Snippet #1985738

Uri groaned heavily as he pulled himself down from a mule somewhere in the back of Ikin's caravan. Of all the people that the caravan he joined could have belonged to, it had to have been the dwarf he was attempting to get away from. Uri watched as the other workers jumped down from their positions and started to work. Hauling boxes, tying up and feeding the animals, and most of all, being completely distracted. It was the opportunity Uri had been waiting for, and he was quick in response. Uri quietly made his way from wagon to wagon, animal to animal, liberating small packages and containers from their spots hidden amongst the legitimate cargo of the caravan. Each item that was liberated, was just as quietly replaced in the satchels and crates strapped to his mule.

After making the rounds of the entire caravan, his mule loaded up with enough stuff that he could no longer ride it, Uri smacked the mule on it's backside and tugged at it's reins, leading it out of town as quietly as one can lead a mule that had been enjoying a good meal only seconds ago. Luckily for Uri they had arrived a day late and many of the festivities were in full swing. The noise of the crowd drowned out the annoyed protests of his unwitting accomplice, as well as kept him hidden from view. With how big the humans, and the few elves, were Uri didn't have the slightest worry at being spotted by anyone that would have known he wasn't doing what he ought to be doing.

Several minutes and a few hundred curses later, Uri finally found himself out of the crowd and outside of the city walls. He gazed upon the vast, almost empty fields the stretched before him. When the caravan had first exited the mountains into the plains, Uri was dumbstruck. If he had not been riding a mule attached to a wagon, he may have been left behind. The green grasses stretching in every direction, dotted here and there by trees and stones, roads and sign posts. He felt no safety in these exposed fields, with hiding places few and far between. It was a place for running, or fighting, and he wasn't much for a fair fight. After a few days he had settled down, and now only felt an unsettling discontent at being so exposed, sticking out like a big hairy brown lump in an ocean of green. With a deep breath, Uri took the first step back into the emerald abyss, and made his way directly for the closest thing, besides grass, to the city walls. He trudged straight towards a large Oak tree, standing defiantly against the overall conformity of the landscape only a few hundred feet from the gate he had exited from. It was the longest walk of his life, the mule stopping to try and graze at every available opportunity, drawing many more curses from the small dwarf as he struggled to force the stubborn ass along.

Upon finally reaching the tree Uri was quite out of breath, dragging along the mule was hard enough work, but constantly shouting obscenities at it never helped any. Before Uri could tie the mule to the tree it had begun nibbling on the grasses at it's base. This caused Uri to just skip that step altogether, instead sitting down in the shade of the oak and pulling a polished steel flask from a hidden pocket. Carefully unscrewing the top the strong kick of hard liquor and the musty smell of a dank cave flooded out of the container, causing Uri to sigh heavily before taking a long swig and replacing the cap. "Aye," he muttered, pulling himself up and walking over to the mule, "back to bloody work then."

With the quick, deft hand movements that were necessary to ply his trade, Uri had untied the several ropes that strapped the cargo to the mule and quickly began unloading. He moved all of what he carried to the side of the tree opposite the city, making sure that his precious items were not visible from the cities exterior. When he was satisfied with their placement, Uri grabbed the longest rope up from the ground and began fastening a small rock to the end of it. His task was interrupted by a loud and terrified shrieking noise coming from the direction of the mule. Uri looked up to see it running full bore back to the city, as if Torog himself chased behind it. Uri froze where he stood and tightly gripped the rock in one hand, his other slipping into a nearly invisible slit in his pants.

With a quick spin around Uri brandished a small blade and a rock, yelling furiously in an attempt to catch his assailant off guard. The sight that awaited him was not what he expected. The inky black clouds that flowed angrily over the horizon made his blood run cold and his hands go numb. The blade and the rock made little noise as they fell from his hands to the ground. Terror drove him, drove his thoughts, his movements and the excessive string of the foulest of words the dwarven language had to offer, so foul it would make a drunk miner blush. He worked frantically, his hands steady even with all the adrenaline and fear that fueled their rapid movements.

Uri ripped open the crates and packages, removing items of clothing and throwing on as many as he could, so as to protect him from the cold and the smaller chunks of ice. He removed several small pouches that jingled with the distinct and beautiful song of gold on gold, shoving them in pockets and strapping them to belt loops, trying to add weight to protect him from the winds. He pulled out a small golden disc, a mere six inches in diameter, the face lined with several polished gems, through which were visible several small silver gears. In the center of the disc were several small characters painted in glittering emerald paint. It was for this he left the safety of the mountains and he was damned if he was going to just leave it to the mercy of an elder storm. The last thing Uri did was stare longingly at a cask that lie at the bottom of the largest crate.

Uri was dragged from his last goodbyes as the winds began to pick up, the leaves of the tree shaking and flying off, the blades of grass whipping at his heavily clothed and weighed down body. With a final look Uri grabbed the large crate and tipped it over, his cask rolling out and clattering against the tree, securing it over his head just as a large branch fell crashing to the ground beside him, a large shard of ice sticking out of it. With a final stream of dwarven filth, he began running as fast as he could straight back to the city. The sounds of the heavy rain thudding against the crate he held over his head made him cringe, the pieces of ice that shattered against the wood made him curse.

Uri felt the winds pick up from behind him, he wasn't moving fast enough, but the extra weight seemed to be keeping him on the ground. No sooner had this thought entered Uri's mind before he felt his left foot slip out from under him, a piece of ice skidding off into the distance. With his traction gone, Uri no longer held the advantage. The wind kicked up into the box, pushing Uri ever faster to the city walls, sliding on wet grass and mud. It took all of his concentration and strength just to keep the box over his head, ice chunks still crashing into it, though more and more of them were striking his padded form. He could feel the bruises forming already. Uri had no breath left for cursing, though his lips continued to try, as the wind kicked up again and he was lifted from the ground, only a few dozen feet from the walls, and flung with great speed through the gates of the city.

Uri made contact with glass, a window to some building, he couldn't rightly care which. the glass slowed him and the building offered him momentary protection. Uri's thoughts ended with a sudden and terrible crash as he hit the opposite wall, his consciousness fading to black. The last thing he saw were several gold coins rolling away from him.



Uri came to in a large building, his entire body was sore. The air was filled with the groaning of the injured, the whimpering of the dying, and the wailing of the left behind. It was all giving Uri a headache. As his memories returned to him of the minutes before he lost consciousness, he quickly patted his body from top to bottom. He felt one or two coin purses still hidden away, but many were empty, holes in the bottoms and sides. He cursed, the dwarven phrase lost in the horrible din of the building. Uri shivered as a breeze blew past him, bringing his attention to a collapsed wall on the far side of the building, across a sea of the dead and dying. Uri removed the top several layers of clothing, everything but the bottom-most few layers left in tatters. The frown on his face was slowly replaced by a smile as he examined himself, slowly pulling out his most valuable bauble, the small gold disc was still in perfect condition. Uri certainly would miss all the gold that he knew by now had been looted by others with his same mentality, but if there was one thing he valued more than monetary wealth, it was living. Also, living and having wealth was even better. He used one of the wet and tattered rags of former clothes to polish the gold disc before returning it to his person.

Uri's attention was grabbed by an old man, either quite dead or the deepest sleeping and most pale man Uri had ever seen, that lay next to him. What grabbed his attention was not the man, his paleness, or his age, it was the small glittering gold chain around his neck, a gem encrusted symbol of Avandra hanging delicately from it. It was wrong for something so lovely to rest with the dead. After all, what use do they have for it. It was a wrong Uri felt he had to right. Uri leaned down next to the man and looked very much like he was paying his last respects. Adjusting the dead man and straightening out his clothes. When he pulled away a small gold ring was around his finger, and the necklace had switched necks.

Uri was pleased with his new found little treasure, barely keeping from fingering the pendant as he slowly made his way through the moaning crowds. Uri was stopped suddenly by a weak voice from below him. The whispering voice caught his ear more for the air of nobility within it than any other quality. Nobility meant wealth, wealth meant treasure, and this place made that a dying noble, possibly covered in gold. Uri knelt down low by the older woman, his eyes drawn to several gold chains and rings that adorned her neck and fingers. He barely noticed the severe injuries the woman was suffering from. "Please..." The woman rasped. "Good dwarf, please give me a prayer for my journey."

The woman was eerily accepting of her fate, which unnerved Uri just a bit. However, the glitter of gold and gems struck the nerve right back into him as he took the old woman's hands and held them tightly. "Of course good woman, I apologize but I only know the prayers in dwarven, if that is alright." The old woman nodded weakly, she just wanted one final blessing before being sent to the final unknown. Uri began muttering quietly in dwarven, absolute nonsense had the woman understood a word of it, but she looked at him thankfully and blissfully ignorant. Uri continued, placing her now unadorned hands beside her and moving one hand to her chest, just below her neck, continuing to speak in dwarven. His other hand made a pass over his pockets, a light jingling muffled by the fabric as he deposited the rings inside. He leaned in close and placed both hands on her shoulders, giving her a light brushing kiss on the forehead, the only thing he could think of to get close enough to get the many glittering chains. As he pulled away he muttered a final phrase in dwarven, and then spoke in the common tongue, "May your journey be peaceful and bring you happiness." The once glittering woman closed her eyes peacefully and drifted from the world, and Uri drifted from her body, many more necklaces hanging from his neck, and a few more rings on his fingers.

Uri paused as he heard another person calling for a priest near him. A small smile crossed his lips, he might be able to make back everything the storm took from him.


Uri finally emerged from the building glittering in the golden sunlight. Adorned like a true man of the cloth, rings on every finger, bracelets of gold hanging on each wrist, and several golden necklaces hanging around his neck. He quickly stuffed the necklaces down his shirt, and his long sleeves hid the bracelets, but he rather liked the many rings. Several more filled his pockets, Uri having made sure to not wear anything bearing a house seal or being too easily identifiable. He took a deep breath of the dust and blood filled air, and it was the sweetest air he'd breathed in a long time. Even when he hurt all over, life was better with a little loot.