Thranos and Grakyl, Part I

As an exercise in writing, I have begun writing something of a short story concerning two of the more intriguing personalities in my world, by the names of Thranos and Grakyl. Thranos and Grakyl are mercenaries, who have been encountered by several groups and are usually used as a means of transport.

These will probably be excessively long, though I don't have much time for writing anymore, so the next installment may be written quite awhile after this one. However, I am seeking to improve my writing skills, so hopefully these small installments will do the trick.

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A poorly-groomed dwarf trudged through the early morning mist, the propellors of his airship some fifty feet behind him slowing, then gradually coming to a stop. The landing had been rough, but they always were - he was an expert at piloting, but his landings still needed work. His companion, whom he now ventured to wake, was supposed to keep the ship in top condition, but unfortunately the gremlin had recently discovered the wonders of alcohol, and had slipped in his duties. The rifle on the dwarf's back heliographed in the early light, though the pilot took no note of it. What he intended to do this day had little use for firearms, though it did ensure that others understood his station in the world. Treasure-hunter. Mercenary. Taxi.

The dwarf groomed his grey, almost blue, beard, which was beginning to go white with age. He shivered slightly from the cold - the top of his head was completely bald and covered with various scars, which he bore proudly as sign of his experience. He was a Bluebeard, a young clan of dwarves who had broken off from their parent clan over a religious dispute, and though he was a mercenary, he represented his clan proudly. He was garbed in heavy black leather and iron, his gloves clearly those of a pilot, with fingers exposed past the knuckle to allow finer control over various instruments.

He crested a hill, and surveyed the small town before him. He had left his companion here the night before, to gather and prepare the supplies necessary to bring their craft to full repair, then to indulge himself in whatever took his fancy. The dwarf had taken the ship for a test flight, to determine what truly needed repair and what could wait: doing so was always dangerous, but the dwarf had shrugged off the gremlin's minor concern. He had always done it that way, and always would. The gremlin's diagnostic skills were suspect, anyhow, and the dwarf did not trust them as he did the gremlin's skilled hands at fixing what he had found to be broken. Better to find out the hard way - that, at least, would ensure that the gremlin made the repairs.

The dwarf ventured down to the inn, which he recognized from the previous night, andslammed open the door. The innkeep - who had been busily wiping the counter from the previous evening's festivities - looked up suddenly at the abrupt interruption.

"Morning, sir dwarf." The human said with a nod. "My apologies, but the cook has not arrived yet..."

The dwarf shook his head. "No, an' I don' give a damn 'bout yer shit food. There a gremlin here, by th' name a Grakyl?"

The innkeep shrugged. "There may be."

The dwarf examined the innkeep's face as carefully as he could from the long distance. Humans were difficult to read for him - shifty creatures, short-lived, and never quite predictable. He had run into many humans in his two-hundred-some years, and had yet to find many he liked. This one's face was as blank as a board.

"Ne'ermind. 'E's here, I know 'e is." The dwarf grumbled. "Ya throw 'im out back, or did 'e manage tae 'ford a room?"

The innkeep raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "Your second guess would be correct, sir dwarf."

The dwarf nodded. "Aye, I though' as much. Don' be mindin' th' noise, now, lad. Grakyl likes his ale, an' lately been havin' troubles wi' risin', if ya ken. Which room?"

"The third on the right." The innkeep said simply, then returned to wiping down the bar.

He ambled up the staircase, which proved to be more difficult than navigating his cramped ship. The aircraft had been built with the dwarf's stout frame in mind, while these stairs were built by humans, for humans. Yet another thing that bothered him about the humans: they always thought of themselves before others, never considering the fact that other races may find their ways difficult. Even the elves managed to accomodate dwarves on occasion, keeping their stairs low enough for the sturdy race to climb with little issue in lands where dwarves and elves met more than once in a double-moon.

He found his way to the third door on the right, which he then pounded on with a heavily-leathered fist.

"Grakyl! Grakyl, ya li'l basterd, ya better get'cher ass outta 'at room, er I'm gonna hafta blow th' door off it's hinges!" The dwarf bellowed.

High-pitched groaning came from within. The dwarf nodded - he had the right room.

Pulling his foot back, he kicked the door in with one fluid motion. He had had much experience with kicking down doors - far too many times had he been in situations that demanded such violence. He considered his most recent encounter with doors, and reflected that simply opening it would've been easier: the door had not been locked.

The room itself was simple enough - single bed made of shoddy wood (the dwarf had always preferred stone - perhaps his thoughts regarding the wood was simply a reflection of his peoples' preference for sturdier materials), single dresser made of the same poor material, and a closed window with plain white curtains. Drawn, of course - the gremlins were not a race that performed well in sunlight, and Grakyl was no exception.

The dwarf scanned the room for his companion's personal effects, and spotted the small pack the gremlin always carried, his spanner resting against the wall ("Stupid gremlin," thought the dwarf, "when will he learn tae keep 'is weapon near?"), and his darkly-colored goggles resting on the dresser.

"Grakyl, I said get'cher ass outta bed! Ya got work ta do. Th' damn wheel's all outta whack, an' I cannae land er proper. What do ya propose we tell th' templar, eh? Tha' we had ta cancel th' trip due ta yer sorry hide lyin' aroun'?" He ambled over to the dresser, rudely grasped the goggles, and threw them at the body under the sheets.

The small-framed figure moved and groaned. "Oi, Thranos, why do ya hafta be such an ass?... I'm hung-over, give me, like... five hours, er somethin'..." The gremlin's voice was high-pitched and gravelly, and had managed to acquire a bit of the dwarf's accent - after traveling together for some four decades, the dwarf supposed, it was bound to happen.

"If it were jus' me ya were holdin' up, t'wouldn' be a problem." Thranos observed. "But we got tha' templar ta deal with, ya remember? Th' lad we carted aroun' Kesmong and Caurak, long ago. Wi' th' goblins. He's asked us ta do a favor for 'im, an' I intend tae help him." He kicked the bed roughly with an iron-shod boot. "An' ye're gonna help me, hang-over er no!"

"But I don' wanna work on th' steerin' column." The gremlin whined. "We don' have any eighteen-gauge angle brackets, an' th' LeyBrossian gear array is startin' ta fall apart... I don' wanna hafta disassemble th' prop manifold ta hafta get at th' thing..."

"Enough a yer mechanical claptrap!" Thranos bellowed. "Get'cher ass outta bed!" He briskly grabbed one edge of the bed and swiftly overturned the entire structure, throwing the tiny creature onto the floor, shrouded bedsheets.

Gremlins were a curious creature. They were possessed of large, bat-like ears; small, shifty eyes; and thin, elongated limbs, ending in claw-like hands and feet with unusually dexterous fingers and toes. Their entire frame was almost wire-thin: a gremlin who managed to get his head into a space could easily fit the rest of his body into it, as well. They were covered in a menagerie of scales and fur, usually of dark coloration.

Grakyl was similar to others of his race, covered in black fur and dark grey scales, with unusually bright green eyes. An array of earrings lined his left ear from the side of his face to its elongated tip, and the bright pieces of metal shone brightly in the early morning.

Grakyl wearily rubbed his eyes. "Alrigh', alrigh'. I'll get ta it. What's th' rush fer, anyway?"

"Th' templar, ye know, th' one we helped out in th' mounts a Caurak?" Thranos grumbled. "He's asked fer us ta help 'im out wi' somethin'. Dunno what it is, but I dinnae care, aither. We owe 'im one."

Grakyl yawned, then nodded. "I s'pose. Didja manage ta check th' rotation rate a th' main prop, at least?"

Thranos nodded. "Aye, she's runnin' as she should." He paused, then eyed the gremlin. "Thirteen, aye?"

"Well, goin' by dwarven measures, yeah." The gremlin yawned again, nodding. He stretched, and his tiny frame seemed almost nonexistent for a small moment. "She should be goin' at twenty-seven by Ronkan, wi' angular torque on th' Folkorian assembly at... what's it, two an' a half? Nah, 'at's fer somethin' else, rudder assembly mebbe... um, I think it's s'posed ta be... four an' a quarter, on th' Folkorian on th' main prop."

Thranos considered the numbers, then shrugged, his armor creaking as he did so. "Aye, sounds 'bout right tae me."

The gremlin looked up at him, narrowing his eyes. He opened his mouth slightly, then shook his head and sighed. "Righ'. I'm guessin' ya'll want me ta double-check it, yeah?"

Thranos nodded. The gremlin gathered his wits quickly, which was good. The templar had wanted to meet them by noon, and though he was native to the caverns of the mountains far to the north, even he could tell time by the sun - and going by that time, they had four hours to get their repairs finished.

The gremlin nodded to himself. "Righ', gotta rip up th' deck, then, an' we gotta check all th' Folkorian assemblies, an' then th' LeyBrossian array, an' calibrate th' props ta make sure they're rotatin' righ'..." He glanced up at the dwarf. "We got th' supplies ta do this, yeah?"

Thranos shrugged. "If not, ye'll make do."

Grakyl shrugged in turn. "I s'pose so. We always do it that way, yeah?"

Thranos nodded.

Grakyl nodded, then rose from the floor. "Now git th' hell outta 'ere, so I kin get dressed! Don' wanna be standin' aroun' 'ere all day, yeah? We got work ta do!"

Thranos chuckled to himself, a rumbling sound similar to that of an avalanche, then stepped outside, pulling the broken door shut behind him. It was looking to be a fine day so far. Hopefully the remainder would be as equally entertaining.