A line of wagons extends a quarter-mile out from the eastern gate of Bree-town. At the front of the line a gate-watcher handles each of the merchants, collecting their bills of inventory and checking their trading permits. 'You're all set, sir. Now move along', he says, lackadaisically ushering the next wagon inside.
The dwarf driver tugs on the reigns, and his ponys pull the ruddy carriage along. Eldryc, a bedraggled-looking man of Dalish decent, hops down, and hurriedly unloads the cargo for inspection. The Dwarf turns his head to address him,
'Listen lad', he begins, 'This'll be the last stop on our trip, and the last trip we'll be taking for quite some time.'
The man looks up at the stocky figure, 'Sorry sir, but what'd'ya mean by that, exactly? I thou-'
'I mean', he interjects, 'that Archet and Staddle cancelled their deliveries. Coin's running thin, and we're left with a back-log of product no-one's looking to buy. Me and the rest will be headed home, soon as spring comes, but I can only afford to pay you for this last haul. You're on your own after this.'
A crate clattered to the ground as Eldryc looked back, his face distorted with confusion and distraught as he processed the information. He'd seen this coming for some time, he'd known that this year's inventory had been lighter than the last, although this is the first time the Caravan's funding problem had been made real.
'Fine.' He says, leaving the crate where it lay. 'Fine, give me my coin and I'll be on my way. I suppose you can take care of the rest, here?' He says with an aggressive undertone of sarcasm.
'Eldryc...' the Dwarf starts, 'I only just heard this morning, I'm sorry. It was out of my control.'
Eldryc takes a deep breathe, looking down at his feet. He picks up the crate. 'Alright, alright... I'm sorry, that wasn't right of me. I suppose I'll... I'll figure something out.'
(I apologize for cringe dialogue! This is my first post in years, so a bit of a rust-buster. Hopefully more coming soon!)
