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Tunnels & Trolls Fantasy Role Playing Game : Gristlegrim Fiction : The Last Adventure of Big Jack Brass - Page 2
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The one-eyed Dwarf with the jewels in his beard looked at the big blustering human and thought to himself, "Monster fodder," but he didn't say anything out loud.
"This is how it works," answered the Dwarf. "Gristlegrim put the place a mile up in the air to keep it from being overrun with rabble. It's a sort of intelligence test and initiative test. If you can't get up there under your own power, then you have to pay something valuable to get in. You two don't look like you have much of value, so I'll make you a special offer. Sacrifice your beard to Gristlegrim on the altar over there and you're in. As for the kid, he's pretty small. He can get in for a finger--just give Gristlegrim the finger on the altar, and the Dwarves will take you up in the balloon. Wuddya say?"
Stroking a shovel-like hand across his expansive moustaches, Big Jack considered the proposal for a moment. The price seemed high, but then the possible rewards...
"Done!" he boomed. "Right-o, laddie, you go first." He ushered a reluctant Thomas to the altar. "Jack-" began the whelp.
"Hush hush, my boy. Now, climb up on the altar there and do exactly what this scrupulous dwarf has asked: Give his god the finger," winked Jack, hooking his thumbs into his belt and beaming amiably at the dwarf. Thomas clambered atop the altar and, with rather excessive gusto, clenched a fist with the requested digit extended, thrusting it upwards from waist height in a fluid and obviously often-practiced motion. For good measure he blew a particularly vulgar raspberry.
"Is Gristlegrim a moon-god?" Thomas asked hopefully, bending forward and starting to unfasten his breeches. Big Jack's hand batted him from the altar. The portly giant stroked his beard to full length and, kneeling, laid it across the altar. He withdrew a plain but clearly keen dirk from his belt.
"And now for my part of the bargain!" he bellowed and stabbed the knife once! twice! into the bushy carpet covering the altar cloth. Sheathing the blade Jack stood and waved his still-intact beard limply at the dwarf. "There," he said, melodramatic emotion clouding his voice, "I dedicate and sacrifice this beard to Gristlegrim. The poor thing had a good innings, but at least the end was swift. If you don't mind I shall continue to carry the body, just to remind me of the good times we shared." He wiped a non-existent tear from his eye and looked, lip trembling, to the ceiling. After a moment his manner abruptly changed and, baring a full set of teeth to all present, the big man sat heavily on the altar and folded his arms.
"Well then," said Jack in his most resonant stentorian tones, "I believe that we have followed the agreed bargain to the letter, with a little extra contribution by my learned colleague, so it is time for our most revered host to hold up his side of it, eh? Two tickets for the balloon ride was, I believe, the offer." He cast his eyes around the temple. "I don't suppose you have any communion wine? Ale, perhaps?" he added. The one-eyed Dwarf grinned broadly. "Hey, that was certainly the letter of what I asked for if not the spirit," he chuckled. "Oh, Gristlegrim is going to have fun with you jokers." He gestured off-handedly to a doorway through which Jack could see several Dwarves and a few other humanoids sitting back in large overstuffed chairs with their feet up while nubile goblin girls fanned their brows and placed foaming tankards of this and that in their hairy paws. "Why don't you two gentlemen have a seat in the waiting room while the boys get the Riser ready?"
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Jack's story continues...
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