Urist was breathing heavily. Silk, one silk cloth and he could start making the shoe that haunted his dreams. He feverishly wiped his brow and awaited the materials. Likost trudged toward him and handed him some pig tail fiber cloth.
PLANT CLOTH??
Urist let out a mighty bellow, grabbed Likost by the head, and punched his brain out. Then, in a red haze, he ran toward the legendary smiths, and started killing.
...
Standing in the gore of the elite, he saw a little frightened child.
"I WILL RIP OUT YOUR MUSTACHE, DWARFLING!"
He gathered speed and his hand grasped his blood-stained sock tightly. Then, a click, and a cage trap burst around him.
...
The militia captain was gloating, a safe distance from a cage, from wherein emerged enraged shouts.
"-Urist. You dealt a crippling blow to the fortress, and the blood of many is on your hands. The Baron wanted you hammered, but we tough of a better punishment.
-SHOE SHOE BLOOD SHOE KILL KILL HIEHOQFOQEFIIERRRAAAAHHHHH!
-Let the hauling begin."
Urist didn't care. In his blind rage, no punishment mattered. What where they going to do, dump him into magma? He would take as many as possible with him as soon as the cage melted. Animals, invaders? He would kill them all. Pit? He would climb out and slaughter everything. But... where where they going? To the surface, the trade depot?
Why was that elf grinning so broadly?
Suddenly, Urist knew fear.