Unfinished, rest later today.
Thelirenelime sat up. Yes, they could do it. They could adapt. It may take a while, but surely there were other elves who thought like him. If there were, they would join him. Then the elven race may be saved.
He sat up and headed to the exit. After walking for half an hour though the dripping limestone, he managed to get to the exit. He wrapped his cloak around him, and emerged into a raging snowstorm.
The reindeer wailed in their enclosure, but Thelirenelime paid them no heed. He hefted his makeshift axe, and set his sight on a snow covered tree several meters away.
A breeze blew through the tree, making it appear to quiver in fear. He strode over to it, and raised his axe.
In his prison far below, Thari shuddered. Thelirenelime appeared to be set on butchering every tree in the area. He regarded the bed he was supposed to use. A crude mess of wood, with axe marks all over it. The barrel which held his 'food' was the same.
At least the mug was proper sung wood. Unfortunatley it was stained red with reindeer blood. They thought they could convert him by only giving him 'nabethe' food and drink. But he would be strong. They wouldn't let him die, surely?
Thari in his little prison.
Icemi Otogaderi's diary: Kobolds once again provide a means to civilisation. Including this journal and inkwell. Stolen from a dwarven fortress. 20 days we have lived in this cave. I still can't find my way around.
We have dug a pit in the ground outside, and connected it to the cave system. In it we shall cultivate the local plantlife. Remarkably, cold resistant varieties of many common plants exsist here, which we shall certainly exploit. If only as an alternative to melted snow as a drink.
Entrance from below ground.
Three mountain goats rooted in the snow between the trees, looking for bloated tubers. Suddenly, a voice burst into song.
"Fela apaca, efilmina mika, ramana amala, bili si"
The mountain goats looked up. They saw nothing, and the reasuring tones of the music caused them to relax.
"JUST KIDDING!"
Trilby sprung down from his hiding place in the pine tree, stabbing one goat with his spear before it could react. The others bolted, but trilby sprinted after them, leaving his spear behind. He slipped his knife out of it's sheath and slashed a line across the second goats neck. He kicked the third with such force that it flew into a tree. The goat tryed to hobble away, but trilby pinned it down, then brutally tore the goat apart, savouring the goat's dieing screams.
"I took joy in slaughter recently!" he cheerfully told a wandering kobold as he dragged one of the goats back to the cave.
Inside, Thelirenelime sat hacking at corpses next to a huge pile of meat, bones and leather. Trilby watched him for a while, then said "It's more fun when they're alive"
"We'll all get out chances to experience such joys" replied Thelirenelime. "Haul some of that junk out of here, though. It's attracting-" He stomped a prying rat "- Rats. And they are no fun to kill"
"Eh, this junk, as in, the rotting refuse?" said Trilby nervously
"Obviously. What other junk is there?"
"Eh, I better get those other goats"
{No seriously, he'd rather idle than hall refuse. I don't get it.}
Thraybus the kobold slunk through a limestone passage.
"Firght, elf, grr, home stolen, grrr" she muttered to herself. The passage opened onto a long cavern, filled with the elves' possesions. Crude barrels of meat, wooden weapons, boring, boring. But then a familiar symbol caught her eye from behind a pile of reindeer skins. She pulled away the stinking leather, revealing a well crafted barrel, marked with a shining copper seal of the dwarven brewers guild!
"Heek-heek-heek!" the kobold cried, stiking her knife into the barrel's side, gleefully lapping up the golden liquor. More kobolds appeared, drawn by the excited cries. By the time Thraybus had drunk her fill, five other kobolds had started drinking, with more on their way.
When Viccarah walked into the stockpile to grab a bite to eat, she found the kobolds dancing in a perfect circle, singing in what appeared to be an actual language, rather than their normal grunting.
"The kobolds are drinking the rotten fruit juice the dwarves sold us"
"You can
drink it?"
"They seem quite pleased with it. It appears to have clarifying effects"
"Well, it should be better than snowmelt"
...
Thelirenelime tripped over his own feet, fell down a hole, and made an elegant roll into the cavewall. Viccarah came down behind him, laughing.
"Clarif-f-fying effects, ses she" he slurred.
"The kobolds seemed fine, you're just stupid!" she replied, between bouts of laughter.
"Ah, shit, I think I had a whole goblet" he said, rubbing his head.
Viccarah just laughed.
"Naaaaa, I'm going to bed. Which tree is mine again?"
Viccarah doubled up.
"Seriously, I can't find it! Is it this one?" he said, climbing a stalagmite.
"We don't have any trees, stupid! Hirel built beds for us!"
"What? Beds? Oh yeah. Beds. To go to bed in. They're over.. there?"
"Sure!"
Disclaimer: Drunkness not actually implemented.
Icemi Otogaderi's diary: I have managed to get sufficient information out of Draylin, the kobolds' chief stone-worker, to make a facilities which will allow us extract workable 'metal' from the green and red rocks littering these tunnels. My facilities are safely underground, where no harm may come to them. Especially the tools required to carefully heat wood into a more efficient fuel could easly be ruined by untrai-WHAT THE HELL
"What the heck are you doing here? Don't touch that! Drop that! Not on there! Watch out for that spike! Get out, get out!" shouted Icemi at Viccarah, who was holding a lump of charcoal in her gloved hand.
"Hey man, relax. It's just charcoal. The priests used to mess with it if a tree got struck by lightning or somehting" replied Viccarah. "And I think the metal stuff, I've seen dwarves mess with that, I could-"
"No, no, no! Get out! I'm taking care of this! Go make fruit juice, or something!"
"Sheesh. Calm down, man.." said Viccarah, backing away.
"And don't come back!" he shouted after her.
Sorry for that, someone was messing with my stuff. More specifically, Viccarah, the stupid know-it-all cook. Goes around boasting she can take two goblets of 'booze'. Now, take the wooden log, check, place log in box, put box on fire. Right.
Er...
Well, taking this crude pile made by that amateur, I can test the metal-rendering proccess. Start fire in box. Put black wood in box. Put stones in box with hole, put box with hole on box with black wood. Blow into lower box.
I wonder how long this takes?
Unfinished, rest later today.
Author
Topic: Birth of the Dark Elf (Read 4586 times)