Zwitty’s shako. Zwitty grabbed it out of his hand and quickly stuffed his fallen loot back inside.
“You’re all fools. We can end this curse, but none of you has the guts to do it.”
“Guts to do what?”
Alwyn looked up as Yimt appeared from behind another carronade and strolled up to stand beside Zwitty. Despite his significantly shorter stature, the dwarf simply exuded confidence that made him appear like a giant.
“Zwitty here was just telling us how he’s going to try walking along the railing up top,” Hrem said. “Says he can make it all the way round the ship without falling over. Wants us to try it with him, but we’re all rather comfy here at the moment, so he’s off to try it alone. Ain’t that right, Zwitty?”
Zwitty glared at Hrem, but only nodded.
“Well, aren’t you the daring fellow,” Yimt said, patting Zwitty firmly on the arm and propelling him away from the group. “Off you go then, and watch when you get near the bow. The major’s been revisiting his last couple of meals up there and the wood’s a bit slick.”
Zwitty muttered something none of them could hear and quickly strode away. It wasn’t until Zwitty had disappeared from sight that Alwyn realized he had been holding his breath and let it out slowly.
“Now then, what are you reprobates up to?” Yimt asked, leaning against the swell of the carronade’s muzzle and rubbing his back against the iron.
“Oh, discussing the whys and whats of life and love,” Hrem said, flexing his hand as he got comfortable again against the oak rib. “Out getting some fresh air again, were you? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you didn’t like it down here.”
Yimt stiffened, then smiled and laughed. “What’s not to like? It smells like a dead sheep around here.”
Alwyn took a cautious sniff, then immediately regretted his decision. They really did smell like dead sheep. Very old, very wet, and very dead sheep.
“Tain’t our fault,” Teeter offered from his hammock. “The soap they give us is made of mutton fat.”
“You’ve used it then?” Yimt asked.
Teeter waved his unlit pipe in the affirmative. “In a manner of speaking. I traded it to one of the sailors for some chewing tobacco. Can’t smoke down here, more’s the pity.”
“Oh, you’re a clever bunch, you lot,” Yimt said, bowing his head as if in great sorrow. “It’s a wonder the Empire’s lasted as long as it has if this is the caliber of siggers there are to defend it.”
“You could always jump ship and swim for it,” Hrem said. “Of course, with those metal teeth of yours, I imagine you’d go right to the bottom.”
“I’ll have you know I’m a first-rate swimmer. The mines fill up with water more than you’d think. If a dwarf can’t swim and hold his breath, he ain’t got much of a future. And speaking of futures,” Yimt said, catching Alwyn’s eye and giving him a wink, “yours might be shorter than you think in this elite gathering if you don’t mind your manners. It’s by my good graces alone that you were allowed to join such esteemed company,” Yimt said, pushing himself away from the carronade to walk over and sit on a large coil of rope. “Of course, Private Vulhber, I could assign you to the Color Party. They’re always looking for big lads that can stop a musket ball.”
Hrem made a show of pondering this, though everyone knew the answer. Being a member of the Color Party was a great honor, right up until it stopped being one when you were dead. The enemy always tried to capture the Colors, making the guarding of them crucial in every battle. It also meant you were a prime target. Alwyn himself had volunteered for the Color Party three times now, but Yimt had denied his request.
“No one here’s looking to be a hero,” Hrem said, “well, ’cept maybe Ally there. You keep charging ahead of us like that and you’re bound to come to a sticky end.”
Alwyn smiled and tried to wave it off. “I just get my
“You’re all fools. We can end this curse, but none of you has the guts to do it.”
“Guts to do what?”
Alwyn looked up as Yimt appeared from behind another carronade and strolled up to stand beside Zwitty. Despite his significantly shorter stature, the dwarf simply exuded confidence that made him appear like a giant.
“Zwitty here was just telling us how he’s going to try walking along the railing up top,” Hrem said. “Says he can make it all the way round the ship without falling over. Wants us to try it with him, but we’re all rather comfy here at the moment, so he’s off to try it alone. Ain’t that right, Zwitty?”
Zwitty glared at Hrem, but only nodded.
“Well, aren’t you the daring fellow,” Yimt said, patting Zwitty firmly on the arm and propelling him away from the group. “Off you go then, and watch when you get near the bow. The major’s been revisiting his last couple of meals up there and the wood’s a bit slick.”
Zwitty muttered something none of them could hear and quickly strode away. It wasn’t until Zwitty had disappeared from sight that Alwyn realized he had been holding his breath and let it out slowly.
“Now then, what are you reprobates up to?” Yimt asked, leaning against the swell of the carronade’s muzzle and rubbing his back against the iron.
“Oh, discussing the whys and whats of life and love,” Hrem said, flexing his hand as he got comfortable again against the oak rib. “Out getting some fresh air again, were you? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you didn’t like it down here.”
Yimt stiffened, then smiled and laughed. “What’s not to like? It smells like a dead sheep around here.”
Alwyn took a cautious sniff, then immediately regretted his decision. They really did smell like dead sheep. Very old, very wet, and very dead sheep.
“Tain’t our fault,” Teeter offered from his hammock. “The soap they give us is made of mutton fat.”
“You’ve used it then?” Yimt asked.
Teeter waved his unlit pipe in the affirmative. “In a manner of speaking. I traded it to one of the sailors for some chewing tobacco. Can’t smoke down here, more’s the pity.”
“Oh, you’re a clever bunch, you lot,” Yimt said, bowing his head as if in great sorrow. “It’s a wonder the Empire’s lasted as long as it has if this is the caliber of siggers there are to defend it.”
“You could always jump ship and swim for it,” Hrem said. “Of course, with those metal teeth of yours, I imagine you’d go right to the bottom.”
“I’ll have you know I’m a first-rate swimmer. The mines fill up with water more than you’d think. If a dwarf can’t swim and hold his breath, he ain’t got much of a future. And speaking of futures,” Yimt said, catching Alwyn’s eye and giving him a wink, “yours might be shorter than you think in this elite gathering if you don’t mind your manners. It’s by my good graces alone that you were allowed to join such esteemed company,” Yimt said, pushing himself away from the carronade to walk over and sit on a large coil of rope. “Of course, Private Vulhber, I could assign you to the Color Party. They’re always looking for big lads that can stop a musket ball.”
Hrem made a show of pondering this, though everyone knew the answer. Being a member of the Color Party was a great honor, right up until it stopped being one when you were dead. The enemy always tried to capture the Colors, making the guarding of them crucial in every battle. It also meant you were a prime target. Alwyn himself had volunteered for the Color Party three times now, but Yimt had denied his request.
“No one here’s looking to be a hero,” Hrem said, “well, ’cept maybe Ally there. You keep charging ahead of us like that and you’re bound to come to a sticky end.”
Alwyn smiled and tried to wave it off. “I just get my
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