Guzukh Vorturg, whose family name meant "Seven Beards", stroked his thick, double-braided, perfumed, distinguishly-graying, perfectly symmetrical, mutli-award-winning beard with a hand so covered with rings that only the tips were visible.

He sat atop a great siltstone throne carved from the living rock and still connected to the floor of the stone hall. Every inch of it was encrusted with gems, probably to compensate for the fact that it had to be carved out of siltstone.

The throne room itself was magnificent: high vaulted ceilings contrasted the narrow tunnels that characterized the rest of the dwarven hall. Massive tapestries, each several stories tall, depicted the great war victories of the clan's ancestors. Everywhere precious metals and gems, works of art and craftsdwarfship, were all on conspicuous display.

The room wasn't nearly a tenth filled was a spattering of minor nobles, bards, jesters, impostors, hangers-on, and one quaint peasant with a charming lack of social graces. They were outnumbered by heavily armored guards two to one.

There was a barbaric twinge to such finery. It all made Aubrey very nervous.

"Everything in here looks valuable," she whispered.

"I hope so," Skongroli whispered back, "this is the throne room of his majesty the king!"

"Are you sure we want to be shooting guns in here? Maybe we should do this outside..."

"It is beneath the something of one such as his majesty the king to step out of our ancestral halls and into the gaze of the hated day star. We could never ask him to something!"

"What if we break something?" asked Aubrey.

"That would be very beardy," replied Skongroli. "Breaking things with weapons is the purpose of a weapons demonstration."

"We would have the demonstration of the tall dwarf weapons begin immediately," shouted the king. "Our time would be better spent bathing our beard in rosewater."

"At once, your majesty!" replied Skongroli, at full volume. "I was just reminding our guest of some of the finer points of royal protocol."

"Good," said the king. "We would have the tall dwarf observe proper protocol. You may begin."

"You heard his majesty!" shouted Skongroli.

Two of his fellow guardsdwarves jumped to attention and dragged a training dummy into the center of the giant throne room. The members of the court pressed up against the walls, not wanting to get too close.

Skongroli relished the newfound authority his rapport with the humans had given him.

The training dummy was wearing a full suit of dwarven-steel plate armor, the strongest non-magical armor in the known world. It was far stronger than anything the enemy could be expected the field, magic or mundane.

"Don't hit anyone," warned Aubrey.

Skongroli didn't want to risk getting into it with her again. He raised his weapon to aim. He took his time. He hadn't had as much practice as the others and it wouldn't do to miss it. He would lose a lot of beard if he missed.

* * *

The low-class guardsdwarf, barely a warrior at all, more like a janitor really, raised the strange tall dwarf weapon to his eyes for some ridiculous reason. The king yawned. This was certainly taking a long time.

Suddenly there was a sound like thunder, and a smell like a demon's herald, and the tall dwarf weapon spat fire as though it was a dragon.

A small hole in the plate caved in as a reaction to the fire, right over the wearer's heart. The force of the attack knocked the dummy backwards and on to the ground.

Some of the less socially aware members of the court clapped lightly until they saw the others weren't joining and stopped.

"I see," said the king, still stroking his beard. "And you have had the craftsdwarves working on building a great many of these weapons? Enough to outfit the entire royal army?"

"We have your majesty!" said the guardsdwarf, beaming.

"We're recently located a large something reserve," said the tall dwarf. "This means we've been able to produce higher quality something and more of it."

"This word, something," asked the king, "what does it mean?"

"She means, um, batshit, your majesty," said the guardsdwarf.

"Bring the weapon over so that we may inspect it," said the King.

The guardsdwarf ran over to the throne until he got close, then slowly and gingerly hanged over the rifle. The king took it and began to inspect it from every angle, closing one eye to assist him.

"No," said the king, finally, "no these aren't beardy weapons at all."

The court began to murmur in agreement. No. Not beardy.

"If the warriors of our glorious and storied clan are going to die in battle it will be holding axes in their hands. Not these strange alien weapons made of dung. Tradition, duty, familial piety, fastidiousness, godliness, cleanliness and honor all demand that we die like dwarves."

The court agreed a little more loudly. Yes! They would all die! They would all die like dwarves!

"The guards can do what they like with these trinkets," said the king. "I do not concern myself with the honor of dogs."

"Your majesty-" began the guardsdwarf, as though he had the right.

"Begone!" announced the king, deciding to show mercy. "Trouble me no longer with these shaven weapons."

He threw his to the ground and it bounced off the stone floor. The guardsdwarf gathered it up and then disappeared from the throne room with his tall dwarf accomplice.

The king had heard the tall dwarves were smart thinkers and hard drinkers, but from what he had seen of them so far they were neither. They just looked like slightly less ugly elves to him.

* * *

"That didn't go well," said Aubrey, once they were outside of the throne room making their way back to the courtyard to tell the others.

"This is terrible," said Skongroli. "What good are weapons without warriors to wield them?"

Another dwarf, his beard covered in grease, came running down the halls.

"How did it go?" he asked. "Will the king allow the army to adopt the new weapons?"

"No," said Skongroli. "His majesty said 'no'."

"I'm not surprised. The royal family has been hostile to innovation since the time our ancestors struck the earth. We just want you to know you have the support of the Craftsdwarves Guild. These new weapons are unbelievable. They're the beardiest things I've ever seen. It had been an honor to craft them."

"Oh really?" asked Aubrey, with a mischievous grin. "How much support? Enough to hold a weapon?"

"We are craftsdwarfs, not warriors..."

"That's the beardy thing about guns:" said Aubrey, "anyone can use one. They're the great equalizer."

"Then yes, of course! We would do anything do defend our home!"

"Problem solved," said Aubrey, patting a shocked Skongroli on the back.

"I almost forgot!" said the greasy-bearded dwarf. "The whole reason I came to talk to you. We were speculating about other kinds of guns we could build and- well what about a really big gun? Like a big big gun? Some of us think something like that would be unstoppable, but others are worried that if we tried to fire such a weapon we would ignite the air itself and burn down the world in a dwarf-made apocalypse."

"No it's the first one," said Aubrey. "Definitely the first one. Let's go get Hak-Kun and we can make some suggestions. By the way the proper term for a big gun like that is 'Aubreytillary'"

* * *

The scoutdwarf had ridden his pony out further than he usually would. This wasn't territory he was familiar with but in the name of defending his home he would brave any wild. He would even live out under the indignant sneer of the day star for days on end. It was important his people have as early a warning of the coming attack as possible.

The scout jumped down off his pony and bent down to sniff the ground. He recognized these tracks.

An orcish arrow punctured through his temple and halfway out the other side. Blood sprayed onto his pony, who bolted.