The MerchantsThe caravan that had arrived at the gates only just barely qualified as such. There were two overloaded wagons, significantly piled up with what looked like barrels of booze. The wagons had been driven to the entrance of the fort by a group of five dwarfs. Probably dwarfs, at least. That, or they were piles of dirt that learned how to move about on there own.
Balnash saluted Aban when he saw her. "Look at this mess. I don't think I ever saw a group of people as pathetic and filthy as that." He gave that some thought. "Apart from all of us here, I mean."
"But they are people, right? Not... not like, walking skeletons wearin' skin as a disguise, right?" The other guard looked to Aban for an answer.
"I... oh, come on Slime, I don't want to be thinking about that if we let them through the gate. Just let me talk to them, all right? We'll worry about being murdered in our beds once we're drunk enough to sleep in them, or something."
The wagoneers, or caravaners, or secret undead (whatever they might be) were milling around at the base of the fortress wall, looking lost and muttering to each other. Aban greeted the group as formally as she could. "Hey! Who the hell are you people?"
The dwarf who answered was the best dressed, or the cleanest of them. She stood up straight, and called back, "Ah, someone yet lives. This is Oceanbridge, is it not? The cursed fortress? The center of the doom that has blighted our world?"
"Well, yes. The first one, I mean."
The merchant literally jumped, which was a strange thing to see someone actually do. "I knew it! Quickly, turn the wagons around. If we run as fast as we can, we might make it back to the jungle alive." She started to push the others, who were still looking very confused.
"Wait, wait! Don't run away! We aren't... we aren't all that doomed anymore. And we would really, really like to know what's going on in the rest of the world! Isn't there anything you need? We can trade with you!"
The last part got their leaders attention. She stopped pushing her guards "Ah... We do need weapons. It is a dangerous path we follow. Though not as dangerous as this place, I would believe."
This might actually work, Aban realized. "Weapons? Well, yes, we have weapons. We have weapons everywhere. You're standing next to at least three spears right now." The merchant leader looked down. "Yes, you see, right under all of those heaps of skeletons you're standing on. Wait! I said
don't run!"
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From the Journals of Aban BrothertreatiesWe traded with the merchants! Not that they had much, but they did have enough wine to keep us going for a bit longer. I'd like to say that I've talked to the caravan's leader, found out some more things, and so on. But I can't.
Because she's been trapped in the mayor's room for two weeks.
I fear for her.
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Next: I promise nothing.