|
Darquess -> RE: =AQ= Blarney War 2013 War Stories and Poems (3/15/2013 15:51:06)
|
Previously...
Dyson and Commander Grey have scattered to the eastern edges of the map.
The Trumpha, once advancing, have fled.
Now, the world is draining of luck, and worse, the little green folk are fairing badly.
If their economy goes down, so does the rest of Lore.
The Green Paper
Chapter One
'A right little shin-dig'
It was a happy and festive atmosphere at the Green Shamrock Pub, just down the lane, along the Green Mile river.
The reports for the fiscal year were higher than ever.
The little green folks were rolling (quite literaly in the case of Master Douglas) in gold.
Beautiful, shiny gold.
The love of every self respecting adventurer.
And they had loads of it.
The bar man copuld not keep track of the orders, they racked up so fast.
He finaly threw in the towel and let the drinkers have what they want.
With a shrug, he reflected that he had a mountain of money to burn through before he had to rattle the tip jar again.
Old Mr Till was at his chair, smoking a pipe snugly between his gums.
The grandchildren raced around him, laughing at the marvolous and magical presents the rich man had bought them.
He laughed along with them as the sang a merry tune.
The traveler coming down the street turned her head in amazment at the frivolity of the patrons.
She continued riding her cart down the lane, coming to a halt at a very smile, musty smelling cottage.
She hung up her cloak, swept back her hair and pulled the solitary chain that fell through the ceiling.
The room around her shifted as she warped into a bustling accountancy block, full of hurrying figures and piles of gold, towers of jewels and, in the center, Uncle Sham, the willy old ruler of these little folk.
In all fairness, he had a right to be cheerful at the moment.
"Come in, my girl, come in!" he bellowed from up on high.
She approached the gilded throne and knelt.
He hurumphed and patted her head before saying, "Now then, how goes the mines and workshops?"
"They go well, sir.;"
"The farms and the factories, they fair well?"
"Indeed, it is as you say."
The ruler laughed again, called for more firesand brandy before asking, "And how do you fair, girl?"
She stared at him.
"As well as ever, sir."
"Good, good."
He turned to the side table, made a jotting in the book that lay there, then picked a bag full of glittering gold pieces and deposited them into her lap.
"Take these, and buy up two more full farms and another site for the Gold mine shafts."
She bowed and turned towards the door.
The merry king on his gilded throne held his happiness for exactly three seconds more before falling from his seat and began to howl.
The pub turned silent.
Heads turned as old Mister Till hurled out cry after cry.
Then, another old soul doubled over, hurling for real this time.
All around, oldest to youngest, people felt the snap of luck being withdrawn from them.
Being such lucky creatures..forgive me, THE most lucky, they were as adversly affected as if you or I were punched in the gut.
The breeze carried their cries, and their luck, off away down the lane.
End of Chapter One
|
|
|
|
