Land of Salvania

  With great care, Sir Bucket unrolled the fragile, stained vellum. It had a burned edge, obscuring some of the unicorn and tree artwork along the margins. The flowing script read: Go thee now unto the grove Fear not the wolf nor bear Go thee now unto the grove And hear the knowledge there. Seek the tree within the grove So small and green and free Seek the tree within the grove What does it say to thee? Close thy eyes within the grove Listen with thy heart Close thy eyes within the grove And on thy journey start. Let thy soul drift far away Ride high upon the wind Let thy soul drift far away Drink deep at journey's end. At the bottom, she could barely read a last bit, written in a different hand. I, Wizard Owenstanish of White River, do now write with my own hand on this third day of summer, the 16th year of Queen Juliska of Salvania. This incantanto being the first of five found within a clay pot buried in the southern desert. She rolled the scroll again and closed her eyes, pond

  Sir Bucket stood at her assigned post on the ridge and trembled with fury as she watched the village burn below. She was glad her visor was down so her comrades could not see the tears running down her face. Most of her fellow castle guards were down there somewhere, fighting the gargs. The hated foe had somehow gotten organized enough to torch dozens of thatched cottages belonging mostly to the castle's crafters like stone masons and blacksmiths. She could not pick out her childhood home from this distance, and thick smoke further obscured her vision. The tears didn't help either. "Dragon! Dragon!" She looked up as her fellow guard pointed skyward with his sword. She drew hers as well, thinking it silly even as she automatically assumed her fighting stance. Fight a dragon with a sword? Silly indeed. But the prospect of action - and revenge - dried her tears and filled her thundering heart with a cold purpose. /// Copyright (Check out  Mick's Fantasy and Sc

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  Marion du Bucles, named "Sir Bucket" by her guard company's sergeant of the guard, had a dragon. Past tense. Scatter, the young green dragon she had been raising, mysteriously vanished one day. At first, she was not concerned. He was impetuous, and he often disappeared for hours at a time. But as days passed, she was positive that something was wrong. She spent every free hour scouring the forest. She initially expected to find him gnawing on a carcass relocated from a farmer's field. Later, she was afraid she would just find his bones. She grew so distraught, she even crossed the White River and started searching through troll territory. Everything was a little...strange in troll territory. Trees and plants were bigger than normal. Like mushrooms. She was amazed seeing mushrooms she could walk under! After a week of searching, she found dragon tracks that might have belonged to Scatter. He was still too young to fly much, otherwise tracking him on the gro

  Ritter's head was reeling from all the portal energy swirling through his body. He had stepped through a yellow portal which immediately turned green. Before him was a frozen vista, a vast plain of white snow drifts and moaning wind. He had turned and stepped through the green portal which turned blue as he exited. Now he was in a dense forest thick with moss and the drip of water off wide leaves. The incessant chirp of a million invisiable insects was almost deafening. Last, he staggered, dizziness building, through the blue portal which immediately turned purple. Now, he was inside a castle, the dim purple portal unchanged behind him. He sat heavily on the broad steps leading down to a torchlit corridor. It took a few minutes for him to notice his sword and shield were gone. How could that be? It shocked him that he could not clearly recall the last time he had them. In fact, he could not clearly recall much from the last few hours - or was it days? He still had the garg

  Marion du Bucles, "Sir Bucket" to her fellow castle guards, was filled with deep, abiding regret over helping the baby dragon escape from his gem-like shell. Only a month before, she had found the shimmering egg surrounded by fragments from its siblings' shells. Mother and babes were gone, leaving this one to the Fates. She had noticed a small chip in the shell, and after a few scrapes with her fingernail, out tumbled a gooey green dragon the size of a cat. He had bonded with her immediately, and Marion was "mom" now. For a month, she had been able to tend the rapidly growing dragon without drawing any attention. But now he was too big and too demanding to hide. He followed her everywhere and got into everything. Essentially, he was a toddler with large teeth and burning curiosity. She named him Scatter. Either people and animals scattered when they saw him, or he scattered things (like fences and water troughs) into pieces without knowing his own streng

  The sergeant of the guard led a long, clanking line of recruits up and down the castle's endless stone stairways, barking orders and throwing a hand out to indicate their guard post for the day. "Sir Bucket," he said. "You're here." He indicated an overlook tower facing an open field and the Dwarven Hills beyond. Bucles cringed at the snickers from the other recruits left in line. "Sir Bucket" was a label slapped on by the heartless sergeant as soon as they had met. "Alright, which one is," he had checked his scroll, "Buckells?" he had called out during morning formation. "It's pronounced 'boo-clays', sergeant," Bucles had added helpfully. It was the wrong move. The sergeant had stared at the recruit wearing a helmet that had seen better days - probably a family heirloom - and barked, "Well, since I'm too stupid to say it right, you'll just be Sir Bucket. Problem solved." Bucles wat

  Sir Viktor held the stone bridge alone, covering the retreat, until the wounded had been hauled back to the queen's castle. A few gargs had come at him, but after he had sent their heads rolling back to their comrades, the assailants suddenly recalled that discretion was the better part of valor. Man and garg had stared at each other for a few minutes, then the gargs withdrew, muttering. He caught the guttural term "skanaki." Later he asked a wizard what it meant. She blushed and said, "It means one with a large, uh, member." /// Copyright (Check out  Mick's Fantasy and Sci-Fi Emporium  for my curated list of goodies to satisfy your LARP and cosplay pleasure.  Look for the latest DISCOUNT codes from my partners.)

  Sir Viktor was ready for dinner and a sip of ale. He had already relocated a number of gargs to their eternal hunting ground, and the rest had seemed to either flee the cavern or disappear into some dark side tunnel. But he had just one more thing to do... /// Copyright (Check out  Mick's Fantasy and Sci-Fi Emporium  for my curated list of goodies to satisfy your LARP and cosplay pleasure.  Look for the latest DISCOUNT codes from my partners.)