The Events of the 17th of Granite, 1077Cokho rubbed his cracked hands together in eager anticipation. The plumes of sand kicked into the air foretold of traders, and by their lack of wagons, he was certain it was the elves. The old man, his back bent into a question, his head dented from rocks and kicked in by animals, his knuckles the size of marbles, found the aches and fears of the world leaving him. Traders! It was always a cause of celebration among the Dwarves. To think, the pretty trinkets and shiny rocks he'd been surreptitiously hoarding over the past year could be spent with them buying some private reserve for his little hole in the wall room.
"Fools, the whole lot of them," he chortled. "I bet you I can buy out their entire stock of liquor with a few gems I snatched from the ground."
"Booze is SO last year," Mookie said. She filed at her nails, her eyes downcast on her work. "Leather's where it's at. Leather's all the rage, the height of fashion, especially since Makrond used the last scraps on quivers for the Duke. Let me tell you..."
A wicked smile crossed her face. "I'm going to buy out every scrap of leather they bring."
"They're Elves... they don't trade in leather..."
"Yes they do!"
"No, they don't!"
"Listen, you," She came dangerously close to throwing her nail file at him, her face reddening with irritation. "I've sold them tons of things made out of leather! And bones, too, bones all over the place!"
"That's humans that like those things," Pawnzer added from the sidelines. He adjusted in his grip the basket of glassware he was carting to the depot. "Elves are pacifists. And Vegans. They don't believe in the needless slaughter of any living thing."
"Really? I keep putting all these trinkets in their barrels as thanks..."
The first of the group trundled up the steps, it's lanky body swathed in a filthy travelers cloak and robes. The trio turned expectantly as bony hands lifted to pull back the cowl - a gasp resounding through them. The Elf was covered in sores, strange lumps and growths extending from the patchy spots on it's scalp where hair had once been. It's eyes were milky white and filmy, the muted irises flitting this way and that as if it was unable to properly see things.
Pawnzer touched a hand to his throat, his mouth working as he noticed that some of the fingers had been fused together, the skin stretched and knotted and ragged, as if it had been cut apart, and finally been allowed to grow together through neglect. A second elf leading a malnourished camel came over the rise, knobby spikes jutting from it's shoulders, broken, tattered wings drooping from it's back, black and dead.
"You're... oh, bless you... are you hear to trade?"
Cracked lips spread into a trembling smile, the glassy eyes swiveling towards the sound of her voice. It was as if he was trying to speak, but words wouldn't leave him. What followed was a tense moment of silence, the Dwarves rooted to the ground, the Elf seeming to grow frustrated, his loose skin trembling.
He finally extended his hands forward. His voice was reedy, a paper thin rustling carried on the winds. "No, friends, we're here to beg..."
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Topic: Migrursut: What Comes After The World Ends? [Epilogue] (A Community Fort) (Read 390363 times)