Oct 29, 2010

Royal Socks

Raelin had longed to see, and indeed, hold, the prism of power for so long that it had become something of a private obsession of his.

"The problem with immortality, is that Kings tend to hang around long since they've outstayed their welcome." he sighed.  If it wasn't for the blasted King, and his ridiculous treaty with the tribe of Nykter, he would have long ago simply stolen the prism for his studies.

It alone, seemed to emanate a concentrated magical presence.  It alone would either confirm, or deny the existence of a quantifiable unit of magical power.  It alone would tell him if his King and all his religious followers were full of shit, or, if Raelin needed to catch up on his prayer.

Secretly, he suspected that the entire reason the tribe of Nykter had this prism in its possession was for that exact reason.  Fear of anti-dogmatic proof. 

What other reason could the King possibly have for allowing a tribe of primitaves to keep an object of such limitless potential?  Surely even that braindead pustule could fathom what could be DONE with such an object when it wasn't used for something as trivial as keeping those retarded & sickeningly adorable Nyktars alive...

"And what if the Ogres get their hands on it!?" He yelled, launching a small beam of frost near his pet rat as an exclamation point.  "SKEEK!" *UNNAMED* cursed, skittering across the cobblestones and finding an urn to hide behind.  

Since the fall of Roe, and the rumored population increase happening with the Goblins, there was seemingly more reasons on a daily basis to eviscerate the King for his apathetic stupidity.

There was a knock at his door.  "Skuzz inc - delivery for ya!" came the cry.  "Damn rats..." he grumbled, sending an angry scowl at *UNNAMED* as he passed.  "WHAT?!" he yelled, whirling open the door.

"Ahem:  Da King wants ya ta go to da castle and pick up a mission o' da utmost importance." the rat finished, holding out his hand for a tip.

Raelin slammed the door in his face.  "That's all I need!" he yelled, tromping back up his stairs to get his formal attire.

"Probably needs help locating his socks..." he grumbled to himself and grabbing his walking stick.

1 comment:

Leave Feedback!
Did you laugh at a noob?
Cry at a DM's judgement call?
Scream out in agony at a spelling/grammar mistake?
Just want to flame some D&D n00bs?

Let us know!