Very Short Stories Week 34
Owain pressed on, even as rime formed on his cloak and beard.
The wind stung his face but he trudged on.
Let the hag send blizzards and her minions, Owain Gwylltgi would overcome all.
The flames of his fury kept him warm.
She didn't do anything. Offered scant resistance and made no attempt to escape.
A dashing prince or noble knight would rescue her.
And that's why it's important that Princesses learn that life isn't a story and, even if it was, they should always try to be their own hero.
The elfscribes say goblins crave gold.
But the first gobtomes call it wastraff/waste.
Goblins only hoarded gold when they saw the value man and elf put upon it.
More value than they put on goblins.
And so, finally, they had some leverage to improve their lot.
The armies were destroyed, governments purged and yet these creatures, these "humans" continued to resist the authority of the Sect.
In a way, the Viceroy admired their spirit, their savage defiance was impressive, if futile.
The Sect always won, mankind would be slaves.
Bruza carried the wriggling, drunk halfling away.
"You'll thank me when you're sober, Ondi."
"No, I wanna stroke him. His coat looks so soft!" Ondi wailed in the orc's arms.
Across the clearing the owlbear watched them curiously.
Ondi peered over the book sheepishly as Bruza cursed colourfully and imaginatively.
The halfling saw the cause of the orc's anger.
"Sorry, magic is tricky."
The treasure, which he'd intended to lighten for transport was now floating at the cave's roof, out of reach.
Used vssmagic for the 7th.
"Why you sat out here?" Bruza said, finding Ondi sat outside the inn in the frosty evening. "Didn't like your jokes?"
"Don't like halflings."
"What?"
"'Humans only' he said."
The orc's face darkened.
"Let's get a pint, Ondi. Let's see the bastards throw me out"
