"I challenge you, Dragon!"

“I challenge you, Dragon!”

Sir Duncan looked over the boulder at the mouth of the cave ahead of him. He was hiding behind a boulder because he and his squire, Eric, were tasked with slaying the dragon that lived in the cave.

The dragon in question had been plaguing their kingdom for several weeks now, mostly just stealing sheep, which the king had ignored. But when it burned down the vineyard where the palace made its wine, well that was when the king finally took action, which is why Sir Duncan and Eric are here now.

The king however, had not taken into account just how difficult it is to slay a dragon.

Now, it’s true there is the story where a knight goes into single combat against a dragon and saves a princess, but that story never was confirmed, which is what worried Sir Duncan right now. He turned to Eric and said, “I think we’ll need a plan.”

“Anything in mind Sir Duncan?” asked Eric.

‘Well,” began Duncan, “The king told me that before we slay the dragon, we have to, err, read it its rights.”

“Read it its- why would we do that? It’s a dragon.”

“That’s what I said,” said Sir Duncan. “But apparently the king wants to do this properly.”

“That’s mad,” stated Eric. “So I guess you’ll do that now.”

“Actually, I thought I’d let you do it this time, Eric.” Said Sir Duncan.

“What, why me? It’s a bloody dragon!”

“Well, maybe if you read very quickly and quietly, then the dragon won’t even notice. It may even be asleep. Besides, I’m the one wearing the armor; I can’t jump out of the way if it breathes fire at me.”

“Fine.” Said Eric, taking the scroll that had the rights on it. He then slinked over to the mouth of the cave, unrolled the scroll, and read the rights. It sounded a little like:

“Dragon you are here by charged with stealing about two dozen sheep burning down the king’s vineyard and maybe eating Mr. Jenkins we’re not really sure about that yet.

“Therefore you are to be put to the sword by Mr. Sir Duncan for your crimes, thank you and have a good day.”

Finished, Eric quickly dove back behind the boulder where Sir Duncan was waiting.

“Good job lad, I don’t think the dragon even noticed.”

Just as he finished speaking a jet of flame flew from the cave into the boulder. Fortunately they were on the other side of it.

“Bugger! Did you feel that!”

“It’s awake!”

Both of them hurriedly got up and ran for cover behind the next boulder (there were a lot of boulders in front of the cave).

After nothing happened for a minute, they cautiously poked their heads over the new boulder to see if the dragon had moved.

It had not. Or at least, it hadn’t left the cave yet.

“well,” said Sir Duncan.” Now we know it’s awake, probably.”

“Oh yeah, that helps.” Said Eric sarcastically.

“Of course it does! Now we can take that into account when we make our plan.”

“Which is?”

“That’s what we do now.” Said Sir Duncan. “Now, I’ve heard that the dragon’s belly is weakest. So maybe if you distracted it…”

“Oh of course, I distract it. How am I supposed to do that?” complained Eric.

“I don’t know, throw rocks at it or something. Now I’ve heard reports claiming it’s as big as a barn, although they could have been exaggerating when they said it. Nevertheless that’s all we have to go on now so I’ll have to take their word for it. Anyway, there’s two of us and only one dragon, so I say we just use that to our advantage and try to flank it from both directions.”

“That doesn’t sound much like a plan.” Said Eric.

“Well it’s all we got. Better than just rushing in there anyway. Now let’s go!”

Sir Duncan and Eric got up from behind the boulder and, cautiously, ran towards the cave.

“Dragon!” bellowed Sir Duncan, “I challenge you!”

From the back of the cave, ominous footsteps that shook the cave could be heard as the dragon came to the mouth of the cave.

The dragon was truly a majestic creature, covered in gleaming emerald scales, with three foot long horns and teeth that could tear a man in half.

It is the size a barn, thought Sir Duncan. Bigger actually, or least this close it seems to be. How does the king expect me to kill this thing?

Then something happened that Sir Duncan wasn’t expecting happened; the dragon spoke.

“Finally, the king sends a knight. I mean, how many sheep do I have to steal for him to take notice? He should thank me for burning down that vineyard too, if I stole much more sheep he’d have a riot at his gates.”

Eric, who also wasn’t expecting the dragon to talk, suddenly said “You can talk?”

“Well she can clearly talk Eric; I think that much is clear now.” Explained Sir Duncan. “Now dragon, now that we now you can talk, perhaps we can negotiate, because I’d rather leave here without being burned to a crisp. Right Eric?”

“But what if she ate Mr. Jenkins?” asked Eric.

“I didn’t eat any of the peasants.” Said the dragon, “Only the sheep. But I do not think we are here to negotiate. We are here to do battle, are we not?”

“Well we were at first.” Said Sir Duncan, “But I’ve always said that fighting never solves anything, right Eric?”

“You never say that, sir.”

“Yes I do, sometimes!” insisted Sir Duncan. “Look, why don’t me and my squire here just go back to our kingdom, and you just go back to wherever it is you came from. Or how Lavrabo! They have lots of sheep there, goats too, if you like.”

“I thought we were supposed to slay the dragon.” said Eric to Sir Duncan.

“Not now Eric, I’m negotiating here. Besides, this way is just as good, and we’re less likely to be torched if it works.”

“We are not here to negotiate.” Stated the dragon, “We are here to fight.”

“Oh come on!” shouted Sir Duncan, “Why are you so dead set on fighting? We don’t want to fight-“

“Because it has always been this way.” Said the dragon. “Dragons have always fought knights. It is how it is.

“But clearly that is not how it is anymore. Now there is only cowardly knights and selfish kings.” She looked at Sir Duncan in the eyes. “If you will not fight me then so be it. I will leave this pathetic kingdom behind. Perhaps some there are other knights who are brave enough to challenge a dragon.”

Then the dragon drew her wings and soared into the air, becoming only a dot in the sky in seconds.

“I can’t believe that worked.” Said Sir Duncan.

“But what about what she said?” asked Eric, “about our king being selfish and you being a coward?”

“Eric, our king is selfish. But he’s our selfish king.” Said Sir Duncan. “As for me being a coward, well, only when I can’t win. Know your limits lad, and you’ll live a long life.

“But come on, the dragon’s gone and we’re not even singed I say that’s a win in our book.” Sir Duncan said as he began walking away from the cave and back to the castle, Eric following behind.

The next day, a dragon appeared in the kingdom of Lavrabo. After it stole a few sheep, the king sent his finest knight to slay the dragon, who burned him, his horse, and his village.

A Tale of Some Adventurers: Part One

The Tale of Some Adventurers
Part One

The sun rose, slowly, on the Western hemisphere of Remacai, at about six thirty a.m.
Hours pass...
At around eleven thirty a young man can be seen walking down the road. He is an adventurer, you can tell because none of his armor matches the rest of it. You can tell he's in a good mood, he's trying to whistle even though he clearly can't.
His name is Leywon Deaga. He's going to Fordal to find his place in the world.

The city of Fordal is one of the best known cities on Remacai, in parallel to such cities as New York or London. It is often noted for it's fishing exports, being a port town, and also- while not its ale, certainly for its taverns. The reason for this is because nearly all the heroes and adventurers of the world have decided to use them as their central meeting places.
It was exactly this reason that Leywon had come to this city. Leywon had come from a small rural village south of Fordal, and before he started adventuring he had found a book titled "So Yew wante to be ann Adventerer?" by Lynkec the Warrior, one of the most famous adventurers on Remacai*. (*Because when you become famous you're expected to write a book.)
In the first chapter it had said only the foolhardy began adventurering alone. So Leywon had set out to Fordal in the hope that he could find some like-minded adventurers to begin questing.

Leywon walked through the city gates and marveled at what he saw. For a boy who had never gone much farther than the fields around his village, cities were a wonder to him, Especially one like Fordal. Countless buildings rising above two stories. And the people! There were countless people walking in huge throngs to places he couldn't begin to fathom. Horses pulling buggies filled the streets, and people lined the sidewalks.
Normally Leywon would have no idea where to begin. But he had his book, and it said that inns and taverns were great places to meet fellow adventurers. So he merely stepped into the first tavern he found and hoped for the best.
The atmosphere in the tavern was another new experience for Leywon. While it's true that his village had an inn, it was generally a quite place where farmers came for a drink after a long day in the fields, or where travelers stopped while they passed through.
Compared to this tavern however, the difference was staggering. Men came here to get drunk, often as loudly as possible. Men could be seen throughout the tavern drinking, laughing, fighting, and singing tavern songs.
Leywon stood at the entrance, wondering just how you asked someone to join you on a quest when someone figured it out for him.
"Hey lad, come over here!" called a dwarf sitting at a nearby table. "If you keep standing there you'll catch a tankard in the head from someone."
Leywon walked over to the dwarf's table. As it turns out the dwarf was not alone, sitting at the table with him was a serious looking human wizard. He was clearly a wizard, he wore red robes, a red pointy hat, and had agrey goatee. He was busy reading a map of this part of Remacai.
"So tell me lad," said the dwarf, "What's a young human like you doing in the Drunken Horse?"
"I'm an adventurer." Leywon said proudly.
The wizard looked up from his map and gave Leywon an odd look, "What kind of adventurer are you supposed to be?"
"Oh come on Hal," laughed the dwarf, "The lad's clearly got spirit." He held out his hand for Leywon to shake. "Name's Brann Copperforge, and my pointy hatted friend here is Halator Malin."
Leywon took the handshake. "Pleased to meet you. My name's Leywon Deaga."
"Good to meet ya, Leywon." said Brann. "So you say you're an adventurer?"
"That's right."
"Well what do you know, so are we!" said Brann grinning.
"Wow, really?"
"That's right. Me and Hal were just stopping here on our way to the country of Afton.
"Where's that?" asked Leywon.
"Well it's just north of Fordal, on the other side of the Thowath River." said Brann. "We figured we'd go there and loot few forgotten temples or crypts, slay some monsters and save civilizations. You know, adventuring.
"Say...how about you come with us! We could always use another man to carry the loot."
"What, him? said Hal, "Surely we could find someone with more experience."
"Ah come on Hal, he's clearly a budding young adventurer willing to learn. Why don't we help him out?" Brann turned to Leywon. "You're coming with us lad, err, you do want to, right?"
"Of course Mr. Copperforge." said Leywon, while thinking; this is going a lot easier than I thought it would.
"Good ta hear it lad! We were going to leave to Afton tomorrow at nine, by the good ship, Barnacle Barge. So I want you to meet us on the docks by at least eight." Brann then downed the remainder of his tankard and motioned for Halator to follow him out. Hal got up but stopped to speak with Leywon.
"If you're coming I can't stop you, especially now that Brann's made up his mind. So just don't slow Brann or me down or get in our way and we'll get along fine." He turned to leave and added, "And remember boy, don't be late tomorrow." Hal promptly left the tavern, leavingLeywon alone at the table without a drink.
Leywon saw no reason to stay at the Drunken Horse, so he left too.He found a respectable inn to stay the night and, since it was late by now anyway, went to sleep.

Brann and Halator stood at the docks waiting for Leywon. It was 8:05 and Hal was beginning to get impatient.
"We told him eight o'clock didn't we?" he said.
"We said at least eight Hal. Besides, the lad's probably stopped at some nice place for breakfast or something. He still has nearly an hour anyway. I'm sure he'll get here-"
"He's right there."
"Is he now? Oh hello there lad! Good to see you made it on time."
Leywon greeted them. "Hey guys. Are we ready to go on?"
"Oh yeah of course." said Brann. "I got reservations and everything. It doesn't leave port until nine but there's plenty to do on board."
So they boarded the Barnacle Barge and waited for nine. The trip to Afton was, over the next few days, quite uneventful. Leywon did get to know Brann and Halator a bit better, and another passenger was murdered at sea. Fortunately there was a detective on board and he was able to solve the crime before they made it ashore.

"Funny about that detective from the cruise." Leywon said after they had left the port town in Afton they had gotten off at.
"What do you mean funny?" asked Hal. "Someone got killed."
"Well I mean it's funny how there was a detective on board when someone did get killed. i mean, what are the chances?"
"The lad's got a point." said Brann. "I mean, the chances of a detective being aboard a ship when there's a murder must be...well actually I suppose it is kinda expected."
"I think you're on to something there Brann." said Hal, "I hear about that sort of stuff all the time."
"Like I said, it's funny how that happens." said Leywon.
Our heroes were walking down a road in Afton now, with nothing particularly exciting or funny happening. I'll just skip ahead to when they find their first Afton dungeon, which is both.
"Look there lads, a dungeon!" Exclaimed Brann as he pointed at some ruins on the horizon.
Leywon looked confused though. "What you mean like, the kind you get under castles?"
"wha- no you fool." Hal said. "This is the kind that adventurers come to loot. The kind filled with monsters and traps. Doesn't that book of yours tell you anything?"
"Sorry, I haven't gotten to that part. I'm only halfway through Battle Cries for Beginners."
"Well it's a good thing you have us then." said Brann. "We'll show you the ropes in this dungeon here."
"That's good. So why are they called dungeons?"
"No idea lad, just stay close and don't get yourself killed."
The trio descended the stairs into the dungeon. Despite being ruins, the interior braziers and torched were all lit. Odder still though, was the thin fog that covered the floor.
"What's with the fog?" asked Leywon.
"It provides atmosphere." said Hal. "You get it in most dungeons, though it doesn't appear to be magical. At least not any type of magic I'm familiar with."
"Yeah but don't mind the fog." said Brann, "Because you never know what you'll find down in these dungeons. Mad cultists, bandits, demons, giant rats. You gotta be on your guard."
"Demons?" said Leywon.
"Oh they aren't that bad." said Brann. "Not like the giant rats. No demons are usually pretty easy. I probably killed, well about two and a half score of demons while defending this village once."
"No it was 37." said Halator. "Remember? We were both counting how much we killed to pass the time." he smirked, and said, "I killed 59 myself."
"'s not fair when you got fireballs." Brann said. "I only had this axe." He gestured at the two handed dwarven war axe he was holding, which was almost as big as he was.
Suddenly they all turned a corner to find themselves facing a corridor filled with imps. The imps all turned their heads towards the trio.
Brann hefted his war axe. "Finally. Now follow me lad, I'll show you how it's done. Bruh hazuc dur figahla!*" (*approximate translation: "Let's have a go at it!")
By shear coincidence, the battle cry Leywon uttered when he followed Brann was: "Let's have a go at it!"

The aftermath of the extremely short battle (12 seconds) left our heroes at the other end of a now empty corridor.
"Hey Brann, any idea why the imps dissolve into smoke when they're killed?" asked Leywon.
Brann scratched his beard. "Well, I figured it was just a demon thing. Most of the demons we kill dissolve like that. I don't think there's really any reason for it."
"Oh." said Leywon. He looked back at the empty corridor and said, "Well at least it's cleaner than the alternative."
"That's the spirit." said Hal. "Now let's see what behind this door shall we."
Brann opened the door and stepped through to find a larger room that was also filled with imps. There was another door at the other end.
"Ah well," said Hal as Brann immediately leaped at the nearest group of imps, landing with a puff of smoke around him. "Back to fighting."

The adventurers continued moving through rooms filled with imps and leaving rooms filled with smoke. Eventually they opened a door that led to a room with a bedraggled warlock in purple robes sitting at a desk.
The warlock was very bedraggled. He looked as if he hasn't bathed or shaved in days, and probably hasn't. He had bags under his eyes and the bottom of his robe was tattered. He eyed the adventurers nervously.
"H-how did you get in here? I made sure I wouldn't be disturbed."
"By filling the place with imps?" said Brann. "Half the time they just stand there or run away. Not to mention they go poof just from getting hit on the head."
"Oh." said the warlock. "It's just that the master told me to establish a base of operations, err, anywhere in Afton."
Hal stroked his goatee thoughtfully and said, "Right... and this master would be..?"
"Demon Lord Rstfllg, Bringer of Darkness, sir."
"Rstfllg?" said Leywon. "That's pretty hard to pronounce."
"All demons have names like that." said the Warlock.
"It's probably a demon thing." said Brann.
"Right." said the Warlock. "Lord Rstfllg offered me untold power if I could summon an army of demons and take over most of Afton. So far I've only been able to do imps." He held up a book titled Demon Summoning for Beginners. "He also said if I failed my soul would be tortured in the fires of hell for all eternity."
"Right..." said Hal. "Listen, we're just here for the loot in the next room. We're not going to kill you because you seem pretty harmless and don't turn to smoke when you die, so why don't you just run home back to your town and forget about this."
"But, my soul-"
"Oh come on lad!" said Brann. "You really think any demon who has to contact you to conquer Afton for them would be able to torture you for an eternity? Just go home and take a bath."
The Warlock stammered, "I, I, I- actually you're probably right." The Warlock stood up straight and dropped the grimmoir. "I think maybe I will go home now." He then walked past the adventurers out the door.
"So, does that sort of thing happen a lot?" asked Leywon.
Brann sighed, and said. "I'm afraid so lad. To be honest I like it better when it is just bandits, or crazed dark lords, not some down on his luck guy. This sort of thing is just sad." He then pulled out some sacks and tossed one toLeywon. "Come on lad, treasure should be in the next room." Brann opened the door.
"B'duruk! Giant Rat!"

Later, the trio of adventurers can be seen exiting the dungeon. Each holds a sack filled with gold coins and other assorted treasures.
"Wow." said Leywon. "Is this how much you guys usually make?"
"Oh, give or take a few dozen gold." said Hal.
"Wow." repeated Leywon. "What are we supposed to spend it all on?"
"Well typically we spend most of it on beer." said Brann. "Which reminds me, there should be a town about two miles up the road. I can't wait to spend all this!"

"So they went to the nearest town and got drunk. Brann got particularly drunk and ended up in a bar fight with himself versus the entire tavern. They ended up getting thrown out and waking up next morning without any of the gold they got yesterday. Brann insisted that they could make twice as much money in the next dungeon run, as soon as their heads stopped killing them. So they set off in search of more adventure, but that is another story for another time.

The Theramore Division: Chapter One

Here's some Warcraft Fan-fiction I wrote. I'm considering using these characters again sometime, but for now I have other ideas. It's a possibility though.

The Theramore Division

Chapter One

“Are you an able lad or lass? Do you want to win honor and glory as a champion of the Alliance? To journey to far, exotic lands? Then sign up to the Theramore Division! (To sign up, see either Dandron Bretton or Morean Thurdan at the Champion's Hall, Old Town, Stormwind. We are now enlisting gnomes!)

Admiral Dandron Bretton sat back in his chair and looked over his new regiment. There were seven of them. There was supposed to be nine, but two of them said they signed the charter “Just to start the guild”. It's not even a guild! It's a freelance regiment of the Alliance Military. Well sod them, thought Dandron, I can make due with seven for now.

He looked at the dwarf sitting to his right. Of the seven new recruits, Morean wasn't actually a recruit. He was an old friend back from after the Second War. They had met while rounding up some orc stragglers, and then forgot about each other shortly after the third war ended.

He had however, met him again recently, and Morean had helped given him the idea for the Theramore Division. So now Morean was here, sitting next to him as Co-Founder/Chief Mountaineer. He was also the only mountaineer. But that could change, since there was another dwarf present. He seemed more of the warrior type though.

The others at the table consisted of a night elf huntress, a draenei shaman, two humans, a wizard and a priestess, and a gnome who said he was a warlock. Dandron realized that he didn't know any of their names. He should probably fix this.

“Ahem, well then,” he began, “Welcome, new recruits, to the Theramore Division. I am the leader, Admiral Dandron Bretton, and this is Chief Mountaineer Morean Thurdan.

“I know we were supposed to meet at the Champion's Hall, but Lieutenant Vaccar wouldn't let me. Something about it being too busy or something, I don't know. So at least for this time, we're meeting at the Pig & Whistle tavern.” As he finished, a tankard was thrown over their table and the sounds of fight could be heard coming from the other side of the room. The wizard looked a little nervous.

Dandron continued, “Ahem. Anyway, it is important that we know your names before we hand out coins. Morean, do you have that list?” Morean searched inside a sack at his right, picking out a few other items such as small hunting trophies, a pistol, a bag of bullets, and then finally obtaining a crumpled list.

“Uh, yes.” said Morean, “Let's see here, Kurdren Ironstout?”

The dwarf warrior waved a hand from behind his tankard, “Aye that be me.” And then went back to gulping down ale.

“Ah, good.” Said Morean, “Illender Starsong?”

The night elf confirmed this with a “yes” and a nod.

“Good. Gembler Spinsprocket?”

A forehead a and waving hand said, “Yes, that's me. Down here.”

Dandron raised an eyebrow, “You know we could probably get you some sort of booster seat, or something.”

“No, no, I'm perfectly fine from down here.” insisted the gnome.

Dandron gave a half shrug, “Very well. Who's next on the list Morean?”

“Err, Dronnoscourose? Did I get that right?”

“Dronnos is fine, thank you.” said the draenei.

“Oh, good.” said Morean, “Lindea Maleb?”

The priestess nodded, “Yes that's me.”

“Good, and Rinald Maleb?”

The nervous looking wizard nodded, “Yeah.” Then, with a sideways glance at Lindea, added, “She's my sister. My mum said i had to look after her.”

Dandron personally thought the sister would do a better job looking after the brother, but said nothing. “Well, then. Now that we knows who's who, we can go about handing out silver. I think 20 coins each is conventional.” Morean began rummaging around in his sack again.

“What about uniforms?” asked Lindea. The others gave some murmurs of agreement, as is traditional in these scenarios.

“well...” Dandron scratched his head around his admiral's hat. “Usually that's taken care of by the... quartermaster. Oh.” He and Morean exchanged looks. “How much money's in the vault?” He asked the dwarf.

“Uh...” Morean checked through a little logbook and whispered, “22 gold 63 silver. But, what exactly are the uniforms?”

“Well, probably just the tabard, how much do those cost?” Dandron whispered back.

“About one gold each.”

“Bugger, there goes seven gold. Well I suppose it's necessary. Go tell the guild master we need some tabards after the meeting.'

“Will do.”

Dandron pulled out his his whispered discussion and announced to the rest of the division, “Uniforms will be given out tomorrow at the Westbrook Garrison. Which reminds me, I'm sure the reason you all joined was for honor and glory and exotic lands right? Good, but before we can see any of that, Morean and I will have to get you lads-”

“-and lasses.” interrupted Lindea.

“_And lasses, then we'll have to get you prepared for battle. So first thing tomorrow we'll all head out to the Westbrook Garrison for a few weeks of combat training, and then go over seas to Theramore. Tonight we'll all stay at the Gilded Rose Inn.

“That's all for tonight. I expect all of you to meet me and Morean at the city gates tomorrow by seven a.m. Meeting dismissed.”

So everyone got up and went their different ways to the Gilded Rose. Dandron talked with Morean as they walked their themselves.

“Well it looks like we have some pretty good lads.” stated Morean.

“Oh, I don't know about that.” said Dandron, “They look bright enough, but I'm not sure if they could fight off an orc.”

“Well not yet.” said Morean. “But after a few weeks training they might.”

“Maybe. But You can tell that none of them have ever even seen an orc, can't you?”

“Aye, I can. It's something about, about...”

“About the fact that they're still here?”

“Aye that's it. None of them could ever stand up to an orc.”

“No. But like you said, after some training they might be almost good enough.”

“Aye almost good enough.” agreed Morean as they arrived at the Gilded Rose. “Well I guess I'd better get those tabards ordered.”

Dandron nodded, “Right. I'm gonna go turn in for the night. I have a feeling there's going to be a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Aye, no doubt about that.”

TASIIMT

Here's a placeholder since I haven't typed a full short story in a while. It's something I had to write for English class with two other people a while back; so you may notice it seems a bit rushed, considering the strict deadline.

T.A.S.I.I.M.T.

(No, I don't remember what TASIIMT stands for, so don't ask.)

Klive Vaarzius is walking home from his job at the paper company on a not so mysterious Tuesday in late October. While he is walking home, he encounters a homeless man staring at him intensely.

“I’m not going to give you money, if that’s what you want.” insisted Klive.

“It’s not.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want to warn you.”

“Of what?”

“Of your doom!”

“What are you talking about?”

“You shall see.”

“Right…”

With that, Klive walks away and falls into an open manhole. Unfortunately for Klive, the manhole was a manhole, and also a portal into medieval Europe. But at least he didn’t fall into sewage water like he would have, and for this, he should count himself lucky.

Klive then found himself staring at an increasingly growing ground. It took him a second to realize that it wasn’t growing, and why there was so much wind. He then met the earth by landing safely enough next to a haystack and into a pile of manure.

“So much for my suit” muttered Klive to himself as he got up.

“Oi! You there!” came a voice from somewhere near the haystack.

“Who- me?” queried Klive.

“Aye, you. Are ye per chance either a wizard or an alchemist?”

“Err, neither. Why do you ask?”

“Well you did just fall from the sky, so I was just wondering. Also, would thou like to fight back, or run away? I just think it’s nice to ask before I attack people.”

“Pardon?” pardoned Klive. Now that he was standing, he could see who he was talking to.

His would be attacker was skinny, exceptionally skinny actually. This however was probably due to the fact he had no skin, or organs, or anything besides bones. He was in fact a skeleton. A moving skeleton. That talked. And carried a large battle axe.

“Oh dear.” Said Klive.

“Well which will it be?” asked the one who was now known to be a skeleton. “Are ye going to run or fight? I just think it art be easier this way.”

“Err, I think I’ll run. Do I get a head start?”

“Are ye wearing running shoes?”

“No, I just came here from work.”

“Then ye get a two minute head start. I suggest ye go now.”

Klive didn’t reply to this one, on account of he was now fleeing for his life. The skeleton sat down on a stack of hay mentally counting the seconds to 120. He liked to give them the whole two minutes, unlike some skeletons he knew to count like ’29, 39, 49, 59, 119, 120!’ he considered himself better in this respect.

Klive continued running as he since the last paragraph, though he admitted to himself now that perhaps he should have bought that exercise equipment that was on sale last month, since he wasn’t exactly what he’d call physically fit. Luckily for Klive here, he was about to get a lucky break, sort of.

“Chaaaaaaaaaarge!!” Came a new voice accompanied by the sound of pounding hooves. Klive turned towards it and realized it was knight in, well not exactly shining armor, but it looked durable enough anyway. The person currently wearing the armor also seemed about to drive a lance through Klive’s chest. “Die foul undead!” roared the knight.

“Wait!” shouted Klive as he leaped out of the way. “I’m not dead! I’m being chased by an undead!”

The knight then stopped his horse and lifted his visor. “Oh, terribly sorry about that. ‘Tis bloody hard to see much of anything wearing this thing. You say you’re being chased by an undead?”

“Yes! That’s what I just yelled as you tried to impale me!” screamed a Klive.

“Alright lad, no need to yell. But, may I ask, why are dressed like that?”

“What?” Klive looked down at his muddy suit. “Oh, that. I’m uh, foreign.”

“Really? Well I suppose that explains your accent. We aren’t at war, are we?”

Klive had more or less accepted he was in medieval England by now, which hadn’t even discovered America yet. “No, we’re defiantly not at war.”

“Oh, good. I’ll go impale that undead now. Chaaaaaaarge!!”

The paper salesman watched the knight leave, I suppose something worse will happen next now. He thought. This thought was shortly followed by an uncountable horde of skeletal warriors marching over the horizon.

“Oh bugger,” muttered Klive.

“Hey look another one of them living guys!” Shouted a skeleton near the front.

“Alright men, let’s go and do what we’re paid to do, kill!”

“This was followed by the horde breaking into an enthusiastic run towards Klive. Klive responded by running away from the horde, and tripping on a small depression in the ground.

Upon hitting said ground Klive woke up in his bed to sound of an alarm. However, It was not Klive’s alarm, as his said 4:20 at the moment, rather than 7:00. The alarm was coming from his driveway, because his car was being stolen.

“Bugger” said Klive to himself, which had now gone to the window to see his car driving away. “Now I’ll have to walk to work today…”

Fooled Gold

Here's my latest work. It's about a dwarf achaeologist who attempts to break into an ancient temple only to have trouble getting throught the front door. Enjoy.

Fooled Gold

The sun rose over Remacai on this fairly normal day. Indeed, it was going to be a perfectly normal day for Joeb, a man who lives in a village so small you'd have trouble finding it on a map of itself. But this story isn't going to be about Joeb. Instead, it will be about Grock Grockson, a dwarf archaeologist who's about to break into an ancient temple of Talot the god of vast riches. Sounds more exciting doesn't it?

Grock Grockson always thought of himself as being in top dwarf fashion, which having been more or less the same for centuries, he was. This consists of a chain mail shirt, leather boots, a large, two handed axe/warhammer slung across their back, and an iron helm. The only real difference from an archaeologist and a common dwarf is the small, golden bomb insignia on their helms. Also like most dwarves, Grockson has a large, bushy beard almost to his waist, and is only a little over three feet tall.

Grockson was currently leading his team of dwarven archaeologists up a hill towards the temple. Now, it's important to know that dwarven archaeologists are different than human ones. Where humans take careful steps with delicate tools to find historical artifacts, dwarves use high power explosives to see how much gold they can unearth. Anything that isn't gold is sold to humans for more gold.

Now that that's been said, you'll understand why the dwarves were piling about two score pounds of explosive charges at the base of the temple doors.

When Grockson had decided that they've used enough explosives, he called them back with an ancestral dwarvish saying, “Alright lads! That looks like enough! Now let's get behind that hill lest you want to get gutted by shrapnel!”

They all scurried for cover behind the hill, and Grockson prepared himself to push the switch that would unleash the power of 40 pounds of gunpowder.

“Alright,” he announced, “has everyone been accounted for?”

There were some whispering amongst the assembled dwarves, followed by a chorus of “aye”s.

“Right then,” said Grockson, “let's do this! Three, two, one!” Grockson pushed down of the lever, not setting off the power of 40 pounds of gunpowder, and not setting off a Shockwave that could be felt from a mile away. Instead it was replaced by some rather disappointing silence, accompanied by some birdsong.

“I hate it when this happens.” muttered one dwarf. Grockson glared at the direction he heard it come from.

“Well you all know what this means,” announced Grockson. “Someone's gonna have to see what the problem is.” He quickly added, “And it's not gonna be me.”

Every single dwarf failed to meet his gaze.

Grockson sighed. “Look, I know no one wants to, but there's most likely gold in there! You're all telling me you'd rather not risk a limb at best, for mountains of gold!”

Unfortunately, their silence indicated that they weren't. Someone coughed.

Again, Grockson sighed. “Fine,” he said, “have it your way.” He then pointed to two dwarves at random and said “You, and you. Go check it out.”

This created two very frightened looking dwarves in the midst of many relieved looking dwarves. “But why us?!” demanded one of the terrified ones.

“Because I said so.” said Grockson, “Now just go!” The two dwarves scurried off over the hill towards the temple. While they did that, the rest of the crew waited.

And waited.

This is gonna take a bloody long time, thought Grockson. He decided that if he was going to wait a while, he might as well do it sitting. So he sat. It was from this new vantage point that he saw where the wire leading to the charges had snapped at the base of the switch.

Grockson stood up with a shout of triumph. “Look here lads!” he exclaimed, then remembering himself, “and lasses.*”^*

He then continued, “I found the problem!” proudly holding up the two lengths of wire. The crew burst into cheers, and there was much rejoicing for about five seconds when Grockson started to reattach the wires and the crowd quickly stopped him before he destroyed the two dwarves on the other side of the hill.

After the two dwarves got back, Grockson prepared to blow up the doors a second time. “Ahem, sorry about that,” began Grockson. “But now it's time to blow down those doors!” There were moor cheers from the crew. This was the good part, and it was actually going to happen this time!

“Three, two, one!” Grockson pushed down on the lever as ever dwarf covered his ears. This time there was an explosion.

The shockwave hit the dwarves like a thump in the chest, and some of the newer dwarves fell down. The sound deafened every animal within a one mile radius, including the dwarves.

When the experience was over, the dwarves rushed to the top of the hill to see how much damage they had caused, they were a little disappointed.

It would have been nice to say that the doors were completely obliterated, and that mountains of gold coins could be seen within the temple, but that's not how it was. The doors remained completely intact, pristine as ever. There weren't even any scorch marks, you wouldn't even know there was an explosion.

“ !” “ !” “ !” the curses of angry archaeologists could not be heard by any of the dwarves, since none of their ears had recovered yet.

“What?” mouthed Grockson.

“I said it didn't work!” shouted another dwarf. Grockson put his hand to his ear to signal he couldn't hear him. The other dwarf tried yelling again, then gave up.

They waited for a few minutes, until they could begin to hear each other. “Now,” said Grockson, “what was it you said?”

“I said it bloody well didn't work!”

“Oh, yeah I guess it didn't.”

Another dwarf piped up, “Do we have a plan B?”

“Well,” Grockson began, then realized they didn't, “Err, no we don't.” They all just stood there, staring at the doors.

“You'd think two scores of gunpowder would do the job.” said one dwarf. This got a couples of “aye”s from the other dwarves. They all continued standing at the top of the hill, trying to think of what to do next.

The sound of hoof beats coming up the path answered that for them. They all turned around to see a figure on horseback trotting towards the temple. It was human, they could all see that. They could also see that he was wearing a green and gold suit that identified him as a member of National Association of Talot.

Some of the dwarves panicked. “But I thought this temple was abandoned!” exclaimed one.

“It is!” hissed Grockson, “Now just pretend we're supposed to be here and we'll be fine.” The dwarves all immediately went into what they each thought looked like a nonchalant pose, which was mostly just a lot of whistling.

The rider heard the whistling and looked up. He looked puzzled at first, but quickly switched that with a fixed grin. “Hello there,” he greeted them, “Uh, why are you dwarves here?”

Grockson was about to lie when another dwarf said, “We tried to break into your temple; only it didn't work.” Grockson glared at the dwarf.

This however, only made the priest chuckle, “Well I'm not surprised. Those doors are stronger than the walls.” This made the dwarves look at one another, they never thought of that.

“So, ah, why are you here?” Grockson asked.

“Good question,” remarked the priest, “I'm sure you dwarves probably thought this temple was abandoned, am I right?” Some dwarves nodded. He continued, “Well it is. The only reason I'm here is because we've sold the land the temple's on and I need to go in and get the deed. Some company wants to destroy the temple and put up a theme park. I figured-”

“So they don't care what shape the building's in since they'll just blow it up anyway?” asked Grockson.

“Well, no. Not really. But-”

“Ready the cannon boys!” commanded Grockson.

The crew hurriedly pushed the cannon they brought with them up the hill and prepared it to be fired. “Now wait, I know we don't need this temple-” started the priest.

“Fire!” ordered Grockson. The cannon gave off a loud pow noise and broke a roughly dwarf size hole right next to the door. The cheering dwarves surged forward to get through the hole and get to the gold.

And what a sight it was! Vast mountains of gold coins piled high into the air, chests overflowing with treasure. The dwarves threw themselves onto the piles and celebrated. That is they did, until they realized that it wasn't real gold, it was all made of plastic.

“What's this?” demanded Grockson. The priest, who had climbed in through the hole, explained.

“I thought it was obvious. Why would we leave mountains of gold in an abandoned temple? Even if we did we'd have to spend most of it on booby traps, and then some dashing young lad would just come in and get past all them anyway. We always take our gold with us when we leave.”

“Well then why all this?” asked Grockson, gesturing to the mountains of false treasure.

“Those where always there. There never even was that much gold here, I assure you.”

“Oh.” Grockson sat down on a plastic chest dejectedly. “I just thought Maybe I'd find some gold this time. I've never found any gold before you know. I mean, sure I've found some lizard bones, and some ancient pottery. But I've never found any gold in my career.” He sighed, then continued sulking. The other dwarves followed suit.

The priest stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, then walked off saying he needed to find the land deed.

Eventually, a dwarf said, “Now what?”

Another dwarf piped up, “I know! How about we go to the pub!”

This brightened Grockson up. “Aye! The pub!”

The crew gave a shout of “aye”s, and they all raced off to the pub.

* * *

About ten minutes later, the priest returned to the fake treasure room. “Hello?” He shouted. “Dwarves?” He looked around. “Now where are those little buggers?” He climbed through the hole back outside, and gaped.

The scene before him looked reminiscent of a military bombing range. Apparently, in their good spirited race to the pub, the dwarves had set off every remaining explosive they had left, so they wouldn't have to lug it back home.

The priest groaned, “Great.” he said, “Now I'll never get this place sold.”

*Females dwarves also have beards. This unfortunately, can lead to some very awkward situations at public restrooms. More than once a poor bathroom attendant has said, “Excuse me sir, but you can't go in there.” only to find out he's talking to a women.