A quick summary of the story so far-
So here they are; the group of seven adventurers on a hired quest to stop the legendarily ornery, massive, not to mention- extremely deadly, and territorial Sasquatch. It seems an odd group to be considered for such an important mission; saving a race of Fairies from extinction from the aforementioned beast seems a better fit for an army of Dwarves. Just the same, here they are- A Dwarf, two Elves (you might recognize them as Leprechauns), two peace natured Woodlings, a Pixie, and a happy-go-lucky Gnome. Sasquatch has a weakness for the rare and shiny. With the obsessive drive of a hoarder and the protective nature of a five year old girls’ father, he has taken to stealing the Soul Stones of the Fairies and upon possession, would kill to defend them. The issue, of course, is that as the stones are taken out of the Fairy realm, the fairies that are symbiotically attached by the soul to these stones fall dead. The Fairies had until recently hidden these stones, knowing all too well that if and when the Sasquatch ever discovered even one Soul Stone, he would not stop until he acquired them all. Sadly, the Sasquatch has discovered the stones’ existence and as predicted, has begun pillaging Fairy kingdoms in search for more stones. Thousands of Fairies have since fallen dead, seemingly at random as no Fairy is certain which stone is attached to them. When the last stone is removed from the Fairy realm, the fairies will be no more. Having only begun their journey to the Sasquatch’s den, honestly aimless and without a real plan as to how they will successfully stop the beast, the heroes have already encountered a group of Grunts; the mortal enemy of the Woodlings. No problem, as the adventurers seized the moment to showcase their unique skillsets. Our story continues- In the hollow of a stump on the damp moss covered floor, Chester looked nervously up at the massive Dwarf who was expressionless as he peered down over the jagged, finger-like side walls of the stump. His large black beard and leather-like skin was gruff and damaged from a life of adventure. "He’s so big and… dangerous." Chester shivered involuntarily and returned back to the conversations of the group. Faye inserted herself at the head of the talks with the casual obliviousness to any sort of democracy. Her slender frame and petite build were a mere diversion from her over sized attitude and muscled up confidence. “Before we go another step further, oh fearless leader,” she said, pointing an assertive finger at Chester, “We need to know exactly what we’re going to be doing! I was under the impression- having picked up on what Soul Superior was getting at, that we were simply going to kill the Sasquatch!” In fact, it was never directly requested that the Sasquatch be ‘killed’, but you could argue that it was hinted at. True, all had interpreted the queen Fairy as they saw convenient. Killing a Sasquatch, oddly enough, seemed more plausible than convincing it to give up its natural desires of stone collecting. “Now, we’re supposed to just talk to it; ask it kindly to please stop!?” Faye continued. She crossed her arms but not before waving a dismissive irritated hand at Chester. Chester appeared slightly embarrassed as it became abundantly clear that he was a leading minority. However, his nature was what it was. Woodlings don’t kill, never had, and probably never will. You couldn’t change the nature of a Woodling anymore than you could change the nature of the Sasquatch. As Chester was the decided leader of the alliance, this paradox seemed a tremendous obstacle. “No…” Chester replied, a hint of aimlessness in his voice. “Look, I’m not saying that we simply talk- I’m pretty sure we can’t do that… Talking to a Sasquatch is pointless, I’m quite aware.” Chester widened his eyes very matter-of-factly as he gained momentum with his rebuttal. “No, I’m not saying that. Remember, I’ve seen the Sasquatch face to face, I’ve been in his den, and I barely survived it.” There it was, the one card Chester could play that would give him the credibility he needed to lead. The group had grumblings of coming to terms with the point. The Elves nodded superiorly and even mumbled a “That’s right…” “What the heck are you smiling at!?” Faye spontaneously burst out. The Gnome was apparently irritating her with his eternal grin. The Gnome, Higgins, smiled bigger and shrugged his rounded shoulders, “Aigh, that’s a good idea, that is!” Higgins said with the convincing tone of a loving mother. “What are you talking about!?” She asked rhetorically; not expecting anything logical in response. Faye suspected that the Gnome had spent far too much time traversing dimensions and had somehow lost some amount of brain function along the way. The thunderous voice of the Dwarf reverberated down from above, “Hey!” was all he said. The message was delivered as a warning to lay off his friend the Gnome, and the message was received respectfully. “Sorry.” Faye reluctantly offered. “Aigh, yes, I agree with her…” The Gnome said as he flexed his suspenders and smiled up at the Dwarf. The dwarf subtly quieted the Gnome with a shushing finger to his mouth and a gentle shake of the head as good friend would do in such situations. The Gnome continued to smile. Chester looked up at the Dwarf concernedly aware of his massiveness and then back to the group. “Resources!” He blurted out. “Resources! We need to pool our resources and figure this out!” Taking control now, as an infant taking its first few steps, Chester took the conversation as the leader. “We’re not going to kill the Sasquatch, I’ll have none of that! We will figure this out because we’re all smarter than killing a fellow of the forest for simply doing what’s in its nature to do!” At the mention of “smarter” the elves perked up. O’Malley, adjusting his top hat and smoothing his green quality hemmed jacket, spoke up- “I knew it'd becom’n to this then. Tha lot of ya com’n to us for a brilliant idea? Aigh, could spot that com’n from a distance!” “Aigh, that’s right…” “Okay, yes, you’re right.” Chester conceded. “We’ll be need’n a moment then.” O’Malley said as he and O’Charles exited the hollowed stump via a warped and blackened knot hole. The Dwarf stepped aside as a deer curiously peered down at the group from over the brim of the hollowed stump. The sound of O’Malley and O’Charles entering the underbelly carriage could be heard along with the faint and arrogant bragging’s of “…Aigh, I knew they’d be rely’n on’re intellect, then.” “That’s right…” “We’ll just wait here then.” Faye called out facetiously as she sat down on a mushroom head, crossed her legs, and leaned back impatiently. “And what the heck are you staring at!” Faye said to Chester when she noticed him staring love-struck at her. Momentarily unable to adjust his gaze, Chester finally snapped out of his love-trance and quickly looked away. “Hmm? Oh, nothing.” He said with flushed cheeks and embarrassment in his movements. Chester looked up at the Dwarf that was now looking around the forest purposelessly with his huge hands casually resting on the walls of the stump. He looked bored. Chester shivered and Talo laughed. It seemed like several hours before the elves returned. The Gnome had taken to irritating the Pixie further by smiling and staring at her for most of the time. She tried to ignore him, but it clearly wasn't working. Occasionally she would snap and yell "STOP LOOKING AT ME!" and Chester would intervene as she attacked. The Gnome would flex his suspenders and agree with her. Faye was ready to write off the Gnome as entirely useless until he did a very special thing for her: Upon grumbling that she was getting hungry, the Gnome, Higgins, vanished into another dimension or time or wherever he went to and a moment later, the hollowed stump had grown an impressive grape vine weighted by meaty grape clusters. Higgins appeared and continued smiling like a fool. When the elves walked in, Vin the Dwarf announced their return "Welcome back." His voice startled Chester and Chester did his best to conceal this, though anyone looking would have seen him shiver. Chester walked over to the Elves and excitedly asked, "Well?" He clasped his hands together in anticipation of their plan. O'Malley rolled his eyes in a show of superior intellect. O'Charles- his ill postured stance against his cane doing its best to be taller and better than Chester, huffed "Hmmph, Aigh, that's right..." To this typical display of arrogance and assumed superiority, Chester's face showed confused agitation. "Well!?" "Right, there'cn be only one way to be go'n 'bout this then," O'Malley explained as he again straightened his hat and smoothed his jacket- even going so far as to check the time on his gold chained pocket watch in mid-scentence and then nodding modestly to O'Charles who returned the nod confidingly. "After care'flee consit'dren all alternatives, we've arrived at this..." Pause. The Pixie stood and wiped her sticky-from-the-grapes hands on her magical water color dress and walked closer so as to hear the plan. "I luv what'n yuv done withtha the place then." O'Malley said off topic as he casually looked around at the newly grown grape vines that wrapped around the interior of the hollowed stump. The Gnome smiled. "WELL!?" Faye said, agitated. Startled by her assertiveness, O'Malley took a deep insulted breath and said, "Right. There'cn be only this: We'll have'ta be kill'n the Sasquatch." "Aigh, That's right, that's right..." O'Charles confirmed. Faye nodded having just been confirmed in her original expectations of the mission. Chester said nothing but looked down in disappointment. He sighed a deep frustrated sigh. "YOU WERE SUPPOSE TO THINK OF ANOTHER WAY!" He finally erupted. "Right! There'nt any other way ya daft fool!" O'Malley replied, insulted by the questioning of his deduction. Chester looked at Talo and received a sympathetic shrug. He knew and Chester knew, the very nature of the Woodlings wouldn't allow them to kill the Sasquatch. Chester stood proud as a thought entered his mind; a solution- a possible solution. "Well" He said confidently. "If we're going to kill a creature of the forest that has done us no wrong..." "He busted you up pretty good..." Faye interrupted. Chester ignored this and continued- "If we're going to kill the Sasquatch, we'll need the blessing of the Nymph." A collective fearful gasp came over the group. Even Vin, the Dwarf, gasped. "Are you crazy!" Chester looked up at the giant Dwarf timidly and shuttered. Chester quickly regained his composure. "If she allows it, we'll... we'll kill the Sasquatch. If not, we'll have to find another way to stop him." It could be called 'stalling' or 'procrastinating' the inevitable. Either way, Chester had bought some time to think of another way. He breathed a deep worried breath and thought to himself- Let's just hope the Nymph doesn't kill us first!" To Be Continued................ 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....................... The Dwarf was a giant in comparison to most creatures of the forest. Strong, sculpted and agile, the Dwarf embodied the phrase “battle ready”. He carried an axe with the casualness of a woman and her purse; the same implied power to inflict harm on a completely different level than simple bodily injury. His thick beard and scraggly hair was black and logical against his sun baked brown skin. Clearly, the dwarf lived for adventure in the forest.
The Dwarf dressed in the skins of beasts that it had killed. As Chester kept his suspecting eyes on the Dwarf, he tried to identify the fallen creatures by the fur patterns that dotted the Dwarf’s attire. Chester often wondered if he indeed had known any of the creatures the Dwarf was now wearing. He was certain that the Dwarf’s creature hat looked familiar; the withering animal face looked like an old raccoon friend from the southern forest back home. Just the same, Vin, as the Dwarf was called, was an ally and crucial member of the alliance. His size, though significantly smaller than the Sasquatch, would be important to the success of this particular mission. That is to say, Chester was sure that that was the case- if he had any idea what the mission entailed, that is. Never had a Woodling been charged with saving anyone other than its own tail, let alone an entire race of magical and long believed extinct fairies. Never had a Woodling been in charge of leading a band of mythical creatures on a quest of any kind. In fact, Chester and Talo seemed the most undeserving, unqualified, and the most unlikely of heroes out of the entire group. Chester rode on the back of an unfamiliar bird he had called down at random. I believe she said her name was ‘Vella’. Vella was a barn owl and there had been a little reluctance to mount her as Chester hesitated to trust owls occasionally. Though, he admitted now, Vella seemed entirely capable and trustworthy. Her flight was smoother than the Jay, Keegan, and Vella seemed to respond to commands that Chester simply thought; a very convenient trait when flying a bird. Chester and Vella flew in surveying circles, never letting the group out of sight. The Dwarf ran through the forest with the speed and agility of a deer and the casual ignorance to the laws of gravity like that of a squirrel. The dwarf flipped off and over fallen trees with seamless fluidity and effortlessness; landing with cat-like silence in a full on charge through the undergrowth. The ever-smiling gnome had found an unlikely friend in the Dwarf and their fondness for each other grew stronger with each magical interference. That is to say- the Gnome had the unique ability to pass into other dimensions and make rapid minor changes that could either make your day harder (or more deadly), or assist you with convenient surprises. In the case of the Gnome and the Dwarf, it was the latter. Traversing the forest had never been more fun when trees mysteriously fell over creeks in front of you, large boulders randomly cleared paths through the thickest undergrowth, and steep rises collapsed into manageable inclines. The Gnome sat uncompromisingly happy on the shoulder of the dwarf and only vanished momentarily to assist in the travel of the Dwarf. A partnership within the alliance was formed. The elves chose a more refined means of travel. You could argue that their decided means of travel was unnecessarily luxurious and far too casual for the urgent mission they were now on. A custom carriage strapped to the underbelly of dear seemed somehow demeaning to the deer (though the deer seemed emotionally unaffected). The carriage was small but managed to feature two “thinking chairs” and a small table where sat a game that was designed to reassure intelligent people of their superiority and shame the lesser. Many of the forest’s biggest issues had been solved in this underbelly carriage. Sadly, O’Malley and O’Charles rarely shared such solutions. The walls of the carriage were papered in bleached white with gold trim accented by marble tiled floor. Large paintings of seemingly important historical figures dressed in fancy green suits hung securely on the walls. O’Malley and O’Charles sipped tea arrogantly as the deer gracefully bound through the forest. The Pixy, Faye, flew through the woods with irritated stealth. Her attire appeared painted; a mosaic of purple swirls and starbursts of pink and gold that mysteriously fluttered in the wind of her flight. The pixy had the flight pattern of a hummingbird; quick, jerky, and rapid, yet somehow smooth, fluid, and graceful. Chester was always stunned and blushed when Faye would suddenly appear flying alongside him. She would always sigh a sigh of doubt, disappointment, and irritation, before quickly zipping away leaving an echo of an eye roll as she departed. To Chester, she may as well have blown him a kiss. Talo flew on a small hawk beside Chester. “Well,” Talo asked after a long awkward silence, “I have to believe that you took this mission on because you havea perfectly thought out plan. Right?” There was a very justifiably disdainful tone to the question. May as well come clean, “No, not really.” Chester admitted. His barn owl banked around a large white pine gracefully. Chester looked down at the forest floor as he was momentarily sideways. He caught a glimpse of the Dwarf flipping off the launching end of a teetered tree as another tree magically fell on the other end, randomly launching him through the air. The Owl leveled out and Talo was back at Chester’s side. “No!?” Talo asked irritably. “No! No plan!? We’re just flying to our deaths then? Seven blind followers and the brave, brainless, plan-less, leader- Chester.” Talo shook his head in disgust. “I was thinking we could, I don’t know… fool him- the Sasquatch, into thinking he’s got all the stones. Maybe something like that?” Chester threw it out there. It was something. Talo, riding on the back of a small hawk beside Chester on the owl; Talo, with is big ears sort of fluttering in the wind, his big eyes wide and scared. “Fool a Sasquatch!? That’s your plan?” The words nearly escaped Talo’s mouth in full before the battle cry of the Dwarf cut through the forest from below. The pixy suddenly appeared between Chester and Talo. “Grunts.” She said urgently, before flying away as quickly as she had appeared. Grunts were the mortal enemy of the Woodlings. Wicked creatures that lived to kill Woodlings and any creature of the forest that dared align with the Woodlings. Grunts were smallish creatures that ran on all fours when they wished, and upright when it was called for. Grunts looked like mutated Woodlings; long hairless ears, sharp jagged teeth, spiked tails, and sharp claws. Talo looked worriedly at Chester. Chester looked down to the forest floor as the brown flash of a chauffeuring deer pounced toward the sounds of the early stages of a battle. Another shout from the Dwarf followed by a chorus of blood curdling Grunt screams and growls. Chester looked at Talo and fought back an adventurous smile. Talo shook his head and dived his hawk toward the ensuing battle below. Chester laughed victoriously as his owl tucked its wings and descended…. To Be Continued……………. The Elves turned out to be the oddest pair Chester and Talo had ever met, though they were clearly very intelligent. One might say that they were entirely too intelligent and Chester sensed that their superior intellect could invite issue later on. For now, the Elves were manageable if you’re capable of ignoring their condescending sighs and their belittling eye-rolls.
O’Malley was the taller of the two; stout and proper. O’Malley smoked a long thin pipe that swooped down low to an upturned bell. A substance unknown smoldered in the pipe; thin wispy smoke slithered around him like a ghost snake. O’Malley spoke with the thick accent unknown which is common of Elves and dressed in the traditional tailored elfish suit complete with top-hat and split tail coat. He carried his barrel chest high and proud. “Rubbish.” O’Malley proclaimed often, “Absolute bloody rubbish! I suppose you’d be thinking we’re’n jus’ gonna march n’there’n talk to im then? Ask’im to kindly stop yer plunderin’?” This was a typical response from O’Malley on any suggestion, idea, or proposal made by anyone other than O’Malley. O’Malley’s better half, O’Charles, was only slightly less a challenge to tolerate. O’Charles stood a little hunched and with a look of incurable orneriness. His clothing was perfectly trimmed, but O’Charles preferred the traditional elfish attire and sported a fanfold red kilt, knee high beige tasseled socks, and a dark green oversized beret. O’Charles’ bright orange side-burns dipped low before joining his thick bushy mustache; the pale skin of his chin featured red stubble. O’Charles really didn’t say much, but had developed the unique ability of making you feel inferior without saying a word. O’Charles would usually only confirm something O’Malley said with a- “Aigh, Ya! That’s right, that’s right, that’s right.” The Gnome was by far Chester’s favorite. He was a jolly fat man with a bushy white beard and drooping hat. His persistent smile never ceased; thumb flexing his suspenders and agreeing with optimism. His name was Higgins- quite possibly the most likeable creature on the planet. Higgins. Higgins was also one of the most dangerous creatures on the planet. Don’t let his jolly appearance fool you. It is true, these magical creatures are not prone to violence and frown on direct retaliation, but the Gnome has figured out a way around direct retaliation. The Gnome has developed the unique ability to pass into multiple dimensions and quickly make minor adjustments that indirectly effect an adversary in the present. Higgins generally agreed with anything anyone said, suggested, or implied. Always with a reassuring “Aigh! That there is an Idea! A good idea, if I do say so!” As for the Pixie; Confident, fearfully capable, intimidatingly brave, ferociously courageous, and untameably impatient. It could be said that this was the first time Chester fell in love, but that would be rumor and we’re above that. Observably, Chester appeared love-struck and completely surrendered when in the proximity of the Pixie. Her name was Faye and she did not feel the same about Chester. “Can we PLEASE come to a decision!?” Faye yelled above the squabbling group. “Aigh, Ya, That’s right, that’s…” “Aigh! That there…” “And I suppose…” “…right, that’s right.” “…a good idea…” “Please!...” The murmur of catch phrases was abruptly cut off by the boom of the Dwarf voice casting his vote. It is important to note that Elves, Woodlings, Fairies, and Pixies are roughly the same tiny size and anything larger than they are typically considered a threat. The Dwarf was the largest ally the fairy kingdom had; smaller than most humans, though significantly larger than most inhabitants of the forest. Known for his tremendous strength and unfettered loyalty. The dwarf was by far the giant and the muscle of the group; the only in the Alliance to carry a weapon- an axe. His name is Vin… Not the axe, the Dwarf. The Dwarf’s name is Vin. The name of his axe is unknown. “I say we kill it! It’s the only way to stop it!” Something about the casualness of Vin’s thunderous and surprisingly callous proposal sent chills up Chester’s spine. The giant dwarf secretly terrified Chester. “Aigh, Ya! That’s right, that’s right, that’s right.” “I guess you’d be havin us walk in there like we’re’nt skeerd and ask’im to lie down’n die then?” Said O’Malley. Chester grimaced uncomprehendingly at this. “Aigh, ya! That’s right, that’s right…” “Aigh! That there is an Idea! A good idea, if I do say so!” Chester shrugged confusingly at this and replied- “What’s a good idea!? What’s right… who?” Chester looked concernedly up at the dwarf who looked mildly agitated. “QUIET!” Faye, the pixie, screamed out. “The Woodling makes the call. Like it or hate it, that’s the rule.” “Aigh, ya! That’s right…” Faye and the rest of the group looked questioningly (and doubtingly) at Chester. Chester looked at Talo and received an under-the-breath scold and irritated shake of the head in return. A Woodling, as it turns out, is not the best creature to ask a yes vote in regards to capital punishment. “Aigh! D’we kill it?” O’Malley asked, “Or d’we nay!?” “Aigh, that’s right, that’s ri…” O’Charles confirmed. Chester took a deep breath and considered what he was being asked- Do we kill the Sasquatch, and is there any other way? Truly, there seemed no other way. Now that the Sasquatch knows of the stones, he will not stop until they’re piled in his den. There was no other way. But asking a Woodling for a permission for violence was unfair and outcome predictable. “NO!” Chester said defiantly departed from the consensus opinion. “No. We’ll find another way. Surely, the beast can be outsmarted? Don’t you agree?” Chester pleaded desperately. “We’re smarter than this! We’re smarter than killing a beast for doing what is in its nature to do! Right?” The Alliance members let out a collective sigh of retreat from their individual opinions. Good decision, bad decision; it was the Woodling’s decision to make. That was the rule that the fairies stipulated as Chester had been the only creature to have ever successfully recovered a Soul-Stone. Chester accepted the responsibility of “leader” with a casual ignorance of what it meant to be the “leader”. To Be Continued…………… “The fairy realm exists by the magic of five kingdoms.” The Queen of Fairies known as 'Soul-Superior', began. She continued- “The magic that sustains these kingdoms and the fairies that call it home, is an ancient magic passed down from generation to generation in the safe keeping of 'Soul-Stones'. I believe you know them as 'Fairalite'.”
“These Soul-Stones are thought to contain the souls of the first fairies in existence. Fairies are symbiotically connected with a soul stone as long as that stone is in the possession of the fairies. But as soon as that stone is in the possession of an outsider, the fairy will die.” “Fairies never know which stone they are attached to until the stone is taken out of the fairy realm; until the fairy at random falls dead.” Upon hearing this, Chester thought back to the den of the Sasquatch. There, there had been thousands of these magical stones carelessly sorted in large piles on the table. The thousands of stones now represented thousands of dead fairies; lives that had been effortlessly discarded at the hands of a stone collector. Chester was sadly aware that he carried a dead soul in the satchel at his side. Soul-Superior continued- “For thousands of years, these stones have remained hidden in the five fairy kingdoms. Each kingdom was responsible for the safe-keeping of one thousand stones each.” “There are only two creatures that have the ability to pass within the fairy realm without invitation, and one of those creatures is the Sasquatch.” The fairy queen floated casually with her eyes unblinkingly fixed on the two stunned Woodlings as she spoke. “A Sasquatch is inherently obsessive about rare and precious stones and the fairies have known this to be true for thousands of years.” Soul-Superior continued, “That is why the fairies have kept the Soul-Stones a secret from the Sasquatch; because if he ever knew of the stones, he would not stop seeking them until he collected them all. The fairy kingdom would be destroyed forever.” A collective gasp came over the two Woodlings upon hearing this; suddenly realizing the graveness of the presence of the Soul-Stones in the Sasquatch's den. It meant that the worst had indeed happened- the Sasquatch had found the stones and was now being driven by an obsessive compulsion to collect the rarest of stones. The Fairy kingdom was in the worst kind of trouble. "What can we do?" Chester proudly interrupted. Talo looked at Chester knowingly. 'This is the part where Chester offers up our services without ever considering if it's something I'm even willing to volunteer for'- Talo thought to himself as he played out the predictable reaction of Chester in his mind. Of course, Talo was acutely aware of how Chester's mind worked when it came to adventure. Without even letting the Queen Fairy finish, Chester was offering up his services. 'A new record' Talo thought to himself. The Queen fairy, Soul-Superior motioned a soft hand toward Chester's satchel, "You were brave beyond the capacity of a fairy; you recovered a stone. This has never been accomplished before as fairies are not known for their bravery, nor their desire for adventure outside the fairy realm." "The Sasquatch has found two of the five fairy realms and even now searches in the general area of a third. It is only a matter of time before he finds it and a thousand more fairies will die. He will not stop until he has found all of the stones." "I don't see how we fit in, so, thank you, but we'll be on our way." Talo said timidly awkward. He grabbed Chester's arm and attempted to persuade the young adventurer away from obvious conclusion of the Q & A session. Chester pulled free and asked again, "What can we do!?" "We need you to stop the Sasquatch and save the Fairy Realm." Soul-Superior stated bluntly. "There is no stopping the Sasquatch!" Talo protested desperately, "So, good luck to you all, but we'll be on our way now..." Chester stood firm and sported a sly suspecting grin. "You want us to stop the Sasquatch? And How exactly would we do that? You'd have to ki..." "How you stop the Sasquatch is up to you." The fairy queen interrupted. "We ask only for your bravery, and offer any assistance you might require. A payment of priceless proportions will be awarded as well." Chester looked at Talo, smiled convincingly, and nodded. "YES!" he mouthed. Talo shook his head emphatically opposite. "No!" He reiterated out loud. "We would need an army!" "We shall provide you assistance form those whom have pledged to protect the fairy realm; The Alliance." Upon saying this, the doors to the hall opened and in walked a small group of varying mythical creatures. As the characters walked casually across the floor toward Chester and Talo, Chester classified them: -Two Elves. Dressed in classic Elvish green clothing, perfectly tailored, accented by pale skin and curly red hair and beard. Slightly larger than a Woodling. -A gnome. Red hat and pointed shoes. As is defining of gnomes, the bushy white beard stood out against the bright blue shirt. Slightly smaller than a Woodling. - And female warrior of what appeared to be Pixian decent. Pixies were known for their short tempers and fighting spirit. This could be interesting. "That's it?" Talo asked condesendingly, "Six of the smallest creatures in the forest are gonna take down a Sasquatch?" The ground shook and a large eye highlighted by a bushy eyebrow with hairs as long as a Woodling is tall. With a voice like the feeling of thunder rumbled through the wall, "Seven." Talo gasped with shock and swallowed a knot in his throat. "Is...is that a dwarve?" He asked in disbelief. Chester spoke up happily, basking in the excitement of yet another adventure and for the worthy purpose of saving an entire magical race, "Seven! Yes, the seven of us will help you Soul-Supperior!" Chester put his arm around his reluctant fellow adventurer, pulled him in for a reassuring playful hug, and Laughed, "We will stop the Sasquatch!" To Be Continued................. Before we travel further into the fairy realm and discover the tremendous adventure ahead-
Chester could be described as a slender young Woodling dressed in the traditional garments of the Woodling fashions. Earth tones in high quality fabrics artfully sewn together; loose fitting leaf green pants and a custom tailored forest brown tunic that bares the proud emblem reserved for adventurers and scouts (A further description of said emblem will be given at another time). The finely crafted mole-skin satchel drapes around his neck, crosses his chest, and hangs comfortably at his side. As Chester is a Woodling, his long and fine haired pointed brown ears are key features of his appearance. It’s common among the Woodlings to have a certain unspoken social respect for Woodlings with longer ears than “normal”- precise reasons unknown. Chester’s ears were slightly longer than normal- for what it’s worth. They allow him to hear danger at a distance and since Woodlings typically live by hiding, perhaps longer ears permit for the survival of the species; natural selection, as it were. A Woodling’s eyes are as soft as puppy’s when it suddenly realizes it is in trouble and knows no other way to ask forgiveness than to look entirely too likeable. That is to say that a Woodling’s eyes are slightly larger than proportion calls for, yet they are glossy and admirable and not very threatening at all. Chester’s eyes are brown (as are most Woddlings’) and full of wonder and curiousness. Talo could be described in much of the same way; his clothing nearly identical, yet there is just something that is not… perfect. In fact, Talo appears somewhat unconcerned or perhaps oblivious to the minor touches that make fashion, fashion. “Carefree” is not the word. Indifferent. That’s it. Talo is slightly shorter than Chester and indifferent. I describe these two young Woodlings now so as to emphasize how out of place they are; how much they stand out in the company of elves and fairies. For as well dressed as Chester could be said to be, or as indifferently adorned as Talo is, the elves know no such mediocrity. Their clothing is absolutely immaculate and customized to the every inconstancy of their frames. Their pants are stylishly trimmed, and measured to within a fraction of an inch of perfection. Their collard button-up shirts are perfectly pressed beneath V-necked vests accented by gold chained watches in the pockets of. Split tailed jackets and top hats are the clear fashion of the day, and are only out-classed by spit-polished black shoes that glisten brightly and feature square buckle tops. The color theme is leaf green and white- overly emphasized by the elves’ bright red hair and beards. Of the fairies, one could only say that they are beauty materialized. It has been said that true beauty radiates from somewhere inside the soul of a kind being. That can be easily verified when you look upon a fairy. All of the fairies carry themselves eloquently yet some are skinny (but certainly not all), some tall and some short- all are beautiful beyond description. Adorned in soft pastel colored dresses made from fabrics unknown. As the two Woodlings walked briskly through the Earthen Realm of the Fairies, following after the ever so forgiving and patient fairy who had just recently introduced herself as being called “Fair-May”, They marveled at the kingdom and its’ beautiful structures. Moving quickly along the intricately laid creek stone path and up a grand flared staircase that appeared meticulously assembled from various polished stones, they arrived at a palace that embodied all of the words in the category of grandeur. That is to say, it was beautiful beyond description. Large carved wooden doors framed by the most exotic of forest woods. The building’s façade was the oily beauty of Birch bark perfectly applied and most logical. Overlaid and accenting were twisting vines and sculpted figurines that flowed into the theme of forestry and the animals that call it home. It was magnificent. All of the structures, with no exception, seemed a part of the natural world and unopposed by it. The fairy motioned the doors open with grace absolute and made her way inside, followed by the two Woodlings in awe. The doors closed quietly and magically behind them unaided by the physical. The room was long and narrow with all of the earthy craftsmanship as the rest of the kingdom. Even the dirt floor seemed somehow more polished than even the cleanest sandy river bottom. A magical soft glow from an omnipresent light gave the room (and the entire fairy kingdom) an opinion of no shadows. At the end of the room floated a fairy that radiated authority and superiority like none other. She was equally as beautiful and eloquent as all fairies are, yet she was much older and refined with long gray hair in a loose braid wrapped gracefully around her like a forest vine; a crown of flower pedals atop her head. She was surrounded by clearly loyal subjects that signaled respect and reverence in their every movement and gesture. Chester and Talo exchanged glances of nervous anticipation as they walked toward the assumed queen of the fairies, absent their guide whom vanished without notice as their Woodling eyes had strayed. Chester’s hand patted his satchel that held the mythical stone called Fairalite as he walked cautiously closer. His heart raced, yet he felt somehow reassured that everything was as it was supposed to be. The Woodlings paused only a few steps from the Queen and glanced questioningly at each other. The queen’s eyes were closed and she seemed not to notice the two young Woodlings. “Are we supposed to bow?” Talo mouthed the words to Chester and Chester shrugged. As hesitant and unknowing as a child in church, the two Woodlings knelt down. Suddenly, the Queen’s eyes opened and she spoke. To Be Continued………………………. Fairies.
As was mentioned, they were believed long since extinct. Never had a Woodling laid eyes on the mythical creatures; never had the fabled earthen kingdoms or the remains of, been discovered. All that existed, until now, were fantastical bedtime stories told by the most theatrical and captivating story tellers in the Woodling realm. Children would listen; their unfettered imaginations carrying them into mystical worlds of magic spells and love unknown. The echoed stories of impossible feats of "bright magic" were the closest to religion that the Woodlings ever came. Versions of holidays where naive Woodling children anxiously awaited the night time arrival of the ancient fairy known as 'Shy-smile'; the humble and loving giver of children's toys that delivered presents while the children slept. It was always the height of betrayal when the children, one by one, discovered... Well, let's just say- sadly, children eventually lost sight of the magic of Shy's Day. Never-the-less, the traditions lived on, the stories were re-told, and fairies continued to exist in the very magical recesses of Woodling hearts. But no one had ever seen a fairy. Until now, of course. Chester and Talo quickly scurried down the meticulously carved staircase that wound around and around the tree until they reached the soft forest floor- leaping the last half of the the last wind of steps. Talo helped Chester to his feet and the pair anxiously hurried after the soft glow that was the fairy. To say that the fairy "flew" would be a slightly inaccurate description of the way in which the creature navigated the lower skies of the forest. As you or I would walk on the solid ground with all the confidence in the world in the laws of physics holding up their end of the deal, the fairy seemed oblivious to the concepts of gravity and solid objects. The air was simply another route to get where she was going and trees seemed as mere two-dimensional distractions; there seemed nothing 'in the way of' the fairy and she continued a graceful straight-line passage through the forest. What seemed a guaranteed collision toyed with the mind as the object indistinctly 'turned sideways' and allowed the fairy to pass. As Chester and Talo lacked such graces, following the fairy proved a task unto itself. Wide eyed and fumbling over the general debris of the forest, the two Woodling adventurers followed the levitating figure until she passed into a sleeve of existence where the Woodlings could not seem to follow. "Where'd she go!?" Chester asked- his tone was that of thrilled disappointment and disbelief wrestling over the last remaining shred of logical conclusion. Talo was silent; unable to conjure any sort of audible explanation as to where, why, who, or even when. The two Woodlings spun in circles looking for any sign of the fairy. Finally, Talo managed to locate his collective vocabulary and he quickly assembled a sentence- "She... She went into the pages." This may sound implausible and inaccurate, though that was exactly as it seemed. Suddenly, the fairy reappeared; slipping gracefully out of a slice of the world unseen. She nodded warmly at the young entranced Woodlings (their tails flicked happily behind them like dogs awaiting a treat) and provided an even warmer smile. Calmly, she 'walked' down to the two young Woodlings and stretched a hand out to each of them. Chester shot a quick glance at Talo and Talo returned it excitedly as they each reached out for a hand from the fairy. It would not be worth describing how the fairy's skin texture felt, or the peace the followed her embrace- there are not words in existence yet that could do such a description justice. What can be said, is that the moment the two young Woodlings clasped her hands, the world turned sideways and an entirely new an unseen dimension stood before them that was bustling with magical creatures of the fairy realm. Elves in bright colors tipped their hats as they walked by, chatting merrily amongst their groups. Fairies navigated the unnaturally illuminated skies with grace and nonchalant defiance of physics. Eloquent buildings and natural stone walkways seemed to melt into the natural world in the most logical ways. For the most part, there was an overwhelming peace and calmness in the air. Yet, there was also a shimmer of worry that could be felt. In a realm where most things magical exist symbiotically; an unbreakable dependance on oneness- the slightest fear or worry could be felt by all. Even Chester and Talo could feel it. "This way." The fairy stated softly. Chester looked at Talo with the absence of overwhelming excitement one might expect at a time such as this. Talo simply replied, "I feel it too." The two young Woodlings followed after the fairy through the earthen world kingdom of the fairy realm. To Be Continued........................ “The smaller you are, the longer your day…” Chester stated confidently.
“I disagree entirely!” Talo persisted, “A longer day is simply a boring day, that’s all. Size has no bearing on time.” Chester considered this for a moment, but simply smiled and shook his head in disagreement. “…I’m telling you- I woke up this morning only minutes ago and the moon is already risen.” At this, Talo wrinkled his forehead and let out an audible “Phssst” as he crossed his arms defiantly. “Your day is gone because you spent it almost dying.” Talo stated factually, “My day was long because I spent it worrying about you!” Chester smiled, “Well- agree to disagree then… I still say it’s because I’m taller than you.” Chester lay in a beautifully crafted wood framed bed in a softly lit recovery room. A fluffed quilt that had been artfully stitched lay across his lap. The fluff of the quilt between stitches was so, that it more resembled pillows sewed together at their edges- and the pillows that propped him up more closely resembled down filled bean bag chairs. Chester’s best friend and fellow adventurer, Talo, sat concernedly at his bedside and provided, if nothing else, a good debate and sleep deprivation. Earlier in the day, it was Talo who had insisted that Chester was a fool for even considering an explorative mission into the den of the Sasquatch. It was Chester who agreed; though he faulted Talo for not recognizing the patronizing undertones of said agreement. Talo then spent the day pacing the floors of the Poplar Palace awaiting Chester’s return or word of his death. When the hawk returned with the limp and seemingly lifeless body of Chester in the clutches of its talons, Talo was quick to assume the latter had happened. Much to Talo’s surprise, a tearful slap to Chester’s face quickly brought Chester back to an animated state. There was no apology requested nor given. After being bandaged and tucked into the entirely too comfortable bed, Chester spent the remainder of the evening trying to sleep, while Talo spent that time keeping Chester awake with ‘I told you so’ praises and ‘you’re such an idiot’ respects (at least, that’s how Chester interpreted it). After an hour or so of Talo’s persistent berating, Chester gave up on trying to sleep. Several days passed and in spite of Talo’s reluctance to allow sleep or a reprieve from conversation, Chester was well on his way to recovery. The young Woodlings were a long way from home in a forest known as the Manistee. They were exploring the long held rumors that a small surviving colony of elves and fairies (long believed extinct) lived somewhere in the White River Valley. These tales of mystical never-before seen races were never substantiated or confirmed, but confirming the insubstantiality of said tales was always fun (if you considered near death experiences with Sasquatch fun- which most do not). A small camp complete with kitchen, planning room, bedroom, and of course- a recovery room; fully stocked, had been constructed by a small team of craftsmen that had been flown in for a few days earlier in the week. As Woodlings are known as the finest of craftsmen in all of the world, the small camp was eloquent enough that it would make even the most respected and revered kings feel as though they need to update their palace. In other words: It was a very nice camp. Chester walked out onto the small balcony that overlooked the Poplar forest and sipped hot tea from a wooden cup. A morning mist crept about the trees and a refreshing crispness in the air fully finished off the best that a morning can offer. Chester breathed it in and closed his eyes. “I looked in your satchel.” Chester’s eyes snapped open and his momentary carefreeness vanished. “Yes.” He managed. “…And?” “Is it what I think it is?” Talo asked concernedly. Without turning to look at his inquiring friend for fear of further berating, Chester replied, “Yes.” There was only ever campfire stories and bedtime stories told about the mythical stones known as ‘Fairilite’; the fossilized remains of a fairy, or more specifically- the magic that made up a fairy condensed into a singular stone upon the death of a fairy- depending on which story you believed. “Well,” Talo forced the discussion further, “I assume you stole this from the Sasquatch, right?” Chester continued his gaze away from Talo, “Yes.” “And that probably means that the Sasquatch will be looking for you, right?” That was truth Chester had been trying to ignore for several days now. “Yes.” He finally replied. The two young Woodlings discussed this at length; Chester contributing little more to the discussion than the confirming “Yes.” In reply to Talo’s straight line questioning. As they talked, they failed to realize the ever-growing darkness that encompassed the forest; an unnatural darkness that canceled out the morning sunrise through the trees. It wasn’t until a blindingly bright light brought obviousness to the now midnight-ly dark forest. Chester and Talo both brought their hands up to shield their eyes from the blinding light. As the retina piercing light slowly dissipated, the darkness faded as well. When the normal balance of the day was fully restored, there was a figure standing in front of Chester and Talo unlike any they had ever seen. The figure stood taller and stronger, though she was clearly more eloquent, graceful, beautiful and any other describing word of the category not yet invented. A fairy. “You have a Fairalite stone?” The fairy asked, her voice like a warm blanket after a day in the cold of the worst of winters. “…Yes.” Chester replied cautiously; reverently. His eyes wide, his mouth agape. The fairy smiled. “Please,” she said nicely, “follow me.” To Be Continued……….. The Blue Jay banked around a large rock outcrop near the Flat Bottom creek just as the Sasquatch burst through the forest undergrowth. Chester looked back as the beast jumped into the air with incredible speed and altitude; his massive arm cocked back to strike. "LEFT!" Chester yelled out. Keegan quickly rolled left; narrowly avoiding the massive club like hand of the Sasquatch. The force of the air being moved by the powerful failed strike was close enough to throw the Jay into a minor tailspin- Chester struggled to hold on. The beast let out a deafening roar and wasted no momentum in clutching a cat-sized boulder and hurled it toward Chester and the Jay, just as the duo were re-discovering the horizon line. Chester ducked low to the back of Keegan and the boulder breezed narrowly past and exploded against the rocky outcrop. Fragmented rock pieces flew through the air and struck the fleeting Woodling atop the Jay. The Sasquatch took advantage of the temporary disorientation and lunged forward striking powerfully; violently knocking Chester and Keegan into the Flat Bottom Creek. The water might as well of been made of stone as hard as the two hit; a slap that echoed against the rocky surround with deafening clarity. The beast let out a triumphant roar. Chester was pulled into a deep swirling eddy and he swam hard to reclaim control. The young Woodling reached out at the blurred flashes of gray and brown with no success. His lungs burned for air and the rushing water squeezed harder and launched him into a swift current downstream. There seemed no hope of reaching the surface as the powerful rushing water pulled Chester down the swift rocky stream. As Chester began to fade from consciousness, having lost all strength to fight the current, he found himself suddenly lodged in a tangle of brush. The small entanglement of sticks and branches caught the Woodling like a net and held him to the full force of the rushing water. Suddenly- The rush of air into his lungs seemed almost foreign. As the young Woodling drew in, his chest burned. The Woodling had been tossed helplessly through the air; sent flying as the Sasquatch had ripped the brush apart in search of the Woodling. The Sasquatch stood knee deep in the creek tearing at the entangled branches, angrily huffing chest rattling growls. Chester was tossed temporarily unnoticed and he landed hard on the rocky bank of the creek. Weak and bruised, broken and terrified, he scrambled for any form of cover but there was none. It would only be another moment before the Sasquatch caught the scent of the Woodling and turned to find him helplessly a wreck on the creek bank. Chester searched the recesses of his dazed mind for a solution. And there it was. Three distinct whistles with what might as well of been the last of his hard earned breath did two things: it caught the attention of the Sasquatch- this, of course, was not the best of results. It also brought down the hawk with ferocious speed. Chester desperately managed to crawl to his hands and knees as the talon tipped foot wrapped around him and ripped him from the creek bank. The Sasquatch lunged forward but could not match the speed of the fleeting hawk. Chester dangled from the friendly hawk's gentle grip as it soared into the air. A single boulder was hurled toward the bird in flight but fell well short. The beast, now far below and fading, let out a shrieking gut sinking roar of pledged vengeance. "...We...We have to go back for Keegan..." Chester struggled to say. The hawk flew gracefully toward the setting sun. After a moment of silence, the hawk replied, "Keegan was picked up by a companion, but I don't know if he'll make it; he's terribly wounded." Chester felt a flood of remorse and regret. His body rocked gently in the clutches of the hawk. "The Sasquatch will never stop hunting you." The hawk said regretfully. Chester sighed and allowed his body to slump into exhaustion. As his eyes became as weights and he faded into sleep, he managed to reply; "I know." To Be Continued.................... |