Grimbledung blinked away the last of the pesky blue and purple spots and continued down to the carnage on the valley floor, mindful to not whack any other crows. He did keep an eye on the one that seemed to be keeping an eye on him. The valley was littered with all types of soldiers, officers (their armor was shiny), and beasts. The particular corpses Grimbledung was looking for were the ones dressed in robes. Wizard robes. He knew of other Gatherers who always searched foot soldiers and officers for Incinerators or Levitators as they came across them while looking for Wizards. He held them in low regard. They stooped to pick up a copper piece on the way to a gold piece. “Let them have their copper,” Grimbledung mused, “It’s gold I’m after!”
Another couple of copper pieces, thought Drimblerod as he pocketed yet another Incinerator. He knew of Gatherers who would pass by a dozen Incinerators while looking for one valuable wand. Five of these are a silver coin; who would pass up a silver coin on the street? “Not I!” He said out loud as he rolled over another officer to check his belt.
“Check his sleeves while you’re at it, copper-grubber!” Drimblerod heard from behind him. He stood slowly but as he turned, he drew his wand from his belt in the blink of an eye and finished with what he hoped was a flashy yet also formidable pose. He was greeted by a shortish creature. Definitely a Gnome with perhaps a Dwarf thrown into the family tree for good measure. Simply speaking, the two of them could be related.
“Got a sack full of copper then?” Asked Grimbledung as he leaned on his staff in what he hoped was a haughty pose.
“More like a sack of silver and gold, friend,” replied Drimblerod. He still had not lowered his wand, since the fellow before him still had two firm hands on what had to be a powerful staff judging by the size of the Power Orb affixed to the top of it. “Tell me where you came from and I’ll retrace your steps and double my coins.” He smiled in what he hoped looked like an honest one, though since he did not have much (if any) familiarity with honestly, he was guessing.
Grimbledung would have believed he was looking in a mirror; he had seen the same dishonest smile right below his own nose for centuries (metaphorically speaking, that is). “You want to be behind me then, so you can take all my legally obtained loot? I think not, Pal. Just work over there in front of me so I can keep an eye on you.” Grimbledung gestured casually with his staff off to the side, yet still in front of him.
Tales From a Second Hand Wand Shop- Book 1: They Were the Best of Gnomes. They Were the Worst of Gnomes. Page 4