An Odd Dwarf in Red.... Hreidmar

[hreidmar]

*Hreidmar sit's in the musty tavern, periodically gulping an ale as black as a starless night. Someone slides a candle across the table in front of Hreidmar to light their pipe. Hreidmar hides his face from the light and grumbles.*

Hreidmar is a bit of an enigma. Most dwarves are simple, loyal, predictible. It is quite the opposite on all fronts with Hreidmar. He relentlessly displays his out of place, brilliant scarlet robes and kilt. A cross between the garb of a cultish order and leather jerkin of a common thug. He's often seen acting flinchy, peering from side to side suspiciously, making frequent hand and body motions for no apparent reasons. He is also frequently unseen at some of those times when you feel strangely uncomfortable.

He professes devout religious intentions, but will share little or no information about his religious origins... though he is quick to point out the weaknesses of yours. Whom can he be a disciple of? Deep Duerra?... Vergadain?... surely no foul non-dwarven deity. Twould be too blasphemous for even this strange dwarf.

His reputation is all over the board, common criminal to some, experienced and fair merchant to others, and devoted warrior -- so long as there is a fair share of coin at the end of the endeavor.

He's been seen perchasing rather exquisite wares, however he seems to refrain from displaying much wealth openly. Perhaps the best should be kept secret. He seems a bit new to the whole adventuring business, yet he is very old even for a dwarf. His voice is like the sound of a wolf crunching bones in it's maw. His bald head is bumpy and speckled like the skin of a boar. His Beard, long and white is stained brown near his mouth from ale and rust near it's end from who knows what.

Rumor is that he's been seen using the powers of a mild form of necromancy, and he has also been seen showing off a golden dagger to a few dwarf lads. He seems to prefer the company of dwarves and those of the shadier sect of of society.

His work is good even if a bit "sloppy" at times. He is always looking for work.

"HAH! Fer Da Trove!" *He calls out as he heads up to the bar to refill his mug having apparently just sealed some sort of deal. You notice he has left a small silver coin on his seat.... You look up to the bar again and he is gone like a draft of wind.*

[hreidmar]

*an intercepted letter addressed simply to the "the red one's of Vaasa gate" scribed in dwarven with the gold wax seal of a coin with a dagger imprint*

Dear Kin,

I have arrived safely in Isinhold two moons ago by the time this letter reaches you. I have been making a decent living here and there is no shortage of treasure bound to be free from it's keepers. There are many dwarves in the area which comforts me, but the number of folks consumed in their pious, self-righteousness is disturbing at times. There are no red priests in the area, which means I am the first to preach the ways of our lord in this area. None know of our priesthood to my knowledge and the best has been kept secret.

I have learned many new tricks since I have left the beloved temple, and good fortune has brought me under the favor of our lord as he blesses me with many great and terrible powers. I am still awkwardly trying to control this new found power. The cold sting of hades runs through my veins and finds it's way out unleashed upon my enemies.

They are utterly plagued with bandits, unlawfulness, chaos and ill will in the lands surrounding Isinhold. In fact there is a city to it's southwest by the name of Redmist that has fallen into some dark state of mob rule. I am scoping this city out as a hotbed of greed and potential outpost from which to launch a second red temple.

Greed lust has gotten me into some rather deep trouble you will be happy to know, another sign that our lord watches over me in my quest. I had observed and learned the act of "pinching" that a halfling was initiating in an open market. It's the act of bumping into a fellow and hoisting out a pinch of coins, perhaps a key, etc. It was an ability that earned me many an hot meal and cold drink, but I had taken it a bit to far in a drunken rampage and unintentionally tried to "pinch" a very accomplished adventurer of the city. He sicked his lapdog on me and has tried to banish me from the city limits.

This hostile infraction does indeed make life more difficult as most of my trade and dealings is centered within Isinhold until I find a more hospitable arrangement in some other shady territory. However, it was a good lesson in trying to quell the greed lust and I have been becoming rather adept at moving around unheeded incognito either by the shadows or openly in disguise. If you do visit Isinhold, as I beg you to do so, you may get some dirty looks if you mention my name in the open. Simply ask for the dwarf in red, and I will find you.

Aside from making a name for myself as a pilferrer, I have also earned the unlikely respect as a hero in some rare circles. Much of the employment in Isinhold is centered around saving some unfortunate fools from some such nonesense. Turns out that I had a lot to do with freeing a regiment of elves that were taken hostage at the city's west by an organized band of Hobgoblins. The pay was unfortunately meager, but I have earned myself an ever so small slice of influence. Hopefully I can use it to some ends that brings me prosperity. Many woeful folk have been helped by the mysterious dwarf in red, HoeHumm!

Well there are some ruins that I have been tipped off about that undoubtedly hold many secret treasures. I must get back to my deceitful duty. Tell Nain I miss his drunken treachery and hope the trove has found him well. Please take my meager offering and burn it on the yearly sacrificial pyre.

May a thousand daggers glance off your back, may you rest forever along the banks of the river of gold!


For the Trove! For the Lord!
Hreidmar

*at the bottom of the letter, a small bloodstone is fixed to the parchment with wax*

[hreidmar]

Hriedmar sits in Suzail's Black Rat Tavern contemplating his days of old in Vaasa and the long trek to reach Cormyr for it's fabled wealth. His brother Kaincal finds him alone and sits down next to him with a solid *kerthunck!*
they go over spotty segments of their memory together.

*Hreidmar inhales deeply over the froth of his ale, sucking a bit up his nose*
Oi ken almost smell de glacial air in de high and cold mounts of Galena *Hreidmar sips from an ale and looks about the inn suspiciously* the exact location is of no concern...

*Hreidmar leans over the table and puts out the lantern with his dry finger and thumb*

Remember when we used to 'float the river' lad, eh?
*he chuckles to Kaincal and a fiery glint sparkles in his left eye*
We'd get word of an impending orc raid upon Damara, and silently follow dem doan de mountains and doan de river. Dey'd slaughter everyting in sight and make such an aweful mess. Bloody poor Damarans. Ne'er seen it coming too much did dey. "

*Kaincal butts in very excitedly at the mention of bloodshed*
Aye and when dem orcs comes back up trail, we'd be waiting fer em, and slay dem all. We'd cut der gurgling troats we would. Den take all der loot back tede Barazu temple and be rewarded wit an feast!

*Hreidmar smiles longingly and looks into the suds in his darkened ale*
Aye lad dem wos good toimes alroite.

*kaincal raves like a peasant child receiving a brand new toy*
oo oo, ye remeber dat toime we followed dat pompous nobleman into de forest an ye was dressed up as an gobby? We made dat ruckus like ye was attackin me and den oi felled ye? Ee came over te see if oi wos 'urt and ye got up an konked 'im on de knoggin and we robbed 'im naked? ... ye always made de best disguises brodder.

*Hreidmar smacks his palm on the solid oak table stained with blood and ale of a hundred years*
Aye keep it doan lad... ye dun't wanna bring de wrath of de Purples ohn us fer dat do ye? Dat damned noble was partly paralyzed after dat and caused such an stink in Hulburg o'er it. *He makes a fist as if he is grasping something very tight* But lo! de expensive ammy oi find's on dat one. Oi sold dat in de mountain fer tree tousand and de Barazu sacrificed it in de temple trove. Oi became an initiate dat day oi did.

*Kaincal scrunches up one side of his face* Bah, wot ye get mixed up wit dem bloody reds fer lad. If ye dun't watch it, could be ye up on dat alter wit yer troat cut one day. *Kaincal sips from his ale and looks up meekly, remembering what they used to tell bad dwarflings about what the Barazu would do to them if they didn't behave*

*Hreidmar polishes of his ale and pinches the ale wench on the arse in one motion. She slaps him and he smiles, continuing the conversation, not missing a beat* Dun't act like yer nay bitten by de greed lust lad. All we dwarves is, though many de self righteous will deny it. Dat be de Wyrm of de Horde workin on ye. Ye serve's 'im and ye get an right proper cut lad. *Ye looks around and leans over the table, whisperring hoarsley* And powers o'er de dead mate. De chill sting of Hades mind ye.

*Kaincal waves his hand in front of Hreidmar* Wot e'er brodder. Oi prefers te work alone. Too much organization ye got mixed up in mate... and now ye is even looking fer more. Tis goona get ye stabbed in de back one a dese days, ye mark my words and remember dat when de dagger strikes ye in de neck and ye are on yer way te de ground.

*Hreidmar barks* BAH!

*Kaincal Grouches back* BAHH!

*after a few moments of Grumbling and pretending each the other is not there, Kaincal breaks the silence and starts fresh as if no argument had happened* So 'ow did ye get past dem guards ye in trouble wit at Thantia? *Kaincal innocently looks up from a sip of ale*

*Hreidmar unfolds his arms and looks at Kaincal after a while and relaxes*
Simple... hmph. *He picks a fingernail with a dagger then points the dagger generally Northish* Oi didn't go Tru Thantia. Oi went south of de Moonsea and tru de elf lands.

*Kaincal spits his ale all over Hreidmar and the table* Elf lands! Are ye cocked mate? Dem scourge could'a pinned ye thru wit arrows and fed ye te der horses. Ye sure 'ave gone mad in yer old age, since yer wife....uh... ummm... hmmmm *Kaincal realizes the path he is going down and silences himself with a deep gulp of ale*

*Hreidmar cringes and gives Kaincal an evil squint* Ye mind yer business brodder, oi am nay above throwin me preist'ood away and sendin ye back te Vaasa in an pine coffin *He waves his dagger at Kaincal like a strict teacher might wave a ruler at a naughty pupil*

*Well beyond the uncomfortable pause Hreidmar grumbles* Elf coin worth de same as dwarf coin. Ye bribe de right guard an ye will go far lad. Oh, and oi stowed away in a caravan of grain all de way from Mistledale te Tilverton.

*Kaincal thinks about working some sort of apology in, but realizes to do so is not for the best* Why dun't ye get ye some rest brodder. Ye've pinched a lot teday and ye've 'ad plenty mer te drink.

*Hreidmar is already asleep and slightly snoring*

*Kaincal warmly pats his older brother on the shoulder and sneaks 7 coin out of Hreidmars breast pocket* Oi'll get de tab mate.