Dwarven Tavern Keeper/Bartender who found himself in rural Ireland
“Safe Travels!” – you hear in the distance, looking in its direction, you see a small rather buff gentleman standing in front of a rather sizely building fairing well to a stumbling hobbling shell of a man managing his best to return to the road, where you presume his car might be.
As you head closer to the building, you can notice the door is split to be accessible to those vertically challenged, much like the man you had seen just a moment before he entered the building. You walk towards the door to see what this place is about. 15 feet away you can hear the rumblings of what sounds to be a lively place. 10 feet away you hear absolutely nothing. Frightened, you think to yourself, did i set off something? Am I unwelcome here?
You disregard the warnings your intuition gave you, you close in on your target. Turning the nob on the non vertically challenged door ever so slightly, you open it. You hear the strum of a guitar, with other instruments following suit.. you are enchanted by the sounds of a beautiful barmaid singing…
As you enter, you notice you’re on a slightly elevated plane
As you enjoy the music, you see the other participators of the Tavern swinging their mugs in unison joining in the song. Other Barmaids running around bringing ale, meals, and courteous smiles to those around the tables. You can’t make out the words as it sounds foreign in western Ireland. But you feel like it sounds much like Swedish or Norwegian. As you look around, you see most of the people here are decked out in rather… hmm… you can’t really think of the word as you struggle to pull away from the atmosphere. Looking up you see monstrous Heads of beasts that resemble Deer, Quail, Lions, Bears, and other creatures you know for sure do not belong in Ireland. You wonder how far the owner has traveled to collect these wall mounts.
The word came back, it was “Renaissance” attire, that they looked like. Looking behind the railing on the “second” floor, you see more in depth costumes, pretty realistic, people having a pint.
“AYE!” You hear from right behind you. “Welcom’ to me tavern! Pardon me askin’, but ya don’t seem to be the type ta be drinkin’ with the ol’ Dulamon!” The name rings a bell, of course it does, it was the sign on the front lawn.
“Don’t tell me yer lost, sonny? Gertrude! C’mere!” Before you can answer a gorgeous woman scurries over, waiting patiently for instructions.
“The wee lad seems a bit lost, perhaps ya could help em out?”
“Certainly, Mr. Gaelach. This Tavern is The Altan. Ran by Mr. Gaelach here” waving her hand introducing the grinning rosy cheeked stout Dwarf of a man.“Might I ask how you got here?”
As you open your mouth, Gaelach answers for you “Dones’t matter how ’e got here, Gertrude, just matters how ’e gets ta the fork in the road”
“My apologies, sirs.” she bows in sincerity. “Follow the road across the bridge and you will be presented with the way you came and the way into town.”
Your face spells out “Who is this man”? but you dare not speak if you aren’t welcome. You hesitate to move looking down at your feet.
“Could I offer ye any answers to them questions I see your eyes be formin’?” Gaelach spoke.
“I think he’s curious about this place and what a real Dwarf the middle earth series describes is doing in Ireland, Mr Gaelach.”
What? a real Dwarf? a REAL LIVE DWARF?! looking over you see an Orc, Drow, and Teifling who’s lounging on the ledge sideways that you didn’t see previously, leaning on the ledge, tipping their glasses to you, enjoying the music.
You can’t believe your eyes, They aren’t costumes. they’re real. Looking back at Gaelach he lets out a beltch louder than the music, the tavern full of laughter, he bows, turning back to you "c’mere lad, it’ll be a great story over a pint o’ barley.
Gertrude grabbing two pints dismisses herself from the table where she sits you and Gaelach
“I was Walkin’ by me self. Among the mountains of Stormheim. I came across the Triplets of Rhone, a great paladin. They were, Izir, ta paladin who followed in ‘is father’s footsteps. Ozir, ta Antipaladin whom rejected ‘heir father’s teachings. and Uzir, the warrior whom fought to protect the world from thee corruption of both, be it blind faith, or devout chaos. It seemed like fate that they met in a fork in a road.They began greeting eachother in a stern stare down, but they lost their composure and started to hug one another as they were once family after all. I was breath taken by the fact thee stories were indeed truu. Then, as i got closer, I could hear them speakin’ of their plans. Apparently a new blight of the world had resurfaced. As they headed down a path, and I followed, they were talking of they’re separate adventures, the adventures shared with friends, I’ll never forget the hollow laugh of Ozir, the hearty laugh of Izir, and the Feral laugh of Uzir. But as they stepped in to me cousin’s bar, I noticed somethin’ ominous of the place. I went inside as well, greetin’ my cousin, but I walked into the triplets in a clash with what seemed to be Assassins. Watchin’ them fight was like no other. Especially together. It takes a seasoned trio to fight as they did but i guess it’s the gift of blood that guided them. I ran to my cousin who was behind the bar, And he had the look of guilt on his face… He’s no more. Be of no assistance in a fight like that, I would. So the young lad I was, I watched. One of the assassin’s daggers flew at me, and as I thought I’d be a goner, Izir stepped in. Thee blade bounced off him like nothin’, but couldn’t move due to some sort of invulnerability spell. As if part of the assassin’s plans they pounced on the chance to slice him up with their poison daggers.
Izir fell on top of me, bleeding out I dragged his body under the bar but it was of no use, the poison was getting him before I was in a position to help. I heard the outcries of the warrior, and the hallowed chilled winds of a merciless anti paladin, but not knowing how far I was, it was pitch black underneath the bar. I noticed it was very quiet after a while. and decided it was safe to drag out Izir to return him to his brothers. Instead I heard the clashing of an ocean waves on the rocks. There was light, but it was to a hillside.
My cousin must have this secret passage to escape when there is trouble! I thought. Nay.
For when i turned back, there was nothing but dirt at the end of Izir’s feet. I dragged out Izir and carried him to the mountain side. His body lay only 5 miles south of here. near the ocean. but over there -” pointing to the tavern door you see golden armor and a golden sword “- lay his armor, and sword” a sign on it states “The hero of this tavern, savior of Dúlamán Gaelach”
“Which is why i dedicate my arts to the ways of the warpriest, that i might not ever be useless again.
The others that are here found themselves lost in similar fashion to me. But to most people they look like whatever these ‘cosplayers’ i hear of, are. As for my training, he be in town but I ’ave a sage of the warpreist ways teaching me.”
Taking another gulp of his pint – “My mutt over there is Altan, named after the place. ‘e was a wee pup left outside abandoned. Now my trusted brew pup! and as for this place, well, 10 gold coins fetch a pretty nice price for this day n age when they’re solid!”
downing his last bit of the pint, he claps his hands to the rhythm, and skips to the stage
“who’s ready for the song of my most recent venture to the country side?” and proceeds to beltch
You take a lot of time to process the information, and can’t help but wonder if all of his adventures are like that.
Despite the dwarf singing, all you can hear is Gertrude standing right night to you as she stands just in the light as she looks like an angel.