Wolf the Wdere-Dwarf
by Me and my son.

                  Wolfe’s Adventures

Copyright Justin and Alder Mitchell

Prologue 

Wolf was born on a bright sunny day. Which was perfect, but also not where he was happiest.

Act 1

Wolfe the Were-Dwarf was bored as he strolled along the King’s Road in the wilds of Irunmundia. He was accompanied, as was his usual fashion, by five of his stout Robo-Dwarf Warriors. Each primed for action and programed for butt-kicking. But there were no butts to be kicked on this idyllic spring day.

Wolfe stretched his long arms into the air, noting as he often did that their length seemed ungainly when compared to the powerful trunks riveted into place on the steam-powered chassis of his companions. During the day and most nights, Wolfe was a head taller than folk met during his travels. He’d long made peace with the short beast dwelling within him. Since that fateful night when a rabid Dwarf had surprised him, even in the light of the full moon, and managed to bite him on the arm before disappearing into the darkness, he himself was granted the power of a Dwarf.

Wolfe shook himself out of his wistful fancy and took to the task at hand. Namely, finding something worthy of his attention. The moon would be full tonight and it would be a shame to waste it on a good night’s sleep. Not that Wolfe slept. Ever. Wolfe’s super hearing alerted him to trouble in a nearby clearing. He cocked his head, listening.

“Gremlins, boys,” he grumbled at the Robo-Dwarves. “At least a dozen, maybe more. I can hear them chittering away, laughing. Hold on,” Wolfe strained his hearing to its limit, “They’ve got a hostage, a young girl. Let’s go.”

With amazing grace in utter contrast with their impressive bulk, the Robo-Dwarves leapt into the trees, heeling after Wolfe like loyal hounds. Wolfe had programmed his ‘bots with ninja skills nearly as great as his own granted by his Were-Dwarfism. Only ears as keen as Wolfe’s could detect the whisper of motion cutting through the leaves. The Gremlin, of course, lack such advantage. All the better for Wolfe as they leapt into the clearing to engage the little monsters.

Wolfe scanned the field around him and made a quick tally. At least four dead already, two armed with rifles, men, and two extremely well dressed and unarmed, one a woman. Several gremlin were busy looting the corpses. The hostage was a young girl, currently begging for mercy, being harassed by four Gremlin, notoriously fond of tormenting children. They’d affixed a rope to her neck and seemed intent on hanging her from a nearby Blue Fir.

He’d seen enough, with a cry that chilled the very air around him, Wolfe leapt to the aid of the imperiled young girl. All about him the battle was joined in earnest. The Gremlin, barely recovered from the shock of the sudden shift in fortunes, managed to get off a volley from their rusty six-shooters. Bullets bounced in every direction off the steel hides of the Robo-Dwarves. That was all they had time for as the stout automatons waded into the thick of them. Alpha-1 crushed a Gremlin’s pistol in his mighty hydraulic fist. With a casual backhand, he completed his perfect landing in the clearing by sending the same Gremlin flying into the undergrowth.

Wolfe made a mental note to examine Alpha-1’s crusher after the battle for any damage caused by the splintering of steel in his fist. To his left, the rest of the Robo-Dwarves were making short work of the eight Gremlin caught in the act of pillaging the remains of the destroyed campsite. Flames from a steam carriage reflected in the over large and bloodshot eyes of the Gremlin directly in front of the Were-Dwarf. Wolfe grimaced as he tried to maneuver closer to the terrified hostage.

“Please, sir, please aid me,” The girl half sobbed, half squealed in earnest appeal. “We kill her! We cut her!” The cackling Gremlin tightened the makeshift noose around the child’s neck and pulled a wicked curved dagger from his belt. His grotesque over-sized ears were twitching with his excitement. “We hang her for whackings! Hanging rope make good leash! Heh! You tell your dwarfs! You make them stop! Or we slice! Slice! Slice! Slice!” The Gremlin’s squeaking, high-pitched voice cracked as he tightened his grip on the length of cord bound into a noose around her neck. Her voice cut off, she managed to whimper softly as she strained to stand on her toes. Wolfe’s eyes narrowed as he played for time, feinting back as if he meant to meet the demands of the Gremlin.

A large explosion drew the attention of Wolfe and the Gremlin holding the girl. Wolfe didn’t waste the opening, without turning his head from the falling figure of Charlie-3, a Robo-Dwarf apparently caught in the blast of an exploding furnace on the wrecked carriage, he darted forward. Jagged pieces of metal stuck out of Chuck, making him look like a Guzler with its spiked carapace. Wolfe made a note to himself to try and salvage his logic cogs.

Wolfe slid deftly behind the lead assailant and with a swift motion, cut the rope holding the girl and spun left, taking down the Gremlin with a clothesline straight arm. He finished with a backwards kick, punting one of the monsters into his comrade, knocking them both into a heap. Wolfe placed himself between the blonde-headed girl and the remaining Gremlin. Behind him, the rest of the Robo-Dwarves had made a bloody mess of the gang of Gremlin. Unfortunately, they were also distracted by Charlie-3’s destruction, circling him protectively. Wolfe watched as the last Gremlin standing leveled a shaking six-shooter at him, slowly cocking back the hammer.

“I can tell by your tremors you ain’t got your heart in this.” Wolfe growled.

“Kill you! Shoot you! Bang! Bang! Bang?” The Gremlin trailed off, finishing his words in a guttural whisper.

“You’re going to miss. You’re going to miss me by a mile. Then I will take that gun and make you eat it a piece at a time.”

The sickly purple hue in the Gremlin’s skin drained from his face giving him the appearance of a lifeless, blue corpse. His eyes darted around him, desperate for an escape. He took a step backwards, failing to notice the root jutting out. As the little bugger fell on his bum, his six-shooter barked an angry protest. True to his word, the bullet missed Wolfe by a mile and traveled harmlessly into the distance. Wolfe growled as he closed in on the Gremlin who had now completely forgotten his gun in a panicked scramble to get over the root and into the undergrowth beyond.

“Turn away, girl. You’re only give yourself nightmares.” Wolfe spoke to the side as best he could without turning from the huddled form cowering before him. “Like to torture little girls, monster, like to kill travelers on the road? No good will come from sparing your pathetic life.”

Terrified, the Gremlin grabbed onto Wolfe’s boot, “No, good sire, no, no, no. Turve is good Gremlin! Turve is kind! Turve’s brother,” the Turve gestured frantically at the Gremlin now sporting a broken neck (courtesy of Wolfe’s clothesline) laying at the foot of the tree. “Iacho made Turve come! Turve likes to paint! Turve artist! Please! Iacho bad Gremlin! This his gang! This his plan! Please! I never banged a shot! No bang! Good sire! Please.”

Wolfe considered the Gremlin. Wolfe was a warrior, true and through, even more so since that full moon. But he was not nearly as blood-thirsty as his reputation suggested. The Were-Dwarf loved to fight, loved to do battle with any worthy opponent, but he only killed those for whom redemption was impossible. In his journeys, Wolfe had surprised more than one adversary by sparing him after a hard-won battle. He picked up Turve’s six-shooter.

“I could ask the girl for the truth of it. But I can’t be sure she could tell one of you ugly bootlickers from another.” Wolfe brandished the pistol at Turve, “However…” Wolfe knocked the cylinder free from the revolver and tossed the rusted iron to the ground. “Five bullets fall out of here…” Wolfe shook the cylinder containing the six-shooter shells, “You live. One less?” Dwarf turned the cylinder over and the fat shells fell to the earth, one spent clicked off the root with a hollow plinking sound. Two, three, four, five fell with a heavy thud to the earth, unspent. With hands so fast, the motion was barely detectable, Wolfe snatched the last shell from the air and held in a clenched fist. “You will eat that gun,” He snarled with an unblinking glare that seemed to push Turve even further into the dirt he was groveling in.

Wolfe revealed a bullet, unspent, in his hand, “If I even hear about you robbing, murdering, or cursing in temple, shrimp...” Wolfe crushed the bullet between his fingers, nearly bending it double.  “Get me?” Turve rose slowly, bobbing his head in a servile bow and backing away on his hands and knees. “No! Yes! No sire, not Turve! Turve is good Gremlin! You count on Turve! Turve help you! You need anything, Turve get!” Turve nodded enthusiastically, then stopped suddenly, a thought occurred to him, “I tell you who hired Iacho’s gang! Turve tell you!”

The girl had regained her composure and landed a vicious kick to the side of Turve’s head. “You monster! You monster! You killed them!” She fell on Turve and began to batter him with poorly aimed, but rage filled blows. “You can’t just run away! I don’t care if you fired a shot! You killed them!” Wolfe watched, uncertain whether he had the right to intercede, but equally conflicted by the notion of standing by while a girl who probably hadn’t seen ten winters was about to murder a terrified and unarmed living creature. He couldn’t for the life of him conceive of who would be more tormented by the act among the assembled figures.

The girl managed to hold on to Turve, who was now screaming hysterically, while searching around for a weapon. She happened upon the cylinder-less six-shooter discarded by Wolfe. She put the barrel against Turve’s temple and pulled the trigger. The hollow click seemed to enrage her further. With an almost inhuman and guttural roar she pressed the barrel down harder on the Gremlin’s head and pulled the trigger: click, click, click. She heaved her hand back with the weighty revolver now gripped like a club. Wolfe made his decision. With another inhuman flurry of speed he grabbed the revolver.

“That’s enough, young moppet. Your point is made. This grubber will stand before the magistrate for his crimes and we will all sleep better with unburdened consciences. Turve, I’m afraid I’m going to have to rescind my previous judgment. And tie you up. Probably keep you tied up for many long days of traveling. No doubt you’ll whine and squeal non-stop.” Wolfe rubbed his chin, “You know, on second thought, do it girl.” Turve wailed and covered his head. Wolfe didn’t let go of the girl’s hand.

“Turve will be good! Turve will be quiet!” Turve quickly gathered up the length of rope cut from the girl’s noose. “Here! Turve will help you tie Turve up!” The Gremlin twirled himself up in the rope and proffered the longest end to Wolfe. “See! See!”

Wolfe hid a smile behind his large beard. He leaned down to the young girl’s ear, “You don’t want this insignificant creature’s soul hanging over your head. I will help you see him to the magistrate and he will stand trial for this.” The girl sagged into Wolfe’s arms and began to sob. Not the frantic oxygen starved ones that racked her body moments before, but soft, grief-filled whimpers as all the anger drained away leaving only the intense sadness of utter loss. Wolfe knew that feeling well and his heart went out to the girl. “Good girl, you’re safe now. Good moppet.” Unnoticed, Turve collapsed in a heap of cord and sobbed softly to himself as the enormity of his crimes finally overcame his hysterical fear leaving only the bitter intensity of guilt and condemnation. He could feel the reaper’s shadow engulf his own, as if it loomed just behind the figure who had killed his brother and his entire gang. Turve knew if he lived long enough, he would hang for this. What Wolfe didn’t know, what he couldn’t know, was Turve indeed made his living painting houses as he traveled from settlement to settlement. He had stopped to visit his brother that morning on his way from Ricce to Callenfern. He had walked in on a gang meeting and before he had time to consider it, was shuffled into the forest at gunpoint. The first time he’d ever held a pistol was when he grabbed his brother’s moments ago. Turve was a good Gremlin.

But would anyone believe a drifter like him? Gremlin were not well liked in more civilized society, of that Turve was too aware. He spent half his days pestering his customers to make good on their contract. He spent a good amount of time recovering from beatings as well.

Act 2

Wolfe regarded the gremlin with pity as it shook with fear. The little skidmark was spilling more of the soup than he was eating. With a rueful grin, the were-dwarf turned to hand a bowl of mushroom stew to the girl. The princess, he thought. They had made camp a short distance from the site of the ambush. There was no light to move further with the girl… the princess… in tow. Wolfe felt the dwarf within stirring. The change would take him soon.

“And then Daddy said, we have to get out of the city. I didn’t think he meant forever, but after the royal guards snuck us out of the castle through the sewer. The sewer! I knew… thank you.” The princess paused to accept a bowl. She smelled it and wrinkled her nose, “Sir Wolfe… this is… so… pungent and has such a full bouquet.” She smiled, “Then I realized something bad happened. No one would tell me anything, but I overheard Rivan tell the Knight Commander that we would be traveling under the assumed name ‘Crimson’ and that ‘Baron Leadfoot’s men would be checking every roadhouse, outhouse and barn in the country.’” The princess did a fair impression of a grizzled warrior that made Wolfe chuckle, “That’s why we were traveling through the King’s Wood and then we followed the River Alamar into the Greatwood Forest and then we came upon that clearing and…” She looked into the fire as she trailed off.

Wolfe was surprised to see Turve looking at the princess with concern. Wolfe couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze and made a show of stirring the embers of the campfire. He stood and brushed ash off his coat, “I’ll be leaving you for the night, but the Robo-Dwarves will stand watch and I will be in the woods and easily able to hear you.” The automatons, clicked, whirred and stood at attention when their master referred to them.

The princess looked up with a start, “You can’t leave me alone. That’s…” she paused, “It doesn’t seem safe.” Wolfe tried to sound sympathetic, it didn’t come naturally, “You’ll be safer with them than me tonight. You’ve heard of me? You’ve heard the stories? Many of them, lies, exaggeration, sensationalized, but my curse is very real. There was a time when I tried to hide it, but that only led to people getting hurt. I am not evil when I change, but I lose a great deal of restraint and become anxious and aggressive. The best way to deal with it, I’ve found, is to spend the night of the Full Moon testing myself against any creature willing. You need to be far away when I find one.”

The princess nodded slowly. She turned to Turve and narrowed her eyes, “What if this one tries to attack me or escape. Why not test yourself against him?” Turve squirmed with discomfort and absentmindedly touched the rope binding his legs and hands, loosely hogtied, meant to impede movement rather than eliminate it. His limited range of movement kept him from fully standing up and gave him a groveling and hunched appearance. Turve almost asked Wolfe to take him too, it was a difficult choice between the clearly vengeful young noble and the legendarily deadly were-dwarf of Hollenbeck. He settled on quiet whimpering.

“Child, I highly doubt this pathetic creature has the will to break wind without permission, let alone attempt some sort of attack on your person,” Wolfe spoke over his shoulder as he strode into the night. He could feel it clawing at his soul, bubbling to the surface. The half-beast. The endless fury of an ancient curse, passed through time immemorial from one damned soul to the next. He had no time or patience for this child’s petty grief. She lives. That should satisfy her. She isn’t the first person to lose a family and there’s very little hope she will be the last. Wolfe snorted, took a few short, experimental lopes and leapt into the trees. The last the princess saw of him he was perched on a branch, silhouetted against the moon, his body looked to be shrinking into itself with jerky movements punctuated by howls of fury and cracking bones.