Mistress Wrall and Nr. 124

The wild elf slave entered in the blacksmith cart, lowering her head to not hit it against the small door frame, made for a dwarf rather than an elf like her.

"You called me, Mistress Wrall?" she said, a bit nervous... it was the first time the wife of the son of Mr. Wrall (Jr) called for her, so she didn't know what to expect.

"Oh, hello 124! Good to see you here! I need your help in something"

"What it is, Mistress?"

"Be a dear, and try these" said the dwarf woman, pointing to some armors. "We get a contract to get some armors for a drow city, but it seem I can't get the proportions right. You elves are all to weird shaped! So you will serve as a model!"

"Yes ma'am..."

"You want to ask something 124?"

"What's a drow?"

"Pointy ears... that kind of things. Elves. They are all the same, anyway. So try the armors!"

"yes ma'am"

more dwarven blacksmith:


more Fluffy: