Now that I am behind by about 4 weeks on my blog, I will post my entire story that I did write.
Chapter I
Grobble ran down the old cobble stone road, panting and heaving as he hurried to get home. He had about four more miles to run, and he had to get there soon if he was going to make it to the festival on time. The festival only came once a decade, and if you missed it, you probably would never see anything like it again. There were magic performances, acrobats, and insane tales told by bards about their journeys away from home. Grobble loved hearing these stories ever since he was a tiny child, and, in turn, the bards loved to tell their stories and sing their wondrous ballads as the music from their mouths and their words played into Grobble’s ears. And all of the food! All of the sweet-smelling aromas that would dance around anyone’s nose in exciting, scrumptious swirls of heat. Pies would come fresh out of the oven, freshly picked fruit would lie in baskets, and top quality fish would lay out on tables that were caught in the morning hours before.
Grobble ran past an old and cracked sign post. He struggled to read what it said, as time had worn it away. However Grobble realized that it was simply a sign to his village and that he would soon come to the lake. Passing farmer’s golden wheat fields, flowing meadows, dense forests and shining orchards, he finally reached the lake. Twilight began to dance on the long grass that would dance in the wind, and he knew there would not be enough time to go around the lake. So he plunged into the sparkling water.
Grobble’s long hair was like strands of seaweed, flowing each way through the clear blue water. Grobble punched and kicked for as long as he could until he felt his lungs were about to pop. He rose, but only for a moment, then sunk and swam to the end of the lake. It was late fall so when he splashed out of the water, he felt the cold of the crisp air sting his entire body. He was now so close to the village, and people were coming and going as the night went on. He bumped into people, knocked some down, and even jumped out of the way for a few very fast moving characters.
He past the stone arch that read IceMill and went past the thick, iron gate that was made by a signature blacksmith. Compared to the rest of the town, the gate was a beautiful beast, protecting the poor villagers from the monstrosities that lurk behind its walls. He nodded to the guards as he passed and he stared at their tired faces. They had obviously not had enough rest, and the festival attracts two kinds of people, well three if you count the goblins, Demons, and other strange beasts that easily get pushed out of town. The two kinds of people were the honest, excited, trustworthy people seeking to get a good deal or find an amazing treasure that he could display with pride throughout his entire life, Giant fish, beast’s heads, and the most impressive parts of creatures such as tails, arms, or legs. The festival of IceMill also attracted thieves who were looking to swipe as many varieties of goodies and hide them in a patchwork burlap bag. Some thieves guilds have contests at these types of festivals, and some of their recruiting agents are specifically looking for individuals who can not only steal a lot of stuff without getting caught, but also making it out of the village gates without getting searched. The quickest way to do this would be to climb the wall, but that is a bit hard with a heavy bag in one hand, and to climb a twenty foot wall without getting noticed is a challenge in itself.
Guards know of this, and so seeing a man with drenched patched clothes and heaving attracted their attention.
“Oy, Guv’” shouted one of the men “what on earth are you doing? You come into this town during the most prized season of the decade, and you look like a fool, a soaked and wet fool! N’ to top it all off, you nod all calmly to us as you just walk on by. You ‘etter have a good reason for coming in like a fool, or else I’ll ‘ave to clop yuh’! Hur, hur, hur!”
Grobble cleared his throat and began to speak “I am Grobble, son of Oaken who is son of Thyrmir, who is son of---“
“I do not care who yer’ granddaddy’s name is you fool! I just care why you’re in my town looking like you got mugged by fishmen!” Screamed the guard.
“If I told you that that was true, would you believe me?” Grobble smiled a toothy grin.
The fat guard became furious and his face went from red to a deep purple. “NO! I would NOT believe that, unless the Daily Dragon newspaper said men were being attacked by fish people. I can assure you, there are NO SUCH THINGS AS FISH PEOPLE!”
Grobble tried in vain to calm him down “Look, I did not want to miss the festival, so I swam the lake. I am sorry I made you so mad.”
The man settled down almost instantly “Well why did you not say so, mate? Have a glass of whiskey and a towel.”
After his drink and his towel he was warmed up. But there were only a few hours left of the festival and Grobble began to panic. Then a man with a friendly face and a straw hat came up. He was carrying a lute.
“Well hello, my friend!” He said cheerfully “Allow me to be your guide and take you to the best spots in town, so you do not waste any of your precious time. Although I would like a small contribution of five silver pieces, or one of the old ones with the holes in middle!”
Grobble reached into his pocket and pulled out five dull silver coins. The bard bit them all to check if they were fake then shook Grobble’s hand. Grobble’s hand was cold and hard like a stone while the Bards was frail and small for a man.
“Fancy meeting you mate! My name is Talak Thundersnap and my father Grim, was the most famous bard in this part of the country.”
“I am Grobble Tearslaughter, who came from the Dwarven town of GeerRake to see if I could catch a glimpse of the festival. I’ve been running all week just to see it.”
“Well it was a wise decision to come out here. Here, let me show you around.” Spoke the bard and away they went.
They stopped at the very best pie stands, fish markets, magic shows and caravans. By the end Grobble had only a few steel coins left. That was when a jester approached them. He wore a jester’s hat that came to two points that was purple and green with gold bells. The rest of his clothes were red and blue with some black with silver bells. His shoes were green and pointed, and they twisted back toward his heel. His voice cracked as he spoke, and he sounded at least twenty years older than he looked. He tried to sound with the youth and optimism of a young jester, but had a very difficult time doing so. He seemed very out of place among all of these peasants and merchants.
“Well hello there! My name is Gera-ar, and I come from the mountains in the north, hence the –Ar. Ha ha! That makes me sound like pirate! Ay, but I got what you want, mate. You see, I’m old. You can tell from my voice. But I do not look old at all, see? No wrinkles! I have been using magic for the last twenty-two years to keep my youth about me. Now I am retiring. Now I can tell you only want the best of the best, no? Well I tell you what. I will give you this orb for 3 coins of any type. You must accept before I will give it to you. That is the deal. Now for my trick to work you must tell me, do you accept, or do you decline?”
Grobble thought for a moment, pinning the pros against the cons. Finally, after several moments, he spoke. “I accept, and will give you these 3 steel coins.” He handed him the money.
“Steel, huh? Well that is an interesting choice.” The jester spoke. He pushed the steel coins into 3 slots in the orb then cast a quick spell, Mumbled something, and handed Grobble the orb. “Hold the orb and think of a weapon, be as specific or as general as you like, and it will turn into it in your hand. Not only that, but it can also turn into any kind of armor or shield, but it cannot be more than one thing at once!”
Grobble’s hairy chin hung open. “Th-this is amazing!” He sputtered! “I could never afford anything like this, though.”
“Oh it’s free of charge. It is getting late, and the burden of having too many magical items, instruments, tools and weapons has really gotten me down.” The jester coughed a few times. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must lie down.” With that the jester clapped his hands twice and a caravan covered in cloth just like the jester’s appeared in a puff of purple smoke. The jester clambered in, his face expressionless, clapped his hands twice, and was gone, leaving both the bard and Grobble astonished and bewildered.
A couple of minutes later, the bard showed him to the best cheap inn he knew of. It really was good for a cheap inn. It had actual beds! Grobble went inside to talk to the innkeeper. He was fat, and looked extremely tired, just like the guards. He had pudgy, wet hands, and a dirty, uncombed mustache that appeared to have looked like something at one point. He swayed in his chair, and was obviously drunk.
“Whysh Hellosh!” He sputtered. “I’msh the Innshkeep! SOME FESHTIVAL, HUH?! I’ve beensh having loadsh of time fun! Er, I meansh fun timesh. Or do I meansh time funsh? I dunno’. You can havesh yourshelf a room for twos a copper!”
Grobble handed him the money, thanked him, and when the innkeeper finally figured out which of the keys were the right one (There were five, but the innkeeper saw 30.) Grobble went to his room and decided to try out his new orb of power. First he tried a simple thing. Long sword he thought and the orb turned into a basic, steel colored long sword. He tried a few more things, mace, club, flail and all of them came out a basic steel color. He remembered the jester saying he could think of anything specific, too. He thought of a golden sword, the orb changed to a golden sword. A fiery dagger, the orb turned into a flaming dagger with spikes. “This is amazing!” He shouted, “Absolutely amazing!”
Then he tried a shield. It turned into a shield. He turned a coat of chainmail and the orb morphed into a suit of chainmail. He jumped up and down in his excitement. He tried thinking of other weapons. A chair could be a weapon he thought. The orb turned into a chair. This made him realize that anything could essentially be a weapon. That meant that the orb would turn into anything if he wanted it to. With this realization he suddenly felt very tired. He got into the old wooden bed and got to sleep.
The next day he left town. He saw the bard, thanked him again, and said goodbye. He saw the guard and said goodbye. He walked out of the Iron Gate and began to walk around the lake on the dusty dirt road. There were many travelers on the road which made it very crowded. Grobble pushed his way through so he could run the rest of the way home to his family, who were waiting on him in eagerness. As he passed by many people, he found that they were trying to sell many of the goods to people for double the price, in order to make a profit. He had used all of his money though, and was eager to head back home. He made his way to the front of the crowd and took off.
Grobble made it home in the next three days. He lived inside the town of StormForest, which was known for its large diversity among its peoples. Not only humans, but Orcs, Dwarves, Elves and Faeries were allowed to colonize here too. The Faerie people were the ones who founded the mountainous town, and they eagerly invited all sorts of different people to settle in their peaceful city. The city started out huge and expansive, the first of its kind to accept all people, leading to trade and a massive economy. This also led to problems for many species. Clans of a certain race could come and learn secrets of other clans and would soon exploit them. Many Dwarven blacksmithing secrets were discovered. Elven magic became easy to find and learn. Faerie inventions were discovered and then mass produced. This led to many clans leaving and many dying off too. The town would have eventually disappeared if it were not for the gargoyle uprising. In the 456 ck a mountain lair which had been sealed off for years using some kind of arcane and archaic ritual, which used runes unknown to most species, a faerie opened the magic lock and set the race of gargoyles free to wreak havoc. Thanks to Elven magic, the mountains surrounding the lair were sealed off and the gargoyles were trapped again, but could roam free in the mountains. The gargoyles attacked StormForest, and eventually conquered the city. Now over a hundred years later, the gargoyles are a bit more civilized of a race, and now everyone in their city once again has their freedom. The year was now 587 ck and although the gargoyles have remained the rulers of the town, many people now come and go as they please, not worrying about becoming enslaved by gargoyles.
Grobble came upon the gate and heard the guard shout as the gate opened. Grobble hurried inside, and began to make his way to the far side of town. The town was old and many of the buildings were old and falling apart. Many more had signs saying empty; no trespassing. Penalty to follow rules will result in 500 silver coin fine. Silver was the standard money in StormForest, so it was ok to put the fine in silver. If had said 50 gold coin fine, the whole town would have been outraged by the huge price of the fine, even though it is the same value. Putting a 5,000 copper fine would have seemed too cheap for anyone. Same goes for a 1,000 steel coin fine. Grobble headed down through the broken cement path, soon reaching the richer part of the city where he dodged faeries, horses and gargoyles. He got out of that section and reached his Borderhouse, which was a common sight in this town. A borderhouse was a home where many races all lived as roommates as they got along peacefully together. In Grobble’s house there lived an old dwarf who, in Dwarven years, was still very young. He had Golden-gray hair on top of his hair and a pure gray beard with gold tips lived on his chin. He had very large muscles, and many scars from his past days as a warlord. There was a small tiny creature with unkempt hair and scrawny arms who was known as a Gnome. He had a high pitched voice that cracked as he spoke and he had a fair knowledge of magic and could cast some very interesting spells. His favorite one was to breath life into a inanimate object. His final roommate was a tall, Elven woman with some Orc blood in her. She was an expert of magic, the bow and the blade. She could handle any situation with calmness and skill.
Grobble opened the door and walked inside. The gnome was the first to notice him.
“You are back!” He said with delight. “Did you find my book?” the gnome had large pale blue eyes that stared up at him eagerly.
Grobble pulled off his backpack and handed him the 14th volume of enchanting and charming, the magic book which the gnome needed. The gnome had a photographic memory, and would memorize the spells completely, instead of carrying around all of those books. The gnome just wasn’t built for heavy lifting. Upon hearing the gnome shout, the Elf and the Dwarf lumbered down the stairs to greet Grobble.
“Well what took you so long?” Grumbled the Dwarf, “I could have crawled faster to the festival than you could have ran! I was starting to think you had died. Well, I guess I better throw out that gravestone I made in memory of you. Did you get me my tools? If you didn’t I am going to clop you right in your head. You will be spinning for days, you will. You will wish that you never messed with Travok GoldenBeard.” While the Dwarf sat down and took a breath, the Elf took a chance to talk.
“Well I am just glad that you got to prove the old man wrong. Not to be to the point, but did you get my wood? I won’t be surprised if you don’t find it. It is a pretty rare type of wood.”
“Well,” said Grobble, “ you do not need to worry, either of you. I found all of the tools from an old dwarf, just like you.”
“I am not OLD!” Yelled the dwarf, “I am barely past the first quarter of my life, in fact, in dwarf years, I’m younger than all of you but Ernie.”
Ernie was the small gnome. He had barely turned 15 and gnomes lived to be about 200 years old, humans lived to about 70 to 100 years old, Dwarves lived to be about 300 and elves lived about twice as long as that. However since Trara’ Deepwood (The elf of our posse.) possesses some Orc blood, her lifetime was cut down to almost half. She will probably live to be around 350 years old, which is still better than the dwarf. She is about 70 years old but elves hardly consider that any time at all.
Grobble handed out the rest of the things he bought and showed them his magic orb. All of them were astounded. “Well this has to be the best piece of dwarven work I have ever seen!” Exclaimed the Dwarf.
