Omake: The Crone and the Dancer
"Hey, old hag, open up!" Sounded a cheerful shout, and to the protesting cawing of many a raven, the door burst in and a rather unwelcome visitor waltzed inside. Literally.
"What brings you here this time, Loec?" Asked the Crone with an exhasperated sigh.
"I have questions for ya!" The smiling god replied. He extended his hand, and from it a fistful of souls poured on the table.
"So, I was prowling the Bitch's realm, ya know how it is, when I saw these guys imprisoned in one of the pits. Conveniently in one place, had me wondering if it's a trap for a moment, but no. Easiest picking I had in a while!.."
"Get on with it."
"Yeah, so I just took my luck," his smile grew wider, "grabbed them and made scarce. But only when I got back did I take a careful look at these guys, and imagine my surprise," she couldn't, not really, "they are not some of ours! Dwarven souls so rarely end up in her clutches. Seems like the Bitch had some plans for them, but the stubborn buggers were not feeling cooperative. They told me they come from some place called... Valag, or something?" - He tilted his head to the side.
Did he really not know the name of one of the oldest major Dwarfholds, or just play at not caring? Is there a difference when it comes to him?
Moari-heg paid half attention to his story, as she was looking through the souls arrayed on her table. The ravens did seem rather taken with it, however.
"So, as these are not of ours I can't exactly turn them to you as I usually do, and the old grump isn't answering my calls to him."
"Unsurprising." None of them whom the Dwarves call Ancestors took a joke at their expense well, but the wielder of Zharrvengryn perhaps least so.
"Yeah, I know." The Trickster nodded with false sheepishness. "So what do I do with them?"
The Crone pondered for but a moment. "Are you not know to humans as Ranald?"
"I can neither confirm nor deny that." Loec answered with a neutral expression, which for him meant a very smug grin plastered across his face.
Morai-heg ignored the response.
"Well, just incarnate them as humans then."
"Not Elves?"
The Keeper of Souls shook her head. "Won't work. Elven bodies are not malleable enough to survive what you'll have to do to incarnate a Dwarven soul into."
"I see."
"Yes, and... oh? Oh?" As she reached to inspect the last of the souls Loec brought in, for the first time since the Dancer's rude intrusion her expression morphed from scowl to a genuine smile.
"W-what is it?" The sight was rather terrifying even to he who laughed in the face of any danger.
"Did you tell me they were harvested from Karak Vlag?"
"Yeah?"
"Be a dear and do incarnate them as humans. I, Morai-heg," her voice grew intense and seemed to come from every direction at once, as every raven and crow in her home joined in, "guarantee that it will be worth your time."
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Mid-night trips to a fridge are know to grant moments of inspiring brilliance sometimes, but this one was so amusing to me and brought everything together so well I just had to turn it into an omake. Please do tell me if I got something too wrong of the relevant lore, or of grammatical mistakes.