Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman

The commander looked at him inquisitively and motioned for him to speak.

“This may lend some credence to at least part of his story. The part about the old woman at the Roof of the World? That much at least is true. I was there. My family were the dwarves that she met.”

Colonel Oakes looked at him, raised an eyebrow and he explained quickly. When he was finished the Commander gave a sharp nod and sent him to collect a Battlemage.

“Ah, Ranger. Is it true that the southern goblins have come to help us?” asked one of the mages as he approached.

“So it seems. The Colonel wants to speak to one of you about some new information. Can you come?”

The other dwarf nodded and Engvyr led him back to the command area. The mage raised an eyebrow when he saw the goblins among the commanders, speaking with them and apparently perfectly at ease. Colonel Oakes saw them, made a comment to one of the other officers and came over. He quickly explained what they had been told and the mage shook his head, disturbed.

“We've been trying to suss out what the Baasgarta are up to, but we can't make heads or tails of what we're sensing. Certainly it jibes with some of that goblin's remarkable story and what little we know of the eldritch gods, but is it true? I can't say for certain, but I hope not!”

“Bring the rest of the mages up here, with us,” the commander said, “I want you folks reporting to me as things happen.”

The mage departed. With the spoiling of the flank-attack the fighting had slowed down for the night, with only occasional shots, shouts or screams being heard. Wherever possible the troops were being given a hot meal and some rest. The fighting would most likely resume at first light.

Engvyr stayed with the command group. He watched Grimnael gesture, ask questions and state opinions on the conduct of the battle as if he'd been working with the dwarves for years. Something about him, perhaps his assumption that he belonged, made it easy for the dwarves to accept him. Before long several goblin runners had made their appearance, conveying his orders back and forth to their own soldiers just as the dwarves were doing among themselves.

Near midnight the officers took a break, sitting down and relaxing. Refreshments were brought and Engvyr took the opportunity to speak with Grimnael.

“Do you believe the Baasgarta's story? That the Dreamer is really trying to raise one of the Dead Gods?”

The goblin shrugged and replied, “I do know that the tribal elders, who know much that I do not, believe enough to take him seriously. I think your own leaders do not believe, not completely, but they will take no chances. When your reinforcements arrive I believe that they will assault the city.”

“What of you and your people?” Engvyr asked.

“I have two battalions more of infantry,” Grimnael said, “They will join the assault. We may have other resources that will be of help as well.”

They talked of other things, Engvyr's marriage and assumption of an estate, the liberation of the Braell and Deandra's efforts there. Engvyr kept looking at the goblin's gun. It was different than any dwarven gun he had seen, with a long slender barrel and a somewhat bulbous shoulder stock covered in leather. A lever, hinged at the end of the butt stock ended at the trigger-guard. A block of what appeared to be dense, oily hardwood around four and a half inches long and an inch thick protruded from the mechanism at one side. Seeing his interest Grimnael removed the block of wood and extended the weapon to him.

“Is smoothbore lined with brass,” the goblin explained, gesturing, “There is a bellows inside butt-stock, and a cam on the lever that opens bellows against a spring. Trigger releases spring, bellows puffs air.”

He gestured with the block of wood. Engvyr noticed the end of the block was covered in waxed paper, and there were notches in the side of it.

“Not enough power to shoot bullets well. The block has five tubes, each tube has four-inch steel dart. Dart can kill small game, rabbits, hares, maybe coyote. For war is coated with poison- very fast poison! Hit head, throat, man die in seconds. Hit anywhere maybe a minute. Causes convulsions. Very painful. Range is short compared to rifles, but fires very quickly for five shots, then reload with new 'magazine.'

Engvyr noted that the weapon seemed as well-made as their own. Different solution to making a gun, he thought, but it sure seems to work.