Dragoonlance Saga (valmis!!! 30.4.!!!)
Lähetetty: Ma 16.04.2007 13:08
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Here is the first installment to the famed Dragoonlance Saga. It tells of a ragtag bunch of adventurers set out for an adventure. I'll tell no more so as not to let out any spoilers!
NOTE: I shall continue the story in this here topic. So, no more multitudeous topics for the same tale! Whenever I add text, I'll notify you by updating the topics name...
Dragoonlance saga, part one
The dragoons of autumn's night
Glinty, an ancient mountain dwarf, was traipsing along a road.
The road in question wound it's lazy way through long succession of grassy hills in the heart of northern Lustria. This far north, there were no rainforests, just plains with gigantic, furry mammals grazing them. And here and there, a mighty copse of gargantuan redwoods.
Right ahead of Glinty, there was one such forest. Even though he still had far to go, already he could see the majestic evergreens swaying in the autumn breeze. Here and there, a curl of smoke arose. There were abodes, Glinty knew, human abodes, built and carved into the trunks of the gigantic trees. A whole village of houses, making up the small town called Heavin.
In time, the dwarf reached first of the mighty trees. He had passed just few trunks, when suddenly...
'BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!'
A terrible cry, as a figure launched itself at the dwarf from behind a tree!
Without even flinching, the dwarf swung his travelling bludgeon at the creature. The stranger fell with a cry of outrage.
'AWWW!!!' the smitten figure cried, rubbing it's head. 'What you do that for, Glinty! Ach! My head! There will be a lump the size of Caramours bicep in there come tomorrow!'
'Hazelhoff?' enquired the dwarf, with a hint of amusement in his voice. 'My, it is you!'
'Of course it is me!' cried the diminutive figure as it rose up to shaky feet. 'Who did you think it was? I mean it's not as if there's that many halflings in Lustria. Come to think of it, I never seen another halfling in here. It may well be I'm the only one brave enough to face the dangers of this new continent...'
'I took you for a bandit,' grunted Glinty, interrupting the talkative halfling in mid sentence. The halfling did not seem to mind. She was quite used to it. 'Had I knew it was you, Hazelhoff, I would have smitten harder!!!'
'Glinty!' whined the female halfling as she went to pick up her travelling gear from behind the tree. 'Why you go and say a nasty thing like that? You do not much like women, do you?'
'It's not women I do not like!' grunted the dwarf, smoothing his luxurious beard. 'It's thieflings I cannot stand!'
'Thieflings?' Hazelhoff looked around her, perplexed. 'What thieflings?'
'What indeed!' burst out the dwarf, hands akimbo. 'Last time we met, you walked away with my purse! But mark you, lass, this time I shall make sure you... Hey, where did my purse go? Oi! Get back here you little wench of a thief!'
'Catch me if you can, old timer!' cried the halfling as she sped along the road towards Heavin. 'Besides, we had better hurry in any case! The others went ahead ages ago!'
'Others?' shouted Glinty, trying to keep up but failing. He was too old for this. 'Which of the others? Did everybody make it? Hey! Wait up and answer me!!!'
But the halfling was already out of earshot.
*********************************************
Titta Nowayman sighed.
With aching joints Titta, a young, pretty waitress, bent to wipe clean a heavy wooden table for the evening's customers. Her blouse opened readily to offer the world an impressive amount of well developed cleavage. Over at the bar, old Otto, the inkeep, gasped and dropped an earthenware pint. It shattered with a loud crash.
Around Titta, the Inn of the Lost Home was silent and empty. Apart from occasional crash of earthenware, that is. And from the kitchen drifted also the sound of pots, clinking. The inn's cook, a hill dwarfess named Cinder, had seemingly arrived.
Titta sighed agian, and threw the dirty rug to a battered pail. She was happy that she had a job, a rare priviledge these days. But the work was so wearying. The groping hands, the heavy pints, the late hours. Oh, how she wished that one day the man of his daydreams would step through the inn's door and whisk Titta away to a life of adventure and romance. A handsome, carefree, yet gentle man... -But what use was to dream of such, Titta thought wryly. Fo it was her destiny, no doubt, to end up as a wife to one of the imperial dragoons that had settled into the town some years earlier. They were pigs to a man, the dragoons, but what choise did she have?
Suddenly, there was a sound of multitudeous footsteps from outside the inn. There were people on the ladders! Customers, no doubt! The door opened, and Titta stood up straight to greet the early visitors. And goggled.
And goggle she well might! For in had come a man. And not any old man, but a handsome warrior of mighty build! Fair was his mien, golden his hair. Huge were his muscles and gigantic was his codpiece. Titta blushed deep crimson and fanned her pretty face in vapid manner. She was smitten! Yet, there was a strange feeling in her heart that she should know this man...
The stranger had not yet noticed Titta, for he had turned to hold the door open for others. And indeed, in short order, in stepped a wizard and a half elf. Titta gasped in wonderment.
That the second man was a wizard, there was no doubt. He had not a beard, nor a pointy hat, but
he made this up with a multitude of mystic talismans and whatnots that he had sewn in, and hanged from, his dark robe. And his skin was the coulour of brass, which was something of a dead giveaway. Not brass as in tan. Really brass. A gold wizard then, no doubt.
Although young, the mage was bent and frail. Without a look to the pretty wench, he shuffled his way to a table and sat down.
Behind the wizard there came the half elf. He had the sharp, haughty features of a high elf. Of his humanesque parentage told his flaming moustache and sideburns, and his wide girth. He also had a beer belly, a physical slight no elf would or could raise. Why? I dunno. Probably because elves do not drink beer, the fobs that they are...
Titta gasped again. For he knew this half elven man. 'Tenner!' she cried and threw herself to the man elf. Elf man. Damn. This is going to be awkward...
'Um, do I know you, lass?' Stammered the half elf, half man. Not that he disliked young women throwing themselves at her... especially lasses this well developed!
'Oh, it's me, Titta!'
'Titta!' crieth Tenner the halfsomething. 'My, but it IS you! Last I saw you you were a girl of ten. You have grown up!'
'And from the right places too!' cried the human with the big muscles as he took stock of the tavern wench. 'that pair of hooters is the biggest in the whole of Lustria! And trust me, I've been around to know!!!'
'Sir, you are too bold!' cried Titta, although she was well pleased by the praise. 'I do not even know thee!'
'You don't,' the man quizzed, grinning mishievously. 'It's me, Caramour, your childhood pal. And this here is Raisin, my brother!'
'Caramour!' Titta cried, smiling widely. Yes, now he regognized the merry eyes and the manly brow of her childhood sweetheart. 'Well well well. I thought you were gone for good, when you and Raisin left for the Empire. Why did you not write?'
'Because he cannot write even his own name,' offered the wizard from his chair, where he had been following the proceedings with a sneer. 'And now, if it is not too much trouble, get us ale and some of Otto's spiced tomatoes. Chop-chop, girl!'
'Yes, sir,' said Titta, curtseyed, and headed for the kitchens.
'Hey, Raisin, what you do that for?' Caramour asked, annoyed. 'Makin her run like a servin maid?'
'Because she IS a serving maid, Caramour.' the wizard replied cuastically. 'Now, go and get me some boiling water for my tea, brother.'
'Yes, Raisin,' said Carmaour, looking very much like an obedient dog. Not for the first time Tenner wondered what Raisson had done to make his big brother so afraid of him. Knowing Raisson, he would probably never know.
********************************************************
The door to the Inn opened.
This time, in skipped a spirited looking halfling girl, carrying a large staff and a motley collection of packs and pouches. She was fast followed by a very winded old dwarf. Reaching the room, the dward staggered to a nearest chair, from whence he looked around with rheumy eyes.
'Oh, hello there, lad,' the dwarf huffed as his eyes met Tenner's. 'I see you found the brothers. Good to see you all. But hold a moment before you start reminiscin, kids. I'm gonna get a drink first! My throat is parched!' And with that the dwarf dropped down from the chair and staggered towards the bar, where Otto was ready for him with a foamy mug of his best beer.
'I found the dwarf!' enthused hazelhoff as she skipped to Tenner and the brothers. 'Mission accomplished! I say, you finished with that ale, Caramour? Mind if I take a sip? The dwarf is not the only one parched!' And without waiting for a reply, the halfling jumped up to Raisson, reached over him for Caramour's pint, and drained it in one go. And then belched happily.
'hazel,' snapped Raisson of a sudden, his hand shooting out tho grab a hold of the halflings neck. 'Give that book back. Now.'
'All right, all right!' cried the halfling, trying to worm out of the wizards grasp. To no avail. The wizard, despite looking frail, had the grip of iron. 'I was just lending it, Raisin, to have something to read at the outhouse! Here!'
'Fool!' hissed Raisson, taking the proffered book and stuffing it to his worn pack. Tenner thought he saw the cover etchings moving on their own volition. For some reason, this disquieted the half elf. the etchings had not looked very friendly.
'Do you not know that trying to read a magic tome can be highly dangerous?' asked Raisson from the halfling. 'For when you try to read it, the book might well read you!'
'Really?' quizzed Hazelhoff, fascinated. Her mishievous eyes verily shone. 'That sounds exciting! How does it read a person, excatly? I mean people have no pages! Or does a person turn ito a book, while the book turns into something terrible with eyes!?!'
'It opens you from the middle!' hissed Raisson, drawing his sharp finger across the halflings abdomen. 'And if you are really unlucky, it cracks your spine!'
The halfing gasped, amazed. It did not occur to her to be terrified. Such was her simple, carefree nature. 'Really, Raisin?' she quizzed, her eyes eyeing greedily the wizards pack.
'Yes, really,' the wizard said, caustically. 'Now go and ask the landlord if he has any interesting foreign coins to show you.'
'Foreign coins!' cried Hazelhoff, the book instantly forgotten. 'Brilliant idea, Raisin!'
Hazelhoff traipsed toward the barkeep, and sat beside her old friend, Glinty the dwarf. The dwarf turned over and gave Raisson a distrustfull look. Glinty had liked Raisson well enough when the lad had been young. But now the boy verily reeked of magic. And there was nothing that dwarves distrusted as much as magic. Apart from elves, of course, but that went without saying.
All the others sighed out of relief. Hazelhoff was fun company in her own way. But only in small doses. You did not want her around for long. Now unless your pack and pouches vere VERY secure.
****************************************
'I say chaps, any chance of a beer?'
The companions looked up from their ales. They had not heard the door open. A splendid sight met their eyes. A knight, clad from head to toe in an ornate, silvery armour, with a mighty broadsword upon his back and a dark, broody moustache upon his upper lip.
'Sir Stormy blightblade!' cried Tenner, hoping up to greet his knightly friend. 'I thought you had missed us!'
'Easy on the sir, old chap,' answered Stromy, smiling broadly and shaking hands all round like a real pro. 'I'm not a knight anymore, as you well know. And it is against the bretonnian regulations to call beknighted man a sir.'
'Well, bretonnian regulations to heck, say I,' Tenner enthused. 'To us, you are, and always will be, a real knight. Now sit down and we'll get you some ale. Lo! the maid!'
And so it was. The cook had finally finished frying Otto's famous spiced tomatoes and Titta was now hurrying towards the table of the companions with a huge, steaming bowl on her hands. Stormy hopped up again, as was only correct with the arrival of a female gender.
'Stormy Blightblade, at your service, madam,' the ex-knight said, bowing low with a flourish. With keen interest, he then looked down at Titta's chest region. 'I say, old girl, are those a genuine article,' the ex-knight inquired, reaching out a hand. 'would you awfully mind if I had a go at them?'
'You are too bold!!!' cried titta, her pretty face darkening with anger. fast as a lighting, her hand shot out and SLAP! And before the benighted ex-knight could say a word more, Titta whirled around and headed back for the kitchens.
'I say, what was that all about?' stammered Stormy as he rubbed some life back to his struck cheek. 'All I wanted was to have a taste of those spiced tomatoes I have heard so much about from you all!
'And now none of us is goin to get a taste, Stormy,' muttered Caramour, dismayed. 'Thanks a lot.'
Of a sudden, there was a sort of keening noise from behind Tenner. He whirled around in his chair. The weird noise seemed to originate from Raisson. With a start, Tenner realised the mage was laughing.
'Well, sorry old chap,' harrumphed Stromy, taking a seat next to Caramour and patting the gigantic warrior upon the back. 'By the way, the wench has some muscle. That was a slap of iron and no mistake!'
'Hi Stormy!' shouted hazelhoff, skipping her way to the table. At the bar, Otto seemed relieved to got rid of her. 'Great to see you! Here's Glinty too! Did you see Raisin's new skin? He's a real wizard now! Golden wizard! Although his skin is Brass! I think they might have done some mistake at the tower of wizardry in Altdorf! If I was him, I would go back and complain! But then, golden skin might have been too expensive for him and his brother! Well, he should have come to me for that! I have always a full pouch! Even though I never work!'
'Hello there, Hazel. Glinty,' the ex-knight smiled. 'Good to see you both. By the by, my monetary matters are not as well as the halfling's, I'm afraid. Life without tithes is not one a knight can lead, it seems. I even had to sell my horse few days back to get along. The old nag was frightfully sorry to see me go. Which brings me to my point: Could any of you lend me a tenner so I could have some ale, by any chance. And those spiced tomatoes. They did look delicious!'
*******************************************************
'So, here we all are,' mused Tenner, taking a sip of his imported bretonnian ale, and glancing around the gathered company. It felt good, to have his old friends beside him again. Especially with a stomach full of Otto's famous spiced tomatoes. He had sorely missed them, his friends, that is, even Raisson. Well, he had missed the tomatoes too... But of the one he had missed most, there was no sign... 'Apart from Kitkat, it seems. I wonder what has kept her...'
'There is a war on,' sneered Raisson, his brassy eyes meeting Tenner's. It was clear the wizard knew exactly the reason why Tenner was missing Kitkat, Raisson's sister. Although a seasoned warrior, Tenner had to look away. Raisson had verily changed. 'You really think Kitkat would trade the chance for a good scrap for a village school reunion?'
'What you mean, Raisin?' enquired Caramour, baffled look filling his manly mien. 'A village school reunion? C'mon, Raisin, you know I never went to the village school. They said I was too thick for it, like muscle mass was something preventin learnin of, umm, stuff. And talkin of school, I don't think kitkat ever went to classes either...'
'It's just a manner of speech, Caramour,' sighed Raisson. 'And do not call me Raisin. How many times do I have to tell you? I cannot be called Raisin if I am to be the greatest dark wizard of all time!'
'What's that again?' Tenner interjected, giving Raisson a sharp look. 'Did you say a dark wizard?'
'Dark? I did not say dark. I said park wizard. didn't I, Caramour?'
'Well, umm...' stammered Caramour, whom had not been listening. He had been watching Titta, the inn's serving wench. Or rather, her assets. Which were abundant indeed.
'Park wizard?' quizzed Tenner, not convinced. 'What's that then? Never heard of a park wizard before. Hedge wizard, yes, park, no.'
'No?' hissed Raisson, sneering his best sneer. 'Funny, that. I thought you knew everything, Tennerennessa.'
The usage of his elven name made Tenner flinch involuntarily. But before he had a chance of a riposte, the door to the inn opened. And in came two mysterious figures.
The two strangers were clothed in deep grayish cloaks and robes. Hoods covered their heads, casting deep shadows over their faces. This, they must have thought, made them look inconspicious. In reality, the opposite was true. For every eye in the common room was instantly nailed to them. The inn fell into a suspicious silence.
As the stranges passed the table occupied by the companions, the first of them turned it's head to look at Tenner. In that instant, there was a gust of wind from the door, making the flames leap up in the inn's huge fireplace. For a split second, the stranger's face was lit up. Tenner gasped, alarmed.
For the strangers were dark elves!
To be continued!!!
*********************************************'
And there you have it, the very first part to the already famous Dragoonlance saga. What? Resemblances to a Dragonlance(tm) Saga? What Dragonlance(tm) Saga? Never heard of such a saga! And anyways, it sounds like a complete poppycock: I mean arming a dragon with a lance? Why? -That makes about as much sense as adding lasgun to a Baneblade! Pshah!
Here is the first installment to the famed Dragoonlance Saga. It tells of a ragtag bunch of adventurers set out for an adventure. I'll tell no more so as not to let out any spoilers!
NOTE: I shall continue the story in this here topic. So, no more multitudeous topics for the same tale! Whenever I add text, I'll notify you by updating the topics name...
Dragoonlance saga, part one
The dragoons of autumn's night
Glinty, an ancient mountain dwarf, was traipsing along a road.
The road in question wound it's lazy way through long succession of grassy hills in the heart of northern Lustria. This far north, there were no rainforests, just plains with gigantic, furry mammals grazing them. And here and there, a mighty copse of gargantuan redwoods.
Right ahead of Glinty, there was one such forest. Even though he still had far to go, already he could see the majestic evergreens swaying in the autumn breeze. Here and there, a curl of smoke arose. There were abodes, Glinty knew, human abodes, built and carved into the trunks of the gigantic trees. A whole village of houses, making up the small town called Heavin.
In time, the dwarf reached first of the mighty trees. He had passed just few trunks, when suddenly...
'BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!'
A terrible cry, as a figure launched itself at the dwarf from behind a tree!
Without even flinching, the dwarf swung his travelling bludgeon at the creature. The stranger fell with a cry of outrage.
'AWWW!!!' the smitten figure cried, rubbing it's head. 'What you do that for, Glinty! Ach! My head! There will be a lump the size of Caramours bicep in there come tomorrow!'
'Hazelhoff?' enquired the dwarf, with a hint of amusement in his voice. 'My, it is you!'
'Of course it is me!' cried the diminutive figure as it rose up to shaky feet. 'Who did you think it was? I mean it's not as if there's that many halflings in Lustria. Come to think of it, I never seen another halfling in here. It may well be I'm the only one brave enough to face the dangers of this new continent...'
'I took you for a bandit,' grunted Glinty, interrupting the talkative halfling in mid sentence. The halfling did not seem to mind. She was quite used to it. 'Had I knew it was you, Hazelhoff, I would have smitten harder!!!'
'Glinty!' whined the female halfling as she went to pick up her travelling gear from behind the tree. 'Why you go and say a nasty thing like that? You do not much like women, do you?'
'It's not women I do not like!' grunted the dwarf, smoothing his luxurious beard. 'It's thieflings I cannot stand!'
'Thieflings?' Hazelhoff looked around her, perplexed. 'What thieflings?'
'What indeed!' burst out the dwarf, hands akimbo. 'Last time we met, you walked away with my purse! But mark you, lass, this time I shall make sure you... Hey, where did my purse go? Oi! Get back here you little wench of a thief!'
'Catch me if you can, old timer!' cried the halfling as she sped along the road towards Heavin. 'Besides, we had better hurry in any case! The others went ahead ages ago!'
'Others?' shouted Glinty, trying to keep up but failing. He was too old for this. 'Which of the others? Did everybody make it? Hey! Wait up and answer me!!!'
But the halfling was already out of earshot.
*********************************************
Titta Nowayman sighed.
With aching joints Titta, a young, pretty waitress, bent to wipe clean a heavy wooden table for the evening's customers. Her blouse opened readily to offer the world an impressive amount of well developed cleavage. Over at the bar, old Otto, the inkeep, gasped and dropped an earthenware pint. It shattered with a loud crash.
Around Titta, the Inn of the Lost Home was silent and empty. Apart from occasional crash of earthenware, that is. And from the kitchen drifted also the sound of pots, clinking. The inn's cook, a hill dwarfess named Cinder, had seemingly arrived.
Titta sighed agian, and threw the dirty rug to a battered pail. She was happy that she had a job, a rare priviledge these days. But the work was so wearying. The groping hands, the heavy pints, the late hours. Oh, how she wished that one day the man of his daydreams would step through the inn's door and whisk Titta away to a life of adventure and romance. A handsome, carefree, yet gentle man... -But what use was to dream of such, Titta thought wryly. Fo it was her destiny, no doubt, to end up as a wife to one of the imperial dragoons that had settled into the town some years earlier. They were pigs to a man, the dragoons, but what choise did she have?
Suddenly, there was a sound of multitudeous footsteps from outside the inn. There were people on the ladders! Customers, no doubt! The door opened, and Titta stood up straight to greet the early visitors. And goggled.
And goggle she well might! For in had come a man. And not any old man, but a handsome warrior of mighty build! Fair was his mien, golden his hair. Huge were his muscles and gigantic was his codpiece. Titta blushed deep crimson and fanned her pretty face in vapid manner. She was smitten! Yet, there was a strange feeling in her heart that she should know this man...
The stranger had not yet noticed Titta, for he had turned to hold the door open for others. And indeed, in short order, in stepped a wizard and a half elf. Titta gasped in wonderment.
That the second man was a wizard, there was no doubt. He had not a beard, nor a pointy hat, but
he made this up with a multitude of mystic talismans and whatnots that he had sewn in, and hanged from, his dark robe. And his skin was the coulour of brass, which was something of a dead giveaway. Not brass as in tan. Really brass. A gold wizard then, no doubt.
Although young, the mage was bent and frail. Without a look to the pretty wench, he shuffled his way to a table and sat down.
Behind the wizard there came the half elf. He had the sharp, haughty features of a high elf. Of his humanesque parentage told his flaming moustache and sideburns, and his wide girth. He also had a beer belly, a physical slight no elf would or could raise. Why? I dunno. Probably because elves do not drink beer, the fobs that they are...
Titta gasped again. For he knew this half elven man. 'Tenner!' she cried and threw herself to the man elf. Elf man. Damn. This is going to be awkward...
'Um, do I know you, lass?' Stammered the half elf, half man. Not that he disliked young women throwing themselves at her... especially lasses this well developed!
'Oh, it's me, Titta!'
'Titta!' crieth Tenner the halfsomething. 'My, but it IS you! Last I saw you you were a girl of ten. You have grown up!'
'And from the right places too!' cried the human with the big muscles as he took stock of the tavern wench. 'that pair of hooters is the biggest in the whole of Lustria! And trust me, I've been around to know!!!'
'Sir, you are too bold!' cried Titta, although she was well pleased by the praise. 'I do not even know thee!'
'You don't,' the man quizzed, grinning mishievously. 'It's me, Caramour, your childhood pal. And this here is Raisin, my brother!'
'Caramour!' Titta cried, smiling widely. Yes, now he regognized the merry eyes and the manly brow of her childhood sweetheart. 'Well well well. I thought you were gone for good, when you and Raisin left for the Empire. Why did you not write?'
'Because he cannot write even his own name,' offered the wizard from his chair, where he had been following the proceedings with a sneer. 'And now, if it is not too much trouble, get us ale and some of Otto's spiced tomatoes. Chop-chop, girl!'
'Yes, sir,' said Titta, curtseyed, and headed for the kitchens.
'Hey, Raisin, what you do that for?' Caramour asked, annoyed. 'Makin her run like a servin maid?'
'Because she IS a serving maid, Caramour.' the wizard replied cuastically. 'Now, go and get me some boiling water for my tea, brother.'
'Yes, Raisin,' said Carmaour, looking very much like an obedient dog. Not for the first time Tenner wondered what Raisson had done to make his big brother so afraid of him. Knowing Raisson, he would probably never know.
********************************************************
The door to the Inn opened.
This time, in skipped a spirited looking halfling girl, carrying a large staff and a motley collection of packs and pouches. She was fast followed by a very winded old dwarf. Reaching the room, the dward staggered to a nearest chair, from whence he looked around with rheumy eyes.
'Oh, hello there, lad,' the dwarf huffed as his eyes met Tenner's. 'I see you found the brothers. Good to see you all. But hold a moment before you start reminiscin, kids. I'm gonna get a drink first! My throat is parched!' And with that the dwarf dropped down from the chair and staggered towards the bar, where Otto was ready for him with a foamy mug of his best beer.
'I found the dwarf!' enthused hazelhoff as she skipped to Tenner and the brothers. 'Mission accomplished! I say, you finished with that ale, Caramour? Mind if I take a sip? The dwarf is not the only one parched!' And without waiting for a reply, the halfling jumped up to Raisson, reached over him for Caramour's pint, and drained it in one go. And then belched happily.
'hazel,' snapped Raisson of a sudden, his hand shooting out tho grab a hold of the halflings neck. 'Give that book back. Now.'
'All right, all right!' cried the halfling, trying to worm out of the wizards grasp. To no avail. The wizard, despite looking frail, had the grip of iron. 'I was just lending it, Raisin, to have something to read at the outhouse! Here!'
'Fool!' hissed Raisson, taking the proffered book and stuffing it to his worn pack. Tenner thought he saw the cover etchings moving on their own volition. For some reason, this disquieted the half elf. the etchings had not looked very friendly.
'Do you not know that trying to read a magic tome can be highly dangerous?' asked Raisson from the halfling. 'For when you try to read it, the book might well read you!'
'Really?' quizzed Hazelhoff, fascinated. Her mishievous eyes verily shone. 'That sounds exciting! How does it read a person, excatly? I mean people have no pages! Or does a person turn ito a book, while the book turns into something terrible with eyes!?!'
'It opens you from the middle!' hissed Raisson, drawing his sharp finger across the halflings abdomen. 'And if you are really unlucky, it cracks your spine!'
The halfing gasped, amazed. It did not occur to her to be terrified. Such was her simple, carefree nature. 'Really, Raisin?' she quizzed, her eyes eyeing greedily the wizards pack.
'Yes, really,' the wizard said, caustically. 'Now go and ask the landlord if he has any interesting foreign coins to show you.'
'Foreign coins!' cried Hazelhoff, the book instantly forgotten. 'Brilliant idea, Raisin!'
Hazelhoff traipsed toward the barkeep, and sat beside her old friend, Glinty the dwarf. The dwarf turned over and gave Raisson a distrustfull look. Glinty had liked Raisson well enough when the lad had been young. But now the boy verily reeked of magic. And there was nothing that dwarves distrusted as much as magic. Apart from elves, of course, but that went without saying.
All the others sighed out of relief. Hazelhoff was fun company in her own way. But only in small doses. You did not want her around for long. Now unless your pack and pouches vere VERY secure.
****************************************
'I say chaps, any chance of a beer?'
The companions looked up from their ales. They had not heard the door open. A splendid sight met their eyes. A knight, clad from head to toe in an ornate, silvery armour, with a mighty broadsword upon his back and a dark, broody moustache upon his upper lip.
'Sir Stormy blightblade!' cried Tenner, hoping up to greet his knightly friend. 'I thought you had missed us!'
'Easy on the sir, old chap,' answered Stromy, smiling broadly and shaking hands all round like a real pro. 'I'm not a knight anymore, as you well know. And it is against the bretonnian regulations to call beknighted man a sir.'
'Well, bretonnian regulations to heck, say I,' Tenner enthused. 'To us, you are, and always will be, a real knight. Now sit down and we'll get you some ale. Lo! the maid!'
And so it was. The cook had finally finished frying Otto's famous spiced tomatoes and Titta was now hurrying towards the table of the companions with a huge, steaming bowl on her hands. Stormy hopped up again, as was only correct with the arrival of a female gender.
'Stormy Blightblade, at your service, madam,' the ex-knight said, bowing low with a flourish. With keen interest, he then looked down at Titta's chest region. 'I say, old girl, are those a genuine article,' the ex-knight inquired, reaching out a hand. 'would you awfully mind if I had a go at them?'
'You are too bold!!!' cried titta, her pretty face darkening with anger. fast as a lighting, her hand shot out and SLAP! And before the benighted ex-knight could say a word more, Titta whirled around and headed back for the kitchens.
'I say, what was that all about?' stammered Stormy as he rubbed some life back to his struck cheek. 'All I wanted was to have a taste of those spiced tomatoes I have heard so much about from you all!
'And now none of us is goin to get a taste, Stormy,' muttered Caramour, dismayed. 'Thanks a lot.'
Of a sudden, there was a sort of keening noise from behind Tenner. He whirled around in his chair. The weird noise seemed to originate from Raisson. With a start, Tenner realised the mage was laughing.
'Well, sorry old chap,' harrumphed Stromy, taking a seat next to Caramour and patting the gigantic warrior upon the back. 'By the way, the wench has some muscle. That was a slap of iron and no mistake!'
'Hi Stormy!' shouted hazelhoff, skipping her way to the table. At the bar, Otto seemed relieved to got rid of her. 'Great to see you! Here's Glinty too! Did you see Raisin's new skin? He's a real wizard now! Golden wizard! Although his skin is Brass! I think they might have done some mistake at the tower of wizardry in Altdorf! If I was him, I would go back and complain! But then, golden skin might have been too expensive for him and his brother! Well, he should have come to me for that! I have always a full pouch! Even though I never work!'
'Hello there, Hazel. Glinty,' the ex-knight smiled. 'Good to see you both. By the by, my monetary matters are not as well as the halfling's, I'm afraid. Life without tithes is not one a knight can lead, it seems. I even had to sell my horse few days back to get along. The old nag was frightfully sorry to see me go. Which brings me to my point: Could any of you lend me a tenner so I could have some ale, by any chance. And those spiced tomatoes. They did look delicious!'
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'So, here we all are,' mused Tenner, taking a sip of his imported bretonnian ale, and glancing around the gathered company. It felt good, to have his old friends beside him again. Especially with a stomach full of Otto's famous spiced tomatoes. He had sorely missed them, his friends, that is, even Raisson. Well, he had missed the tomatoes too... But of the one he had missed most, there was no sign... 'Apart from Kitkat, it seems. I wonder what has kept her...'
'There is a war on,' sneered Raisson, his brassy eyes meeting Tenner's. It was clear the wizard knew exactly the reason why Tenner was missing Kitkat, Raisson's sister. Although a seasoned warrior, Tenner had to look away. Raisson had verily changed. 'You really think Kitkat would trade the chance for a good scrap for a village school reunion?'
'What you mean, Raisin?' enquired Caramour, baffled look filling his manly mien. 'A village school reunion? C'mon, Raisin, you know I never went to the village school. They said I was too thick for it, like muscle mass was something preventin learnin of, umm, stuff. And talkin of school, I don't think kitkat ever went to classes either...'
'It's just a manner of speech, Caramour,' sighed Raisson. 'And do not call me Raisin. How many times do I have to tell you? I cannot be called Raisin if I am to be the greatest dark wizard of all time!'
'What's that again?' Tenner interjected, giving Raisson a sharp look. 'Did you say a dark wizard?'
'Dark? I did not say dark. I said park wizard. didn't I, Caramour?'
'Well, umm...' stammered Caramour, whom had not been listening. He had been watching Titta, the inn's serving wench. Or rather, her assets. Which were abundant indeed.
'Park wizard?' quizzed Tenner, not convinced. 'What's that then? Never heard of a park wizard before. Hedge wizard, yes, park, no.'
'No?' hissed Raisson, sneering his best sneer. 'Funny, that. I thought you knew everything, Tennerennessa.'
The usage of his elven name made Tenner flinch involuntarily. But before he had a chance of a riposte, the door to the inn opened. And in came two mysterious figures.
The two strangers were clothed in deep grayish cloaks and robes. Hoods covered their heads, casting deep shadows over their faces. This, they must have thought, made them look inconspicious. In reality, the opposite was true. For every eye in the common room was instantly nailed to them. The inn fell into a suspicious silence.
As the stranges passed the table occupied by the companions, the first of them turned it's head to look at Tenner. In that instant, there was a gust of wind from the door, making the flames leap up in the inn's huge fireplace. For a split second, the stranger's face was lit up. Tenner gasped, alarmed.
For the strangers were dark elves!
To be continued!!!
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And there you have it, the very first part to the already famous Dragoonlance saga. What? Resemblances to a Dragonlance(tm) Saga? What Dragonlance(tm) Saga? Never heard of such a saga! And anyways, it sounds like a complete poppycock: I mean arming a dragon with a lance? Why? -That makes about as much sense as adding lasgun to a Baneblade! Pshah!