Fifty years ago, a dozen gnomes left their homes in the dwarven nation of Barlagtelen, having grown tired of their neighbors disrespecting their careers as entertainers. They made their way to the neighboring woods of the Dol elves, who for a long time hated dwarves and were considered their opposite. The idea of a variety theater troupe was more palatable here, but they were unimpressed by the gnomes’ complete lack of magic in any of their shows.
These gnomes were a statistical impossibility, for it is just as uncommon for gnomes to lack magic as it is for dwarves to possess it, and yet there was not an ounce of magical blood among the twelve. But they didn’t allow this to deter them; what they lacked in arcana they made up for with talent, passion, and showmanship. Whether it be dancing, singing, acting, or acrobatics, these gnomes did it, and they did it well. Continue reading “Nestor the Incomparable, Part Two”
“And that,” Nestor Pinkly said, “is why friendship and joy are the most valuable resources even in a capitalist economy.”
“I think you misunderstood,” the golem replied. “I said gold is the most important thing to me because my body is actually made of it.”
“That was a lovely speech, though,” the golem’s boyfriend added. “Even if it did last a quarter of an hour. So, thank you for that.”
“My pleasure!” Nestor said, saluting the pair. “I hope you two have a wonderful day.”
“Can we get to the bank now, Nestor?” Karessa Plunderton asked. “People are staring.” Continue reading “Nestor the Incomparable, Part One”
Hello and howdee doo, citizens of Skymoore! It is I, your illustrious mayor and humanoid potted plant Gendry Dew, here to recount the highlights of this wonderful Autumn as we prepare for the coming winter. It was a fun season, graced as always by love, by the arts, and by the hardworking men, woman, and others of Skymoore who make this blessed city what it is.
Of course, I am legally required to inform you that this pamphlet is compiled from the quarterly Citizen Surveillance Report, where the various government agencies of Skymoore compile all of the private and public information from your lives that we’ve gathered these past ninety days. The CSR helps us understand what makes Skymoore tick, and what we as your benefactors can improve on in the coming season.
Now, without further ado, let’s get highlighting! Continue reading “Skymoore’s Seasonal Community Recap for Autumn 1677, Highlights”
In Skymoore, finding someone was rarely a challenge. Community was everything there, so finding someone who knows someone was only ever a few questions away. In the week following the Autumn sale, however, one particular citizen alluded Donovan, no matter how hard he searched. Continue reading “The Storm, Epilogue”
When morning came, the storm remained as virulent as ever. The sky was bright, for aftermaj storms did not require clouds, but the hail still rattled and the wind whistled along. Odd & Ends’ patrons had become restless, and as Donovan and Hega reentered the shop (to some curious whispers), the shopkeep was inundated with all manner of complaints. Continue reading “The Storm, Part Eight”
“And that’s why Nestor Pinkly is not only my creator, but my best friend in the whole wide world!”
Even the shrewdest in the crowd found themselves swayed to a kind of parental adoration of Dovetail by the time she finished her story. The automaton took a bow, beaming with pride, and everyone clapped. Continue reading “The Storm, Part Seven”
Odd & Ends’ patrons looked dubious of Gwendolyn’s claims.
“When you’ve been a traveling merchant for two-hundred years,” a gruff dwarf woman said, “it takes a lot more ‘n a fairytale to empty m’ bowels.”
“What I’m about to tell you is no fiction,” Gwen said. “It’s a true tale, starring yours truly. Continue reading “The Storm, Part Six”
When Keel vanished into the backroom, the rhythm of Odd & Ends settled into a steady awkwardness. Most folks stayed quiet. Some murmured softly to their friends. One or two whined that they were about to brave the storm, but nobody acted on these claims. Continue reading “The Storm, Part Five”
“Well,” Gwendolyn Bottlehelm said, to break the silence, “glad that’s over.”
A nervous chuckle rippled throughout the shop, and its patrons scattered once more. Story time was finished, it seemed. Continue reading “The Storm, Part Four”
“I think I’ll stand, actually,” Donovan said. Linda offered a wary, almost parental look as she joined the increasingly-uncomfortable onlookers.
“Very well,” Keel replied. There was a righteousness to his posture that was not often present. Typically Keel seemed the pious sort who might travel from town to town, tending to the sick and praying for the dead, asking nothing in return. Now, he looked as likely to pray for Sol to immolate your impure soul as to shine upon your crops. Continue reading “The Storm, Part Three”