HARKEN to me, o' gentledwarves, as I relay the
Ballad of Gomathgomath Gomathgomathgomathgomath Gomath!"Bring out yer insane!" *CLANG*
The wagon made it's way through the shit-covered cobblestone streets of the underground fortress. The languishing masses of dwarves toiled through the blood, vomit, muck, bones, and assorted body parts with nary an askew glance.
"Bring out yer insane!" *CLANG*
The Fortress Guardsdwarf wheeled his wagon creakily through the gorgeous decorative marble and gold-inlaid tunnel that was covered in shit and stopped in front of a peasant dwarf carrying a dead-weight cheesemaker on his back.
The Dwarven Peasant motioned to the Guardsdwarf, "'Ere's one."
The Fortress Guardsdwarf leaned on his hammer as he got off the wagon because of his damaged spinal cord and thrust his cat-leather gloved hands forward, "That'll be nine gold."
The Cheesmaker stirred and quipped through his beard, "I'm not insane".
The Fortress Guardsdwarf quizzically tilted his head as only somedwarf with a broken spine can do, "Wat?"
The Dwarven Peasant looked pointedly at the Fortress Guardsdwarf, "Nothin'. 'Ere's yer nine gold."
The Cheesemaker quipped again, "I'm not insane."
The Fortress Guardsdwarf peered at the Cheesemaker from under his spiked helm covered in spiky spikes that were spiking spikedly, "'Ere, he says he's not insane."
The Peasant shrugged, "Yes 'e is."
The Cheesemaker fired back, "I'm not."
"He isn't," the Guardsdwarf agreed.
The Peasant sighed, "Well, 'e will be soon, 'e's very ill."
The Cheesemaker struggled to mumble through his beard, "I'm getting better."
The Peasant rolled his eyes, "No yer not, you'll be bloody crazy in a moment."
The Guardsdwarf scratched his beard, "Well, I can't take him like that. It's against regulations."
The Cheesemaker pulled his beard agitatedly, "I don't want to go on the cart."
"O', don't be such a baby," the Peasant rolled his eyes again.
"I can't take him," the Guardsdwarf said firmly.
"I feel fiiiiine," sang the Cheesemaker.
"O', do me a favor, laddie" the Peasant beseeched the Guardsdwarf.
The Guardsdwarf muttered, "I can't."
The Cheesemaker sang again, "I feel happy! I feel happy!"
The Fortress Guardsdwarf glanced up and down the street furtively, then smacked the Cheesemaker through the beard on the back of his head, knocking him out.
The Peasant handed the Guardsdwarf nine gold, "Ah, thank you very much."
"Not at all. See you next Hematite," the disabled Guardsdwarf pulled himself slowly back into the wagon.