Undercliff: What Lies Beneath
Posted: Tue Jan 17, 2023 8:39 pm
Undercliff: What Lies Beneath
“Umbrella”
Sambar sat upon the bench outside the Guild in the early morning light, and watched the smoke rising through the chill air from a score of chimneys to the south.
“Bear with a crocodile snout”
It was a game he’d played since he was a boy, watching as vapour and smoke from a hundred different sources pulled together from the formless to the recognizable. This morning, more than ever, each figure seemed a message from the Wonderbringer, that inspiration and creativity were everywhere, if only we took the time to look.
“Gnome with a ridiculous hat”
He was deeply content this morning, as he had been for quite some time in fact. The grand venture of the Guild had been entirely satisfying so far; a joyful experiment bursting with possibility and promise. He had laboured at it as Gond would wish him to, with attention and focus, and with little time fretting over how it might all turn in future. He chuckled at himself for ever imagining another path he might follow. He was exactly where he was meant to be.
He watched as the rising smoke billowed out and turned in the warming updraft.
“Guildmaster with a fine, fine hat. And a glorious long beard.”
Sambar turned at the sound of footfalls thudding in the quiet air, from somewhere down the western alleyways. His eyes widened in surprise as a huge woman, wearing very few clothes, a considerable quantity of dirt, and no footwear of any kind burst into the Square, locked her eyes on him, and closed the distance between them in an alarmingly small number of strides.
She leaped the last few yards, landing in a crouch in front of his bench, and holding out a soil smeared letter from her enormous sausage like fingers.
“For Sambah.”
“Oh wonderful, my thanks indeed. While I appreciate your ardour for delivering it so promptly, there was no urgency requested by me, I assure you. There could not be of course, as I had no idea you were coming. Until you undeniably were.”
Sambar gently removed the paper from her sausage fingers and unfolded the letter. Aside from the dirt, it smelled vaguely of apple blossoms and rose petals.
It was a short letter, but Sambar read it twice to be certain he had understood the import of its words, and when he finally lifted his gaze from the paper the giant messenger had inexplicably vanished. He thought he could faintly hear the thuds of enormous feet racing off to the west, but he could not stay and wait to be sure. He simply had to speak to the dwarves of the Guild, and with as little time lost as possible. Undercliff’s troubles were literally deepening, and it was up to the Guild to delve into them.
“Umbrella”
Sambar sat upon the bench outside the Guild in the early morning light, and watched the smoke rising through the chill air from a score of chimneys to the south.
“Bear with a crocodile snout”
It was a game he’d played since he was a boy, watching as vapour and smoke from a hundred different sources pulled together from the formless to the recognizable. This morning, more than ever, each figure seemed a message from the Wonderbringer, that inspiration and creativity were everywhere, if only we took the time to look.
“Gnome with a ridiculous hat”
He was deeply content this morning, as he had been for quite some time in fact. The grand venture of the Guild had been entirely satisfying so far; a joyful experiment bursting with possibility and promise. He had laboured at it as Gond would wish him to, with attention and focus, and with little time fretting over how it might all turn in future. He chuckled at himself for ever imagining another path he might follow. He was exactly where he was meant to be.
He watched as the rising smoke billowed out and turned in the warming updraft.
“Guildmaster with a fine, fine hat. And a glorious long beard.”
Sambar turned at the sound of footfalls thudding in the quiet air, from somewhere down the western alleyways. His eyes widened in surprise as a huge woman, wearing very few clothes, a considerable quantity of dirt, and no footwear of any kind burst into the Square, locked her eyes on him, and closed the distance between them in an alarmingly small number of strides.
She leaped the last few yards, landing in a crouch in front of his bench, and holding out a soil smeared letter from her enormous sausage like fingers.
“For Sambah.”
“Oh wonderful, my thanks indeed. While I appreciate your ardour for delivering it so promptly, there was no urgency requested by me, I assure you. There could not be of course, as I had no idea you were coming. Until you undeniably were.”
Sambar gently removed the paper from her sausage fingers and unfolded the letter. Aside from the dirt, it smelled vaguely of apple blossoms and rose petals.
It was a short letter, but Sambar read it twice to be certain he had understood the import of its words, and when he finally lifted his gaze from the paper the giant messenger had inexplicably vanished. He thought he could faintly hear the thuds of enormous feet racing off to the west, but he could not stay and wait to be sure. He simply had to speak to the dwarves of the Guild, and with as little time lost as possible. Undercliff’s troubles were literally deepening, and it was up to the Guild to delve into them.