13th Granite, 208, Early Spring
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The Elven caravan from Elenúaye is on its way. The thing is... there isn't really anything we need.
We have more than enough seed and booze, a fair amount of rope reed cloth which we aren't using anyway, and too many animals. We're pretty self-sufficient by this point; the only things we really need from traders is a variety of metal bars, which the elves don't supply. Nevertheless, there are several items of narrow junk still left in the trade depot, so in the interest of getting rid of it I feel compelled to send it off with the elves.
Aaaaaand one of the elves decided to crawl all the way to the depot, wasting my precious time. He isn't wounded, he just crawls around
hissing at people the entire way. It isn't even that dwarves are stepping over him, he crawled all the way from the edge of our borders to the depot!
Nemo Imazadene, one of the elven merchants, catches me watching the peculiar crawling elf as he enters. She approaches with her nose turned up high in the air.
"Ahem... Hasn't anyone taught you it's rude to stare?"
"And hasn't anyone taught that one that it's rude to hiss at dwarves while crawling around on all fours?"
"That's Saló Thécemifava, a controversial revolutionary in our midsts. A recent celebrity, elven tales are woven each day of his latest exploits."
"What's so revolutionary about him? That he acts and smells like an animal? I thought you all did that."
"What's wrong with acting and smelling like an animal? It's better than acting and smelling like
rocks..."
I'm about to cleave this elf's head off with my (Steel axe) when Asob intercepts the argument. "Nemo! How wonderful to see you again. We have some wonderful narrow clothing for you, if exotic clothing is in your interests!"
"Ah... yes, that will do nicely! We shall hang their clothing from the trees as trophies of our goblin kills!"
"You mean
our goblin kills," I interrupt.
"Hey, you're selling them. Unless there's a contract on them dictating the way we will use our new property, you can't tell us what to do with it!"
Saló Thécemifava crawls up and hisses at me, licking his lips like a feral dog.
"Oh my," Asob exclaims. "Is this Saló, the revolutionary you told me about last year?"
"Yes," said Nemo. "One year and two weeks ago, Saló began his non-sapient diet, proving to elves all across the forests that it is not necessary to eat the sentient to survive. The elven nations are in an uproar about it, as his experiment finely divides the line between those who enjoy eating the intelligent, and those who receive severe indigestion from devouring their thinking kills."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! You mean you've brought a crazed elf starving for sapient flesh inside
my fort?!"
"Actually, Zon, it's King Minkot's fort. And it's fine - he's resisted the urge for a year now - he's not likely to snap all of a sudden!"
I feel a tug on my chin. I look down, and Saló the sapient-hungry elf is
gnawing on the end of my beard."No! Bad Saló!" Nemo pulls from her (large Rope reed long skirt) a purple berry and squeezes it, squirting the juice in Saló's eyes. He hisses and withdraws from my beard.
I grumble. "Yes... well... in that case, I have to go chop some-- err... rock. Chop some rock, yes."
Asob
disappears without warning. The elves and I stare baffled at the spot she used to be in, neither of us capable of offering an explanation. A bit later, she
reappears inside the trade depot.
"Asob, what did you just do??"
"Huh? I went to get a drink. I needed some strawberry wine."
"Did you
teleport there??"
"No, I walked! Silly Zon. Dwarves don't teleport, and if they did, I doubt anyone could even explain how or why."
I shake my head and go outside to chop some rock. Asob proceeds to buy out all of the wood and ropes, the one barrel of Longland beer they brought, their dye, and their barrels, in exchange for half the narrow garbage that was cluttering our depot.
Actually, I wind up asking the other miners about this strange disappearing/reappearing act. If anybody else would have noticed it, it would be the miners, since she spends a lot of her time out-mining even the legendary miners. Fikod is deep in the mines somewhere, so instead I turn to Rigòth Åmbim, 'Yawningsling,' one of our original embarking miners who has taken a short break from digging to practice her hobby of making silk crafts.
"Aye, Asob is a fast one! I oft' challenge her to diggin' contests jus' so I can get a look at her style! I've been tryin' to find some sign of her cheatin', or usin' some sort of magical artifact, but I see nothin'! Somethin' ain't right about her, Zon. She's Superdwarvenly Fast, I tell ya! One minute she's diggin' a hole, then she's gone, then she's back with her -Birchen cup- full of strawberry wine, and she's right back to diggin'!"
Other rumors circulate about Asob's strange teleporting power that she seems to have developed, but no one is sure exactly when it started. It took me this long to notice, probably because I've been suspiciously avoiding her the past few months... which I probably shouldn't be doing.
Yet more rhesus macaques swarm in, trying to take some of the goblin loot. I really should let them, just because the workers have been hauling items for half a year now and still aren't any closer to having the yard free of detritus, but it's the principle of the thing! You can't just allow random wild animals to walk in and take things! What does that say about your dwarfiness? I send several militia out to take care of them and gain a little experience. I even kill one myself!
Two new babies are born, and a baby grows to become a child this season. Sadly, no parties are thrown for any of them. As much as I dislike parties, I do think the children at least deserve something in their name for special occasions such as this.
I know! We'll throw an execution!
Welcome to Severedcoils, children!
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Topic: Severedcoils - Consort Accumulation Challenge (Score: 5) (40d + DnD 5e) (Read 130502 times)