Thelryl

A Brief but Forlorn History of a Dwarf Named Thelryl

    The evening was not kind to the dwarf. Neither was the day, but that was, in fact, another matter. Thelryl was tired. He was tired of traveling, tired of fighting, but most of all, he was tired of searching for that which he could not obtain – a good adventure. The travel-bound dwarf managed to stumble into a worn tavern for the night. It wasn't much, he thought, but it will do. Truly Thelryl is a talker – he relishes in speaking of ancient stories or embellished tales. Tonight, however, he was as quiet as a monk. The dwarf approached the cherry-wood counter, noting the craftsmanship of the set. However, there was no barkeep in sight. Glancing around the room, there appeared to be neither patrons nor visitors within the wooden walls. Surely the inn is not abandoned, he thought. Why would there be lit candles and a simmering fire?

    Thelryl rose himself to one of five stools next to the bar. The natural light upon the room was quickly losing itself, fading into darkness, leaving a way for the candles to presume power. Swinging his booted feet in the air, the dwarf began to reminisce about his journey thus far. It had been a long trek from Kal'Varoth. The grand place of stone was his home, and always will be. But working in the city had done its toll on Thelryl. It is not every day a dwarf, especially a mountain dwarf at that, longs to be under the open sky. To see what is beyond the horizon. But it was time for the dwarf to go beyond his home. So that is precisely what occurred - he left his home to go on an adventure.

    As for his current state of affairs, the dwarf is quite well and truly lost. This is, however, precisely the preferred situation. Though as of late, the dwarf is beginning to wear down. He misses his home, and the people that - SLAM! The massive movement of a thick wooden door tore Thelryl out of his thoughts. It was, in fact, the barkeep. Glad to see he's not dead or otherwise, the dwarf silently thought to himself. The man apologized for his absence and promptly sold the slumped dwarf room, drink, and food, of which all three were enjoyed equally. The night turned into day, and before long, the dwarf gathered his belongings and took his first step outside the door. The next day was upon him, however not without some help. He had heard from the innkeeper that a group of settlers required the services of a bailiff. Perhaps these stories demanded an investigation.

**This is very poorly written. I apologize. I also want to note the only dialogue within this (short story?) is in thought. When speaking on the server, the stereotypical Scottish accent will be put in place.