@mahotiss wrote:
The rage screams of the yordle echoed in all the forest:“HOW IS IT POSSIBLE SOMETHING ALWAYS HAPPENS?!?” His wagon almost fell to one side, the wodden wheel was broken, and there was no apparent way to get it to move. The litle wagon was hosting a bounch of chests, containing shiny and sharp blades, meant to be in Ionia by then, but wihtout the wheel, the blacksmith yordle was stuck in the forest, yelling at the sky
The shout did much more than resound through the trees and forest. A number of nearby birds took off into the sky, small critters scattered and took shelter from the possible threat, and two, blue eyes blinked open with a lift and twitch of their owner's long ears. He had finally managed to fall asleep in these calm woods. What could have possible made such noise to disrupt its peace? ... Wait. That was English, wasn't it!?
The realization practically shot the frost troll off the ground and upright even in his still groggy state. Sloppily he scrambled to his feet to get a better view and look around. That sounded not far at all. Upon hearing more shouts his ears flicked and immediately he took off into a run toward its source, heavy steps coming to a slow before lowering himself to a kneel behind a tree. He peered around to try and see what was happening. That's when the chests caught his eye. Those usually had things inside. Things of interest. Things that he could keep, like food, cloth, or even better, weapons. Toys. Maybe he could sneak over and take a box or two -- if his heavy steps did not already give way to his approach, that is.
