Orcblood Legacy: Skirmishes: Orcs by Bernard Bertram

Author:Bernard Bertram [Bertram, Bernard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-03-12T22:00:00+00:00

The dwarf behind the counter—and the other score of patrons within—all rose in bewilderment as Bitrayuul followed Tormag into a nearby tavern with a sign marked The Emberforge. Each of the dwarves’ stern gazes drilled deep into the half-orc, hands clutching the mining picks and hammers at their belts. It was clear that this was the first occasion in which many had seen a half-orc at all, and certainly the first that had ever graced their homeland lacking shackles and wounds.

“Hal thild vant gar’thurim,” Tormag stated to the beady-eyed onlookers. Slowly, the furrowed brows of the dwarven patrons began to wane before each turned back to their mugs. Satisfied, Tormag approached the bar, though the innkeeper still employed a hard scowl as the half-orc struggled to wedge his large frame between the table and stool beneath.

“What be yer drink,” the disgruntled owner stated more than asked, never removing his glare from the young orc-blooded creature, even as Tormag called out a request for two ales. With a grumble, the barkeep grunted and turned toward the storeroom to retrieve the commander’s brew.

Bitrayuul watched the dwarf stomp away with stubby legs thundering against the stone. “Will it always be like this?” he whispered to his mentor. “And what did you say to get the others to back down? Why did it not have the same effect on our host?”

Tormag waved the notions away, signaling it wouldn’t be wise to discuss amid those who would catch wind of unfavorable answers. Bitrayuul held back his disappointed frown as the innkeeper reappeared, a single mug in hand.

The cup was slid down the slick bar toward Tormag, stopping perfectly in front of the commander. Tormag peered down at the tankard, then back to the owner. With a smile on his face, he slowly slid the brew in front of Bitrayuul, never breaking eye contact with their host.

The dwarf behind the counter quickly turned to anger at the commander’s heinous act. Before the irritated innkeeper could act, Tormag waved his hand in the air nonchalantly. “Eh, ‘scuse me, barkeep? Seems I’ve misplaced mine, could ye fetch another? Many thanks, friend.”

As Tormag finished the words, Bitrayuul nearly coughed from gasping so harshly. His stomach twisted in concern as he watched the owner of the inn go red with anger. Glancing to his sides, it was also clear that the once-calmed patrons seemed to return to displeasure at the commander’s antics.

Despite the rage simmering within, the barkeep kicked open the storeroom door and stormed in before returning with a small iron cup filled partially with water. Nearly all the contents were ejected from the container as it slid viciously down the bar into Tormag’s waiting hand.

The petty innkeeper’s face twisted into a smirk. But the expression instantly washed away as Tormag lifted the cup to his mouth and drank what little remained in a single exaggerated gulp before slamming it to the counter in a flourish.

“Ahh, now that’s good! Barkeep, another!”

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