Refugees

9/27/05

The massive entrance of Iron Forge loomed ahead. Hecubus swelled with pride recalling the stories of the construction of Iron Forge passed down through his family. Generations of Dwarven tradesmen of all kinds labored in the massive mountain. Many families are able to trace their lineage through the construction of Iron Forge. Once near completion, the gnomes (not to be excluded) built a tram through the dwarven tunnel from Iron Forge to Stormwind.

"A tram" chuckled Hec and danced a little circle: "Oooo I'm soooo impressed"

* Crazy Dwarf *

... and with a nod they moved into the rumbling mountain.

The smell and crackle of molten metals and flux stired something deep in Hecs soul. With focused determination Hec instinctually turned left past the bustling Auction House, along the venting forge valley. Taking another left into a small dark room his great journey of purpose had come to conclusion.

"Barkeep! Ten brews if you please!" roared Hecubus as he stepped up to the bar.

The young barkeep looked the hunter up and down, wrinkled his nose at Bob, looked slowly left... then right. "Your friends. They invisible, or are you still learning to count?" Laughter roared from every corner of the pub, their attention turning to the bar.

Hec plopped himself onto one of the stools. "Boy, didn't your mum teach you to respect your elders?" Hec deftly grabbed the barkeeps tunic and pulled him onto the bar bringing their noses together with a light *bump*. "I said... ten brews ... thank you kindly" and let him drop back onto his feet.

The barkeeps face went red and his eyes narrowed. "I'll not take that from an old man!" he blurted and reached for the blade under the bar. Before his fingers touched the cold steel he paused at the familiar clicking sound. His slowly raised his eyes, then opened them wide at the site of the rifle an inch from his nose. The rifle was twice the length of his arm and the craftsmanship was astounding upon first glance. Delicate scrolling of the inlaid rare metals glinted in the lamplight, and the stock was carved and etched from an unfamiliar dark hard wood. But it wasn't the obvious care and skill of the rifles maker that had his attention; it was the smell of fresh gunpowder and oil from the unwavering black muzzle between his eyes that held his focus.

Bob swung around to face the crowd to the sound of chairs sliding backwards and weapons being drawn, then silence as the next move was pondered. He scanned the crowd for the most dangerous target and waited for the moment to pounce.

Hec nods to the rifle and raises his voice for everyone to hear. "This here is Lucille. She was made ten generations ago and wasn't given to me until I could hit a beetle at fifty paces. She's prettier than my wife, half as mean, and doesn't kick as hard. Be thankful I brought her instead of my wife otherwise you'd be deaf and cowering like a dog!"

There was a pause, then snickers began making their way through the crowd, bursting into uncontrollable roars of laughter. With a grin Hecubus flicked Lucille into the holster on his back in a familiar, fluid motion. The barkeep blinked a few times not believing what had just happened. His rage had dissipated at the sight of Lucy but was still not pleased at being made a fool. He began drawing brews from the keg and set them in front of the Hec who took each in turn and handed to the bar patrons, who began slapping each other on the back and singing.

The owner had come downstairs to investigate and his eyes lit up at the site of the hunter. "HECUBUS!" he yelled with a smile and came forward to grasp his arm. Hec put an arm around his old friend Barley Bitterbrew and explained the simple misunderstanding that had occured. After the story was told (with the help of the patrons roaring and clapping him on the back), Barley turned to the barkeep and smacked the back of his head hard enough to cause his ponytail to take a comical flip into the air. "No son of mine is going to be disrespectful! Respect is earned boy, but common courtesy is GIVEN! Now go change your trousers before you stink up the whole place!" With this last remark the patrons roared even louder at the barkeeps further embarrassment and the party was on.

---------------------------

A single thought screamed in Hecs head: "DROWNING!" Hec snapped his head up, eyes wide with panic. Bob licked his face again. "Argh, Bob! Why do you keep doing that to me?!"

* You fell asleep in your brew again. The sun is up. Time to move. *

Hecs eyes widen as the memories push their way through the effects of the nights festivities. "BLOODY HELL! THE FORGE! I need to get to the FORGE!"

Hecubus tiptoes his way through the snoring pile of bodies on the floor. Once outside the pub he grabs Bobs tail as he passes by and begins taking large hops as Bob hits a full run. A child points at the pair with a squeal and giggles. Mouths hang open at the absurd sight of Hecubus hopping wildly while holding onto the tigers tail.

Just prior to entering the cavern they stop. Hec pulls out a dirty cloth to shine his head, beard and ponytail, armor and quizzically removes a pair of strange undergarments from under his chest armor. With a shrug he tosses them over his shoulder and slowly moves into the great cavern.

The odd pair moves towards a great gathering in the center of the cavern. Imajicaan steps forward and the two shake hands rigorously. “Glad to see you are the punctual type, Hecubus.”

“Of course! I’ve been deep in preparation since last night!” replies Hec ignoring the cough from Bob.

“What is that?” asks Imajicaan staring intently at Hecs face. “You have a red circle on your face…”

Hec recalls waking up with his face in his mug of ale and recovers quickly…

“I tracked a Troll rogue that sneaked into Iron Forge into the pub. It was a nasty battle but I sent him to his maker.” Hecs eyes flicked back and forth and shifted his foot in case he had to run. Hec suddenly wished he had picked some mint before the festivities last night.

With a hearty laugh Imajiacaan turns to the crowd gathered at the great forge. “Refugees! Your attention please!” he bellows. “I bring to you today the hunter Hecubus who wishes to become an initiate in the Refugees Guild…”

Hec grunts as he kneels in front of the crowd.

(Two Hours later)

“… and so Hecubus you are now officially an initiate of Refugees.”

“Thank you very much for the opportunity. It will be my goal to honor the traditions and principles which the Refugees is founded upon. I WILL Walk with Honor.”

“Meeting adjourned!” Imajicaan continues to rowdy cheers from the crowd.

Nittering began introductions:

“Fyraan” then whispers (“Rather suicidal during battle, but packs a punch”)
“Dreamz” (“You met her during the last battle. She’s why you are still breathing.”)
“Rowyco” (“Hunter extraordinaire. Don’t piss off Serge!”)
“Vhoghul” (“If you want someone dead quick, you’re going to need him”)
“Nef” (“Master of the dark arts and someone you want on your side.”)
“Seabound” (“He’s not just pretty, he’s functional too”)
“Navarra” (“Important to have for her healing PLUS the extra punch when you need it.”)

“You’ve already met Fernmug, Imajicaan and yours truly” grins Nittering. “There are lots more of us, but you’ll meet them later. Any questions?”

Hec nods towards Seabound. “Why does he keep nodding at me? It creeps me out… all that nodding… it’s not natural.”

Nittering stares at Hec for a moment… “Ya… um… let’s get together for an ale, okay?”

Will Hecubus meet the other Refugees? Will Bob eat Nef? Will Seabound EVER stop nodding?

Find out in the next episode of: Just a Dwarf and his Tiger!