[centre][h2]The Baron and the Brute[/h2][/centre]
[hr]

Afternoon had set over the small village of Evandstead and the shepherds were guiding their goats back home. Children were braving the coming twilight by snatching pipeweed from their parents and smoking it at the shadowy borders of the forest; the wives were weaving carpets and clothes together; the men were doing the last of the day’s farmwork. Highland cows roamed in the meadows beyond, and woodsmen returned to their homes with the evening’s logs. In many ways, it was a most peaceful evening. 

Perfect for some good old ruinin’. 

Espen, a small and stunted askeladd, even for his kind, with a body like an ale barrel, cracked up his knuckles and smirked. “Hooo boy, bruv - got me belly all up in flames at the f’hought’a doin’ some mischiefs again. Been so, so long since I ‘ad a bloomin’ giggle.”

A snicker floated over from his left. “Oi! No stupid shit! Giggles a’damn art form. Don’t cock up fancy like last time, Espen.” breathed a tall and wiry askeladd. Slick they called him, for both his demeanor and hair shared the same property. 

Espen scoffed, sticking his thumbs neatly underneath the suspenders running down over his chest. “Cock up? Me, ol’ Espen? By Thunder, y’bet I won’!” He ducked in between the bushes they hid behind, his potato-like nose poking over the top to contrast his small, beady eyes. The messy bush of hair atop his head was so overgrown with moss and mushrooms that it blended right in with the surrounding forest. “So, whot ye got in mind this time? Hexxin’? Turnin’ the cows proppa’ mad again? Turn the ol’ nan into sour milk?”

Slick joined him. “Them ol’tricks? Thunder strike mah nose, nah gonna catch me wastin talent. We goin big propa ain’t we!” He said cracking a toothy grin. Like a fire his beady eyes showed with excitement. “We’s hexin the wata! So when they get to drinkin, it turn straight to hair!”

Espen clapped his hands in anticipation. “Wooo-ho-ho-ho, you’s a sly’un, Slick! A’roight, le’s find that well…” Espen laid himself flat against the grass and started crawling along the forest line.

Slipping to the side, they circled the village in short order. It did not take them long to find their target. A simple contraction consisting of laid stones and a pulley system holding a crude pot. The apes had led them straight to it. 

“Thirsty bastards.” Slick whispered. “There tha watering hole.”

The twilight dimmed; activity in the town followed suit. The townsfolk turned in for the day and either went home or gathered in small posses to smoke and tell stories.The path between them and the well was clear. Espen nodded. “Aight, bruv - all yours.”

There were plenty of bushes around, so Slick was able to shadow his way through the clearing with ease. His instincts guided him as he slipped from shrub to shrub. His eyes were constantly darting from house Espen in surrounding forest, but he was relaxed and at ease as he moved and closed in on the well. This sort of multi-tasking came naturally to an askeladd. It was what they did. What came next even more so. 

Nimble as ever, Slick kept upon the cusp of the lard stonework and peered into the darkness. Even his eyes struggled to pierce the void that was the deep well. Nevertheless his ears picked up the sound of moving water. His plans would prove true yet. 

Gathering up power from his core, Slick drew it throughout his body and put his fingers. His mind worked like mad. Reality functions based on set laws. The blessing of the askeladd was their ability to weave these laws together to create new ones, albeit on a much smaller scale.

So as Slick exuded magic from his body, so did his mind weave together laws that would leave the humans with a nasty surprise. 

It took along five minutes to weave the spell proper. Slick had broken into a sweat. 

With a heave he leapt from the well’s edge and scampered back over to Espen’s hiding place.

“Oi, shit final. Come mornin, they outta be choking on Thunder’s ball hairs.” Espen sat wheezing in the bush, slapping his knees something fierce. 

“Bruv, you bloomin’ slapped ‘em, mate! Roight, I found us a proppa’ patch’a moss t’ sleep on ovar ‘ere. T’morrow’s gonna be banger, bruv!” He rolled around on the ground with a giggle still on his lips.

A grin never left Slick’s face as he bunched up a mass of greasy hair and crawled into the moss. His lot was right around the corner. The two of them laid down and waited for the magic to happen.

Already in the middle of the night, they heard it. Someone had thought it appropriate to stroll out in the night and grab themselves a cup of cold, delicious water to soothe a dry throat, and the surprise she (as evidenced by the pitch squeals and whimpers. Could also have been a young boy) was currently enduring was anything but soothing. Gags and vomiting sounded from the middle of the village, and Espen and Slick both peeked over the bush to witness it. There, fairly visible in the moonlight, a woman was keeling over on the ground, coughing and throwing up lumps of curly, stiff hair by the mouthful. 

Her cries reached the duo and Slick held back a fit of giggles. His plans for the greatest of pranks were far from completed. More time. “Oi, keep watching from here.” he whispered. . Espen clapped his hands excitedly and kept staring at the display. More of the villagers came out to witness the spectacle.

Confident as ever Slick strolled out from his hiding place, perfect nose held high, hair greasy and full of mushrooms and as handsome as ever. Right outside the congregation the askeladd clapped once to get the attention of the villagers. Before panic could ensue, Slick spoke:

“Oi! Dickheads! Boyz calls me Slick, but inna second here y’all humies outta be calling me Baron. Let’s talk business all calm like can’t we?”.”

“You did this, didn’t you, you prankster midget!” shouted one of the men tending to the woman. 

“Sssh! Randall, don’t insult it!”

Espen slumped over wearing a sneer. “Oi, Slick… He called you a midget.” The askeladd shuffled over, hands tucked into his moth-eaten pants and neck craned forward, chin presented. “Oi, humie. That’s the wrong attitude t’ take wiff the Baron, y’know.” The crowd slowly backed away as Espen squatted next to the vomiting woman and the man named Randall. “What we gonna do wiff ‘im, Slick?” The man remained kneeling beside the woman, glaring daggers back at Espen.

“I’ll have ye know I’m quite tall. Proud of it innit I?” Slick drawled as he stuck a long pinky finger up his nose. “Ain’t dis ya bugging drinking wata? Oi Espen, they keep fuckin wit me ey, say we start turning tha grain into tasting like Thunder’s steaming shit?!”

The people cowered and squealed. “No! Not the grain! We eat that!”

Espen clapped and guffawed. “Huh-huh-huh, yeah, do it, bruv!”

“Oi, I’s is a good guy! The business askeladd!” Slick expressed with a pat of his chest. “Prolly tha best ye’ll eva meet. So favor me this, submit to me fucking demands, n ya live not just to drink hairless pisswater n Troll shit, capeesh?”

Randall was about to protest, but his mouth was covered over by a myriad of hands belonging to his peers, all of whom were bowing their heads in submission. “We-we don’t want no trouble, your-your Baron-ess. If-if you promise to leave us be, we’ll do whatever you ask,” said an old man, likely the village elder. 

Espen snickered. “Ye hear that, bruv? Woss we want ‘em t’do?”

A toothy grin cut across Slick’s face. “We partnas’ now! How bout y’all tell me how things are round here! Baron outta know.”

[hider=SumSum!]
The askeladds Espen and Slick play a prank on the poor villagers of Evandstead. Slick curses the well so that whoever drinks from it will vomit up Thunder’s pubes In the evening a woman becomes the first victim, falling onto the ground and throwing up hair balls (or ball hair) until all the villagers come out to see what’s going on. Slick and Espen reveal themselves and Slick demands the villagers call him the Baron. After some back and forth and more threats from Slick, the village falls under his rule.
[/hider]