Challenge #02632-G075: An Interesting Truce
A rumor is heard of a palace where monsters were holding hundreds of kobolds as slaves. A large castle filled with treasure, all the kobolds that were seen going in and out wearing a silver, blue, and gold woven neckbands. Almost all the doors to the various servant areas were sized for the kobolds as well. Along the road outside the castle, the graves of failed raiders where, instead of gravestones, their skulls still sat upon the spikes where the heads once had been.
Yet, it was not what it seemed. For the adventurer that found their way inside, these beings did NOT want to leave the palace. There were beautiful gardens, and lovely fountains. For all they were required to wear the neck bands, they were clean, looked well-fed, and those that had injuries, those injuries were neatly bandaged and tended to. But the surprise was in the throne room. Two humans, two kobolds, sitting side by side talking as they sat on small thrones. – Anon Guest
Kobolds get a lot less cute once they learn Fireball – Adventurer’s Guidebook.
They had been getting funny looks ever since they entered the city-state. Lady Anthe was used to a lot of stares, being a Kobold and an Adventurer, but usually such stares were shared equally between herself and the team. This was one of the few times when the people were universally staring at her.
The fifth shopkeep that boggled at her giving orders was the one that made Marvin snap. “What’s the matter with all of you? You’ve definitely seen a Kobold before. What’s the fuss about?”
“She’s not Protected,” said the shopkeep, as if that explained everything. Further investigation and the mandatory we’re-not-from-around-here conversation revealed an alliance with area Kobolds that sounded… more than a little icky at first glance.
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Why do Goblins have to eat trash? Why can’t goblin cuisine simply have a strong emphasis on fermentation and controlled spoilage?
Like fermentation stinks to high heaven and you typically hide it away in dark and cool places. It fits lore wise for a creature that lives in a cave and is described as unclean.
Anyway this has been food for thought
concept: a setting where every race has a different preferred method of food preservation and each of them is pretty sure that everyone else is ruining their food - goblinoids are masters of fermented foods, elves make exquisite sundried fruits and jerkies, dwarf cities have enchanted walk-in freezers hewn from living stone, gnomes can pickle anything, orcish smokehouses are legendary.
humans and halflings don’t have their own signature food preservation methods, but are notable for being willing to eat everyone else’s trail rations.
Goblins also have an EXQUISITE mushroom cuisine. A single package of genuine goblin-grown shelf mushrooms can be worth more than gold in some regions.
Okay, yes to all of this, but consider: FUSION CUISINE.
Some adventurous gnome starts using elf-dried berries and herbs in their pickling vat. Some curious orc discovers what happens when you smoke goblin-fermented fish. An elf defies all tradition and starts adding both orcish curing seasonings and goblin-made vinegar to their jerky. A couple of dwarves and halflings working together accidentally invent ice cream and nobody knows how.
Also consider: Humans deep fry EVERYTHING to preserve it. Or salt it heavily or both.
[trufax: deep frying is but one among many preservation methods that modern society has forgotten about. Hence the myth of the “immortal” McDonalds french fry.]
Halflings would, for sure, be into preserves.
(via sapphireswimming)
A Chapter of… Border of Bones
Enjoy a chapter of my WIP.
Challenge #02349-F159: Encounter After Bedtime
> So, what would you do if there WAS a monster under your bed? – Anon Guest
_From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties, and things that go bump in the night…_ Saen took a deep breath. Dark plus imagination lead to some degree of fear, and tonight’s degree was too harsh to handle. Crying about monsters under the bed was too childish, now. She was six. She could read and dress herself and pronounce funny dinosaur names and being scared of monsters in the dark was just way too baby.
Time to face her fears.
She armed herself with a torch, and ducked over the edge of the bed. Turned it on and yelled, “HA!” at a terrified creature that instantly flinched into a curl and whimpered. It wasn’t a dog. It wasn’t a cat or a possum or even a monkey. What it definitely was, was terrified.
Challenge #02338-F148: Words May Never
They meant to hurt you with words and bring you down by demeaning you. You became inspired to do something entirely different. – Anon Guest
Say something long enough, it becomes true. Words like weirdo, freak, idiot, and so forth don’t hurt in small doses, but if they are said often enough, by enough people, to one, that one can easily believe they are worthless. It happens so often, but it does not happen to all.
Consider Suz’ Mayberry, iconoclast of Elderwine Falls. There, almost everyone is a vinter, knows a vinter, or has a vinter in the family. It’s practically a law that if one lives in Elderwine Falls, one has to have a job related to the local wine. She lives in an old tower that used to be part of the landlord’s Keep, in times of war. She doesn’t grow elderberries, nor pigs nor chickens nor cattle. The land is no good for any of those. It was why, legend said, the long-absent landlord chose it.
Suz’ Mayberry likes it there because the land has interesting rocks, and the tower has a good view of the stars. In the day, she studies rocks, and in the night, she studies the stars. The people of Elderwine Falls have all kinds of names for her. Stupid is a favourite, since everyone else has to be smart. Elderwine Falls is known for its Elderberry Wine, and the freshwater falls that give their vintages that extra special sparkle.
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Challenge #02161-E332: Playing Power
“Commander, I always used to consider that you had a definite anti-authoritarian streak in you.”
“Sir?”
“It seems that you have managed to retain this even though you are authority.”
“Sir?”
“That’s practically zen.”
― Terry Pratchett, Feet of Clay – c/- Anon Guest
Power corrupts, they say. Absolute power, they add, corrupts absolutely. They say this a lot, especially when protesting against those who have the power. Systems with a huge and unbreachable gulf between the Haves and the Have Nots are doomed for revolt in one form or another. Those who don’t revolt are destined to collapse.
The problem with revolutions, as a great writer once said, is that they keep going around to the beginning. Those who upset the seats of power inevitably wish to occupy them. Swearing again and again that this time will be different because the right people are in power.
Power corrupts because it is addictive. Those given control over the life of one being can be responsible. They can care. Once that number under control rises into double figures… the flaws slip in. People become interchangeable in one way or another. Needs are forgotten or ignored. Assumptions are made in regards to capabilities. If it’s done wrong. Only one realm has ever done it right.
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Challenge #02065-E241: Once Upon a Crusade — Steemit
“Just think about it for a psalm,” said Sir Thakkis. “A beast as large as a peasant’s hut, walking on legs as thick as trees, with a nose like a serpent and ears like cloaks? It’s too ridiculous to live. And, Frog, I have to remind you that we are on a holy quest and your heretical words have no place.”
“I have to remind you that my name isn’t Frog. I am Jasmine Saqqaf, and you had no right to take me prisoner.”
“I rescued you from slavers. And since we currently have no church, I can’t let you continue with your heathen name. We will give you a proper Christian name once we free the holy land in the name of the Holy Church of Our Saviour.”
“If I’m so free, why am I in chains?”