Chapter 1: New Beginnings Again for the First Time

Once upon a time in the far off land of Ursidania there lived a heroic band of adventurers, brought together by a fondness for the color blue and determined to scour the land in search of decent footwear at a reasonable price. Along the way they had many adventures. They defeated the evil Steve the Necromancer and came across the hoard of an ancient dragon, making them very rich.

With these riches they decided to expand their numbers, building a mighty keep in a mighty forest in Ursidania and recruiting brave adventurers from across the land to join them in the Guild of Righteous Rage.

Their leader, the noble bard Leroy the Falconer, ironically named for his hatred of falcons, became the master of the guild, guiding them with an even temperament, and intense, unwavering optimism bordering on delusion. It was to him that potential new members came to prove their worth.

One such hopeful was a young Orc named Hangrik Largetorso. Now, generally, Orcs aren't known for their love of adventure, or shoes for that matter, except when "adventure" was code for "forming a massive horde and destroying everything in their path" and "shoes" meant "rape". Hangrik was different however. While the rest of his family was uncomfortable in a group less than 10,000 strong, Hangrik preferred to be alone. When his brothers practiced endlessly to become the very best at hitting things with blunt objects until they stopped moving, Hangrik perfected the art of cooking. And most importantly, while many Orcs went to battle barefoot, or with their feet shoved into the torso of a raccoon, Hangrik knew the importance of a good boot. That and a fondness for the color blue brought him to Falconbane Keep and the desk of Leroy the Falconer.

"So! Mr. Largetorso," Leroy said cheerily, "you seem to have all of the necessary qualifications; we just have a few... concerns." He was a handsome man in his early thirties with striking blue eyes, pristine blonde hair, and a neatly trimmed goatee. He wore a powder blue hunting outfit and a falconer's glove on his left hand.

Hangrik sat uncomfortably in front of Leroy's desk, his weight distributed between two human-sized chairs.

"Concerns?" He said, apprehension tinging his deep, gravelly voice.

"Well it's just that, in the past, most Orcs have tried to brutally decapitate us and wear our entrails as hats and many of our established members may be uneasy about having you around."

"Oh nothing to worry about there Mr. The Falconer," Hangrik said eagerly, "I am a pacifist. I would much sooner pick up a ladle than a battleaxe."

"Ah yes! I don't believe I've ever heard of an Orc pacifist but the notion is both fascinating and exciting! Though I must warn you, many of our activities do involve brutally slaying evil-doers, who, in many circumstances, are, in fact, Orcs."

"Not a problem, not to fond of my fellow Orcs me'self. And slaying evil builds up a hearty appetite, and that's where I'll come in."

"Fantastic! Do you think you could prepare a sample for the officers of the guild tonight?"

"Sure! I'll just need a few ingredients. Some onions, garlic, potatoes, Wood Elf, cumin..."

"Perhaps instead of Wood Elf, you could substitute chicken?"

"Hmm..." Hangrik thought over the altered recipe in his head, "yes. I think I could make that work."

"Excellent! Welcome to the Guild of Righteous Rage! I believe our secretary down the..."

The door to Leroy's office burst open revealing Sylvia Ferjenkinsenjigger, High Elven mage and Vice Guildmistress. She was beautiful, at least by human standards, with blonde hair a shade darker than Leroy's swept up into a ponytail behind her pointed ears. As usual, her expression was one of frustration.

"Leroy, we have a problem." She said, striding into the room and completely ignoring the 7 foot Orc in front of Leroy's desk, "the Kanis keep moving into the Gnomish barracks. I told you it was a mistake to put them next to each other."

"Nothing to worry about my friend!" Leroy said as he rose from his desk, "probably just a misunderstanding."

"Or it could be because Kanis and Gnomes are mortal enemies who want to see each other wiped off the face of the earth."

"Oh that was years ago Sylvia! I'm sure everything is fine now." He turned to Hangrik, "if you'll excuse me Mr. Largetorso, I am afraid I must attend to this. Just find our Secretary Mr. Mjolnir and he will show you to the kitchen." He bowed deeply and then followed Sylvia down the hall to the barracks where a Kanis and a Gnome were engaged in a heated argument, as the two races tended to do when in the company of each other.

The Kanis, or dog-men, were a race of large dog-like creatures that won the evolutionary lottery and developed opposable thumbs. This led to additional features like walking on hind legs, increased upper body development, and a brain large enough to coordinate it all. Like their ancestors, they remained aggressively territorial, loyal, and comparatively short lived. Also in a complete coincidence of convergent evolution, their written and spoken language sound exactly like German. How convenient!

The Gnomes, or Creepy Science Midgets, did not evolve from dogs, but rather the same primate-like creature that also brought us Humans, Dwarves, and Elves. The Kanis have never forgiven them for this. It turns out loyalty, territorialism and pack instincts transition rather well into aggressive nationalism and the Gnomes were both nearby and different, a grave insult to the Kanis. To be fair though, while the Gnomes are, at most three feet tall, they make up for it in brains and they fought back with some of the most ingeniously horrific war machines the world had ever seen and eventually defeated the Kanis. They then proceeded to take so much gold in reparations that there is now more gold in a Dwarven bowel movement than in a Kanis coin. But I am sure they aren't bitter about that at all.

Leroy approached the two fighting guild members and tried to put a reassuring hand on their shoulders but failed miserably due to the four foot height difference between them.

"Alright, what seems to be the trouble?" He said in a calming voice.

"These curs are trying to take over our quarters!" The Gnome, whose name was Bodden, said, pointing accusingly at the room behind him. Inside five other Gnomes tried to force out two Kanis, but were being kept at bay with the time honored "put a hand on their forehead while they flail at you helplessly" technique.

"I see," Leroy stroked his beard authoritatively then turned to the Kanis, a paladin named Dieter, and raised an eyebrow.

"Mein fuhrer," Dieter began, then paused and continued in the Common tongue, "this is all a misunderstanding. The quarters we were given were so very small; we assumed we could make use of another room. Herr Bodden und his companions were so very small we did not see them!"

"That's a load of stripped bolts!" Bodden retorted, "They have plenty of room!"

"Well, let's just see!" Leroy crossed the hall to the barracks assigned to the Kanis. Inside were two more of the dog men, one laying on a bed in full plate armor and the other playing a guitar and singing a traditional Kanis song:

"Don't want no short people round here..."

"Randolf!" Dieter cut off the singer, "nein!"

Randolf abruptly stopped singing and hid the guitar behind his broad torso.

"Hmm I can see how you might need more space." Leroy said as he surveyed the room.

"Hey I have an idea," Sylvia suggested, "There’s a nice, big room on the other side of the courtyard that would be perfect!"

"But Sylvia!" Leroy protested, "That’s where I keep my hats!"

"Leroy." Sylvia said, through a forced smile, “I think the Kanis would like to be on the other side of the courtyard. As far from the Gnomes as possible."

"Well, I suppose I could find somewhere else for my hats..."

"You only have three. And they are exactly the same. Why don't you just keep them in your room?"

"Brilliant! Perhaps I can put them on that hat rack I have in there!"

"So you had a hat rack," Dieter said, "but you kept your hats in a completely separate room?"

"Yes! I do hate to let a room go to waste."

"And now the Kanis will be living there!" Sylvia said.

"Excellent. And we can use this room for shoes!"

"Ok fine. Whatever. Let's just get these guys out of here before someone starts a riot."

Leroy and Sylvia showed the Kanis their new quarters and then brought Leroy's hats back to his room where they could talk in private.

"Are you out of your mind Leroy?" Sylvia said, her diplomatic tone completely gone, "You do not put Kanis and Gnomes next to each other! That's like putting the gunpowder in the same room as the hearth!"

"I'm sorry Sylvia," Leroy said as he poured cognac into two glasses on his dresser, "this administration business doesn't suit me. I'd rather be off having adventures! Fighting noble causes! Comparing shoe prices!" He handed a glass to Sylvia and she took it and calmed down.

"I know Leroy," Sylvia sighed, "I think we're all having trouble adjusting. But things will get easier. We're adding a lot of personnel and once we get everyone up to speed, we can do more good than we ever could when it was just the six of us."

"I wonder how the others are faring..." Leroy sipped his cognac

"What? We can just ask them. Do you want to go ask them?"

"No, no, I was just setting up for a transition."

"You are so weird Leroy..."

Horus Doomforge, Dwarven paladin of Atheos was settling in to his new role as Guild quartermaster rather well. Dwarves were known for their organizational skills and Horus was no different. Ok, a little different, Horus was also an asshole.

"So that's Larondas, son of Fizzbitch?" He said as he looked at the parchment in front of him.

The Wood Elf on the other side of his counter sighed in frustration.

"Fezzbich. Son of Fezzbich the Healer."

"Right. Fezzbich son of Fezzbich. And what is it you're checking in?"

"My name is Larondas."

"I'm sorry; I don't know what a Larondas is. Is it a kind of sword?"

Larondas groaned and buried his forehead in his palm. Horus took the opportunity to let a mischievous grin sneak out through his thick red beard, which disappeared as Larondas looked up again.

"I am checking in my stave, Ironroot. Though I am loathe to part with it." The druid held up a staff made from intertwining roots with the occasional flower sprouting from its sides.

"Alright Mr. Fizzbitch, we'll take good care of your stick. Unless we run out of firewood."

"What?"

"Nothing." Horus grabbed the stave and tossed it casually behind him to his assistant, another Dwarf with a short black beard.

"That stave has been in my family for generations," Larondas explained, "it was used by Tyrion the wise to heal the Orchard of The Golden Stag from the foul magics of the necromancer--"

"Yes," Horus interrupted, "I am sure it is just the BEST stick, with all sorts of fabulous magical powers and we will take excellent care of it."

"I certainly hope so."

As the druid walked away Horus turned to the other Dwarf.

"Alright Gonzo, how much do you think it's worth?"

"Hmm," Gonzo held up the stave and put a jeweler's loupe to his eye, "not much in terms of material but it seems to have a fairly high magical presence. Depending on the buyer we could probably get a few hundred gold"

Horus rubbed his hands together greedily.

"Horus!" Sylvia’s voice turned his greedy smile into a grimace. He turned to see Leroy and Sylvia standing at the counter.

"Leroy! Elf." Horus replied, "what brings you to the armory?"

"Ok," Sylvia said, "so we've established that this is the armory. Not a pawn shop."

"I'm insulted!" Horus recoiled dramatically, "Are you implying that I am selling the weapons of our initiates on the black market every Thursday down by the docks?"

"Now now, Sylvia," Leroy chided, "it isn't nice to accuse people of things. I'm sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation."

"My associate and I..." Horus paused for a moment, "were just calculating value for... insurance purposes."

"Insurance?!" Sylvia said incredulously, "we don't have insurance."

"Well then, Elf, maybe we should get some!" Horus sneered.

"A splendid idea!" Leroy said, "Someone tell Karl!"

He turned to walk away and suddenly smelled the faint aroma of honey.

"Oh there you are Karl!" He said as the rogue appeared out of thin air in front of him.

Karl the Rogue had been killed by bees last winter. Then he had been brought back to a reasonable approximation of life using a fell artifact known as the Tyrant's Heart, minus a few squishy bits such as his tongue. He now served as the guild's treasurer because in addition to being an unparalleled master of stealth and assassination, he was also really good at math.

"Karl," Leroy said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "see about getting some insurance for the weapons in the armory. I'm pretty sure we can afford it."

Karl nodded silently, and Leroy removed his hand from his shoulder, and then wiped it down with a handkerchief.

"You got lucky this time, Dwarf." Sylvia said menacingly. As she turned towards Karl, his eyes widened and he froze up. "Hello Karl." She nodded, and he lifted a hand and waved slightly before taking a step backwards and melting into the shadows.

"Karl is so weird, Leroy..."

Eddie Mjolnir, ranger from the frozen wastes of the North, was the Guild's Secretary along with his best friend, the half-Orc, half-Ogre, half-Bison, 3/8ths Dragon barbarian Thorgar Thundrecasket. They had been together since the Dwarven traders who had raised Thorgar had been wiped out and he came to live in Eddie's village when the ranger was just a teenager, until Eddie had been kicked out of his village for being drunk on watch, off watch, and most of the rest of the time and the pair had gone South. The barbarian was currently gnawing on the carcass of a donkey on his side of the Secretary's Office while Eddie dealt with the four latest recruits.

"Ok, I'm going to have to put something down for your names."

"We have told you what we are called." One of the men said, "I am Red-Tuniced Swordsman, this is Green-Tuniced Swordsman, Halberdier, and Cleric." He indicated his three companions, who, like all Genericans, were virtually identical to him, save their clothing, with blandly handsome features and short brown hair.

The Genericans, while human, were unique among the races of the world in that they eschewed all proper nouns, as their religion forbid any but their god to have a name. Of course, they were also forbidden from speaking their god's name so they referred to him as "god". The lack of names wasn't as much of a problem as you'd think, as the Genericans generally just referred to themselves by appearance or profession, like Bartender, Mustachioed Corn Farmer, or King of Generica. Oddly enough, despite their homogenous appearance, there was almost never any confusion as to whom they were referring in conversation with each other.

Eddie looked down at the applications in his hands then back at the adventurers before him. He then took a long drink from the mug of ale on his desk.

"Alright, to keep things short, we're going to call you Red, Green, Hal, and... Cleric."

"That is acceptable, Secretary." Red said and his companions nodded in agreement.

"Alright, so how long have you all been together?" Eddie asked. He emptied his mug and then refilled it with the tap built into his desk.

"We have travelled together for nine months from our country of origin through the Northernmost forest where High Elves reside into village West of Northernmost village where High Elves reside and South of large rock formation East of--"

"Nine months." Eddie said, "and has it just been the... the eight a you?"

"There are but four of us. At our starting strength we possessed seven members. Mustachioed Halberdier, Green Robed Mage, and Archer were tragically... are you inebriated?"

"Wha?" Eddie lifted his head from the pile of drool on his desk and took another drink, "Noooo... probably." he looked down at the application, where he had drawn large breasted stick figures fighting each other, "anyways, looks like I have everything I need. Welcome to the Guild of Righty Raging. Leroy will give you a quarter to sleep in if you ask him."

"Um ok..." Red said, "I guess we will go find him then."

"Not you though." Eddie pointed to Green, "how about you and I go get a drink?"

"You already have a drink..." Green replied as he looked at his companions uneasily.

"Wow, smart and sexy... I like that in a woman."

"I am a man..."

"Shh..." Eddie leaned over the desk and pressed a finger to Green's lips and then collapsed.

"Um, alright then." The swordsman said.

As the Genericans left, Leroy and Sylvia entered.

"Oh god damn it..." Sylvia said.

"Hello Eddie!" Leroy said, "How goes it?"

Eddie gave them a thumbs up.

"Fantastic! Did Mr. Largetorso get here alright?"

"Horus?" Eddie said as he lifted his head off the table. Sylvia snickered.

"No, he was an Orc. He wants to be our new cook."

"No, I ain't seen no Norks..."

Leroy looked to Thorgar, who shrugged, and then resumed eating.

"Hmm..." the guildmaster rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "We can only assume he has been kidnapped! Come my friends, we must rescue him!"

Sylvia sighed, Eddie belched, and Thorgar shoved the rest of the donkey in his mouth and pulled himself to his feet. Leroy took these as signs of acquiescence and set out down the hallway.

They eventually found Hangrik sitting on the walls of the keep.

"There you are Hangrik!" Leroy said, "I see you escaped from your kidnappers!"

"Um yes?" Hangrik said, looking around himself in confusion.

"What are you doing up here?" Sylvia asked.

"Well I tried to find the Secretary but I ended up inciting an angry mob and they chased me up here."

"Well it's probably because every other Orc they've encountered has tried to brutally murder them."

"Thorgar here is half-Orc," Eddie said helpfully, "probably. I mean, we're not entirely sure about his heritage..."

Thorgar beamed proudly.

"Either way," Leroy said, "all are welcome here. I'm sure they'll get used to you eventually."

As they helped Hangrik to his feet all five of them suddenly noticed a rumbling that began to build until the walls were almost shaking.

"The hell is that?" Eddie pointed to a rapidly growing brass shape on the horizon. As it approached the chugging of an enormous steam engine could be heard and it was soon joined by the whine of whirring gears and massive gnashing teeth as it destroyed everything in its path and took them in as fuel.

"We can only assume they are friends!" Leroy said, cheerfully waving at the approaching machine.

Horus sat in the armory, admiring a particularly violent looking firethrower one of the Gnomish adventurers had brought. Though he was loathe to admit the superiority of a non-Dwarven race, the Gnomes really knew how to kill a guy. Suddenly ripples began to appear in the jar of brass polish at his side. The ripples grew more turbulent and Horus became aware of a rumbling in the distance. He shot a quizzical glance over to Gonzo who merely shrugged. Gonzo was a nice lad, but Horus didn't trust him as far as he could throw him. And Dwarves were notoriously hard to throw, given their low center of gravity. Horus left the armory and wandered out into the courtyard as the rumbling grew to a dull roar and was now accompanied by a whole chorus of sounds that seemed oddly familiar to the paladin. Then, all of a sudden the sounds stopped. Horus decided that whatever was big enough to cause so much noise would surely be carrying valuables proportionate to its size and made for the main gates, which were currently wide open. And then he looked outside and almost pissed himself with excitement.

Parked a mere 10 yards from the front gates was a Dwarven landship. The front had been split open to reveal a massive set of blades and rollers that pulled anything foolish or immobile enough to get in its way into an incinerator to be burned as a supplemental fuel source. Six massive sets of tracks lined it's nearly 100 foot length, and above those a plethora of cannons, ballistae and other siege weapons. Horus suspected he might be having some kind of wonderful dream, especially when he saw the flag attached to the main chimney, fluttering about 40 feet above his head. It was a horned skull, its mouth open to reveal flames superimposed over a pair of crossed hammers. The symbol of Clan Doomforge. Clearly, Atheos, in his wisdom, had decided that Horus could better serve him equipped with one of the most feared battle engines in the world.

Suddenly the blades and rollers at the front of the ship retracted and the two sides of the bow closed together again. A pale Dwarf, with a thick black beard streaked with orange at the chin, peaked over the side and looked down at Horus, pulling a pair of soot covered goggles off his eyes.

"Horus Firebeard Doomforge!" The Dwarf called down, "You rotten greedy bastard!"

"Cousin Phineas!" Horus called back, "I thought ye were dead! We threw a party! There was cake!"

"You're mother's heart woulda given out in grief! Course with the way she eats that's bound to happen anyway!"

"Well don't just sit there like an Elf in a tree! Come on down here so I can sock you in the teeth!"

Leroy stared down from the walls in confusion as Phineas came out of the battleship and embraced his cousin with a joyful laugh.

"I'm confused. Do they like each other or not?"

"That's just how Dwarves say 'hello'." Eddie answered, "And 'goodbye', and 'I'm gonna kill you'. Actually Dwarves seem to spend most of the time insulting each other, sometimes for no reason."

"Fantastic." Sylvia sighed, "Horus has family. We better get down there before one of them figures out how to burn down stone."

"A splendid idea!" Leroy agreed, "Meanwhile, Thorgar can show Hangrik to the kitchens."

Thorgar perked up upon hearing one of his favorite words and slung the Orc over his shoulder before eagerly loping off.

By the time the others reached the courtyard the two cousins were chattering excitedly in Dwarvish while Phineas' crew instinctively sought out the alcohol. As Leroy, Sylvia, and Eddie approached Horus turned and gestured towards them.

"Phineas, this is Leroy, Eddie, and an Elf."

"Hello!" Leroy said, "I am Leroy the Falconer, leader of the Guild of Righteous Rage. I welcome you to our humble keep. Feel free to enjoy our hospitality!"

"Looks like they're way ahead of you..." Sylvia watched as Phineas' crew emerged from the cellars carrying kegs of beer and began bringing them out to the ship.

Phineas shook Leroy's hand roughly, and flashed him a gold-toothed smile, "I thought you'd say that! Phineas Copperlock Doomforge, at your service."

"Cousin Phineas has a little proposition for us Leroy, a noble quest to set right an ancient and terrible wrong." Horus said, doing his best attempt at being dramatic. Sylvia rolled her eyes.

"Let me guess." She said, "It involves treasure."

"Well a course it does lass!" Phineas said, "Any matter of importance involves treasure, otherwise what would be the point?"

Dwarven society was based almost entirely on materialism, from the clans, most commonly named for their most valuable possession, to their government, where the Arch-miser, essentially the king of the Dwarves, is the head of whichever clan is currently the wealthiest.

"Come!" Leroy beckoned Phineas and the others, "We'll discuss it in the great hall!" He turned to Eddie, who was eyeing the barrels heading out the gates with longing, "Eddie, why don't you go entertain the rest of our guests!"

Eddie nodded sharply and shot over to join the alcohol and the Dwarves that were carrying it.

Leroy and the others then entered the great hall of the keep, a relatively modest affair with two long tables with room for about twenty people, and a smaller table at the head of the room for the officers of the guild. They sat at this smaller table, Leroy, Sylvia, and Horus on one side, Phineas on the other. Hangrik appeared from a door near the officers table, wearing an apron that may or not have been made from a flayed wood elf.

"Oh good!" Leroy said, "Hangrik! Can you make us some Dwarven food for our guest?"

"Oh yeah!" The Orc replied, "I know a ton of recipes!"

"Just to be clear," Sylvia added, "We mean food Dwarves eat, not food made from Dwarves."

"Right. Um... I'll see what I can do."

"Fantastic!" Leroy said, turning to Phineas, "Now then, onto business. What is it we can help you with, friend?"

"Well," Phineas began, "It all started about a hundred years ago. Me Great-uncle, Abbadus Doomforge was out minin' one day, when he came across the biggest chunk of Killtaneum ore on the face of the planet. It was the size of an Ogre's head!"

"Killtaneum?" Leroy asked.

"Super rare stone." Horus explained, "Used in some of the more powerful magical weapons. One ounce is worth enough gold to make a dragon blush."

"Aye." Phineas nodded, "and it was rightly ours too. But on the way back he ran into a coupl'a filthy Gypsies. They tossed a baby at 'im and then when he dropped the stone to catch the baby they took it and buggered off."

"Those fiends!" Leroy shouted, slamming his fist on the table dramatically.

"Really? They threw a baby at him." Sylvia said incredulously, "So did anyone else see the killtaneum?"

"Nope. Took it off 'im afore he even made it home! Twas a sad day for us all!"

"I'm sure. And what happened to the baby?"

"What baby?"

"The baby they tossed to him?"

"Oh right. He went on to become a plumber. Good lad I recall."

"A plumber."

"Look," Horus interrupted, "The baby's not the point. The point is, Phineas has found the Killtaneum stone again and wants us to get it back. For a handsome reward."

"Well now cousin," Phineas said, "See I was hopin' you'd do this for me as a favor, you bein' family an all. I coulda gone to the Dwarven Venture Company, or the Bearded Adventurer's Guild, but I came all the way up north because I knew me own flesh and blood would be happy to help."

"And of course we will, and you will get a modest discount, being a Doomforge and all, but we don't work for free."

"Well word on the slope is you got plenty a gold already! I hear you bagged yerselves a dragon! Not to mention the reward for that necromancer fella."

"Afraid that money's already spent. Fine keeps like this ain't cheap, not to mention the parcel a land it sits on. And after the state of the art magical vault we hardly had anything left to put in it!"

"Fine I'll pay ya." Phineas grumbled, "Shall we say 200 Clanners per day, plus expenses?"

"You're shavin' my beard here cousin!" Horus feigned shock, "what kind a fresh-faced Dwarfling would I be if I accepted such an offer! We'll need at least a thousand C's a day."

"Horus, I have children! Nine a them! You've met six a 'em last time ye were home. A thousand Clanners a day and ye might as well murder each and every one of them individually with a rock hammer. You'd be starving not only them, but the merchants and miners a the hold who rely on our custom to feed their own families! Yer wipin' out an entire ecosystem with that offer! I can't go higher 'an 500."

"600, and 10% of the Killtaneum."

"Fine, ye got yerself a deal."

The two Dwarves scooped up some dirt from the ground, put it in their hands and shook on it.

"Fantastic!" Leroy said, having watched the exchange like an excited schoolboy, "we will set out at dawn!"

"Wait just a gods damned minute!" Sylvia said, "We’re going to need more details than that. Where is this thing anyway?"

"Well," Phineas said, "the Gypsies give all the good loot to their king, and we 'ave it from a reliable source that the Gypsy King is gathering his people for their annual bullshit festival a fortnight from now in the Diamond Rush valley in Aesir. Which is damned convenient of the bastards if ye ask me, practically bringing it to our doorstep. I can take ye as far as Rollmark Hold, near the border, but you're on yer own from there. You'll get yer gold when you deliver the goods to Koganusan."

"Koga-what?" Sylvia asked.

"Koganusan, ancient hold of Clan Doomforge and its lesser clans." Horus said, a wistful smile crossing his face, "Oh it's a beautiful sight indeed. Surrounded by the Sea of Ashes, the Greywater River, the Gorge of Death..."

"Sounds lovely..."

"Indeed!" Leroy said enthusiastically, "Let’s muster the company in the courtyard and decide whose skills will be most useful to us on this journey."

"Let's eat first." Phineas insisted, "You got t'have a good meal to seal an agreement."

As if on cue, Hangrik appeared, holding two trays of brownish meat, followed by Horus' assistant Gonzo carrying two more. As they served Hangrik explained:

"This little fellow was a big help in the kitchen. Apparently I don't know as much about Dwarven cuisine as I thought."

"He thought we ate rocks." Gonzo said.

"Ahh another Dwarf." Phineas said.

"Gonzo Freeminer, at your service." Gonzo replied.

Dwarves who were without a clan, whether through exile, banishment, or getting so drunk they forgot their names, took the name Freeminer, until they either married into a new clan (married Dwarves always join whichever of the two spouses' clans is the wealthiest) or they finally sobered up.

"Freeminer? Out a what clan?"

"Krakensbane."

"Never trusted them Krakensbane Dwarves. Building boats for water. Unnatural. Isn't their Holdspride some kinda fork?"

"The Kraken's Bane's a trident." Gonzo replied sulkily, "I know 'cause I stole it. Tried to sell it to the Blackhammers but the bastards ratted me out and I got exiled from the clan."

"Blackhammers." Horus spat, "Buncha self-righteous pricks that think they're Bernard reborn. Shoulda taken it to Doomforge, we woulda set you up real nice, married you in and everything."

"I don't know what's going on but I'm excited!" Leroy added.

The next day the guild assembled in the modest courtyard.

"So this is it then?" Phineas surveyed the motley assortment of adventurers arrayed before him. There were six Gnomes, five Kanis, four Genericans, an Orc, a Dwarf and a Wood Elf. Leroy and the other officers stood at his side. Leroy beamed with pride.

"Yep! We're growing every day."

"Funny, I kinda expected more humans."

"Yes well the locals seem averse to joining our ranks. No doubt the influence of the sinister Beekeepers Union."

Sylvia rolled her eyes and Horus stifled a giggle.

"Beekeepers?"

"Indeed! One of the founding principles of the Guild of Righteous Rage is that bees are jerks. Isn't that right Karl?" He looked to the rogue, who gave him his usual blank stare. "Now the dastardly Beekeeper's Union will stop at nothing to prevent us from slandering their precious winged jerks."

"Of course they will." Phineas said incredulously, "well, in any case, I suppose a smaller group will be better in this case..."

"Exactly! So we shall bring myself, Sylvia, Horus, Eddie, Thorgar, Larondas, and the Genericans."

"Really Leroy? We're not going to bring Karl? The guy who's role on the team is to sneak around and take things from people? Or even the other Dwarf?"

"No, it's important that we leave someone we trust in charge while we're gone."

"Unacceptable." Dieter stepped forward from the ranks, "I insist you take at least one Kanis with you. My cousin Christoph perhaps?"

"If you're taking a dog-man you should take a gnome too." Bodden insisted, thrusting forth a slightly shorter Gnome in goggles and a leather cap. Christoph, the Kanis from the barracks in the heavy armor stepped forward and nodded silently.

"A splendid idea!" Leroy said.

"This expedition's gonna be a real sausage festival if you ask me." Eddie muttered to Thorgar, who snorted in agreement. He was of course making a reference to the notoriously male-dominated field of fine sausage production, their mysogynistic barring of females attempting to enter the industry and their traditional all-male festivals held every year where recipes are exchanged, new sausages are sampled, and business connections are made. And also sausages look like penises.

"I don't know about this Leroy," Sylvia whispered, "we kind of have enough problems with teamwork without bringing two people who hate each other. Well, two MORE people who hate each other."

"Don't worry, my Elven friend, this will be an exciting social experiment! By working together these two will learn that they aren't so different after all, and become fast friends, and then they will spread that message of peace and brotherhood to the rest of their comrades, bringing the two bitter enemies together at last!”