hostile human (or draconian) magery!
"Perhaps.." the Voice says in a amused voice. "But by the laws of Dwarven Combat, I get to chose the weapon type! I chose Pistols. Mine.against the revolver you were going to show in an attempt to upstage Tarin in this meeting!!"
Balok blinked, momentarily not so confident in his actions, then firmed. His resentment at the sudden pull and prestige of Tarin..an embarrassment to the Dwarven race because of his weakling ability to glimpse into the future. Even the newest techniques to metallurgy he gifted the People shouldn't be enough for letting him back in!
"Father! Let me take her, for I'm the best at the new Weapons!" his only son said with manifest pride. Again, fear struck Balok, but now he risked loosing face if he backed down...and his son was the best of his Clan. No, this impostor didn't stand a chance
No mere human stood a chance against his son! He was as swift as a striking snake (and twice as ruthless in battle).
And so Terra was witness to it's first gunfight, shades of the American West of our Earth.
The young dwarf's holster was more like the 20th century military soldier than that of a gunfighter, but it served the young dwarf's ego. For he was swift with his gun...compared to his other dwarven friends.
Walker's holster rig was almost a mirror image of the gunfighter of old. Only her holster was that of synthetic material, not leather. Due to the nature of what an Alliance soldier faced, the design had to allow for ease of access to one's gun. Those who lived for long in the Military were by needs....swift.
That was the environment that the Military soldier lived within until the end of the Enemy/Alliance war!
And so they face each other...and.
That's all the sound Walker's energy pistol makes.
Alliance man portable weapons like plasma rifle and energy pistol are quiet things by nature (all the better for snipping you...dearie!)..and thus the young dwarf suddenly is surprised to find a blazing wound ..before he drops his revolver and dies.
Balok screams in anguish as his son falls to the ground, and struggles to reach out to strangle the woman who had killed that of his blood.
A pile of desperate dwarves are holding him back, fearing how the maddened dwarf would anger the Forge by soiling his (her?) chosen avatar with his touch.
"A curse on you...a curse on your family...a curse on your Clan.." the Forge said through Walker as she gently caressed the enraged dwarfs face. "Go..Cursed one! Go and join the kinfolk you have allied yourself with! Go and become one of them. Ye shall keep your skills...but will suffer as you watch proceeding spawning lots of orclets degenerate into the uncouth...ill mannered and dull folk you laughed at even as you joined in alliance.
The image of Balok grows stiff as the dwarves suddenly jump away in disgust as....the xenophobic dwarf begins to mutate into a...very familiar.and very hated racial enemy!
Stomachs churn in the realization that Orcs aren't a failed attempt of a dark god at creating elves (questionable pursuit in the heart of many dwarves..but the result of a curse upon Dwarven Clans blighted by their god.
179 chuckles softly to himself, rather enjoying that assignment from the Higher Ups. He only regrets having to making the SOB vanish back to his now Orcen Clan...instead of letting the other shocked dwarves kill him.
1/24/2000 6:17:35 PM
The Never Ending Quest Home
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