By the time Beli Flinthammer and Widge Gearloose arrived in the Krasarang Wilds, it was easy to find Lion’s Landing. The Alliance outpost was now a full-fledged fortress city, complete with two full keeps, a flight master and a community of merchants and support staff, in addition to the soldiers, sailors and marines stationed there.
There were a large number of dwarves in and around Lion’s Landing, most of them riflemen.
“Me rifle is dwarven, even as I, because it is me life,” the riflemen recited in Dwarven, working in unison to clean and reassemble their weapons. Beli and Widge waiting in silence a respectful distance away. “Thus, I will learn it as me brother. I will learn its weakness, its strength, its parts, its accessories, its sights and its barrel. I will keep me rifle clean and ready, even as I am clean and ready. We will become part of each other. We will.”
“How’s it hangin’?” Beli announced, sauntering over. “Ah’m lookin’ fer me husband.”
“Sorry, lass; I’m married.”
“Nae, Ah’m … Ah’m married, too!”
“Well, ye should know, I’m not that kind of dwarf. More traditional-like, not a modern thinker, like yourself.”
“What? Nae, Ah’m … argh!”
“Allow me,” Widge said, lowering Beli’s staff before she could smack some sense into the rifleman. “Sir, her husband is here, or he was. Big guy, big blonde whiskers, yells ‘KHAZ’GOROTH ON A CRACKER’ a lot. No? Friends with a big white bear?”
“Oh, aye — I remember the bear!”
“Good,” Widge smiled, nodding back at Beli, who was clearly working out what the rifleman’s “modern thinker” suggestion meant about what kind a dwarf she was supposed to be. “And where’s the bear now?”
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