Emporium

 

The elf awoke. Breathing was an adventure, it felt like someone had parked a car on his chest. He did not know where he was, the room was small lit only by the light of a flashing green neon in the street.. The ceiling was dirty, a single ceiling fan rotated the stale air about the room.

The mattress was old and uncomfortable but at least the sheets were clean and fresh.

The last thing he remembered was falling and not much else. He remembered he had gone to investigate a syndicate that had threatened to bring war to his people.

He was their regent prince even though he lived in a self imposed exile. He had to protect them from themselves. Ever eager to wage war, wars that they could never hope to profit from.

It rained outside and the green neon light gave the room a sickly glow. That combined with the heat and the slowly rotating fan made the elf feel quite ill.

He awoke again to the noise of a cash register and a,

"Thank you. You stupid round eared child. Have a nice day"

It's not unusual that an elf was disrespecting a human in 'elven' it was the fact that this was an Undercity. Such behaviour would require a backbone.

Elves born in the UnderCities rarely got to to know anything about their heritage lest speak in their own tongue. Most that ended up here were those that couldn't make it in their own 'world'. Those that for whom felt that living in the wild was too difficult, and not safe. Instead they come here to live out a safe eternity. An even more useless half life, of boredom and meaninglessness. To live forever in a world where tomorrow is the same as tomorrow. Yesterday the same as today.

Mortality rates in the ancient world are high even for the most cunning of elves. War, political instability, poor medical facilities all take their toll. In the great UnderCities technology is god. It extends life through better social standards, better health care and the relative safety of its borders. They are lured here by the better medicine and more advanced laws and government. However upon arriving it is different. Especially for the elves, they are not accepted.

So the smugglers or slavers get their gold. The elves are smuggled down in to the ground to hell. It is not only elves that end up here its just the elves that adapt the worst. The dwarves and gnome do best out of all the non-humans but only just. And to leave the situation is the same; smugglers or slavers.

Elven communities dissipate quickly, their magics are banned, they have poor birth rates, even more so here. Mostly they fall to the only disease that plagues elves. Mental disease. A race of beautiful physically perfect creatures, but mentally they are no better equipped than humans. Their intelligence never dulls but eventually the monotony, the regrets, the mistakes of several life times, catches up with them. They either live reckless lives or the boredom kills them often before they draw their last breath.

Many elves would say that Zarg-nar's people have chosen the life of recklessness whereas the elves of the light have chosen boredom.

Zarg' would live to see them both and one day he would see that the only solution is the middle road, between the two. But for now he was testing his immortality, seeing if he could dodge his fate.

He attempted to stand.

He awoke half an hour later being helped up off the floor.

"Zarg-Nar, old friend you should not attempt to slay any dragon till you are properly rested"

The elven shopkeeper helped the injured prince back into the bed. Zarg half struggled then recognising him he flopped back into bed.

"Is he up", a female elven voice shouted from the next room.

"No not yet", the wise elf shouted back, smiling to the recovering reckless elf.

"You owe her your life, she managed to find you and sign you out of hospital. They were just waiting for you to die. You should look into getting some medical insurance."

"Arran? What are you doing here? I thought you were dead."

"Retail, same thing really."

Meagan bounded in, jumped into the bed and hugged Zargnar.

"Your Alive, your Alive!!!"

"Pleee-ase sToP HUGgging mE i have 7 broken ribs...."

"Nine actually" corrected Arran "and I suspect a fractured sternum"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Glad your alive. Gotta go, got work to do. The shelves need dusting" and as suddenly as she had entered she was gone.

"I gave her a job, It keeps her off the streets."

Zargnar grimaced, the closest he could manage to a smile for the moment, but he was happy for her. It was probably the first break the kid had ever gotten and she deserved it.

"Where are my things."

"Direct and to the point as usual, here.", Arran passed a box of clothes to Zargnar.

Zargnar rummaged through the box like a child unwrapping a present. Pulling from the box a hand full of gems. He discarded half back to the box and handed the rest expectantly to Arran.

"Healing Gems? I thought your people distrusted magic."

"We're superstitious not stupid.", Smirked Zargnar.

Arran was an elven mage Zarg-nar saved years ago. Not as powerful as a wizard he only dabbled in the arts as did a lot of the elves of the light. Arran was tall, even for an elf, his hair fair and his eyes grey. He looked a lot healthier than the last time they had met.

"I think this makes us even."

"Hey, I never saved you, you just happened to be there when I was hunting Ork, your just lucky I wasn't hunting light elf that day"

"So what were you hunting this time"

The mage gestured with the gems checking if the warrior was ready.

Gritting his teeth he nodded, "Wizard."

Arran crushed the gems in his hands and sprinkled them over the dark elf's injuries. Healing gems repaired broken bone and injured flesh but it did so quickly and without relieving the pain, once the wounds were healed the pain would be only a memory, those few seconds though were always agony.

----888888-----

'Oh your up!, about time.' Quipped Meagan

Zargnar was about to mention that he had just been recovered from a 1000 story fall, when he realised that he had no idea how long he had been unconscious for. For all he knew it was 'about time'

He looked around the business area of the residence, the shop area. He had seen all sorts of horrors before, maggots the size of his leg, the decaying corpses of plague victims, the twisted bodies of those slain by magic. But nothing had prepared him for the Elven Emporium.

He never thought he would see this depth of degradation. There were plush toy elven knights, fluffy slippers with ears, not to mention the plastic ears available in three sizes; large, extra large and 'Supa'.

He saw cheap replicas of all the legendary swords. Tiny plastic busts of imaginary kings. Mugs with pictures of the great elven cities. Mugs commemorating the latest royal daughter.

Then there was the Dark Elven section. Magic wands, Ouija boards and dark elven tarot cards. All things that he had no idea how to 'wield'. Thumbing through the cards he found the fool. It was him.

"Please tell me this is to keep the tourists happy."

'We actually do quite well with the novelty ears'

'Oh let the ground swallow me up and take me to hell, oh wait a minute, I'm already here.'

'Relax friend, we have an 'elven section out back. We do other work too, work you would approve of. We help children like her to leave or stay whatever they need more.'

'Take good care of her my people owe her for more than just bringing me here. If that calendar with the ears is correct I have only a day or two.'

'Ahh but tonight we drink elven wine, sing and dance'

'How about I drink You sing and She dances' Smiled the dark elf.

Meagan blushed.

****

He would be hunting the wizard in the core. The richest part of the city, he would have to travel without weapons, and seeing that he had used up his supply of healing gems he would need his battle armour. The armour fits like a second skin, it moves with the wearer carrying its own weight and even helping his movements to a certain degree. Under the right clothes it would not even be noticable, unless someone went looking for it.

He avoided wearing it unless he really need it. It was dark elven and designed before the fall of man. An ancient technology thousands of years old. Not magical but so advanced that it exceeded magic.

The Dark elves possessed a facility, a giant automated factory deep beneath their home. They do not truly understand it, the machinery produces 'pre-fall' technologies with only basic raw materials, no skill required.

It is thought that Mans quest for power eventually led them to over use this type of technology and eventually shattered the fabric that separates our world from the spirit world. These items are neither magical nor normal. They exist on the cusp, drawing power from the difference between.

Demons are attracted to them, like moths to the flame. They see the technologies dual existence as a maybe chance to cross through. This was the main reason that Zarg-nar wore it sparingly, things just got too weird if he kept it with him for too long.

With these fantastic technologies the dark elves could easily rule the world, both underground and the surface, if it were not for their dwindling population. Already their numbers only in the thousands. Their City sparsely populated. A huge echoing chamber, comparing in size to an Undercity but with not even enough people to break the silence.