July 20, 2017, 02:41:35 PM


If you have Login Problems Use the Login in Top Menu Bar

If you have a problem registering here, Leave a msg at our FB Page >> Here.

Plz Don't use Hotmail to Register. You might not receive Activation mail. Use Other free mail provider like Gmail or Yahoo.

Author Topic: Legomaestro`s Storybox  (Read 27 times)

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

Online legomaestro

  • High Chancellor of Righteousness
  • Global Moderator
  • Hero Member
  • *
  • Posts: 18245
  • Gender: Male
  • real life has wack graphics
    • View Profile
Legomaestro`s Storybox
« on: July 14, 2017, 04:23:29 AM »
Short stories, off the top of my head. Snippets and bits, concepts and things.


Synopsis: Terry the bartender has a bar at the edge of civilization, where all sorts of adventurers go through before they head off to their grand adventures...

Terry the bartender watched as the heroes, bandits, mages and monsters gathered in his pub. He`d been at this job 25 years and still couldn't help wonder how diverse a world could be.

A paladin in sparkling silver armour walked up to the counter and smiled. Her armour did very little to hide her considerable bust and curvaceous form. Her hair was a waterfall of black, and she held her deadly spear with the ease of a master.

"One mead wine, please."

Terry smiled, "Paladin Clara. Of course."

She'd been around 2 days. So far from the main kingdom this was rare. People visited Terry's Place as a last stop of civilization before venturing into the Dark Lands, where adventure and death awaited.

At his last count, there were 3 different wars, 14 world-ending prophecies and 3 legendary monsters that the adventurers were after.

He poured out the order efficiently. He knew no fancy drink-preparing drinks despite his years of experience. He always promised himself he`d get better at it, so long as he had time, but there was always something else...

Clara smiled as she received her drink and winked at him, "Wish me luck."

"You're a holy knight of the river kingdom. I wish you blessings and kind storms instead." He grinned.

Clara laughed - it sounded like crystals  - and she went on her way.

And then came a necromancer. He had a mask on his face, and he smelled like absolutely nothing. Terry suspected he`d died in the process of mastering his particular discipline. It happened often.

"Need blood?" Terry asked with a professional smile this time.

"I'll do with some resin juice this time, thank you." The necromancer looked down at a little girl who was holding his hand. She seemed shy.

Terry raised his eyebrow and went to get the beer. When he returned, the necromancer seemed kind enough to satisfy his curiosity when the beer came.

"Her mother is embroiled in politics in her city at the moment. I'm babysitting."

"You're a necromancer."

"And she revived me from the dead and taught me all I know. She's a genius, my daughter." The necromancer gave her a drink and she accepted it with a gleeful cheer, and they walked off.

Terry watched them go, and turned to serve a troll, a wizard, a dwarf, an elf.

All the while feeling worse, as he was forced to smile all the more.

Because under his bar top counter was a sword and shield that had been gathering dust for the past 25 years. He`d been 15, once. An adventurer with nothing special to his name, but he`d had enough money to buy a sword and shield, and he wanted to go explore the world. At first every stop his made on his way to the Dark Lands had been for something practical: Improve his street talk, make some friendships. And some of those meetings had been amazing - He`d promised to go back and meet some of them... 25 years had passed since then.

And eventually he`d made it to this pub at the border of everything safe sound and normal, and he`d found a job just to get some extra funds, just to take a break for a month. The weather had been bad, after all.
And the excuses only piled up. All the while he saw other groups of undeniably talented and fated warriors - people with haunted looks and hard looks, people with handsome faces and rippling muscle. People blessed and cursed by fates so strong they were destined to make history one way or the other.

And he`d just been the sun of a tailor. And bartending wasn't that bad. Eventually he`d get into it.
Eventually, he`d be an adventurer.

After today.

After he served the last customer (A drunk bandit with a heavy axe) , Terry felt as dirty as he always did. In one gradual dark wave, his practiced smile faded away as a hollow opened up in his chest. Things couldn't go on like this. But he`d had this thought for several years as well. It never changed.

Terry lit a lamp, poured himself a drink and sat at the table. He listened to the night crickets. He stared outside the dirty window.