Editing BW XXV - Hintzu

The dwarf was not typical; he wore supple leather armour, without a hint of metal plating.  He carried no shield or battleaxe and neither did he have a majestic beard or unkempt hair spilling down onto his shoulders from under a heavy war helm.  He was lean, clean shaven and bore swords of differing length at his side.  In fact, the only reason Hintzu thought him to be a dwarf was because he was short by comparison to the man stood near him and the ornately carved, dark furniture which surrounded him.  Of course the man could have been a giant but Hintsu knew that he was not. No, giants did not look like samurai; Hintsu had seen pictures, in the Monastery at Vorsaykarai, of oriental giants and even the most war-like looked like simple bushido – never samurai.  As the vision became clearer, the Monk realised that the samurai wore symbols he recognised to be that of Tuar Chan, beautifully woven in precious metals onto his armour.    

“Neruk, thank you for agreeing to my Lord’s request.” The Samurai’s voice echoed briefly off the stone walls and high ceiling which seemed to close in on the pair.

“Of course Haraki-san, it is in our mutual interest.  Your Sama will keep his part of the deal, of that I am sure – he is an honourable man.” 

The dwarf peered up suspiciously at the Samurai in front of him, with his right hand resting gently on the pommel of a sword.  The man, for his part, was nonplussed; both katana and wakasashi remained within easy reach but he stood, as samurai would, with his fists clenched, resting on his hips and his legs slightly apart in an easy arrogance. 

“Indeed, and I have his first order here,” the Samurai moved smoothly pulling an ivory scroll case from his sleeve, which he passed to the dwarf.

“And what of the supply routes to Nega and Ochi?” the Dwarf asked nervously as he took the scroll from its case and began to read.

“They will be closed and the Drow will blockade the cities,” came the easy reply.  The Samurai studied the Dwarf carefully as he read the scroll. “With our allies, we will smash those of Yagatamo’s forces stupid enough to remain in this land and not follow my Lord.”

The Dwarf looked more relaxed, “Good.  Leave the house of Findor to us,” he said returning the Samurai’s gaze, “they have delved in these halls for the last time.” 

“And of your part?” It was the Samurai’s turn to gain assurance.

“We will hold to our bargain; the first instalment is ready for dispatch and the rest will follow before the moon has waned.”

Relieved, the man pointed to a low table carved in the form of an oriental dragon, on which stood a bottle of rice wine and two ornate porcelain cups; “Drink with me, my friend, to seal the bargain.”

“Very well but my palate has become more accustomed to a less refined flavour.” Pulling a silver flask from a pocket hidden inside his leather armour and uncorking it with his teeth, the Dwarf threw his head back and drank.

“As you wish,” replied the samurai, moving to the iron bound oak door, clearly insulted, “if our business is done, I’ll bid you farewell.”  

Apparently oblivious to the insult, the dwarf lowered the flask, swallowed noisily, and replied, “Before you go, Haraki-san, you may be interested in some intelligence that I have.”

“Go on,” the man, still seething, turned abruptly ready to face this unexpected change in direction.

“Of course if what I say now proves useful, I will expect something in return.” Neruk was again smiling nervously, almost unable to contain his excitement and glad that he had taken the advantage.

“Of course; now what is it?”  The Samurai was losing patience.

“My sources have located Yagatamo.”  There was no disguising the dwarf’s happiness.

“Really?” Haraki-san sounded sceptical.

“Or rather we know precisely where he is,” the heady brew supped from his flask and his obvious glee made the dwarf’s cheeks shine red.

“That would be valuable information indeed,” facing the dwarf, Haraki-san once again peered into his dark eyes, looking for a hint of obfuscation.

Interspersed with another long pull on his flask, the Dwarf continued, “Perhaps we can trade? Gulp, gulp. My information, for your assistance with another thorny issue..?”

The Samurai moved a pace closer, looming over the little man with menacing presence, “What issue Neruk?  My time and patience are running out.” 

“Orodruin’s House; they have something we want. Gulp!” another loud slurp, “If I could count on your Lord’s support when the time is right,” he held up the scroll and continued, “- again assured by signed contract - my information is his.  Trust me, he will be very happy.”

“Let me sample your information before I report to Tuar Chan-Sama; you say it concerns the precise location of Yagatamo? The Drow believe him to be dead - drowned by their pet the great Kraken.” The Samurai’s eyes glowered with malice, “we have Her assurance.” 

The Dwarf’s laughter was quickly stifled when he looked again at the Samurai’s expression, “No, he’s very much alive; well, barely alive...”

Bending low to bring his face very close to Neruk’s, the Samurai gave his assurance, “You’ll have what you want Neruk, provided your information is accurate; you have my word.”

“The Drow have him in Morgrad.” Neruk nearly choked as he spoke, such was his glee.  

It was clear that the Samurai still had his doubts. “And how do you know this?

“We have ways; we have many friends and our relationships stretch back before your folk ever set foot on the Prime.” The Dwarf was about to take another drink when the Samurai grabbed his armour and raised him off the ground, bringing him closer still to his face.

“Do not press me Neruk!”