They think that I am simple. They don’t even watch their tongues when I am about. I am alright with all of that. I smile at the right times and gently laugh at the jokes. Then I disappear once again in to the background. However, I am always listening and ever watchful. I can accomplish things that Sim-Dah can only dream of doing. I can garner information just effectively as Slanter or Zipporah, yet much less invasive. My skill set may seem common or perhaps even cowardly, but these skills are my own. I revel in my ability to escape seemingly deadly situations. I delight in the sounds of my footsteps across the rooftops just as surely as Sebben loves to hear the sound of his own voice. I cannot shoot lightning bolts from my hands or create fire with my mind, but I elude those things. I have dined in the halls of kings and stood on the corpses of dragons. Yet, they look at me from behind upturned noses. They don’t know me. They think I am simple. I am not. While my skills may seem common or cowardly, I just got all the all the information I needed… and your money pouch. Good luck trying to catch me.
Monthly Archives: January 2013
Any writers out there, here is a chance to show your work.
This is a science fiction and YA contest. Check it out, but hurry, the contest ends on Jan 31.
A cloaked and hooded figure knelt in the newly fallen snow amid a group of leafless oaks. He had one hand on the snow and the other clutched the dagger at his side. The creature stood and threw back his hood, revealing a long orange and white nose tipped in black. His nose twitched as he tried to catch the scent of the man he hunted. The triangle ears atop his head swiveled independent of one another in the hopes of picking up a noise. Master LePrius’ breath was visible in the cold as he let out a sigh of disappointment. He had lost his prey. The man in the brown hat had eluded him.
No sooner had his shoulders slumped in defeat when he heard a female voice cry out in agony. Instantly, the werefox was sprinting across the snow. LePrius spotted a crimson patch dotting the white ground, and went quickly to it. He followed the blood trail to a tree, where it disappeared. LePrius stood at the base of the great oak, unsure of where to go next. As he stood, he noticed that the blood was starting to pool at the base of the tree. His fear and uncertainty was replaced with concern, and he made circles around the tree looking for some passage.
Suddenly, a female stumbled from within the trunk of the massive tree. LePrius caught her in his arms and cradled her head. She was nude with lines of crimson running across her pale body. Her black hair spilled across his lap. He recognized that she was a dryad. He realized that she was dying.
“Who did this?” LePrius asked. She was too weak to answer. “Was it a man wearing a brown hat?” She nodded; then she died.
LePrius had chased the man, and driven him right to the dryad. Logic shouted that the werefox should not hold himself accountable for this creature’s demise, but his heart cried out and silenced reason. The dryad was beautiful. Even as she lay there, lifeless, she was still the most beautiful thing LePrius had ever laid eyes on. Then she was gone; the tree had claimed her body one last time.
The werefox made his way back to original blood pool, and found the tracks that split off from the blood trail. He would not let the man go unpunished for his murder.
Every year LePrius makes a trip to visit the tree where the dryad died. One solitary tree, dead in the middle of a beautiful grove, sits decorated with flowers that are watered by the tears of therian.
During the Halfling War, the ogres had to make a tough a choice. They could have helped the attacking armies in their quest to destroy the humans in Pinevale. However, they made a different choice. For too many years these great hulks had been viewed with disdain among the other races. It was a reputation that was deserved, but they longed to change the perception.
The ogres, much like the gnomes of Oliveloft, had no king. They believed in order to be taken seriously in a world ruled by dwarves, men, and elves that they must have a charismatic and strong leader. However, they were beastly and generally not tolerant of differing opinions. What the ogres did have was a magic all their own. They were able to unite two separate life forms into a magical amalgamation. They were responsible for such creatures as griffins, centaurs, harpies and many others. Some even believed that therians were created by ogres, but it was just a myth.
The ogre elite decided to take a young human child, and combine him with the greatest warrior of Yendar. They stole three children from a small village and went about the ritual. The first magical ceremony went awry, and caused the greatest warrior to go insane. The second rite was flawless, and Sim-Dah was the result. A magnificent creature that combined the greatest qualities of both races. The third child was left alone, perhaps for another combination on another day.
Sim-Dah, however, did not wish to rule over them. He rebelled almost immediately and freed the last remaining child. Together the two of them made their way through the mountains and eventually found safety among a human village. The ogres decided not to try to create a king, but realized that they must wait for one of their own to step up and lead them. Until then, they would continue to back Pinevale against invading orcs and hope that would be enough to earn respect.