26th Slate - Rikkir's Diary
The voices whisper to me. I can hear them, their soft wails reverberating through the mountain. The song, the ring of a pick to stone, of a hammer to anvil, of a foreman to his workers... all that and more: The ringing of claws on an Adamantine door.
The stone harkens to me. I can see them, their glittery metals and powerful ores. Sought long-after by my fellow dwarves. The flash, the spark, of metal on stone. The show, two dwarves sparring as one, a giant and a dog both accepted and shunned. I can see all of this on my hand: and I see bits of dwarf chopped in a fan.
I can feel them. In a patchwork quilt, their styles of dress, their stone pictures, weapon's hilt. That tactile shudder, as noble screams rock the door. I can feel smooth metal, rough rock, and more. I can feel this all and more: I can feel shudders 'gainst prisons door.
I can hear them. Their orders falling in the dark, whispering secrets no dwarf should know. The artisens lost and earthfires flow. The chant, the beat of a party grant, of a priest to his congregation, and a dwarf to a man. I can hear all that is grand: As well as the bony fins as they cross over sand.
I can taste them. Their food soft and sweet, the bounty of the mountain and the texture of meat. All served in a hall made of silver and stone, ate with the tart purple wine that makes food taste half-done. I can taste all that is surmised, as well as the burning of their painful demise.
I've locked myself away
My pulse it does race
To finish before that day,
or suffer death's embrace.
It's all there and more, their secrets I hear
and from it all, their songs I hold dear.
Author
Topic: Last Dwarves in the world. Ulogeshud[Community Fortress] (Read 50658 times)