The Wilkenson Disaster
On the outskirts of town, at a crossing, where the forest collided with the stones of the mountain, an unusual meeting took place. On one side there were gathered five men, armed to the teeth. The smallest, and presumably not more than fifteen years of age, drove a banner into the ground. The banner itself was dark green, and had a circular insignia in the middle. On closer inspection it looked to be a dragon or a serpent that ate at its own tail.
He went back and stood by the cart where three other soldiers stood; and between them was a golden hut with two poles on each side, which the soldiers carried; in it sat one man. Some crows and ravens squawked loudly, and stooped and twirled and dashed underneath the heavy clouds. Then they landed effortlessly in the wind on bodies which lay trampled and rotting.
The wind came down from the north and drove the stomach-churning stench. I did not turn although I wanted to barf, but I wrinkled my nose, hoping that the stench wouldn't stick to the insides of my nose.
"Take off your hod, dark lady," The one on the back left said. "He wishes to see his eyes in yours as you parlay."
I grasped the tip of my cowl with two fingers and gently nudged the cowl off of my head; it fell silent against my back, wavering in the winds for a second before it rested against my upper back.
" I am naked without my hidden cowl, I feel alone without my bow strapped against my body. Yet I've come to you, in peace, just that: naked and alone." I said, moving an inch closer.
"Hold it," the same one said. They stood like statues, then all laughed. "If you've come naked, why are you wearing expensive clothes, take them off so you can truely be true to the words you so careless spit." He spoke without life in his voice, like a puppet.
"Your words do not hurt me, trade-master. But if you wish me naked: you'll have to undress me yourself." I said hurriedly, and dared step two steps closer. As I moved forward, so did they. We advanced in a slow pace, mirroring, waiting.
"Enough." It came from inside. The wagon doors clunked and the floorboard screamed as the trade-master wobbled his four-layer stomach out of it. "It is I, and it is you. We will make parlays and deals and trades and coin, but first we'll make feast and wine and dine. Agreed?"
"Aye," I said, bowing "First we feast."
"It's been a long time," he said. "How have you been?" He had one of his goons open the doors to the Inn. All of entered and was shot with warm jolts from the crackling fireplace. The trade-master snapped his fingers to the innkeeper who jumped and almost tackled a barwench as he darted to the table closest to the fire. Orange flames went this way and that, dancing to the chit-chat resonating from wall to wall.
"We'll have the stew, two plates, and two goblets of your finest wine," said the trade-master with his usual groggy voice. He breathed heavily, as though sitting and talking and walking and... excisting was a chore to him. One he somehow had a distaste for.
"You want the Willkson contract, am I correct?" he said confidently. "I know you Katrine, I know that you wouldn't sit here and dine and wine with me if it weren't for the fact that you need something I can provide."
"Correct," I said, nonechalantly. He was correct and I knew it; and I was more than willing to spend a few hours more next to a greased up, stench-wrenching, rotted flesh grub of a man to get it. "And what say you?" I asked, slurping the porked meats from the wooden spoon, which was comically large in my glowing, purple-ish hand.
"I've always respected you void elfs, even though most disdain without getting to know ya. Right to the point, honest, and doesn't ask for too much for the jobs," he said, smirking. A wave of heat wafted, following were small crackling sparks. The wood crumbled beneath the thickening flames.
"I am not asking outside of the asking price, which is two-thousand coins according to the noticeboard."
"Correct," he nodded, sliding a little in his seat. It was only big enough for one of his ass cheeks at the time. The four legs creaked agonizingly, on the verge of doing the split.