The Dwarves of Plithir

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Summary

The fifth part in the Plato Saga.

Status
Ongoing
Chapters
120
Rating
n/a
Age Rating
13+

Plithir

A thousand years, the planet had not seen. The sun was too far away to emit any light at all, and only the moon shone at night. The people slept at mornings and woke at night. The people's eyes and ears had sharpened to such an extent that a person walking a mile away could be easily detected by them. They lived on trees, caves and dungeons and in Barracks. They lived in groups and very rarely alone. They hunted animals and ate the plants that were dangerous. The hunters, the dwarves, and the hylin all called Plithir their home.The hylin were the most dangerous of all in the planet. They wore masks that were pointy at the end and wore clothes covered from top to bottom, like a trained marksmen. The Hylin women were the procurers in the group and the men were known for guarding, sleeping and eating and not much else. They lived in their town and the dwarves predominantly in caves. And every night before the moon began to shine, everyones face was covered in purple. They mostly avoided each other and only passed each other in the city center. The only city center that existed on the whole planet.

Mithrir the richest dwarf of them all was on his way to the city center on his carriage. His horses were specially trained to see in the dark. Albeit they never rode fast, just at a joggers pace.

They better pay up today, Mithrir mumbled to himself. The sound of the incoming carriage caused a sign of worry for the sellers in the city center. Afterall Mithrir was the owner of the small shops that sellers plied their trade in.

“Here he comes!” said Ayrovan.

Mithrir entered the city center much like a king would, slow and confident of himself. But they never knew that he himself was carrying a huge burden. He had to owe a large sum of money to the Hylin. And Mithrir was foolish to think that he would be such a wealthy man without paying up the hylin. Nonetheless! he kept a straight face, rather than have a face of desperation. He got down from his carriage and landed heavily on the ground.

Thud....

“Ayrovan,” he called out and Ayrovan slowly made his way to him.

“Is the money ready?” he asked the dwarf.

“No,” he replied.

“How dare you!” shouted Mithrir.

Ayrovan did not balk, he stood his ground. Ayrovan was handicaaped in one leg, but still an able warrior, Mithrir knew that. Ayrovan was a warrior dwarf until a few years ago, when his right leg had got chirped off, due to some unforeseeable circumstances.

“I will give you all an hour or so!” shouted Mithrir.

“And if you are not able to get me the money by then, you will be removed off your shops!” he said and walked back on to his carriage.

Ayrovan walked back to his shop and the other dwarves and hunters crowded upon him.

“What do we do?” they asked him.

“I do not know!” he replied to them.