I arrived at East Toaflain in the dead of winter feeling very wary. The Dwarves here were not to be trifled with by any means. The town itself was part of a much bigger city below ground in the Toaflain Mines. The Dwarves used this town to trade with the neighbouring settlements and travellers without exposure to the secrets of the mine. Which as we know a good Dwarf doesn’t wear their secrets and wealth on their sleeves.
Marching past the main gate and I can feel eyes on me as I head into the town itself. I’m taller than the Dwarves by a good two feet. Despite this obvious observation by them I draw my hood around my head more tightly, keeping my eyes on the floor. I cannot afford to make a scene here. If they realise who I am I can kiss this opportunity goodbye.
My destination was up ahead. The stables. It was here that I would be collecting a very valuable relic for my client. I use the term collecting lightly. Reclaiming or stealing would fit better depending how you viewed the situation. Many had searched for this relic over the years but I have my ways. My little ears everywhere that tell me of such things.
Today was the perfect day to collect. I’d timed the weather perfectly to enter East Toaflain as the incoming blizzard swept through offering limited visibility and cover for the tallest being in this Dwarf infested town.
Checking my surroundings before entering through the raging winds and soft flakes the size of pebbles, there were two things a miss. Firstly there was only one guard outside the stable. I was informed of at least four. Second and even more worrying was it was quiet. Too quiet for a trade town.
I decided to ignore this and continue and deal with the consequences head on. The guard outside was leaning against a post, eyeing me and as I approached I waited for his question. “Mornin outsider, state yo-“! He never finished.
I drove my dagger through his neck and into the post behind him so hard he was now propped there. With the limited visibility it would hopefully give me time to escape before anyone realises.
Marching into the stables there is only one stable master present and the horses are all in the pens out of the cold. The stable master looks at me and sees the blue of my eyes. “Elf! ” He screamed. I charged him into the ground in a single leap pressing one of my daggers into his throat. “Where is it?” I growled at him. The stable master remained silent in his petrified state but his eyes glanced behind me just briefly. That was all I needed. I pommeled the stable master hard in the head with the hilt, knocking him out. No point on spilling unnecessary blood of an unarmed Dwarf.
The relic was stashed behind some horsecoats wrapped in some dark fabric that smelled faintly of horse piss. I removed it immediately and there it was. I marvelled at Old King Lokane’s dagger. Five thousand years of age and encrusted with rubies on the blade itself. The legends said the blade was made with dragon fire from the beasts of the west. The Dwarves stole it during a series of raids centuries ago. My client, a collector. Recieved intel that it was being transported and traded here.
This had been all too easy…”Come outside with your hands behind your head!”
I smiled. This was why it had been easy. They knew I was coming. I bet Tally tipped them off that stupid bitch! Undermining me again to steal my trophies. “May the one have mercy on you when I get a hold of you!”
I was welcomed by the East Toaflain guard upon my exit of the stables. “Ah so you are the great Zin?” A Gruff looking Dwarf said who I assumed to be a captain of the guard. He ripped my hood back revealing my elvish features to his charges.
I laughed aloud as the captain nearly had to jump to reach my hood. “I see you have heard of me shortstack?” I replied coolly.
Thump! Evidently the Dwarvish humour differs from that at most taverns on a new moons eve. That was going to leave a mark.
Now things would get interesting.