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getting equipped 1
May. 15th, 2005 09:34 amDirans learn fast, and I’m a class three because I’m too small to use some weapons and techniques, not because I’m stupid. Sunnydale is tame, literally. It’s been a while since I worked in a place with wild animals, (and humans have all kinds of crazy rules.) I made some changes to my weapons as soon as we got to town.
We aren’t allowed to use anything that’s let the natives catch on that there are Diran loose, but these people are right behind the idea of poisoned lances. There are a lot of little folk around. Crossbow bolts are easy to get and my gun fires the standard issue. I got a scaled down cross-bow, as well, in case my batteries run out.
It turned out that I didn’t have to rely on The Greckle to pick out my stuff after all. We passed the smithy while we were on the way in. The blacksmith was about as tall as me but thick enough through to be a human squashed out of shape. The word “bulbous” could have been invented to describe that nose – and that was about all I could see through a beard you could have hidden a sheep in. He looked stout and fat people are often soft – but every time the smith moved you could see the bulky muscles knot and shift.
I’d seen something like that in the past, but I wasn’t sure until later, when Marty explained that it was a dwarf. Not a small human but a separate species. They live longer than humans, both sexes have beards and they all look more or less like that smith. A lot of dimensions have them, and customs vary. Mostly they live underground, in some mines it’s the custom to announce the sex of a newborn baby at birth, but in most places they keep quiet about it and just use the word “he” for all dwarves. They all the dress and act the same and they all get treated the same – and one day they just … sort it out for themselves.
Marty said that the Boss won’t take a summons from a Dwarf Underhold, it goes to a different department. But he’s heard them sing, all right. They may pour down the beer, sleep with their battleaxes and worship gold but some of them bottle things up a lot. When I thought about it I could see why.
We aren’t allowed to use anything that’s let the natives catch on that there are Diran loose, but these people are right behind the idea of poisoned lances. There are a lot of little folk around. Crossbow bolts are easy to get and my gun fires the standard issue. I got a scaled down cross-bow, as well, in case my batteries run out.
It turned out that I didn’t have to rely on The Greckle to pick out my stuff after all. We passed the smithy while we were on the way in. The blacksmith was about as tall as me but thick enough through to be a human squashed out of shape. The word “bulbous” could have been invented to describe that nose – and that was about all I could see through a beard you could have hidden a sheep in. He looked stout and fat people are often soft – but every time the smith moved you could see the bulky muscles knot and shift.
I’d seen something like that in the past, but I wasn’t sure until later, when Marty explained that it was a dwarf. Not a small human but a separate species. They live longer than humans, both sexes have beards and they all look more or less like that smith. A lot of dimensions have them, and customs vary. Mostly they live underground, in some mines it’s the custom to announce the sex of a newborn baby at birth, but in most places they keep quiet about it and just use the word “he” for all dwarves. They all the dress and act the same and they all get treated the same – and one day they just … sort it out for themselves.
Marty said that the Boss won’t take a summons from a Dwarf Underhold, it goes to a different department. But he’s heard them sing, all right. They may pour down the beer, sleep with their battleaxes and worship gold but some of them bottle things up a lot. When I thought about it I could see why.
