Dwarves Mean Business

[Oronec]

    The rain pounded down on the Eastern Hydlaan jailhouse as a storm rolled through the city. A guard was slouched over a shining short sword that had yet to see combat, his hands running a whetstone over the blade as smoothly as a maulbernaut with a peg leg charged after its prey.
    In the southern-most cell, a menki sat on a wooden stool that creaked with every small wiggle and wobble he gave as he tried to find a comfortable position. Finally settling with his back against the stone wall of his cell, rear hanging off of the stool with his legs crossed, he took the time to look around at the other jailbirds;
    The northern cell, farthest from him, contained a Xacha the night guard liked to call ‘Creak’. The Xacha earned the name from his constant rocking back and forth; making the sounds a rusted door hinge would if left unattended for many cycles. The cell next to the Xacha was normally occupied, but not for long. No... That cell contained whichever poor soul was tossed into it; left to bear Creak’s ear piercing wails for so long before they found a means to end their lives. It was a sad sight
those men bashing themselves into their cell walls, trying to break through and escape the nightmare that was Creak.
    In the eastern cell - the one next to the menki’s - sat a newcomer; a large, bruised up Ynnwn. Each breath the hulking figure took was racked with pain. Welts covered his head and forearms - one eye swollen shut - while a rash of some sort flecked his skin. At close glance, one could almost make out the shape of a spoon on the man’s cheek!        
    Containing a giggle, the menki placed both hands firmly on the bottom of his seat, and with one long pull of his legs, dragged both stool and rear forward with a high pitched screech until he was up against the bars of his cell. This drew the Ynnwn out of his nightmarish trance. “Ya look like a sane guy. An’ that’s sayin’ a lot considerin'-uh... Creak over there,” the menki mused, motioning towards the Xacha that continued rocking, bat-like screeches escaping him. “So, big fellow,” the menki continued, “What’re ya in for?”
    The Ynnwn blinked a couple times, a shaky breath escaping cracked lips as he grumbled, “Non-of-your-business.” The menki pressed on, “That’s quite the shiner you’ve got there. Now I’m just wonderin'
and I ain’t implyin' anything or nothin’ but, is your wife a maulber in bed? ‘Cause /boy/ do you look roughed up!” The menki let another giggle escape through his teeth, hands flying up to smother it out. The Ynnwn wrapped his arms tighter about himself, if anything more embarrassed. “No,” he grumbled, barely audible, “It was a damned stick-up gone bad.”

Tables and countertops were smeared with dough and flour. Mixing bowls and ingredients left unattended. The little bakery was a mess; and dancing around it frantically was an agedly dwarf – cracking open windows and doors to release the humid air her stove gave off - the scent of baked goods following it on out into the city before she would hurry back to the sweet little things that needed quick tending to.

   “A stick-up, eh? Well don’t ya stop there, tell me everything!” The menki wanted nothing more than for time to pass. Brief conversation followed up by silence – and Creak’s creaking – wasn’t going to cut it.
    The Ynnwn’s head fell back to rest against his cell wall, heaving a sigh, “I was walking down an alley, minding my own business when I noticed a house with all its windows open. There was a wonderful aroma flowing out, so I figured it was a baker’s shop, see? I felt concerned for the old woman that lived there – being all old and fragile and such. It wouldn’t have taken much for anyone with bad intentions to just hop on in and punt that old witch, taking everything she owned. So I took a peek inside – didn’t see her – and decided to climb in the back window to warn her
”

A large figure, swathed in black linen and a mask, vaulted through the open window; nearly slipping as his boots touched down on a small puddle of flour and water on the floor. The man cursed, eyes darting about as he made sure the dwarf was nowhere around to hear or see his frantic attempt to stay upright. The room was clear; the woman had skittered off into the back room to tend to the dough she had frying in crackling and popping lard. The man looked about for any valuables in clear sight. Nothing. As lightly as one his size could manage, he searched about the messy room – startled when he heard the woman-dwarf returning. Panic-stricken, he dove for the closest means of hiding he could find. A cupboard stocked with fine silver cups and cutlery. The Ynwnn silently cursed his luck as he bit back the sudden itchiness that tickled his entire body – for that’s what was rubbing up against the precious metals. Yhalda hobbled into the room with a cloth draped over her hands, a tray of freshly fried dough ready for glazing. The dwarf shoved aside the clutter on the counter as she set cloth and tray down by the window to cool off. The thief slowly climbed out from the closet to approach the dwarf from behind


  â€œShe was preparing a desert of some sort, so I went on up behind her to politely inform her that she’d left all her windows open...”

The large, gloved hand grasped the woman’s shoulder to spin her round, a silver kitchen knife held firmly in the other – he wasn’t prepared for the wooden spoon that cracked down on his left eye; knife clattering to the ground as the impact left him dumbfounded, stunned. “Intruder!” Thwack! “Help!” Thwack! “Get out, thug!” Crack! The Ynnwn was rolling about on the floor, trying to claw his way out from under the old woman’s spoon of wrath. Yet the dwarven woman persued; her wooden spoon splintered as a result of the beating the Ynnwn endured.

  The Ynnwn, slowly rocking back and forth with his eyes fixed on the opposite wall, was trembling. “I-I just wanted to warn her
Ohhh the horror!” The room had an odd stillness to it; the guard was absent, Creak wasn’t creaking, and the menki had his fullest attention glued on the scarred Ynnwn with childish amusement, “It sounds like ya were trespassin’ don’t it? I mean
 you climbed through a window, with your size and all!”

“HELP ME! Ohhh gods help me!” Came the cries from the little bakery. The guards closed in on the old woman’s house, stumbling in on the whimpering, curled up form of a darkly dressed man; bloodied with a swollen-shut eye. Muffled threats and pounding sounded on the door that lead to the woman’s back room, drawing round the attention of the guards as hands reached for sword pommels, “You on the floor, who’s in that room over yonder?” The Ynnwn gasped, “Don’t let her out! Oh gods don’t let that monster out! Take me away, please!”

  The menki had fallen off his stool and was rolling about on the floor, tickled pink with laughter.
 â€œW-what’s so funny?”
  Looking over at the Ynnwn with a dumb grin, he replied, “Ya got beat up by an old stump! An’ then begged th’ guards t’ take ya away!” The menki’s shrieking laughter drew the night guard’s head in the door, “Quiet down, you!” before the helmed head retreated back outside into a cloud of smoke; Door closing behind him. Feline eyes fixed in that direction for a couple heartbeats, then flicked back to the Ynnwn who tried to hold what little dignity he had left, “That woman was a brute! She was armed and everything!” The menki smirked, “Ya, so you ended up b’hind bars an’ not her.” The Xacha was screeching with laughter, both menki and Ynnwn looking over. “You got whacked!” The man squealed, rocking back and forth with twisted delight


[I could not resist.]

[Caraick]

MUAHAHA! I love it!! 


Where have you been all my life? Write some more, I need another good laugh!! 

[Knightspark9]

Good read.

[Deckchair]

Nice. I think the best part was the contrasting ways in which the ywnn told the story and the actual happenings. Made me laugh with them all

[Vassilli]

This is very well written, must have positively taken ages to type out everything in accents, though... Made for even better reading, regardless, I find your sense of humor very entertaing

-V

[potare]

That is good creative writing
I preticually liked the laughing menki