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About 40 years ago a young dwarf named Elwyn was out alone hunting the hills around the mines. He set camp one night and as he slept a young hill giantess came upon him. Thinking to keep the dwarf as a pet, she grabbed him up and took him away to her cave in the hills. She grew fond of the dwarf and one night after too many barrels of stolen ale, she had her way with him. Well, she just sort of held him down. After the long night of serving as the giantess' love slave...a gruesome job at best, the young dwarf was able to stumble sorely from the cave while the giantess lay passed out among the dirty furs and empty barrels to make good his escape. He returned in shame to the mines of his people hoping to put the entire incident behind him.
Almost a year later this same dwarf received a summons to visit with the clan's priest. Upon his arrival, he heard the wails of a newborn babe come noisily from the priest's office and immediately knew his shame was now known. As he entered, he noticed a large bundle of dirty furs wiggling upon the priest's desk from which the wailing emanated. The priest, without a word, handed the dwarf a wrinkled piece of parchment upon which was scrawled "Dis be da babe o' Elwyn" in crude letters.
Elwyn looked upon the wailing, wrinkled babe in disgust, its brown whiskers jutting this way and that gave clue that the babe was, in fact, dwarven; at least somewhat so. The child was considerably longer than the average dwarven babe and had not quite the same ruddy complexion of most, but there was no mistake the child was indeed Elwyn's. The resemblances were too many to deny. The babe continued to wail as it lay upon its back with its little arms and legs thrashing the air. Taking a flask of good dwarven ale from his hip pocket, Elwyn forced it into the babe's mouth and the wailing and thrashing ceased as it drank noisily from the upturned flask, proving the babe was indeed of dwarven stock.
"Looks like a bloody turtle lyin' there," Elwyn said to the priest, "What am I ta do wit it?"
"Dis 'ere child 'as a purpose Elwyn," the priest replied, "Ye must raise it as yer own."
Elwyn cursed in his native tongue but could not argue with the priest. It was, after all, his shame that had brought the child to his doorstep. Looking upon the babe clutching the flask of ale he nodded, "I'll call 'im Docsi" which is Turtle in the old dwarvish tongue.
The boy grew fast and grew broad and strong. Dwarven ale has that effect on the young. He was soon taller than the other dwarven children, a fact his father never forgot, and soon was so tall that he constantly bumped his head on the lentils carved from the hard mine rock. It was about this time, when the child began his education, that the voices in his head began to speak. That tends to happen when one constantly bonks one's head upon short stone lentils.
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Duke, Squire Docsi HardAnvil
aka the Mad Dwarf
GMR of Dreadmoor
Squire to Sir Logan T. Black
Clan Chieftain of the Turtle Clan
Ship's Surgeon, HMS "Turtle's Revenge"
Gaslight Sky Pirate
"Dwarves and mountains have one thing in common: It takes an almighty hammer and a tremendous amount of persistence to overcome them."
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