The Broken Arrow,
Serrig,
17th Bell
Derek sat at the grimy table in the bar long enough to sate his thirst.
The torture had been the hardest part, Dwarfs are notoriously stubborn, though with the gold he carried, the dwarf almost tore his shackles out to get to it.
The search had almost been too easy, though subduing a dwarf armed with axe and crossbow proved a bit more difficult than imagined. Even now Captain Hemmler's headache had not abated, which worried him considerably.
Forcing the truth of the tale out of the dwarf however took some ingenious planning, but in the end it was Ivanistoff who managed to do the deed that pushed the dwarf over the edge, threatening to pull his fingers out one at a time, for when a dwarf has no fingers, he has no craft.
Although that might of been the realisation that the sword he had held scant hours before was in fact one of the twelve legendary Runefangs of Alaric the Mad which convinced the armourer that what he had done was worth becoming a slayer over... But gold seems to aleviate a Dwarfs morals in more ways than one.
His tale told them of a plot to forge a fake sword to replace the one stolen from some noble suitor for the Baroness, though that was all the dwarf seemed to know.
Hemmler and Graf Bieter were intent to continue their questioning however and had wandered arounf the town together.
Derek in the meantime had seated himself close to the fire in a large and surprisingly clean chair, the mug of beer comforting his sorrows somewhat in the face of another search in Sonnefurt a day before the wedding.
"This is getting on my nerves, why the hell would anyone want to steal a Runefang? Sollands Runefang no less." He took a swill of his beer and mulled it over, the thoughts swirling around in his head.