M
Milkshake
Guest
Well, thought I'd post this. It's my old story, wrote it a while ago, not sure if anyone read it, but you might enjoy. Hell, if you think it's any good I might even write more 
The troll trips and falls to the stone cobbles as he shuffles towards the tavern door.
As this happens, the bar patrons burst into laughter. A norseman gets up off his stool and, while laughing fit-to-burst, yells "A mighty warrior? That's a joke...and so is he!"
Instead of answering this challenge with his axe, the troll slowly gets up, and under a torrade of abuse and mugs of mead, leaves the tavern. His head is down, and his shoulders are low as if burdening a great weight.
The tavern is again busy with the chatter of norse and dwarfish, but the topic is easy to determine.
"Imagine not being drunk and falling over, what an oaf."
"That norseman Valrnirg would have been cut in two if that troll wasn't so pitiful"
"It's that huge cleaver he carries round, puts him off balance"
"I'd probably be scared of the idiot if he knew how to use the thing!"
"If you ask me, he should be thrown over one side of Svasud Gates and not allowed back in!"
"He's not a warrior, not in any way. No honor, no courage."
"In Odin's name, he wears pink! A pink troll! Who would believe it!"
"I heard he ran away from a zombie out in Uppland, coward"
All of a sudden, a short, stocky dwarf leaps onto the table in-front of him and yells "ENOUGH!"
The tavern falls silent, in anticipation with what was going to happen next.
"You bastards!" the dwarf continues. "How dare you call that troll a coward! He's nothing of the sort! I rarely praise anyone, especially trolls, but that one is one of a kind, he's been through a helluva lot and if you knew HALF the story behind that lump of rocks you'd offer him a pint of mead instead of throwing it at him!"
Again, the bar erupts into laughter. No doubt confident after his last encounter, the norseman Valrnig stands up, as if the spokesman for the drinkers.
"Old Dwarf, sit down. You've obviously had too much mead and the table can't bear your weight much longer."
Instead of running, like Valrnig expected, the dwarf calmly pulls a small axe out of his rucksack and launches it. It strikes the norseman on the helm, getting stuck in the metal bar running between the norseman's eyes.
Each and every man in the tavern slowly sits down again. They know when someone can be mocked, and when someone should be listened to. They also know this is the latter.
Valrnig regains his composure. "Ok, dwarf" he spits "you should tell us of this fool Milkshake, or are you just using his idiocy to pick a fight?"
"On this occasion, no. I pick no fights. I only want to help Milkshake as he once helped me. He is different, oh yes. But he should not be ridiculed and I shall tell you all why..."
==============================================
I was travelling from the town of Mularn, near Jordheim with a package of upmost importance. I was tasked to head to Bledmeer Faste with information of an attack scheduled to commence in only 5 days time. The Jarls of Bledmeer needed to be informed, so as to get provisions, strengthen the doors and prepare for the oncoming siege.
I moved with all haste. Passed the dwarven village of Haggerfel, through the mountainous roads to Fort Veldon then West through the Vendo Camps and finally to the gates of Svasud...into the frontier.
Leaving the massive gates, I headed north into the snowy wastelands.
As you know, the weather in Midgard is irratic at best, and out of no-where the snows came. This blizzard left me confused, and I soon lost my way. I decided to set-up camp in a spot where I believed I was safe, and set my tent up as best I could. I crawled in, and fell fast asleep very quickly, as I had travelled a fair distance.
In the morning....oh what a morning it was! I'll never forget this as long as I live. In the morning I awoke to still find it dark. Not because the sun had not rose, but because my tent was BURIED in snow! So I started to dig out. When I finally breached my watery cell, I popped my head up to see what state the land was in and to my horror, 4 sets of arachite legs surrounded my hole. Icestriders I think they are called. I immediatly scuttled back into my cavern. Although I was safe for the time being, I knew that eventually this layer of snow would melt a bit....and I would be food for these horrible creatures.
The time wore on, but the patience of the creatures didn't. I was out-dwarfed, out skilled and running out of time since without my information, the faste of Bledmeer would surely fall.
And so I prepared to fight them, or die trying. With my two golden axes at the ready, I screamed a prayer to my god Modi, and jumped out of my hole. Slamming my weapons into the shins of the first creature, I rolled and dodged. Suddenly, my limbs froze and I could not move. I had not hurt, but only angered the beasts. I could practically see the gates of Valhalla.
Then he came.
Like some kind of snowstorm, he launched himself apon the beasts, with a rage even I did not know, or like, as a bezerker. A massive cleaver came down apon the first beast, slicing it from head to toe. The troll grabbed a shield from his back and pummeled it into the face of the second icestrider while he hit the third in the knees with his axe, taking one of it's legs off.
The fourth saw this, and hesitated, before starting to run away. It didn't escape though comrades! This hero, this saviour of mine took a small axe out of his pouch and launched it at the fleeing beast. In a puff of bright blue blood, the beasts head disappeared and the carcass crumpled to the ground.
The same idiot, the same coward, the VERY SAME OAF you mocked today killed four icestriders to save my life!
He helped me get to Bledmeer safely, and then stayed to help the Jarls build the defences. Knowing that the keep was going to be attacked by a legion of Albions, he stayed? That is no cowardice gentlemen.
I stayed too, but only because I had got slight frostbite from being exposed to the blizzards. From one of the rooms in the keep I watched that troll slay more albions than you can imagine, both outside, then inside the keep. All the way to the Jarl's Quarters and until the last albion soul was given to the gods he fought. But that sirs, that is another story.
============================================
The Dwarf then stepped from the table, and down onto the floor.
As he goes to leave the tavern, to no-one in particular, he whispers.
"That is not all I have learned about Milkshake. Oh no. But that is a secret I shall keep to my death, such as the troll instructed. I cannot, I will not betray his trust, not after what he has done for me over these years. I owe him my life."
The troll trips and falls to the stone cobbles as he shuffles towards the tavern door.
As this happens, the bar patrons burst into laughter. A norseman gets up off his stool and, while laughing fit-to-burst, yells "A mighty warrior? That's a joke...and so is he!"
Instead of answering this challenge with his axe, the troll slowly gets up, and under a torrade of abuse and mugs of mead, leaves the tavern. His head is down, and his shoulders are low as if burdening a great weight.
The tavern is again busy with the chatter of norse and dwarfish, but the topic is easy to determine.
"Imagine not being drunk and falling over, what an oaf."
"That norseman Valrnirg would have been cut in two if that troll wasn't so pitiful"
"It's that huge cleaver he carries round, puts him off balance"
"I'd probably be scared of the idiot if he knew how to use the thing!"
"If you ask me, he should be thrown over one side of Svasud Gates and not allowed back in!"
"He's not a warrior, not in any way. No honor, no courage."
"In Odin's name, he wears pink! A pink troll! Who would believe it!"
"I heard he ran away from a zombie out in Uppland, coward"
All of a sudden, a short, stocky dwarf leaps onto the table in-front of him and yells "ENOUGH!"
The tavern falls silent, in anticipation with what was going to happen next.
"You bastards!" the dwarf continues. "How dare you call that troll a coward! He's nothing of the sort! I rarely praise anyone, especially trolls, but that one is one of a kind, he's been through a helluva lot and if you knew HALF the story behind that lump of rocks you'd offer him a pint of mead instead of throwing it at him!"
Again, the bar erupts into laughter. No doubt confident after his last encounter, the norseman Valrnig stands up, as if the spokesman for the drinkers.
"Old Dwarf, sit down. You've obviously had too much mead and the table can't bear your weight much longer."
Instead of running, like Valrnig expected, the dwarf calmly pulls a small axe out of his rucksack and launches it. It strikes the norseman on the helm, getting stuck in the metal bar running between the norseman's eyes.
Each and every man in the tavern slowly sits down again. They know when someone can be mocked, and when someone should be listened to. They also know this is the latter.
Valrnig regains his composure. "Ok, dwarf" he spits "you should tell us of this fool Milkshake, or are you just using his idiocy to pick a fight?"
"On this occasion, no. I pick no fights. I only want to help Milkshake as he once helped me. He is different, oh yes. But he should not be ridiculed and I shall tell you all why..."
==============================================
I was travelling from the town of Mularn, near Jordheim with a package of upmost importance. I was tasked to head to Bledmeer Faste with information of an attack scheduled to commence in only 5 days time. The Jarls of Bledmeer needed to be informed, so as to get provisions, strengthen the doors and prepare for the oncoming siege.
I moved with all haste. Passed the dwarven village of Haggerfel, through the mountainous roads to Fort Veldon then West through the Vendo Camps and finally to the gates of Svasud...into the frontier.
Leaving the massive gates, I headed north into the snowy wastelands.
As you know, the weather in Midgard is irratic at best, and out of no-where the snows came. This blizzard left me confused, and I soon lost my way. I decided to set-up camp in a spot where I believed I was safe, and set my tent up as best I could. I crawled in, and fell fast asleep very quickly, as I had travelled a fair distance.
In the morning....oh what a morning it was! I'll never forget this as long as I live. In the morning I awoke to still find it dark. Not because the sun had not rose, but because my tent was BURIED in snow! So I started to dig out. When I finally breached my watery cell, I popped my head up to see what state the land was in and to my horror, 4 sets of arachite legs surrounded my hole. Icestriders I think they are called. I immediatly scuttled back into my cavern. Although I was safe for the time being, I knew that eventually this layer of snow would melt a bit....and I would be food for these horrible creatures.
The time wore on, but the patience of the creatures didn't. I was out-dwarfed, out skilled and running out of time since without my information, the faste of Bledmeer would surely fall.
And so I prepared to fight them, or die trying. With my two golden axes at the ready, I screamed a prayer to my god Modi, and jumped out of my hole. Slamming my weapons into the shins of the first creature, I rolled and dodged. Suddenly, my limbs froze and I could not move. I had not hurt, but only angered the beasts. I could practically see the gates of Valhalla.
Then he came.
Like some kind of snowstorm, he launched himself apon the beasts, with a rage even I did not know, or like, as a bezerker. A massive cleaver came down apon the first beast, slicing it from head to toe. The troll grabbed a shield from his back and pummeled it into the face of the second icestrider while he hit the third in the knees with his axe, taking one of it's legs off.
The fourth saw this, and hesitated, before starting to run away. It didn't escape though comrades! This hero, this saviour of mine took a small axe out of his pouch and launched it at the fleeing beast. In a puff of bright blue blood, the beasts head disappeared and the carcass crumpled to the ground.
The same idiot, the same coward, the VERY SAME OAF you mocked today killed four icestriders to save my life!
He helped me get to Bledmeer safely, and then stayed to help the Jarls build the defences. Knowing that the keep was going to be attacked by a legion of Albions, he stayed? That is no cowardice gentlemen.
I stayed too, but only because I had got slight frostbite from being exposed to the blizzards. From one of the rooms in the keep I watched that troll slay more albions than you can imagine, both outside, then inside the keep. All the way to the Jarl's Quarters and until the last albion soul was given to the gods he fought. But that sirs, that is another story.
============================================
The Dwarf then stepped from the table, and down onto the floor.
As he goes to leave the tavern, to no-one in particular, he whispers.
"That is not all I have learned about Milkshake. Oh no. But that is a secret I shall keep to my death, such as the troll instructed. I cannot, I will not betray his trust, not after what he has done for me over these years. I owe him my life."