In the Market

It had been a dull day, but dull was good. Dull meant Moric was not stopped and questioned about everything in his pack. He had dull days often. Standing a hair over seven feet, the earth gensai looked more like he was carved than born. The drow were more likely to stop and stare in a brief curiosity than harass him. They were wicked things, but being exotic wasn't just a plus on the surface.

A cart rolled by behind him and caught his attention. He turned to look down at the canvas covered wagon shake by. Its wheels cracked and barely held together. Moric was about to look away and back to the merchant when the cart jerked angrily to one side. A pothole in the road did the rear spoke in, and the corner of the wagon threw itself towards both the rothe and the merchant.

Moric moved before he processed the idea. His fingers catching the sides of the cart and steadying the base before the cargo was flung across he and the merchant. Everyone stopped, staring wide-eyed as the wagon jolted to a halt. Moric let out a sigh of relief.

Moric held the wagon steady, waiting for its driver to step around and examine the wreckage. While he didn't expect a thank you, he did assume the driver would want his fourth wheel. Moric still had much to learn about the underdark. Seeing the rothe holding his wagon heavy, the old druegar didn't see much a difference between a wheel, and a Moric. There was a crack of stone and a forward motion, and Moric's fingers began to move away from him. His eyes flew wide and darted to the merchant as his options flooded into his mind. Drop the cargo (and inevitably pay for it) or hold on tight.

The merchant blinked as Moric moved away from her booth inch by inch. It was a slow trudge from his possessions and dignity. He let go with one hand to reach out for his wares and failed. Moric moved in a confused bumble as he tried to salvage his situation. Once he was out of the merchant's sight the merchant shruged, counted the coin Moric gave him, and set the ware's Moric was about to buy back on the shelves.

The wagon moved on, and Moric was stuck rolling with it, turning a corner and moving down the street, looking for a way out.

Several drow, duergar and even some slaves along the way pointed fingers at the unfortunate genasi and laughed. Snarky comments about the slave finally being put to good use were heard from various spectators followed by the sound of clincking glasses from the lounge area. The merchant who had taken Morics coin made a mental note to claim the rent for the time of "her slave" later from the duergar in the wagon as this was simply too good of an oppertunity to let go. In the meantime the wagon kept on rolling with Moric as the one wheel.

Moric carried along the wagon with the slow and steady pace of a man turned wheel. His stoic stone-faced demeanor being chiseled away as he heard the mocking jars. He wasn't too concerned with the drow and duergar, they would mock anything...but he wasn't too keen on the other slaves.

After a while his arms began to tire. Moric was strong as an ox, but everyone had their limits. The wagon was heavier than he expected. The canvas was stretched tight over the load, he wasn't certain what he had inadvertently begun moving through the city. Whatever it was, it was as heavy as a cart of rocks.

They rounded the bend and passed the lounge right outside of the marketplace. Moric passed a quick glance across the love seats and chairs. He was looking for familiar faces, or more particularly a familiar face. His search was interrupted by the cart jolting to a halt. Moric's stomach pressed into the corner of the wagon as he was forced to a stop. There was a conversation on the front end of the cart, and drow staring at him from the side. Moric stood awkwardly waiting, this was worse than moving.

Having nothing else to do also peaked Moric's curiosity. What was he carrying anyway? He hefted the wagon's weight, pushing himself against the side and sliding his leg underneath and shifting the bulk of the weight onto his leg. He freed a hand and lifted the canvas ever so slightly, taking a peek at the cargo. Then his heart sunk.


It was a cart of rocks.