Dandyhats assemble!

Have I ever told you the story of the Dandyhats? No? It happened during my time working as a grudge keeper for the bands of dwarfs visiting the City of the Damned.

"What's a grudge keeper", you ask? It's just someone who is in charge of keeping the Book of Grudges of the Dwarf bands up to date... One silver piece at a time! Most of the dwarf warbands visiting the city were not precisely skilled in the art of the quill.

One day, I was helping an ogre leader with a love letter that he wanted to send to a "lady of the night" who rotated between the different camps every fortnite and toward whom he had developed some strong feelings...

What? Stop judging me, you child! I would be a fool if I didn't take this kind of job instead of just killing time waiting for the next grudge! THERE IS NOTHING DISHONOURABLE ABOUT THAT KIND OF JOB!

*Ahem*

Please excuse me - that lad always gets to my nerves. Where was I? Oh, yes. So, I am writing a letter for this ogre when suddenly I see entering the war camp, looking for accommodation, the most colourful group that had ever laid foot there. Can you believe it? Looking for accommodation... on a warcamp!? They didn't even bring tents with them. You know how some people say money is not that important? Well, that's because they don't have enough. Archibrum, the dwarf who seemed to be leading the group, had so much gold that he managed to buy the best tent from a band from Marienburg. And, of course, in a prime location!

One would think that once the story spread like wildfire, it would have brought scavengers looking to make some money off this guy... But that didn't happen. It seems that yet another story spread ear to ear even faster than the tent story. Bringing those colourful clothes to the city could only mean they were looking for trouble. And a story of extreme bravery reached even the furthest corner of the war camps.

I got to know the lot quite well, as their tent was pretty close to mine. And, even if all of them could write, they preferred to pay coin for my services and spend their time on "more important things".  Well, I'm not so sure about the slayer guy, though. He had manners - but too much time in Karak-Kadrin cannot be good for the fine art of writing.

Till this day, I still cannot believe how they could bring so many grudges to write on the book, because they always arrived mostly unscathed after a squirmish.

There was this lad, Dothurum Fancyhats, who came to me one day right after fighting a halfling warband. He was outraged! I have never seen one of these dwarfs so discomposed. Dothurum wanted to put down in the book the name of one of the halflings because he had dropped his sandwich while running away from Dothurum and it hit Dothurum right in his "new garments that  Papa had recently sent while he was visiting Cathay to expand the family business". It was really hard to hold my laugh! I managed to keep my composure and added the Grudge to the book. Needless to say, it was far from my best work, but it was a rather fine calligraphy, given the circumstances. The lad was still enraged when he left my tent... I guess it was what they call "blind rage", as he could not see that he paid me a gold piece instead of the usual silver.

Well, to the point: in addition to my usual endeavours, King Thorgrim personally tasked me with reporting even the slightest misbehaviour from any dwarf in the city, as he considered the dwarfs should be an example of "good manners"... Especially when it comes to the art of war.

I started reporting to him every single trip the band was taking to the inner city: the negligence of their leader Archibrum and the rest of the band members, the way they wasted resources in the most useless tools, the way they celebrated and how they were "under the weather" the morning after. Grimnir! I even reported on the long-lasting meetings they had to discuss the clothing for the upcoming week!

But, well, do you know how some gifts can also be a curse? It seems like, at the time of sending the reports, the fact that I was writing to the High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer got into my head and my prose became poetry. And... well, the metaphors where misinterpreted,  the ephitets just wasted,  the metonimias missed, and the irony... oh, the irony! My friend, the irony was lost and never found again! The scribes of Karaz-a-Karak misunderstood everything! They understood that Archibrum and his Dandyhats where heroes!

I still consider this as one of my biggest failures as a writer, and I actually considered making the journey to the shrine of Grimnir and becoming a slayer. But well, you know... In the end, it is not my fault that a bunch of half-wits cannot understand a finely-written document!

I need to leave, now. Farewell, my friend! I will see you around next time you come visit this tavern. Safe travels, and be careful with river trolls: it's mating season and they are a bit agitated!

- Extract from the book Dialogs by Thundrem Silverquill.