The Forest Grunts, as they are known, have a long history of bringing death and destruction upon the Woodlings for as long as history has been recorded. It is popular belief that the Grunts are responsible for the extinction of the Fairies (of course, that has been recently proven lore).
There are writings that artfully describe the reasons behind the Grunts' malice and pure hatred for the Woodlings. I'll do my best to explain, but Gabe Schillman's historical records titled: 'Gabriel and the Woodlings' (Available on Amazon.com) would clear it right up for you.
There are creatures in this world that are born as mortal enemies. Snakes and rats have never truly enjoyed each others company, frogs and flies, birds and worms... On a lesser scale- cats and dogs. There is no logical explanation as to the origins of such feuds; survival would explain it to some degree, though the very beginnings escape us all.
Traditionally, the Woodlings are peace-loving creatures that flee in the face of danger, cower at the threat of attack, and surrender in the case of defeat. With very few exceptions, Chester being one of them, Woodlings are not known for being overly adventurous. They are known for their incredibly overbearing hospitality, their unconditional love, their supremacy in regards to carpentry, and their unique ability to be the most likeable creatures in the forest.
This might seem the best of traits, however, these traits just happen to be everything that the Grunts despise about the Woodlings. From the depths of their soul they hate the Woodlings along with any and all who align themselves (even tepidly) with the Woodlings.
The Grunts are ruled by a king that, lacking in any creative efforts, the Grunts call 'King'. Every king that the Grunts have ever had was called 'King'. Until King calls a truce with the Woodlings, the killing will continue, the destruction will commence, and the chaos will ensue.
As Chester free fell on the back of his Barn Owl toward the lush green forest below, he could see the battle ensuing. The green and brown blur of foliage flashed past him and his eyes squint to the rushing air of the fall. He leaned into the force and held tightly to the fine feathers of the owl's neck.
Chester watched as Talo's hawk swooped in from the side and picked up a Grunt that had been shooting arrows at the defending alliance. The hawk dug its claws into the Grunt and it erupted into a shower of glittery dust that quickly whisked away in the wind of the flight. Without slowing its pace, the hawk tucked and dived, slicing through another surprised Grunt into a cloud of glittery dust.
Chester banked to the right on his owl and was only doubtingly aware of the fact that his owl had clawed a Grunt as the remnants of the Grunt dusted behind. As a true Woodling, Chester was both excited and saddened.
Arrows and acorns were hurled through the air in mass. It would seem safe to assume, that the Dwarf, Vin, would be a dominating force against the Grunts, however, Vin struggled against a barrage of tiny arrows; the equivalent of tens of bee stings. Suddenly, the gnome disappeared into an unknown dimension from the Dwarf's shoulder. To Chester's surprise, the Grunts that were firing arrows at the Dwarf were suddenly falling to the ground as the branch they were standing on became as old as time itself. The Gnome returned to the Dwarf's shoulder, smiling like a fool of course.
“Ha!” Chester chuckled.
The Pixie, Faye, had taken to physically assaulting the Grunts in a hand to hand way. She later admitted that she derived some amount of weird pleasure in seeing eye to eye as the Grunts vanished into shimmering dust clouds. The Grunts seemed unaware, unconcerned, and unforgiving of their immanent death the moment before. Like squishing a mosquito.
Faye grabbed a Grunt and lifted it high into the air with the speed of a thought. The Grunt's growl trailed in the air and 'popped' with a sudden eruption of a cascading shimmer. Faye lost no momentum as she moved on to the next Grunt. The Grunt desperately fired another arrow that careened off course as Faye grabbed the Grunt by the neck and threw it into the trunk of a tree; erupting into a cloud. She clearly had no patience for the attacking Grunts.
“And what'd you think would happ'n then?” O'Malley asked as he calmly exited the carriage. He secured his top hat and straightened his jacket as he stepped onto the fallen tree. A Grunt pointed his drawn arrow at the carefree Elf (the elf that should be called a 'Leprechaun' but in these parts is known as an 'Elf'). A tiny arrow lodged into the rich oak trim of the carriage as he spoke; seemingly unconcerned by the attacker.
“If'n you're think'n you could even possibly not hit me, but perhaps you might- do'ya think maybe there'n might be tha man behin' you that might be think'n else then?”
The Grunt momentarily lowered his bow in a daze of confusion. His face scrunched in a scramble to make sense of what the casually calm Elf had just said. The Grunt, having deciphered a fragment of the proclamation, quickly looked behind him. When his gaze returned, O'Charles was quickly upon him with a stern strike of his cane. The confused Grunt vanished into a cloud. Ha!
“That's right, that's right, that's right.” O'Charles frankly proclaimed.
The Dwarf, Vin, swung his axe smoothly at a branch of a dozen Grunts. Their bodies and bows were sent flailing through the air. Glittering dust rained down where they had been.
Chester on the owl banked hard left and the force of the turn caused him to clutch harder and duck lower. His eyes watered from the force of the flight. His Owl picked up another arrow firing Grunt and threw it into the hard trunk of a tree. Without slowing its pace of flight, the owl tucked and dived, colliding with a black bird ally of the Grunts.
The two birds clawed at each other in a violent and desperate attempt at death of the other. Their beaks pecked and their talons swiped and thrashed. Caws and screeches cut through the air. Chester struggled to hold on as the two birds of prey fell fighting towards the ground. Their packs and scratches intruded on Chester's hold of the owl.
A war cry of determination cut through the battle and the flash of a silver axe cutting through the air broke the stalemate. The dwarf's axe knocked the black bird from the battle and it cawed with a dying pain. The owl flapped its wings and found a center; Chester comforted in the re-acquaintance with the horizon.
Talo flew in swiftly and landed on the branch beside Chester, “That's all of them.” He calmly proclaimed. “That's all of them!” The latter was victoriously proclaimed.
Chester looked around the battle scene as his owl landed on the same branch as Talo's hawk. A deer featuring an undercarriage filled with two arrogantly gazing elves pounced into the area.
“Will'n we be stayin' here all day'then?” O'Malley called out from the carriage under the deer.
“Right, right, right...” O'Charles confirmed.
Chester looked at Talo and breathed a sigh of completion.
Talo grinned because there was little else he could do.
“Yes,” Chester replied as the Pixie landed on the branch beside him. The Dwarf, Vin, walked up beside him and sheathed his axe. The Gnome sat smiling like a fool on his shoulder.
“On to the Sasquatch!” Chester finished. His tone was that of a victorious warrior. Talo recognized this and quickly deducted that Chester had done little to lead or even contribute to their recent battle.
Chester looked at Talo for reassurance but received none.
“On to the Sasquatch then!” Chester forced.
To Be Continued.......................
There are writings that artfully describe the reasons behind the Grunts' malice and pure hatred for the Woodlings. I'll do my best to explain, but Gabe Schillman's historical records titled: 'Gabriel and the Woodlings' (Available on Amazon.com) would clear it right up for you.
There are creatures in this world that are born as mortal enemies. Snakes and rats have never truly enjoyed each others company, frogs and flies, birds and worms... On a lesser scale- cats and dogs. There is no logical explanation as to the origins of such feuds; survival would explain it to some degree, though the very beginnings escape us all.
Traditionally, the Woodlings are peace-loving creatures that flee in the face of danger, cower at the threat of attack, and surrender in the case of defeat. With very few exceptions, Chester being one of them, Woodlings are not known for being overly adventurous. They are known for their incredibly overbearing hospitality, their unconditional love, their supremacy in regards to carpentry, and their unique ability to be the most likeable creatures in the forest.
This might seem the best of traits, however, these traits just happen to be everything that the Grunts despise about the Woodlings. From the depths of their soul they hate the Woodlings along with any and all who align themselves (even tepidly) with the Woodlings.
The Grunts are ruled by a king that, lacking in any creative efforts, the Grunts call 'King'. Every king that the Grunts have ever had was called 'King'. Until King calls a truce with the Woodlings, the killing will continue, the destruction will commence, and the chaos will ensue.
As Chester free fell on the back of his Barn Owl toward the lush green forest below, he could see the battle ensuing. The green and brown blur of foliage flashed past him and his eyes squint to the rushing air of the fall. He leaned into the force and held tightly to the fine feathers of the owl's neck.
Chester watched as Talo's hawk swooped in from the side and picked up a Grunt that had been shooting arrows at the defending alliance. The hawk dug its claws into the Grunt and it erupted into a shower of glittery dust that quickly whisked away in the wind of the flight. Without slowing its pace, the hawk tucked and dived, slicing through another surprised Grunt into a cloud of glittery dust.
Chester banked to the right on his owl and was only doubtingly aware of the fact that his owl had clawed a Grunt as the remnants of the Grunt dusted behind. As a true Woodling, Chester was both excited and saddened.
Arrows and acorns were hurled through the air in mass. It would seem safe to assume, that the Dwarf, Vin, would be a dominating force against the Grunts, however, Vin struggled against a barrage of tiny arrows; the equivalent of tens of bee stings. Suddenly, the gnome disappeared into an unknown dimension from the Dwarf's shoulder. To Chester's surprise, the Grunts that were firing arrows at the Dwarf were suddenly falling to the ground as the branch they were standing on became as old as time itself. The Gnome returned to the Dwarf's shoulder, smiling like a fool of course.
“Ha!” Chester chuckled.
The Pixie, Faye, had taken to physically assaulting the Grunts in a hand to hand way. She later admitted that she derived some amount of weird pleasure in seeing eye to eye as the Grunts vanished into shimmering dust clouds. The Grunts seemed unaware, unconcerned, and unforgiving of their immanent death the moment before. Like squishing a mosquito.
Faye grabbed a Grunt and lifted it high into the air with the speed of a thought. The Grunt's growl trailed in the air and 'popped' with a sudden eruption of a cascading shimmer. Faye lost no momentum as she moved on to the next Grunt. The Grunt desperately fired another arrow that careened off course as Faye grabbed the Grunt by the neck and threw it into the trunk of a tree; erupting into a cloud. She clearly had no patience for the attacking Grunts.
“And what'd you think would happ'n then?” O'Malley asked as he calmly exited the carriage. He secured his top hat and straightened his jacket as he stepped onto the fallen tree. A Grunt pointed his drawn arrow at the carefree Elf (the elf that should be called a 'Leprechaun' but in these parts is known as an 'Elf'). A tiny arrow lodged into the rich oak trim of the carriage as he spoke; seemingly unconcerned by the attacker.
“If'n you're think'n you could even possibly not hit me, but perhaps you might- do'ya think maybe there'n might be tha man behin' you that might be think'n else then?”
The Grunt momentarily lowered his bow in a daze of confusion. His face scrunched in a scramble to make sense of what the casually calm Elf had just said. The Grunt, having deciphered a fragment of the proclamation, quickly looked behind him. When his gaze returned, O'Charles was quickly upon him with a stern strike of his cane. The confused Grunt vanished into a cloud. Ha!
“That's right, that's right, that's right.” O'Charles frankly proclaimed.
The Dwarf, Vin, swung his axe smoothly at a branch of a dozen Grunts. Their bodies and bows were sent flailing through the air. Glittering dust rained down where they had been.
Chester on the owl banked hard left and the force of the turn caused him to clutch harder and duck lower. His eyes watered from the force of the flight. His Owl picked up another arrow firing Grunt and threw it into the hard trunk of a tree. Without slowing its pace of flight, the owl tucked and dived, colliding with a black bird ally of the Grunts.
The two birds clawed at each other in a violent and desperate attempt at death of the other. Their beaks pecked and their talons swiped and thrashed. Caws and screeches cut through the air. Chester struggled to hold on as the two birds of prey fell fighting towards the ground. Their packs and scratches intruded on Chester's hold of the owl.
A war cry of determination cut through the battle and the flash of a silver axe cutting through the air broke the stalemate. The dwarf's axe knocked the black bird from the battle and it cawed with a dying pain. The owl flapped its wings and found a center; Chester comforted in the re-acquaintance with the horizon.
Talo flew in swiftly and landed on the branch beside Chester, “That's all of them.” He calmly proclaimed. “That's all of them!” The latter was victoriously proclaimed.
Chester looked around the battle scene as his owl landed on the same branch as Talo's hawk. A deer featuring an undercarriage filled with two arrogantly gazing elves pounced into the area.
“Will'n we be stayin' here all day'then?” O'Malley called out from the carriage under the deer.
“Right, right, right...” O'Charles confirmed.
Chester looked at Talo and breathed a sigh of completion.
Talo grinned because there was little else he could do.
“Yes,” Chester replied as the Pixie landed on the branch beside him. The Dwarf, Vin, walked up beside him and sheathed his axe. The Gnome sat smiling like a fool on his shoulder.
“On to the Sasquatch!” Chester finished. His tone was that of a victorious warrior. Talo recognized this and quickly deducted that Chester had done little to lead or even contribute to their recent battle.
Chester looked at Talo for reassurance but received none.
“On to the Sasquatch then!” Chester forced.
To Be Continued.......................