“Crushed to a pulp, he was,” the dark bearded dwarf said and grinned evilly up at Llwyd.
“That is unfortunate,” the elf replied. Llwyd was the newly arrived elvish ambassador, and the cheeky dwarf was his guide.
“Squashed like strawberry jam. Never seen anything quite like it.” The dwarf eyed Llwyd for a moment and saw that his narration was not having the desired effect. Llwyd seemed entirely unfazed by the story of his predecessor’s demise, crushed by an incalculable amount of stone when a tunnel collapsed in the underground Dwarven home of Khorduum. Like many dwarves, Llwyd’s guide disliked elves, finding them haughty and arrogant. Llwyd seemed impervious as any of them, however, unfazed by the gruesome description he had given of the last ambassador’s death. The dwarf sighed with dissatisfaction.
