Embarking

Seven dwarves, ferried days away across the sea aboard a human transport ship, with a single mission given by their King.

 “You are the pioneers of my new empire. You will be the first successful settlers to leave the continent. Go forth, to the island uncharted – Opuorid – and spread the boundaries of this great kingdom.”

And so the seven dwarves, Kol the Mason; Ast the Butcher; Alath the Miner; Shorast the Farmer; Ilral the Architect; Udib the Geologist and Vucar the Woodcutter, set sail for Opuorid aboard an allied Human merchant ship, with supplies for one whole season. As they reached the shore and disembarked they bid thanks and farewell to the Human merchants. One by one the dwarves stepped down from the wagon and took stock of their surroundings.

Ast the Butcher found a sturdy rock and clambered on top of it, raising his arms and clapping his hands.

 “Attention, friends! Gather round. We have arrived in good health! Praise Os Egullilar for good fortune. Most of us are from many places in the kingdom, but we have been brought together for a great cause, to further our great empire! And with me as your great leader, we shall forge—“

Udib the Geologist, arms folded across his long, braided beard, grunted.

 “Great Leader?”

Ast clapped once more. The others looked at each other, confused.

 “Yes! I have been decreed by the king to lead you in our endeavour. Also, I’m not good with names, so by traditional tribal... er, tradition, I will be giving you new ones.”

Vucar the Woodcutter spoke boldly and clearly, and the dwarves turned to face her. “I don’t like this, and I don’t like you.”

Kol the Mason rested a reassuring hand on her fellow dwarf’s shoulder.

 “Now, now, let’s not be hasty. Let’s see where he goes with this.”

Ast was unshaken.

 “The king chose me as I am clearly the most qualified for the position.”

Shorast the Farmer cleared her throat. “Err, don’t mean t’be a pain, but where’s Alath gawn?”

Ast narrowed his eyes at the lady dwarf.

 “Ugh, dullard. I didn’t realise we had any dwarves from the commons here?”

Ilral the Architect pointed a hefty thumb at his chest. “I’m from the commons too, and I’m not the only one. Not very observant, are you, Great Leader?”

 “Oh, nothing escapes my vigilant eye!”

Udib smirked, “Nothing, you say?”

 “Nothing!”

Udib gestured to the forest opening.

 “How about our wagon?”

Ast’s arms dropped to his side as he gaped opened mouth at the muddy tracks leading into the forest. The oxen, and wagon, were gone.

 “Bugger.”

He stroked his beard nervously, and then bolted toward the forest.

 “Good one, Great Leader.” Kol said, burying her face in her hand, shaking her head.

*===========*

Ilral burst through the overgrowth and stopped, falling backwards onto his behind and breathing heavily.

 “Bloody hell, you lot d’n half run fast.”

He caught his breath, and sat up. The forest opened out to a clear grassy cliff top. As he walked and peered down, the cliff sloped downward to another small clearing, and further more to the very bottom, where lay the bend of a river.

The oxen and wagon had stopped, surrounded by three large rocky cliffs. Alath was stroking one of the oxen, the big beast huffing and grunting. Ast was flat on his back. Ilral wandered over and pointed to him.

 “What happened to our Great Leader?”

Kol smirked, “Took a kick from one of the oxen. He’s out cold.”

 “Good. What’s all this bloody lark about name changes and Great Leader?”

Vucar shook her head,

 “I don’t know why we all ended up here with this bloomin’ idiot.”

Udib crossed over to the group,

 “I think I may know, but I would like to see how our supposed Great Leader handles this. Quiet now, he’s stirring.”

Ast groaned and stirred. After a moment, he sat bolt upright, eyes wide.

 “Drink!”

Shorast took the waterskin of Dwarven mead from her belt and handed it to him. He gulped it down and passed the waterskin back. Sitting up, he half stumbled over to the group.

 “Right. What happened?”

 “You were trying to calm the ox down and—“

 “Okay. Onto business. Are our supplies okay?”

Alath riffled through the busted wagon.

 “Mostly intact. We’ve got some meat, some fish, some er... plants, I think? Plenty drink. Some buckets, some—“

 “Okay, that’s enough.”

Ast clambered atop the ruins of the wagon, balancing precariously atop a full barrel of drink. Kol nudged Shorast,

 “Why does he always have to stand on top of things?”

 “I reckon s’power thing that. You know, bigger’n everyone else n’that.”

Ast raised his hands.

 “And thus by tradition of the ancients, you shall be named—“

 “What if we don’t like the name?” Vucar cut in.

 “Well... it’s tough, isn’t it. So says your Great Leader!”

 “Well what if I don’t want a new name?”

 “And so... she shall be named ‘Whatshername!’”

 Vucar’s mouth dropped but no words escaped.

 “Shorast, you are a dullard, so your name will be!”

Shorast folded her arms indignantly. “Shall be what?”

 “Dullard. Ilral! Your mighty beard has earned the name The Fuzz!”

Ilral found himself stroking his mighty beard.

 “Alath, for your sneaky ways, you are the Mole.”

Alath waved his hands at Ast and glared at the other dwarves, begging for some sanity. They all stood perplexed. Udib laughed a full belly laugh, and wiped a tear from his eye,

 “Oh Ast, do you expect us to take any of this seriously? I think we have more pressing matters here.”

 “I am not Ast, I am Great Leader! You would do well to keep that in mind, Mr Calm.”

Udib’s shoulders dropped and his smile disappeared.

 “Kol, the brightest of us all, will be Hope! For she shall bear the children of our Empire! Many a night we sha—”

Ast was hit square in the face, falling backward onto the grass. Kol shook her fist and stepped off of the wagon. Ilral looked at Ast lying once more flat on his back, unconscious.

 “It wasn’t the ox that hit before, was it.”

Udib sighed.

 “Right, let’s get this stuff unpacked. I swear, if I had a crossbow, I would have shot myself on the road to the castle.”

Alath chuckled. “Heh, road shoot.”