There's a violent knocking on the door to Rumfus’ cabin, Rumfus and Cetrid turn towards the door, they were not expecting anyone.

A loud booming voice is heard from the other side.

“Brew Wizard!

It has come to our attention that you've taken up a hobby of brewing ale with some sort of auto brew contraption with the plan to sell your own ale in competition with market established ale.

This is in direct violation against treaties signed by the Nine Nations!

That being said, we demand you hand over your supplies, any equipment, your recipe, and that contraption.

Otherwise, we will use force to take it along with your life.”

The voice came from a Dwarf who was the leader of a group of six other Dwarfs.

Rumfus crosses his arms.

“Treaties? Cetrid, what’s he talking about?”

Sitting scared in a corner, Cetrid gets up and walks towards Rumfus.

“Uh… well…

I guess maybe I should have mentioned that.

The treaties prohibit… uh... anyone from producing and selling any type of alcoholic beverage since the Dwarves were the first to create ale and distribute it.

I guess the art is kind of sacred to them… or something…”

Unbeknownst to Rumfus and Cetrid, their mysterious taste testing guest had started telling everyone about their plan to start making their own ale.

Word had made its way to the Nine Nations where an armed envoy had been sent to put an end to the two’s little operation at the request of Bale Frolrur, King and leader of the Dwarves.

Rumfus thinks for a moment on what he should do, for if he was breaking the laws of the Nine Nations, there would be serious repercussions if he didn’t comply.

“Hmm…”

But Rumfus was prideful and felt duty-bound to continue making the ale for the people.

“I will not allow these brutes to bully me into getting what they want, and I most certainly will not allow them the chance to reverse our perfect recipe…

My dear Cetrid, bring me Dirge.”

Cetrid scuttles over to Rumfus’ weapon rack, at the top sat his staff.

A simple enough looking staff named Stormbringer, Favor of Twilight’s End, the wood was lent to him by the Nymphs of a sacred grove that he found hidden far away from civilization.

Atop was a large prismatic crystal that he had found deep below Langstay’s surface which he then had perfected by the land’s most proficient gem worker.

Below the staff was Ashrune, Conqueror of Scales, a fierce broadsword he once used to fell several Dragons whilst protecting a Cyclops mountain village.

Finally, below that was Dirge, Spine of the Ancients, a mighty greatsword rumored to have been gifted to Rumfus by a now-extinct race of beings who once ruled Langstay.

Cetrid grabs Dirge which is in its scabbard and brings it over to Rumfus.

Rumfus removes the scabbard from the sword and throws it off to his side for Cetrid to catch, but the scabbard hits Cetrid in the face, sending him flying backwards into a crate from the force at which it was thrown.

Rumfus grips Dirge tightly.

“Well, you’d better fight hard, gentlemen, because you’re not getting anything from me while I still draw breath.

Get behind me, Cetrid!”

Cetrid didn’t respond as he laid unconscious up against the crate with Dirge’s scabbard in his lap.

The leader of the envoy smiles.

“Alright, boys, you know what to do.”

One of the Dwarfs kneels down and opens up a pack, he pulls a cylindrical shaped makeshift explosive with a wick out of it.

Another pulls out a single-strike fire starting stick and flicks the combustible end across his helmet.

It catches fire and the Dwarf lights the wick of the explosive, the Dwarf holding the explosive then gets up and throws it towards the cabin’s front door.

The leader of the envoy takes the battle-axe from his back and rests it on his shoulder, holding it with one hand.

“Let’s fuck him up!”

The explosive’s wick hisses as it gets shorter and shorter.

The explosion is large and loud, the Dwarfs all brace for it except for the leader which just stands, squinting and staring.

A small smoldering crater is left where the explosive was, the majority of the front of the cabin has been blown inwards and the area surrounding the crater was blackened by the primitive materials used to make the explosive.

Nothing is heard from inside the cabin, the dwarfs stand, waiting for a moment.

One of the Dwarfs looks towards the leader.

The leader gestures his head towards the cabin.

“You two, go check out the mess, I doubt he’s dead.”

The two Dwarfs upfront of the group start to walk towards the cabin with their axes drawn and shields up, covering their torsos.

Suddenly, Rumfus leaps through the smoke and swings Dirge horizontally through the air with such force it lops the heads of both the Dwarfs with one swing.

The bodies slump to the floor and the heads bounce off the ground as Rumfus continues forwards.

He swings Dirge diagonally downwards breaking a Dwarf’s shield and knocking it out of his hands, and in a swift motion, Rumfus thrust the sword into the Dwarf’s mouth, obliterating his face.

He pushed as the body fell backward, he let go and Dirge stuck into the ground through the Dwarf’s head.

The leader, visibly angry, points towards Rumfus.

“Take him down!”

The remaining three Dwarfs start to charge towards Rumfus as he clenches his fists in the air and shouts a mighty battle-cry.

Rumfus grips Dirge with his right hand as one of the Dwarfs approaches on his left side.

The wizard Swings his left fist and crushes the helmet and skull of the approaching Dwarf as another comes on his right.

Rumfus pulls Dirge from the ground and swings it upwards, cutting the Dwarf’s face up the middle.

The last Dwarf, thinking he had the jump on Rumfus, swings his axe downwards at the wizard, but Rumfus quickly turns and catches the axe’s handle.

Rumfus forces the axe back towards the Dwarf, it hits him in the face and the Dwarf falls to the ground.

He struggles to get back up, but before he could, Dirge had been thrust through his back, impaling him to the ground.

Rumfus stood amongst the corpses, left hand resting on Dirge’s pommel, his right holding the Dwarf’s axe.

The leader of the recently deceased Dwarfs stood holding his battle-axe, sweat beading on his forehead.

“You’ve made a huge mistake, Brew Wizard!

This visit was ordered directly by Bale, my King, and sanctioned by the Nine Nations, they’ll know what it means if I don’t return.

You will be considered a villain, a criminal, and you will be hunted by all!”

But before the Dwarf could continue to make his plea, Rumfus had thrown the axe through the air and the Dwarf fell to the ground as he met his end with an axe lodged in his skull.

The Dwarfs were dealt with, but Rumfus now had another issue to deal with.

Rumfus would now have to pack up and take everything to a new, secret, location.

He grabbed everything of importance and loaded it up in his wagon, after that, he carried all the bodies and put them in his cabin.

All packed up and ready to embark, Rumfus conjured and threw a ball of fire towards the cabin, setting it ablaze.

He would soon be vilified and hunted by the authorities of the Nine Nations, as well as every able Dwarf.

So the two traveled as far from the Dwarven homeland as possible.

They would need to find somewhere secluded, yet also close enough to somewhere he and Cetrid could peddle their newly perfected ale, modestly titled King Rumfy’s Spice.

For there were places, dank and discreet, where the people didn’t follow the laws of the Nine Nations.

Murder and theft went unchecked.

This is where Rumfus and Cetrid had found themselves.

So they began setting up, producing their ale and forming connections with taverns.