This was Karstaag's favorite part. The destruction wrought in the pursuit of the spoils. Nothing matters besides the bag of money he was sent to collect and his search reflects that. He tears a path of pure carnage, greedy hands sweeping everything away that wasn't nailed down, rummaging through every drawer for a clue not caring about the mess that littered the floor. The thrill of ruin overwrites the frustration that his objective was still nowhere to be found.
He moves to the kitchen, the clang of iron pots and silverware falling to the stained ceramic floor. Every cabinet is pilfered, left barren and departed from just as quickly as the storm arrived. It was euphoric for the dwarf; letting loose by this. But, he understood he could not linger here for long, before he drew the attention of the locals. He moved to the offices and they too were empty. A surge of frustration jolts the dwarf, hastening his search, almost in chaotic disarray now. Where the hell was the bloody thing?
He's at his wit's end, one more room to search - a storage closet. He kicks the door down, molten eyes scouring the space for anything that tickles his senses. A deep sigh that morphs into a twisted cackle as he notices a floorboard missing. A quick jut of stout little legs carry him forward to peek inside. Relief offsets the briefest moment of panic. The cash was still in its rightful place, ready to be plundered, floor agape due to some novice apparently. He heaves and hos, lifting the bag out of the hole in the floor and scampers off into the main dining area. The job had one more requirement... A smile breaches through the dark, reflected only by shattered glass.
[299]