“Onyx! Onyx ye arse, get yer midtle-finnded brain outta yer arse and up!”
With a swift kick to the ribs, Taelic muttered a few more words of colorful demeanor before tromping off to the next victim of his morning roll call. With a slow, agonizing groan, Onyx pulled himself off the dirt and shook his cloak. His muscles refused to stretch, still sore from yesterday’s dusk crawl. The sun, a brightening fire scorching the mountain pass, has yet to break the chill air as an involuntary shiver over took the young Dwarf. The encampment still reeked of kobold excrement, but the odor wakened the senses, albeit rather unpleasantly.
“Damn da Chief giv’n us da wash n’ purge.” Onxy rolled his shoulders, stretching out the tight muscles of his chiseled back. Reaching out to protruding slab of nearby granite, his gnarled fingers encircled the hilt of his cherished greataxe. “Aye, ‘tilda, we be see’n da morn ta’g’ther.”
Hefting his axe, ‘tilda, over his shoulder, Onyx rubbed a grubby hand over his speckled mane, creating a series of sharp, dagger-like spikes throughout his beard. Flakes of minerals remained behind, catching the awakening rays of the morning sun. With a quick adjustment of his loincloth, he covered his tuft and strode off through the patchwork encampment, a crazy, restless twitch in his eye.
Soon Onyx came upon a prisoner of the prior night’s raid, a skittering kobold shackled to a post. In long, spindly hands it held a bone upon which it gnawed ferociously while small, incomprehensible yelps escaped through clattering teeth. With each unsuccessful attempt to withdraw the delicious marrow within, the kobold emitted another irritating whine.
“E, ye blast’d grut of a nef’rs pum. I’ll give ye somet’in ta squeal abut.” With an unimaginable quickness, the greataxe split the morning dawn, cleaving the bone in two, marrow slowing oozing out of either side. The kobold let out an excited squeal as the bones fell to the ground, surrounded on all sides by the tops of each finger.