I cursed under my breath. My caravan was headed for Zackterbury (Z-ack-ter-bury). Names Zachary the Tradesman. I work for the Zachgaland Merchants Guild. Originally I bought supplies in Grullzorak (Gr-ull-zor-ak) the capital of the Maliceorts (Mal-ice-orts). They are a sub-race of the half elf malice leaves. I bought pottery they may be warlike but they're excellent potters. The pottery was crude but had beautiful designs. The chieftess of pottery was refusing to give me fine quality stating only maliceorts deserve pots. Made from the spirits of clay, mud, and dung. So crude but nicely designed was the best I could do.
As a gesture of good faith I was given three maliceort guards. They helped as many would be robbers turned tailed and ran. They wielded vicious looking axes and wooden shields. My other guards were standard Zachary's ranging from five through twenty-five. We Zachgalish are cheap always being made by the original Zachary our god. Finally we saw a road sign saying Zackterbury. I ordered a small stop and ordered my younger kin to feed and give water to the Mulezhino's (Mule-Z-Hino). They grunted one even played with a six year old Zachary rubbing his horn on him playfully. We rested for half an hour. The maliceorts were gazing at our land. Lush green grassland, hills, and even lakes. The rain was starting to fall how the robust mulezhinos just trotted through the developing mud.
My kind on the other hand were lagging. The leather armor and standard shield was still heavy. Only the veteran guards moved along with the caravan. I rode Willowbill my faithful Rapostrich (Rap-ost-rich). Rapostrich's are our light mounts. Hard to train but fierce and loyal to the death. If I were to fall Willowbill would refuse to leave my side. Thank the original Zachary we arrived at the gates of Zackterbury. The builders were maintain the Zackwudu reinforced with stone. I paid the entry fee and headed for the merchant's quarter. Zackterbury was in decent shape peddlers selling standard quality goods. Most of the building were well kept though some looked like they needed to be repaired. I hitched Willowbeak to the post she protested I just patted her head. Content she steadied though she clawed at the stable-Zachary. Lightly of course to tell him don't just rush her.
I just shook my head and laughed. I walked into the hall of trade and showed the local guild representative my goods. He was scared to judge the quality of the pottery. As my maliceort guards were right in front of the cart. They had the looked that screamed just try to call it bad. He deemed it good and sent porters to carry the pottery to the local pottery Zachgalish. I was given seven hundred Zackollars (Z-ack-oll-ars). I paid my band all looked like they wanted to carouse in the local mead hall. I kept eighty Zackollars and decided to purchase some dank sheepy wool from the local dank sheep shepherds. I bought nine bags as the wool was on sale. I also loaned one Mulezhino. With the guards payed I would need more. I walked into an inn called The Zackanterbury Bishop. As the establishment was owned by the Zachgaland clergy. The inn was only allowed to serve Zachgaland cola, Zachgalalish well water, and coffee a new favorite from far away lands. The regular groups were in here the locals dancing and sing, adventures looking for work and swapping stories. I saw a group of four smilodons sitting at the table. I approached them I said I had a small trade run to the village of Zacksturry (Zack-st-urry). Showed them the contract they all spoke in Zachgalish so I knew I wasn't being ripped off. The leader shook my hand and called it a deal.
They followed me back to the merchant's quarter. Willowbeak greeted me back rubbing her head on my shoulder. While also giving me a serious where have you been look. The Mulezhino was just a baby but he looked strong and didn't mind the packs of wool. Not what a I asked for but hey it's a loan what do you expect. I called him Smallhorn. He seemed to approve of the name spinning round and round. I calmed him his tongue sticking out. With all that out of the way Willowbeak, Smallhorn, my guards, and myself head out of Zackterbury to Zacksturry as they say. A Zachgaland merchant never stops.