approach.
“State your business,” declared one human guard, suspicious of the three little-folk.
“We’re merchants delivering silk goods,” replied Bridazak.
“Silk goods, huh? Why are you travelling at odd hours of the night?”
“The late hours are more favorable in getting the goods delivered faster, as there is less traffic,” he said with a cheesy smile, which Dulgin and Spilf did not share as the other guard approached the back of the wagon to inspect the merchandise. Knowing full well there was no silk onboard, Bridazak glanced over to Dulgin and gave him a look that begged for forgiveness.
“Ya blundering fool,” whispered the Dwarf harshly, nudging him with his elbow.
“I didn’t know they were going to check. I’m sorry.”
They dropped their heads and waited to be chastised by the guards for lying, and then probably detained and questioned. At least they would have a place to stay the night, once arrested.
“Everything checks out, Tulk. There are about ten silk bolts back here.”
Spilf quickly peeked through the canvas, and saw the guard inspecting the imagined rolled thread in the barren hold of their wagon. He shrugged his shoulders, informing his friends the human seemed to have gone mad.
“Okay, you’re clear to go through. Welcome to Lonely Tear,” the guard Tulk waved them to enter.
“This is just unbelievable,” whispered the Dwarf as they rode past the alert pair of troops.
Spilf nudged Bridazak to get his attention, whispering, “It’s the box again. It’s helping us.”
Bridazak wanted to respond, but whether it was fatigue or not, he had no words to challenge his friend’s insight. “Let’s just find a place to rest,” he sighed.
The town was quiet, except for the wagon wheels on the hardened dirt and the clopping of the horses’ shoed hooves. Lonely Tear was a hamlet of five hundred humans that had survived on its fishing industry. They could see a bay of water clearly now as the moonlight shimmered off the glassy surface. The town was situated on a hill with a considerable slant heading towards the bay. An occasional human staggered from one of the taverns down the street and the wind created a slight whistle between the structures as it raced up from the water.
“Lady Luck Inn. That’s a great place to stay,” Bridazak pointed to direct the attention of his friends.
“How do you know that, ya blundering fool? You’ve never been here before.”
“Because it has ‘Luck’ in its title. That’s how I know,” he defended himself.
Upset and tired of the day’s happenings, the Dwarf’s rough voice quaked to life, “Oh, come on. Let’s get some rest and just forget about today. I’m tired of all these games and ghost tricks.”
Dulgin went off to settle things with the stable caretaker and then they walked into the Lady Luck Inn. The stone building was a two-story structure with a thatched roof and double paned windows. It was very plain outside; a simple sign dangled above the entryway. Inside was much the same; nothing adorned the walls, and a few small tables were set around a fireplace where sparkling embers faded. There stood a small registry station to the left of them, but no one was present. All was quiet, like the town. A dim light from behind the counter in a back room mingled with the darkness of the main lobby. They tried to peek over the human-sized wooden counter to see where the innkeeper might be. They had hoped their entrance had alerted someone, but not a soul stirred from the back room.
“There is no one here, late night travelers,” said a creaky, unknown voice from behind them near the fireplace. “Come, sit by the fire while you wait for the innkeeper,” the midget voice spoke again.
The fire suddenly erupted, illuminating the lodge enough to see more clearly. In the light, they recognized that the small creature was a Deep Gnome, an underground race with wood-brown skin, pure white hair, gray-blue eyes, and a plump
“State your business,” declared one human guard, suspicious of the three little-folk.
“We’re merchants delivering silk goods,” replied Bridazak.
“Silk goods, huh? Why are you travelling at odd hours of the night?”
“The late hours are more favorable in getting the goods delivered faster, as there is less traffic,” he said with a cheesy smile, which Dulgin and Spilf did not share as the other guard approached the back of the wagon to inspect the merchandise. Knowing full well there was no silk onboard, Bridazak glanced over to Dulgin and gave him a look that begged for forgiveness.
“Ya blundering fool,” whispered the Dwarf harshly, nudging him with his elbow.
“I didn’t know they were going to check. I’m sorry.”
They dropped their heads and waited to be chastised by the guards for lying, and then probably detained and questioned. At least they would have a place to stay the night, once arrested.
“Everything checks out, Tulk. There are about ten silk bolts back here.”
Spilf quickly peeked through the canvas, and saw the guard inspecting the imagined rolled thread in the barren hold of their wagon. He shrugged his shoulders, informing his friends the human seemed to have gone mad.
“Okay, you’re clear to go through. Welcome to Lonely Tear,” the guard Tulk waved them to enter.
“This is just unbelievable,” whispered the Dwarf as they rode past the alert pair of troops.
Spilf nudged Bridazak to get his attention, whispering, “It’s the box again. It’s helping us.”
Bridazak wanted to respond, but whether it was fatigue or not, he had no words to challenge his friend’s insight. “Let’s just find a place to rest,” he sighed.
The town was quiet, except for the wagon wheels on the hardened dirt and the clopping of the horses’ shoed hooves. Lonely Tear was a hamlet of five hundred humans that had survived on its fishing industry. They could see a bay of water clearly now as the moonlight shimmered off the glassy surface. The town was situated on a hill with a considerable slant heading towards the bay. An occasional human staggered from one of the taverns down the street and the wind created a slight whistle between the structures as it raced up from the water.
“Lady Luck Inn. That’s a great place to stay,” Bridazak pointed to direct the attention of his friends.
“How do you know that, ya blundering fool? You’ve never been here before.”
“Because it has ‘Luck’ in its title. That’s how I know,” he defended himself.
Upset and tired of the day’s happenings, the Dwarf’s rough voice quaked to life, “Oh, come on. Let’s get some rest and just forget about today. I’m tired of all these games and ghost tricks.”
Dulgin went off to settle things with the stable caretaker and then they walked into the Lady Luck Inn. The stone building was a two-story structure with a thatched roof and double paned windows. It was very plain outside; a simple sign dangled above the entryway. Inside was much the same; nothing adorned the walls, and a few small tables were set around a fireplace where sparkling embers faded. There stood a small registry station to the left of them, but no one was present. All was quiet, like the town. A dim light from behind the counter in a back room mingled with the darkness of the main lobby. They tried to peek over the human-sized wooden counter to see where the innkeeper might be. They had hoped their entrance had alerted someone, but not a soul stirred from the back room.
“There is no one here, late night travelers,” said a creaky, unknown voice from behind them near the fireplace. “Come, sit by the fire while you wait for the innkeeper,” the midget voice spoke again.
The fire suddenly erupted, illuminating the lodge enough to see more clearly. In the light, they recognized that the small creature was a Deep Gnome, an underground race with wood-brown skin, pure white hair, gray-blue eyes, and a plump
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