Post by Greybeard on Dec 17, 2015 15:01:23 GMT -5
The camera sweeps upward revealing a busy street. Soldiers run eastward on the ancient block toward skirmishes that are scattered through this grand city. Smoke rises above the breached gates and defenses that are quickly failing. Suddenly, a figure approaches with a white beard. Dressed in light robes, he also carries a staff. He is sat upon a mighty steed which responds to his every command. Swiftly they travel the road when suddenly; a terrible beast descends from the sky in front of them. On it's back is a terrible masked figure. The wizard draws his staff swiftly, twirling it from his sheath with amazing acumen. "Go back to the abyss!" he says in a confident, deep baritone voice before suddenly and inexplicably pausing completely.
Greybeard lowered the dvd remote control, laughing heartily. "Oh Gandalf…what will you do next?” Greybeard said warmly. “I always find it hilarious to see someone -pretend- to be a wizard. The exaggerations are preposterous!" Greybeard says with a forced, booming voice reminiscent of a mall Santa.
"It's almost racist." The Alchemist muttered in a thick southern drawl. "You can't say anything about the blacks anymore without someone having a rally but people are always making stereotypical hyperbole about the arcane and wearing wizard face!"
Greybeard shook his head slightly. "Ah, easy with the racism Al. In Dragonia, we are accepting of all races! You know this Al......except Hawaiians."
"Well I got beef with them too!" Al quickly added.
At just that moment, a solid knock echoed through Greybeard's private chamber that sat upon the top of his tower. Greybeard drew his staff, twirling it awkwardly as he pulled it from his back sheath. The chamber grew eerily quiet. With a paranoid look on his face, Greybeard motioned for The Alchemist to get the door. A groan similar to that of a snow troll being stabbed in the pancreas bellowed out of Al as he struggled to get himself upright. He pushed up from his chair slowly, his massive girth almost wedging him inside of his seat. Al cracked the door and managed an awkward, "Hey..."
"It is a courier Master Greybeard; he has a letter for you."
It was the voice of one of his trusted guards. Without hesitation, Greybeard nodded to Al. He pulled open the door, allowing the courier to enter quickly with his head down. He handed the letter to The Alchemist with a quick bow, exiting without saying a word. The door closed with a loud thud unceremoniously. Al had already opened the letter and began to read the letter when Greybeard called out, "GIMME THAT!" He extended out his staff and the letter floated toward him in a billowing fashion. He snatched it out of the air and lowered his staff, resting it against his throne.
Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours. Greybeard had paced in front of his fireplace for nearly two hours, looking over the letter. The fire burned low now and the constant sound of a deep snore escaped the now comatose Alchemist. Greybeard crumbled the paper up before tossing it gently into the fire and pacing toward his desk. On it sat various notes, vials, potions, and snacks, the clutter out of control. Greybeard cleared enough room for a piece of parchment and dipped his quill in the ink well.
//////////////////////
To the one called Stampy,
I appreciate you taking the time to correspond with me. Knowing your story gives me hope. I believe individuals are aligned good or evil deep down inside regardless of how they act sometimes. Make no mistake, your deeds since arriving in WCF have been less than ethical...and I must confess, I took that that road as well in our last match. I must ask your forgiveness and I do hope your eyes have healed. You claim you are no longer diplomatic, but I believe that part of you still exists. I believe we are all capable of forgiveness, despite the deeds that have been done to them. I simply ask you return Lute Boy to me and all will be forgotten. Our match can go on at One and then we separate entirely. Make the right decision.
A sincere plea,
Greybeard
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Greybeard ceased his work and studied his letter for a moment before a confidant nod of his head. He stood up and made his way to the window, whistling loudly. After just a brief moment, a raven landed in the window. Greybeard fastened the letter to him and away he went. Greybeard stood still for some time, watching the raven disappear into the distance. When he could no longer track the raven, he turned with a sigh.
"Wake up Al. Stampy can't be trusted. We must get Lute Boy back ourselves."
Greybeard lowered the dvd remote control, laughing heartily. "Oh Gandalf…what will you do next?” Greybeard said warmly. “I always find it hilarious to see someone -pretend- to be a wizard. The exaggerations are preposterous!" Greybeard says with a forced, booming voice reminiscent of a mall Santa.
"It's almost racist." The Alchemist muttered in a thick southern drawl. "You can't say anything about the blacks anymore without someone having a rally but people are always making stereotypical hyperbole about the arcane and wearing wizard face!"
Greybeard shook his head slightly. "Ah, easy with the racism Al. In Dragonia, we are accepting of all races! You know this Al......except Hawaiians."
"Well I got beef with them too!" Al quickly added.
At just that moment, a solid knock echoed through Greybeard's private chamber that sat upon the top of his tower. Greybeard drew his staff, twirling it awkwardly as he pulled it from his back sheath. The chamber grew eerily quiet. With a paranoid look on his face, Greybeard motioned for The Alchemist to get the door. A groan similar to that of a snow troll being stabbed in the pancreas bellowed out of Al as he struggled to get himself upright. He pushed up from his chair slowly, his massive girth almost wedging him inside of his seat. Al cracked the door and managed an awkward, "Hey..."
"It is a courier Master Greybeard; he has a letter for you."
It was the voice of one of his trusted guards. Without hesitation, Greybeard nodded to Al. He pulled open the door, allowing the courier to enter quickly with his head down. He handed the letter to The Alchemist with a quick bow, exiting without saying a word. The door closed with a loud thud unceremoniously. Al had already opened the letter and began to read the letter when Greybeard called out, "GIMME THAT!" He extended out his staff and the letter floated toward him in a billowing fashion. He snatched it out of the air and lowered his staff, resting it against his throne.
Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours. Greybeard had paced in front of his fireplace for nearly two hours, looking over the letter. The fire burned low now and the constant sound of a deep snore escaped the now comatose Alchemist. Greybeard crumbled the paper up before tossing it gently into the fire and pacing toward his desk. On it sat various notes, vials, potions, and snacks, the clutter out of control. Greybeard cleared enough room for a piece of parchment and dipped his quill in the ink well.
//////////////////////
To the one called Stampy,
I appreciate you taking the time to correspond with me. Knowing your story gives me hope. I believe individuals are aligned good or evil deep down inside regardless of how they act sometimes. Make no mistake, your deeds since arriving in WCF have been less than ethical...and I must confess, I took that that road as well in our last match. I must ask your forgiveness and I do hope your eyes have healed. You claim you are no longer diplomatic, but I believe that part of you still exists. I believe we are all capable of forgiveness, despite the deeds that have been done to them. I simply ask you return Lute Boy to me and all will be forgotten. Our match can go on at One and then we separate entirely. Make the right decision.
A sincere plea,
Greybeard
////////////////////////////
Greybeard ceased his work and studied his letter for a moment before a confidant nod of his head. He stood up and made his way to the window, whistling loudly. After just a brief moment, a raven landed in the window. Greybeard fastened the letter to him and away he went. Greybeard stood still for some time, watching the raven disappear into the distance. When he could no longer track the raven, he turned with a sigh.
"Wake up Al. Stampy can't be trusted. We must get Lute Boy back ourselves."
