((Updating despite popular demand))
-The events of the morning of 22nd Slate, 204- The line of dwarves stretched well outside of Kel’s office, all the way to the grumpy black bear chained in the entry hall. The last dwarf in line eyed the beast nervously. From behind the closed office door there was a murmur of speech, followed by a loud “You WHAT!”, which itself was followed by longer, more rapid murmuring.
Inside the office Rovod shifted nervously from foot to foot. He scratched the back of his head. “Er, I sort of forgot to start planting the crops this season.”
“You forgot! You forgot for two MONTHS! How in earth does anyone forget to do their job for fifty days!?”
Rovod shrugged. “Well, we still have a decent supply of plump helmets. This is nothing we can’t pull through.”
The argument went on for a few minutes more, the rock door rattling at Kel’s voice. Rovod shuffled out of the office, staring at the floor, his hands in his pockets. The line moved. Zefon entered.
“How much of the raw gemstone did we lose?” Kel asked.
“Little over half. Look I’m sorry. Anyway it’s only amethyst.” Stated the miner.
Kel toyed with the wooden sword laid out on her desk. A wooden weapon would be a joke to most dwarves. Kel somehow managed to make it look threatening. The expedition leader was a master at the art of menacing. She knew how to get under the skin of each individual dwarf. Rovod had to be yelled at, for a very long time, for instance. Olon and Datan were best dealt with by letting them shout their complaints until they were tired, and then dismissing them. Most dwarves, however, responded to the silent treatment. Kel would remain quiet and detached while the dwarf across the desk dug themselves into a deeper hole.
She put down the sword. “Did you at least carve a sigil into the floor to…”
“Blood, yes! Think I’d forget in a place like this?” Zefon interrupted.
The meeting went on for a few minutes more, Kel’s voice was much quieter and much colder than the last meeting. Zefon left. The line moved. Stukos entered.
“Kel, about those kennels you wanted me to build: we’ve hit a snag.”
Kel rubbed her temples. This had not been a good week. “What is it Stukos? If you tell me we can’t build there I’m going to have you thrown into the chasm.”
The miner’s face lit up. “Ah, well, do it if you must. Only if we don’t change our plans the kennels are gonna be all cluttered up with gold.
The week got better.
-The events of the evening of 27th Slate, 204-This time the line of dwarves stretched well outside of Kel’s office, past the perturbed bear chained in the entryway, and out into the courtyard. The bear did not consider these newcomers very interesting. It stretched itself out and went to sleep. Bears are not generally interested in anything that doesn’t resemble a salmon, or perhaps honey.
These dwarves did not smell of honey. They reeked of stale sweat and waste and a hard journey. Their clothes were frayed, as were their nerves. There seemed only mildly relieved to be at their destination. The blue-clad dwarf in Kel’s office took in the rough stone walls and crude furniture. He seemed puzzled. Papers were shifted around.
“This isn’t quite like what we were told to expect.” The dwarf commented.
“Name?”
“Thikut Sastresfath.”
“Occupation?”
“er, craftsdwarf. I do a little of this, little of that. Wood and leather mostly, although I do know a bit about bones.”
Kel nodded.
“I was told to expect everything in readiness for our arrival.” Stated the dwarf. He adjusted his soiled shirt.
Kel dipped a frayed black quill in an inkpot, shook off the excess and continued writing.
“I mean Stukos’s poor kitten is half-starved. And Solon and his wife both had a nasty trip on the slopes and…”
The door slammed against the wall. The open frame could barely contain the dwarven woman standing outside. She looked as if she’d been carved from a cliff face. The dirty green patch on her clothing revealed her to be a jeweler.
“What in the $%*& is the %&*-ing holdup in here?” the newcomer bellowed.
With deliberate slowness Kel gently blew upon the wet ink of the forms. She set the sheets aside, put down the quill, leaned on the desk and clasped her hands together.
“Yes? What is it, Ms?”
“Don’t try that calm, superior bullshit on me. We’ve been waiting out here for hours.” Snarled the woman. She knocked her shoulder against the doorframe on the way in. It did nothing to slow her down.
“If the liaison at Boardwoman had sent the lot of you with proper paperwork this would significantly reduce the time it takes to get you settled in. If you would like to make a formal complaint I can include it with mine when we see him this autumn.”
“Um, I’ll just be going, shall I?” muttered Thikut the craftsdwarf. Kel nodded and waves him away. He tripped over the stone bench upon which he’d been sitting. He righted the bench, muttered, “Sorry Reg.” and scurried out of the office.
“I asked you your name. Is it, Reg?” queried Kel.
The woman bit her lip. “We were told you’d have everything ready for us. Hot meals, beds, a bit of rum. The basic stuff a dwarf actually needs to get through the day? You stupid shits have nothing here. I am not sleeping in the barracks like some poor piss-ant lye maker.”
“Hey!” protested a voice from the hall.
“Shut the hell up, Ushat!” screamed the woman. A bit of mumbling followed from outside the office.
“Your name.” Stated Kel.
T
he giant dwarf leaned on the desk, supporting herself on her knuckles. “Reg Lenshamlorbam.” She breathed each syllable, slow, as if every one were a curse on the bitch across from her. She was inches from the Kel’s face now. Her breath was warm as an oven, her teeth chipped and yellow.
The quill was picked up and in long, looping letters Kel wrote down the newcomer’s name.
“Well, Ms. Lenshamlorbam. You’re right that you won’t be sleeping in the barracks.” Reg gave a nasty grin in reply. You just had to know hwo to deal with stuck-ups, she thought. “You see we don’t have a barracks. This is a pity since you’ll be on militia duty.”
A harsh rattle emerged from deep in her throat. Reg Lenshamlorbam spat upon the desk. “Blood god take you then.”
The chatter from outside of the office stopped as dwarves gasped to hear the god spoken of aloud. It was a terrible curse on oneself to invoke the name without an offering. Only a lunatic would dare, just in case the blood god deigned to manifest and tear the offender to shreds. The remaining immigrants made signs in the air invoking other gods. They whispered small prayers.
As the gargantuan dwarf left Kel’s office, the expedition leader believed that if Armok did arrive, Reg Lenshamlorbam would make it a hell of a fight.
-Journal of Stukos Mafollelum 11th Felsite, 204-We’re concentrating on mining out more living space for the newcomers. Gotta say that we’ve expanded much more rapidly than I would have wanted. Our population has more than doubled over the past year with the arrival of these nineteen worthless immigrants. You can bet we’ll have a sacrifice this autumn. No reason not to go ahead with it given the sheer number of useless dwarves we got.
Author
Topic: The Doors to the Red Mansion (Story fort) (Read 2789 times)