Extraction In The Witcher

"A gnome?" Abel exclaimed loudly. 

Gnomes were rather uncommon in the continent. Unlike halflings who liked to integrate into human society, gnomes preferred the company of their own kind or other non-humans. A large population of them lived in the famed city of Mahakam. Every 25 years the enclave would open its gates to welcome thousands of visitors for their legendary ale festival. Swiftly after the festival's end, the visitors would be asked to leave the enclave and return to their respective territories. 

The distinguishing features of gnomes were their extremely long noses and pointy teeth. Their heights varied between individuals, but they were generally shorter than dwarves and considerably more lithe. Gnomes were well known for their intelligence and prided themselves on their incredible craftsmanship. Gwyhyr, acknowledged by many to be the greatest swords on the continent, were forged by gnome metallurgists with ancient techniques. The value of such a sword was immense, they were rarely found outside of noble treasuries or perhaps a skilled witcher's sheathe. 

Lingon laughed and nodded, "Yes, a gnome, rare I know. He's a good fellow and despite all the human prejudice he still earns enough to make your eyes water. Humans are a jealous and greedy bunch, but they daren't argue with him in case Mahakam suddenly decides to stop supplying them with the iron and copper they cherish so much. He's well connected, well connected indeed.

And you know how fast gnomes run, perhaps not even a manticore could touch a hair on his head! There's many a man who wishes him ill, but they can't bully him with their status nor can they find a killer quick enough to stab him! Truly an excellent fellow!" 

Since man declared himself sovereign over the various races inhabiting the continent, including those that had called the continent home for far far longer than humans, the non-human races had learnt that sticking together meant staying alive. The intelligent non-human races rarely fought against one another, they were much too busy opposing man's dominion. A friend of the elder Lingon was unlikely to be cruel-hearted and the gnomes were far less warlike than the dwarves. 

"Lingon, would it be possible for you to introduce me to your friend? I won't conceal the fact that I'm also quite interested in meeting whichever witcher arrives to accept the contract." Abel said earnestly. 

"Hahaha! Of course, of course, an old friend of mine meeting a friend I made just this week, how wonderful! He's a reasonable fellow, he'll perhaps want to have the beast stuffed and hung in his study, but he'll part with it for the right price." At the end of his sentence Lingon's eyes drifted towards the red meteorite ore. 

Abel knew that his one hundred orens was much too little to dissuade the gnome from stuffing the beast that had been eating his farmers and digging into his profits. Thus he would have to trade with other means, namely the meteorite ore. Exchanging the ore for the monster's corpse would not necessarily cause him to suffer a loss, but there was a much more convenient option at hand. 

"Lingon I would like to sell this meteorite to you. I trust in your character, whatever price you state as fair I shall accept." Abel said, presenting the ore towards Lingon. 

At a speed that seemed in sharp contrast with his aged appearance, Lingon's hand darted forth like a viper striking it's prey and whisked the meteorite ore into some hidden pocket within his robe. He then continued to rummage around within his robe before pulling out a purse. The purse was finely crafted, making Abel's deerskin sack look like it had been made by a child in the dark with both hands tied behind their back. A delicate band of golden thread decorated the purse's opening and a thin golden rope tied it shut. Lingon placed it on Abel's palm. 

The weight of the purse was heavy. Abel couldn't help but feel like a pauper who had stumbled upon a nugget of gold. In an instant his wealth had soared. 

"That's a thousand orens. A fair price I promise you. Palad, the gnome whom you shall soon meet, I can't speak with complete certainty, but that should be enough to purchase the beast's body from him." Lingon explained. 

Abel loosened the string around the purse's opening and looked inside. A dazzling golden sheen was reflected in his eyes. Despite the fact he'd extracted the genes from a griffon and currently had no ties to any dragons, Abel felt a strong urge to gather more of the beautiful golden coins. 

'Curse these damn coins! I thought that living in the wilderness for months would've shaken the materialism from my heart!' Abel thought. 

"Thank you, I will always remember your kindness Lingon." He said solemnly. 

Lingon waved his hand dismissively but was secretly very impressed by his new friend's chivalrous character, "A small matter, a small matter." 

"Palad's estate is on our way to the capital. We ought to arrive in a week's time. Do you wish to travel with us Abel? There is meat and wine, you may eat and drink as much as you please. Oh and of course we must get you a pair of trousers! One of my grand-nephews is good with a needle, I'll have him sew you a pair that fit those long legs of yours." Lingon chattered, looking up at Abel, wondering what his answer would be. 

"It would be my honor to eat with your people. I must tell you that I have grown tired of only speaking to my reflection, it would delight me to chat with your kin. I will sleep in the trees nearby at night, I would be unable to sleep without the sway of the branches." Abel replied, happily taking up the dwarf's offer. 

Dwarves were known for their hospitality towards their guests and Lingon was glad to see Abel display no sign of superiority towards the other dwarves, "Very good, very good indeed." 

The duo, one tall with broad white wings and the other short with an impossibly long beard, walked back to the dwarven convoy, chatting happily about all manner of things. Abel's perspective on various issues was fascinating to the old dwarf. Lingon found more and more that the winged man seemed to remind him of the human scholars he had met. Those scholars, those not consumed by their arrogance, held themselves in a unique way. Their learnedness seeped through from the souls and influenced their every action. Abel shared his feelings on the insecurities of the human race, their need for control stemming from a deep powerlessness. This was a theory that Lingon had never heard before. 

Kilard charged over like a bull, joyful tears practically dripping down his face when he saw the elder dwarf returning unharmed and in good cheer. He smiled warmly at Abel and upon hearing from Lingon that Abel would be joining them for meals, he yelled with delight. He immediately began summoning over his brethren, introducing them one by one to Abel. 

The dwarves were immensely grateful towards the winged stranger who had pulled them from the jaws of death and greeted him like an old friend. Abel was overjoyed to chat with other intelligent beings rather than wolves and birds and quickly became a popular figure. He was given an extra large log to sit on by the fire and his arms were stuffed with various roasted meats, fruits and other treats the dwarves had brought with them. 

Upon biting into what he believed to be a variation of a toffee apple, Abel nearly moaned with pleasure. After the griffon-like mutations to his body, he found the taste of meat incredibly delicious, even the unseasoned meat he had been eating in the forest tasted delectable, but the crunch and sweetness of sugar was simply unmatched. 

That night, for the first time since chancing upon that huge white feather, Abel chatted and laughed with new friends. When he eventually retired from the merriment to find a roost for the evening, he stared up at the stars and smiled widely. Even after he had fallen asleep, the satisfied smile still remained on his face.