The wagon bumped along the forest road loudly. The wheels obviously somewhat off the axle, even with the multitude of rocks and shrubs along the supposedly well trodden path. Johann, the young manling at the fore, guided his mule along by the reins as he hummed to himself comfortingly. What sun that managed to penetrated through the thick canopy of the Reikwald was blocked by the lad's wide brimmed hat he'd procured from a farmer back in Merxhelm. 

Fortune had it, he'd picked up a companion as well. A Dwarf of the World's Edge Mountains, by Sigmar. Young Johann had never been that far east before. He'd been to the capital once with his father, but that was by river barge. Today he made his monthly, two day journey to Schartenfeld, glad to have someone along to help with the unloading of his goods and to keep an eye for any wolves that might be lurking in the gloom. Behind him he heard a dark tune being sung in a voice like rolling stone, and he halted his humming to listen to the Dwarf.

[center][i]Through the Badlands green and grim, 
Past Iron Peak upon the rim, 
Lost Karak Zorn called to my kin, 
To slay the horrors from within![/i][/center] 

Burundi paused and shoved some jerky in his mouth, chewing gingerly. His short legs hanging off the back of the Wagon, he could smell the tightly packed onions and beets even through his mouth, but he paid it no heed. You smelled many rancid things in his line of work, and he appreciated the ride. Not that he needed it for himself, mind. A Dwarf could travel just as fast as a cavalryman over long enough distances, due to the fact that he hardly ever needed to rest. But he had whatever salvageable material he could gather from his wrecked shop, and he intended to set up shop again at this Schartenfeld. 

"What are you singing, master stuntie?" The lad asked, whipping the reins of the grumpy old mule. At the name, Burundi had the same look as the beast. He merely grumbled it away though. He was a young Dwarf, but in the empire he felt as old as the ancestors. Burundi swallowed the jerky and answered hoarsely. 

"I sing of something my grandfather told me." He said, gaze lost in the endless woods around them. He had the look of a particularly melancholic bulldog. A well dressed bulldog, though. "Of a city called Karak Zorn, before my time. Before your mannish God Sigmar's time even!" He held his hands in the air, imagining the majesty of what it must have looked like, before the glumness returned to his eyes. "But it was lost..." 

"My family has had to move a few times too. What happened to it?" Johann asked. 

"Daemons." Burundi replied, and the mule bucked from Johann yanking on the reins in surprise. The wagon banked a bit to the left perilously close to the brush. Burundi's fat hand grabbed at his things to keep them locked in the wagon, along with the supplies the young one had brought. Burundi had never fought the ruinous powers himself, but this boy lacked even an Elf's courage he wagered. Still, he meant well which is more than the Dwarf could say about most men he'd met. "You trying to kill us both, Umgi!?"

"D-Daemons!? You'll find none of them around here, no sir my good Dwarf. They aren't real anyway, right? I mean Sigmar is, but...well I suppose they must be too, right?" The panic and surprise in his voice was subsiding, but he stilled seemed as if the conversation would bring doom upon them. "Why do you keep calling my Umgi? What's that mean anyway?" 

"It means man. And you call me Burundi or [i]Master Dwarf[/i], understand Umgi?" 

"Brunde, got it. Hey Brunde, you ever use that axe spear you have back there before?" The boy asked, glancing back past his wide brimmed hat to look at the poleaxe laying beside the Dwarf. It gleamed in the sunlight, and Johann knew it would sell for a pretty penny at the market. He thought his father had called weapons like it a Halberd. He hoped the Dwarf didn't think him stupid for asking about it. Burundi shook his head, but only because of the name once more. 

"Aye, once or twice recently. It's a poleaxe, Umgi." 

"Not a Halberd?" 

Even though he wasn't looking, Burundi set both of his fists up parallel as if he was holding the haft of a long weapon. "Halberds are longer and thinner. It's not a halberd. Now, how long until we're in town?" 

"Few more hours. There's just a...oh hammer..." 

The Dwarf raised his bushy brows as the wagon slowed to an inevitable halt, and his keen ears picked up the crunching of gravel as footsteps approached. Burundi turned and saw Johann with his hands up, his complexion even more white than usual. Judging by the continual steps, there were three of them. They didn't move like beastmen or orcs, but the deliberate pace of men considering violence. Luckily, Burundi was too short to be seen without looking over the wooden walls of the wagon.

"Oi, boy. You heard there's a road tax here, eh?" A voice called. There was a snide surety in his tone. 

"No there isn't. I come through here every month of spring and summer." 

"Well there is now!" The voice was suddenly without patience, as if the mere act of questioning him had him on edge. Another man spoke up. "Smells like onions. You hauling onions boy? Give us a few sacks and we'll let you keep on going. Don't want to disappoint us, do you boy?" 

The three highwaymen approached, short, stabbing blades out. Johann felt they looked like a mixture of murderers and snake oil salesmen, and he didn't know which was worse. The mule driver wanted to let them know there was a Dwarf back there, but he felt too nervous to speak once he saw the blades. Sigmar, he hoped Burundi ran away in the confusion. He swallowed, and slowly built up the courage to nod. "Y-e-yes yes. Take uh, whatever you want." 

"Now there's a good one." The lead bandit said, placing his hands on the railing of the wagon to take a peek of the goods. "You might make it in this world, after all." 

The other two bandits suddenly had the sight of seeing their companion's chin being rune through by a spike from a powerful thrust, his body immediately going limp. Johann's eyes widened like saucers, and he along with the brigands saw the Dwarf rise up by stepping on an onion bag and pushing the dead man's flesh off his haft, sending him tumbling into the dirt. They two, surprised as much as their friend's death as seeing an armed Dwarf, began to back away. 

Once Burundi pulled out his hunting crossbow, they began to full on sprint. Johann ducked, even if though he clearly wasn't in Burundi's way. The Dwarf sighted down his Quarreler for a moment, and loosed the bolt. It hit one of the fleeing men in the small of his back, and he fell with a cry. Johann covered his eyes, but peeking through his hands he saw Burundi hop off the wagon and approached the downed man, dragging him crying back to the wagon. 

"You think they'll be offering rewards for this one?" Burundi asked. 

Within three hours, as the boy sent by Gunulf announced his arrival to the village, Burundi and Johann hobbled in on the umgak wagon, dragging a scarred man toward the center of town.