Mendo's Fortune
The Never Ending Quest - Episode 19223
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The foul stench of death and rotting flesh didn't bother the white garbed
dwarf so much anymore. He stood atop a high dune, shielded by a servant
who followed him with a large umbrella. He grinned as he took in the scene
below, although his thoughts were as dark, deep, and mysterious as the
subterranian caverns from which his race had first come. Amazingly, the small group that accompanied the dwarf had managed to dig three huge holes in very little time. The strange and very expensive device he had bought off of a reclusive gnome who lived near the Chul Suz had been a good investment. It was the first time he had ever had any success with anything gnomish. (Buying any gnome-made device was generally considered a gamble in any land). It was small but powerful, doing the work of many men at once. The Southern Dragon was not even recognisable at this point. It's entire outer layer of scales and skin had been stripped away. The three pits that had been dug into the hard and stubborn desert ground had been filled with a thick black liquid that came from the bogs of distant Caibu. Nothing else could burn for so long and so hot and Mendo thanked his gods that he had managed to bring a barrel of the stuff with him. That foul black ooze had cost him an arm and a leg too, but it was another worthy investment. The Hespanish held control over the resource and charged a fortune for even a small amount of the stuff.Over the pits they placed poles and underneath, huge iron pots (the few that they had with them) and began to burn away part of the flesh and lard of the monstrous reptile into a valuable oil. The rest of the beast's organs, bones, and various body parts were being removed as well. Any part of a dragon was worth a fortune. It was a shame it would take so long to send word to his cousins in the Goth of his good fortune. Mendo hoped his message would reach them as quickly as possible.One man had already been badly burned during the grueling and massive undertaking. Mendo cared little. He would gladly trade his foreign technology and men for a stout group of his own race. It would be days and weeks before they received any help in the task, and months before any of his kindred knew of his good fortune. The dwarves, though fairly large in number, were lost and scattered. They were expert traders and smiths which formed a vast underground economic empire, literally and figuratively. But there was a saying in the Three Kingdoms: "You can only trust a Dwarf as far as you can throw it". This seemed to be the attitude held in just about any realm. It was a happy day whenever any dragon died, of course. His race had held a deep and fiery hatred at dragonkind for eons now. But this day was beyond anything he could have pulled out of his wildest dreams. He wondered where the wyrm came from, and why exactly it's head was missing. That was a shame, the head was one of the most valuable parts. But even if he had only come accross the leg of the lizard he would have been glad.A shout went up from the men and there was a comotion. Something had been discovered in the dragon's belly...
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Ib
3/18/2002 6:23:21 AM
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