Krogenar: Sawdust and Spirits - Part 8
[ 98] Krogenar: Sawdust and Spirits - Part 8
Mon Dec 22 12:13:50 2014
Krogenar blinked, and looked down at his blood-covered hands.
He staggered, and stared at his hands, stupidly, as though he was unsure how
they worked, or how they ended up being attached to him. He focused, and
a single finger twitched.
The slow breathing of an animal could be heard, and shouting.
The strider turned to the animal sound. Horgal lay on his side, large
bloody gashes in his stomach, and loops of grey intestine slumped to the
ground. The cave bear's breathing shuddered, then stopped.
Forcing his legs into a slow, jerking motion, Krogenar limped towards a nearby
tree, his nose still working, following the scent of fear. Then Shush and Ash
were about him, with booming questions in his ears. "What happened?!"
He waved his hands at them, pushing their air away from him, muttering.
Shush said in his ear: "Who are you-- oh, it's her!"
Then everything went black.
Hapsor knelt with her knee in the homeless man's back, as she bound his hands and
feet. When she'd entered the clearing, just a dozen feet from the main road,
the man had been staggering, his hands covered in blood, swatting and talking
to the air around his head.
This was common in human cities, where the lost and mentally helpless were
tossed into the streets to fend for themselves. Dwarves kept their feeble-minded
brethren in their homes, far from public view, and hardship.
The dwarf replaced her axe to her belt, the backside bloodied from where she'd
struck him. He'd crumpled under the blow, and then the world had gone crazy.
Wind blew in her face, carrying dirt, until she was blind. She rubbed out the grit,
until it finally ceased.
She stood and walked to the nearby tree, looked around the side -- stopped, frozen.
Docrob pushed his way into the clearing, calling out. Hapsor motioned for him to
stay out, away -- forgetting he could not see in the darkness. Beo, however, locked
eyes with hers. The sawyer trotted carefully towards her, leaving the other sawyers
fumbling in the dark. He saw the girl, and his face paled.
Hapsor squinted at the sawyer, the jutting beard - short for a human, but taller than
your average dwarf. "You're of The Folk?" she whispered in Dwarvish. He nodded.
"My father was a dwarf," he replied in broken Dwarvish. "I'll keep him away."