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 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…………….