It felt like the world was dead. There was no wind, animals made no noise, nor did they move. Birds suddenly stopped singing, horses stopped neighing, and even men stayed silent for a moment. The green moon rose slowly to the clear black night sky, pulsating sickly pale light. It was this moon, which had stopped life, for it was Morrslieb, and wicked things happened when it was in the sky.
Three travelers, heading for the port side town of New Emskrank, stopped to observe the moon. They were all dressed in black robes, which yet paled against the darkness of the night.
After a long silent moment of eyeing the moon, one of them spoke "See, Morrslieb is up, it brings bad luck if we enter New Emskrank while it is in the sky,"
The other traveler, only an inch or two shorter, turned to speak to him "You'd rather spend the night sleeping in the woods?"
" I would rather spend it in a keg hall in Ekrund, than here. I still think this was a bad idea."
Then the tallest of them, towering above the two, finally entered the conversation, and at the same time, ended it "You two have been arguing for this the whole time so be silent for a moment." Silence ensued.
There were other differences between these three travelers too, the shortest of them had a long white beard which ran down all the way to his round and well fed belly. His hair were tied together with a golden ring behind his back. The other short traveller would have looked almost a replica were his beard and hair not a very light brown, and his hair tied up with three rings in different directions. The tallest of them had no mighty beard, but a small one covering the front of his chin, and the area around his lips, which were whitened by weeks of travelling by foot in winter. He had long hair, the colour of sand brown, but his most striking feature was the eye-pad he had over his left eye. They got moving again. There were no roads still intact, for Nordland was a house of war, and most of the fighting happened near New Emskrank, which, in fact, was one of the reasons for them to go there. They traveled at a slow pace, at least for men, for the short travelers had stunt legs and did not move quickly. The trees they saw looked pale and unhealthy, and the ones that didn't, were completely dead. It was very cold and white snow covered the earth. Soon they arrived to the gates of New Emskrank, or rather, what was left of it; A wooden stockade littered with holes made by the enemy's cannons, and at some places had collapsed completely. There were two men, also towering above the short travelers, who protected the entrance to the town, dressed in the blue and green livery of the county of Nordland.
As they approached, one of them halted them and started to ask questions "Who are you?" he asked with a bored tone which comes only from repeating the same thing over and over.
"I am Serran, the blond bearded dwarf is Hjordik, and the white bearded dwarf is called Guthleif," the tall traveler answered, revealing his two stunt companions were not men, but of the old and proud race of dwarfs.
"What is your business in New Emskrank?" the guard continued with a flat tone, yet he was visibly surprised by the two dwarfs and openly stared at them.
"Our business shall remain our own."
"That is going to...cost you," the guard answered with an eager, sly voice.
"I'd wouldn't bet on it," said the black bearded dwarf called Hjordik, and revealed a small axe from under his robe.
"I'm not used to being commanded by puny humans," he continued, and visibly placed his left hand on the axe.
"C-carry on then," the guard said, paling at the sight of the weapon, and with unsteady hands saluted them. The three companions continued with short steps, and they could still feel the guard's eyes boring at them. New Emskrank smelled clearly of salt, as did all port cities, for wherever there was fish, there was salt to keep it eatable. The town buildings were mostly small, poor two stored apartments made of thin pine planks. The the town hall, church of Sigmar, and the house of Morr, were an exception, all made of red granite which gave them an appearance as though they were ablaze from afar. Many of the buildings were in need of repair, and large pieces of wood laid on the streets. The people who walked on the streets were seemingly busy all the time, and there were not many healthy young men, as they had been called to war. The tavern was found in the port district, as always, for it is seamen who go to taverns most usually. They entered the tavern, and Serran went to talk to the bartender, who was a middle aged man, with a tan face and a long scar going across his left cheek.
"I would like to rent a room," Serran told plainly.
"How many are you?" the bartender asked, but his words were nearly drowned as the seamen started to sing some merry song.
"THREE!" answered Serran, trying to raise his voice so it might be heard.
"ROOM 8!" the bartender told, handing Serran a small key. Suddenly the song changed into a one which sounded older, and Serran could recognise it was the dwarfs who were singing. Serran quickly stepped to the table where the dwarfs were, just as Guthleif was demonstrating his drinking skills by swallowing a whole tankard filled with dark brown ale with one drink.
"You might hand me one of those?" asked Serran as the seamen were applauding and cheering furiously to Guthleif's achievement. "There's one 'ere," Guthleif answered, handing him a tankard. And so the three companions drank and sang through the night.
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