Beers and Beards: A Cozy Dwarf Tale

Chapter 55: Rocket Dwarf

The wall of greenery that was Barck sidled a bit closer as he presented a cheek. My boots shook; I’d seriously been contemplating punching that in the face!?

“AYE, OFFER’S OPEN!”

Did he just read my mind too!?

“YEP.”

I don’t think so! I imagined the dirtiest, most twisted stuff that I could from the internet. Real unigoatse and four dwarves one mug kind of shit. Take that!

“I’VE SEEN IT ALL PETE, YER NOT GOIN’ TA SHOCK ME WITH YER’ VANILLA CRAP. ARE YA READY TO CHAT? WE DON’T HAVE FOREVER. I MEAN, I DO, BUT I DON’T LIKE WAITIN’.”

I deflated a bit. This was not at all how I'd foreseen this meeting going. I briefly considered taking him up on his offer but… eldritch unfathomable being. I decided against taking a swing.

"So you’re Barck.” I began.

“THAT’S RIGHT. GOOD JOB.”

More like eldritch unfathomable wiseguy. Must be where Prophet Barnes got it from. Well, two could play at that game!

“And you’re all Barck, no bite, right?” I gave a sick smile. Hah! Take my dad-fu!

He paused. “THAT’S A NEW ONE.”

“I hope you liked it. Please don’t smite me.” I shivered slightly in terror, gathered every last bit of bravado I had, and continued. “Before we start, I need to know. Why did you force me to become an [Alchemist] Barck? I thought choice was important to the Gods. Seriously, W-T-F?”

“AH, YEAH, I DID THAT.”

"Yes! Yes you did!" As a Canadian, I was incredibly offended by the lack of an ‘I’m Sorry’.

Barck continued while I chuffed. “ARCHIS AND I FIGURED YOU’D DIE TO THA STONEANTS OR GUNPOWDER WITHOUT IT. IF IT MAKES YA FEEL BETTER, I GOT PUNISHED BY THA OTHER GODS FER DOIN’ THAT.”

“You’re right. I would have died without it.” I sighed. “So I guess you're partially forgiven. Hearing you got punished for it does actually make me feel better. What happened?”

“I’M NOT ALLOWED TA HELP YOU AS MUCH ANYMORE. AND SOME OTHER STUFF.”

“Wait, that’s more like me getting punished! How is that fair?!”

“TOUGH.”

—

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to chill with Jesus?

The guy sounds like an awesome hang. Never need to make a beer run: he can make water into wine. If you run out of munchies, BOOM infinite fish and chips. If you break your spine doing a stunt while he holds your beer, no worries, Jesus has got yer back!

Barck was a pretty awesome hang, and I quickly lost my [Terrified] condition. There were two big problems though.

“SO THEN I SMOTE HIM.”

“Hah! In front of everybody!?”

“THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT IT FER CENTURIES.“

“I thought the Gods didn’t care about our piddly human insults?”

“NAH, I HATED THAT GUY; HE GOT WHAT WAS COMING TO ‘IM. I GOT HIM OUT OF THE KARMIC POOL AS FAST AS I COULD.”

Barck lifted a Whistlemug the size of an aircraft-carrier from the cliff beside me and took a drag. The scent of lemons washed over me. I still couldn’t believe Barck drank my radler! I took a sip from my own Whistlemug and frowned at it, both at the mug and its contents.

The other big problem was that I was in Heaven, or the Pinnacle, or whatever, and still drinking shit beer.

“Barck…?”

“ASK MORTAL, PERHAPS I SHALL ANSWER.”

“Why are we drinking this awful beer?”

“WHAT!?” I winced as a boulder crashed along the slope and then flew past overhead. “YOU DARE CALL THE SACRED BREW AWFUL! THIS MOST ‘OLY OF BEVERAGES WAS BLESSED BY MESELF!! PROSTRATE BEFORE ME AND I MAY FORGIVE YOU.”

Barck drew himself up. The trees of his beard shifted and cracked as a suction of wind nearly ripped me from the cliff. The galaxies that made up his eyes flashed crimson, and somewhere far off in the distance his monumental fingers cracked as he flexed them.

Back when I was in kindergarten, I put a tack on my teacher’s chair. Yes, it was an awful and terrible thing to do, but if my favourite cartoon character could do it, why couldn’t I? It turns out that having an adult scream bloody murder and come bearing down on you with death in their eyes is a lot less fun when it’s for real.

This was kind of like that, but a hundred times worse.

“I..I.. I apologize yer Godliness!” I supplicated as best as I could. This was how it was done, right? I put my hand into the same holy sign I’d seen that asshole Barnes make. “Please forgive this mortal for he has sinned.”

“NAH, I’M JUST SCREWIN’ WITH YA PETE. IT’S GOATSHITE!”

What? My face betrayed my shock.

“YEAH. MEBBE IT’S ABOUT TIME WE GOT TO BUSINESS.” Barck put down his mug and his expression turned serious. “YOU PROBABLY HAVE A LOT OF QUESTIONS, AND I HAVE A FEW ANSWERS.”

“Not a lot?”

“THERE’S RULES. I CAN ONLY TELL YOU SO MUCH, AND I’M BLOCKED FROM A LOT RIGHT NOW.”

“Ok… can I make a small request first? Talking to you like this is giving me an awful crick in the neck.”

“OH, LET ME FIX THAT.”

I stepped aside to let him drop down next to me. Instead, the next instant, I was snatched up by a craggy fist and felt a massive pull as we accelerated upwards. The hand holding me felt vaguely mossy, and I swear something was moving in it. The ride was bumpy, but only lasted a few seconds, and then I experienced something I never expected to feel in this life or my last.

Weightless.

Barck opened his hand and I floated away, my arms and legs flapping uselessly. Down below me a blue and green orb floated in a vast ocean of stars. A pair of other, smaller orbs sat closer to us, spinning in a lazy circle around what had to be Erd. I could count three enormous continents down below. From up here, the clouds looked like rivers, flowing across an azure canvas.

“Oh my God…”

“YES?”

I ignored that. My chest swelled with childish glee. I was in space. I freaking loved space. Heck, when Caroline and I had gotten married, I’d walked down the aisle to Holsts Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity. The refrain crescendoed in my heart as one of the moons swept by behind us.

“HAH! I KNEW YOU’D LIKE IT!”

“It’s amazing!” I turned to look at Barck and did a double take. He floated off in the distance, where I could comfortably see all of him. He must have been nearly a kilometer away for that to be possible. He wore an armored suit in the classical style, and his hair was done up in traditional knotwork. If I didn’t know he was the size of a mountain, I would have assumed he was a regular green-haired dwarf. He looked like an old man sitting in a leather recliner, and his gaze upon the world was positively paternal.

“IT’S ONE O’ ME FAVOURITE SIGHTS.”

“Do you come up here a lot?”

“SOME O’ THA TIME. WE MOSTLY STAY IN THA PINNACLE. WE’RE IN THA’ FIRMAMENT RIGHT NOW, SO IF ANYONE IS LOOKIN’ WITH A TELESCOPE, THEY’D SEE US.”

He waved towards the northern continent.

“ALLO JACK. NOBODY WILL EVER BELIEVE YOU.” He snapped his fingers and some clouds moved to cover a portion of the northern continent. I was a bit bemused. Barck seemed to jump between serious, joking around, and angry at the drop of a hat.

We simply sat and enjoyed the view in silence for a while. “Honestly, I just thought you were going to shrink down to my size, this is so much better.” I admitted.

“WE DON’T DO THAT.”

“Why not?”

“THAT WAS SOMETHIN’ YER GODS DID. MADE IT EASIER TO TALK TO ‘EM AND EASIER TO RELATE TO.”

“That sounds right.” Hold on a tick, there was a rather major revelation in that sentence. “Wait -”

“DIDN’T WORK OUT TOO WELL IN THA END.”

“Wait - “

“HARD TO BELIEVE IN SOMEONE THAT’S JUST ANOTHER GUY IN A TOGA.”

“HOLD IT!”

Barck paused and *Harumphed*. A hurricane started somewhere over the southern coast from his breath alone.

“Um, I mean, excuse me please yer Barckliness. You said, your Gods, as in my Gods, as in: there were actually Gods on Earth?”

“AYE. WHO DO YOU THINK SOLD ME YOUR SOUL.”

I rocked back on my heels; an incredible feat in zero-g. “Sold you my soul!?”

“YOU DIDN’T KNOW?”He quirked an eyebrow the size of a bus.

“NO!!!”

“HALF-BAKED, AMATEUR, HAS-BEENS.”Barck grumbled. “THEY MADE A GREAT WORLD BUT THEY’RE SHITE GODS.”

“SOLD YOU MY SOUL!?”

“YOU WERE EXPENSIVE. I HAD TO PAY YOUR GOD A RATHER PAINFUL SUM.”

“I was an agnostic! I didn’t believe in any God! Did some God just get my soul by fiat!?”

“SURE YA DID. DIONYSIS? AEGIR? DU KANG? THA GOD O’ WINES, BEERS, AND ALCOHOL? YOU WERE ONE OF ‘IS MOST FERVEROUS FOLLOWERS. YOU SPREAD HIS WORD YER ENTIRE LIFE AND DEDICATED YER BODY TO HIM IN DEATH. HE WAS LOATHE TO GIVE YOU UP, BUT I MANAGED TO CONVINCE ‘IM.”

Huh, I guess they did bury me in wine grapes. Wait, don’t get distracted! “SOLD YOU MY SOUL!?”

“DON’T GET LUNARA’S LACE ALL IN A TWIST.”

Barck waved his hand, and I blacked out.

—

A dozen beings sat in a space that had no real borders. Each of them was more of a concept than a physical thing, their forms not tied down by anything so mundane as geometry.

“So what have you brought us, *screecrackle*” The last bit sounded like a mix between a modem and high-pitched static.

“It’s a new invention created by one of my souls.” One figure said, holding out a strange box. “It’s pure technology, no magic at all.”

The item was passed around to all those assembled, and they pronounced it a fine thing indeed.

“Another one o’ my favourite souls lost everythin’’.” One figure grumbled. “Same problem, they’re amazin’ at inventin’ but no head fer’ gold.”

“My humans had a similar problem.” Another voice put in. “They solved it with something called ‘copyright’.”

“How does it work?” A figure that appeared to be an idea of the concept of pasta and meatballs asked.

“I created a magical gift that prevents anyone else from making or selling the same thing for an inventor’s lifetime.”

“Seems a bit short. Mortal lives are a candle in the wind.” Another being with far too many metaphysical tentacles purred.

“Aye, perhaps five or six generations would make it better.” Another voice said.

The assembled agreed it was a very fine invention, and a very fine idea.

—

Another time, another space, another assembly.

“Look at what one o’ me favourite souls made! They called it beer! I LOVE this stuff!”

A metaphysical mug popped into existence in front of all those assembled. They each took drinks in their own turn and kind.

“It’s okay.” A snake the size of a universe proclaimed.

“I’m not a fan.” Said a mass of energy.

“Tastes like something my people make too. I’ve been letting it stew until it improves. Would you like to try?” Said a four-armed being with sixteen hands.

“Aye! Absolutely!”

Another set of mugs went around, and drinks were had by all.

“Ach, this is even better than mine! I can’t wait till they make it!”

“How soon?”

“Ach, I dunno. I gave em’ one o’ those ‘Copyright’ Blessin’s so it’ll be a while. Hopefully they won’t rest on their laurels!”

—

“Next, try the wine! It’s new!” The assembled beings cheered.

“Hey there *screech crackle pop*”

“Ah, what has you down my short statured friend?”

“All the alcohol here is so damn good, but it’s gone stagnant on my world.”

“If you’re feeling down, try some of this mead, it’s to die for!”

“That doesn’t really make me feel better. I want my spirits to enjoy some real spirits!” The being slammed his mug down on the floor.

“What’s gone wrong?”

“Well you see, do you remember that ‘Copyright’ idea from way back? I made it corrupt any unlicensed alcohol, but… I think I made it last too long.”

—

“What is it my short-statured friend, you have had more to drink than usual.” The being in a toga raised an eyebrow and took another gulp of wine.

“Yeh, I’ve had an epiphany.” Beer dripped down a beard that was knotted in a traditional non-euclidean manner.

“Do tell.” The being in a toga eschewed refilling its glass and drank straight from the bottle.

“If my souls won’t make better alcohol, I’ll be stuck drinking tha same few drinks forever.”

“That is a terrible problem, you have my condolences.”

“So I had a great idea, you give me one of yours, and they can make proper drinks!”

It turned out even Gods could spit-take.

—

"Ten thousand souls, not a single one less."

"Grrr, you drive a hard bargain." The bearded being growled. "Fine!"

"You must ensure he gets the chance to win his soul back."

"Of course. I've been doin' this longer than you, I know tha rules."

"You aren't exactly known for following the rules my short-statutered friend."

"Bah! All that matters is that 'is soul won't be held down by that damnable Blessin'"

"Take good care of him."

"Don't worry, I 'ave a good spot fer him. I've placed my most treasured souls there."

—

My eyes popped open, and I dry heaved into space. If I lost my lunch here, some poor explorer far in the future was going to find the oddest space-junk ever.

“SO, THAT’S IT.”Barck said, morosely. “THAT’S WHY YER HERE.”

“I’m here because… of ‘copyright’?” I croaked. I couldn't tell if that was interesting or incredibly dumb.

“AYE. THA DWARVES WERE SO USED TA’ BEERS NOT WORKIN’ CAUSE OF IT THAT IT BECAME A TRADITION NOT TA TRY. THA LAGERS WERE A HAPPY ACCIDENT A WHILE AFTER THE COPYRIGHT ENDED.” He shrugged. “TURNS OUT LIFE PLUS FIVE GENERATIONS WORKS GREAT FER HUMANS BUT AWFUL FER DWARVES.”

“The elves…” I whispered, horrified.

“WORSE.” Barck nodded. “THANKFULLY THA DRAGONS ARE TOO LAZY TA INVENT ANYTHIN’. I DON’T GIVE OUT THA [COPYRIGHT] BLESSIN' NOW, BUT THA DAMAGE WAS DONE. AND AS AN OUTSIDE SOUL YOU AREN'T AFFECTED BY ANY COPYRIGHTS STILL LAYIN’ AROUND.”

“So my quest, to influence the dwarves. The reason I’m on Erd and have a second chance at life. It’s all because you want new alcohols? Why not just ask someone like Annie? Not that I’m complaining, mind you!” Yeesh, talk about your deific revelations: alcohol was literally my reason for existence.

“YOU SEE, AFTER CREATION WE GODS CAN ONLY MAKE MILESTONES AND BLESSINS’, OR THINGS THAT OUR MORTALS HAVE INVENTED. IF WE JUST TOLD YOU WHAT TO DO THEN YER NOTHIN’ MORE THAN AN EXTENSION OF OURSELVES. INSTEAD, WE PROVIDE THE FIRMAMENT AND THE GIFTS, AND MORTALS PROVIDE THE INNOVATION. NO INNOVATION MEANS…”Barck created a Whistlemug with a *pop* and filled it with beer. He took a sip and frowned. “NO NEW ALCOHOLS.”

“But why me?”

“WELL, THAT’S A WHOLE OTHER STORY. TA BE BLUNT, IT’S CAUSE YER GOD SAID YOU WERE AMONG THA BEST.”

“I sincerely disagree.”

“YER NOT DEAD, YER IN A BREWERY, AND YER JUMP STARTIN STUFF WITHOUT EVEN BEIN’ INVOLVED.” Barck counted down on his fingers.

Okay, maybe I could agree a little. “Why all the rigamarole then? Why not just throw me in the brewery and send a [Prophet] at me with a message.”

“IT’S A BIT MORE COMPLICATED THAN THAT. YOU SEE, AS MY CHOSEN - “

“LIKE HELL!"

“YOU’LL NEED TA BE MORE SPECIFIC, PETE. WHICH ONE?”