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# Dwarves

Story
"Brumnik! Up, you lazy lump!"
The nobleman kicked open the dwarf's chamber door, gagging as the sour stink of beer rolled out. On the bed, Brumnik snored flat on his back, belly rising like dough in an oven, a half-empty keg nestled lovingly in his arms.
"Work, you wretch!" the master barked, shaking him by the shoulder.
Brumnik blinked blearily, smacking his lips. "Ah... morning already? I was only resting my eyes." He swung his stubby legs over the edge of the bed, wobbling to his feet. "Aye, aye, I'll work, I'll work."
Shuffling after his master, he spotted a visiting lady in a flowing dress, sipping tea in the hall. Brumnik's eyes lit up. He gave her a sloppy wink and, before anyone could stop him, gave her backside a loud, exaggerated pat.
The crack of her hand across his face echoed through the estate. Brumnik reeled, blinking tears from his eyes. "Fair lady! I meant only to-ow-express admiration-oww-"
The nobleman turned scarlet, half from fury and half from shame. "You disgusting fool!" He grabbed Brumnik by the collar, dragging him bodily across the floor.
Brumnik flailed, kicking uselessly. "But the lady-oww-she started it, I swear!"
With a final heave, the master hurled him into the workshop. The dwarf landed in a heap of sawdust and tools. The nobleman slammed the door shut and locked it.
"Not a drop of beer until I see progress!" he roared through the wood.
Inside, Brumnik lay groaning, rubbing his cheek. He eyed the workbench piled with half-finished trinkets, then sighed, curling up beneath it instead. Within moments, his snores rattled the walls louder than the master's shouting.

Story
The Mataraaj merchant prince leaned forward across the table, voice low. "And you are certain of this?"
At his elbow, Mistress Kahlira, famed courtesan, twirled her goblet lazily. "If your little friend is wrong, the Sultan will have your head."
From the shadows, a cough. Then Dorrik waddled forward, his belly wobbling beneath silken robes far too fine for him. He bowed low, grinning with yellow teeth.
"Wrong? Me? Never, my shining stars. The guard captain has been dipping his hand in the treasury. I saw the ledgers myself-though, ah, I may have had to peek under the bed of his third mistress to find them."
The prince frowned. "How do you know this is true?"
Dorrik winked. "Because I told the mistress he had four. She slapped him hard enough to knock the truth out of him."
The courtesan laughed, spilling wine down her wrist. The prince's scowl deepened, but he sat back, thoughtful.
Dorrik leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "And while he was groveling on the floor, he gave me three bags of silver to keep my mouth shut. So if you see bags missing from your vault... well, that will be the final proof, won't it?"
The dwarf waddled back into the shadows, humming to himself. Behind him, the prince muttered, "Annoying little wretch."
Kahlira smiled, tapping her goblet. "Annoying, yes. But useful."
And in the corner, Dorrik's drunken snore answered her.

Dwarf doing his favourite thing

Dwarves are not the noble folk of legend. They are squat, short-limbed creatures with thin arms and legs, sagging bellies, and faces often flushed from strong drink. Their voices are rough and nasal, and their laughter is the kind that makes people wish for silence.

They are notorious for their disagreeable temperaments. Quick to insult, shameless in their greed, and relentless in their complaints, dwarves test the patience of nearly everyone they meet. Their company is rarely enjoyed, but tolerated because of two things: their knack for craft, and their overall harmlessness.

When they work, they can be brilliant. A dwarf with hammer and chisel, or with needle and thread, can produce work of astounding quality. But they rarely apply themselves without either coercion or bribery, and beer is the most reliable fuel for their industry. Threats come second. Many employers find that the easiest arrangement is to keep a keg close at hand and a whip ready for when the keg runs dry.

There is a saying: "A dwarf has never accomplished something worthwhile without coercion", and while it is a broad generalization, it mostly holds true.

## Habits and Character

Dwarves live for the moment. Any coin that falls into their grubby hands vanishes in days, squandered on beer, food, gambling, or harebrained schemes. Each dwarf claims to be on the verge of a great fortune, digging for gold in some forgotten streambed, buying a warehouse of spoiled grain that they are certain can be sold to someone, or inventing a new tool that will revolutionize farming (though it usually breaks within a day). These plans almost always collapse, leaving them right back where they started, begging for another drink or another chance.

They are infamously lecherous, with no sense of propriety when it comes to courtship. Advances are often crude and unwanted, and many dwarves carry the marks of well-deserved slaps. Yet they are also quick to grovel, falling to their knees with a pitiful whine when confronted, swearing eternal loyalty until the sting wears off and the cycle begins again.

Despite their faults, dwarves are rarely cruel. They may be selfish, vulgar, and greedy, but they lack the malice required to be true villains. For this reason, they are often regarded as pests rather than threats.

## Society and Place in the World

Dwarves have no homeland of their own. They drift between cities and kingdoms, attaching themselves like barnacles to the powerful. Some find a place as craftsmen, others as jesters or fools kept around to amuse their betters. They are commonly seen as moderately socially tolerable failures. They never form lasting communities of their own, preferring to live as tolerated outsiders in the lands of others.

- The Empire: Dwarves are given unusual freedom. Though technically "owned," they are not automatically enslaved in the same way as other non-humans. They are seen more as tools that wander away if not watched carefully.
- Lumekhet: Here dwarves are considered living charms. To own a dwarf is a sign of prosperity and fortune. Many nobles keep one or two, dressing them in fine silks and showing them off at banquets like prized pets.
- Mataraaj: Dwarves are distrusted, thought of as sly and conniving. Their natural nosiness and shamelessness make them excellent spymasters, and many lords employ them in this role, though always under careful watch.
- Elsewhere: Most people simply tolerate them as drunken nuisances. When dwarves overstep, which they inevitably do, they are slapped back into place.

## Religion and Magic

Dwarves have no gods of their own. Instead, they mumble whatever prayers are expected where they live, treating faith as another way to curry favor or avoid punishment. As for magic, they are wholly unsuited to it. Their attention wavers, their patience frays, and their discipline crumbles. The most they manage is a drunken chant that makes sparks sputter from a campfire before they fall asleep in it.

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