Little Bill
duskshine749
CollectorOfMyst
DX3214
ScreenAcne
wanderingwolf
rocketrobie2
nightmare medx
Alby47
Leonas
The sleepy town of Swampmuck was the leper of the civilised world, though it's inhabitants were blissfully unaware of how ill-received their little home was, given that few of them had ever ventured beyond it's reaches and knew no better. They did not know that the stench drifting off the swamp when the wind was cruel was a foul one. They did not know they lived in squalor even compared to other villages, and they did not know that bread was more of a staple food then turnips were, given that that was what Swampmuck mostly farmed and mostly ate.
Today was different though. Today was the second day of the Harvest Festival, where folks as far as Middlemarket might mistakenly wander into Swampmuck's reaches and actually enjoy themselves. Stalls of all shapes and sizes lined the streets, covered in brightly coloured cloth that caught the midmorning sun. Voices called through the square, advertising their wares and challenging folks to play carnival games. Beneath the hubbub, laughter and chatter bubbled up like the soft lapping of waves on the shore. It was homely. Everyone was having a good time.
"Behold! Mr Marvelous' Majestic Monsters! Come and see for yourself some of the greatest, most dangerous beasts of the land..."
"Dunk the goblin win a prize! Step right up! Give the nasty beast a bath!"
"Metor Strongman challenge you! Wee wussy folk no beat Metor! Test your strength!" barralled a booming laugh.
"The judging of the Prized Vegetable competition will begin shortly..."
Villagefolk and travellers wandered to and fro among the stalls, holding dusted turnips on sticks and bartering with traders. Overlooking the town square, The Adamant Tankard was bustling with activity, as folks booked up rooms or popped in for a quick drink and a meal. Across the way sat the forge and Ye Olde 'Magic' Bookstore, both of which had seen good business in the day previous. The streets teamed with people, and right bang in the middle of it all, a Dwarf quietly finished setting up his cart.
He was a little late to set up for the festival, but his dusty, worn, high quality clothes told of a long journey from distant lands. His cart sat slap dab in the middle of the Town Square, and villagers parted like waves to wander around him, avoiding his gaze. Two fine horses pulled his cart, one midnight and one chestnut in colour, and they rested quite happily in their harnesses. He pulled a hammer from his belt and with a few good loud THWAKs the sign he had brought with him was planted firmly in the ground, stating his business here.
Today was different though. Today was the second day of the Harvest Festival, where folks as far as Middlemarket might mistakenly wander into Swampmuck's reaches and actually enjoy themselves. Stalls of all shapes and sizes lined the streets, covered in brightly coloured cloth that caught the midmorning sun. Voices called through the square, advertising their wares and challenging folks to play carnival games. Beneath the hubbub, laughter and chatter bubbled up like the soft lapping of waves on the shore. It was homely. Everyone was having a good time.
"Behold! Mr Marvelous' Majestic Monsters! Come and see for yourself some of the greatest, most dangerous beasts of the land..."
"Dunk the goblin win a prize! Step right up! Give the nasty beast a bath!"
"Metor Strongman challenge you! Wee wussy folk no beat Metor! Test your strength!" barralled a booming laugh.
"The judging of the Prized Vegetable competition will begin shortly..."
Villagefolk and travellers wandered to and fro among the stalls, holding dusted turnips on sticks and bartering with traders. Overlooking the town square, The Adamant Tankard was bustling with activity, as folks booked up rooms or popped in for a quick drink and a meal. Across the way sat the forge and Ye Olde 'Magic' Bookstore, both of which had seen good business in the day previous. The streets teamed with people, and right bang in the middle of it all, a Dwarf quietly finished setting up his cart.
He was a little late to set up for the festival, but his dusty, worn, high quality clothes told of a long journey from distant lands. His cart sat slap dab in the middle of the Town Square, and villagers parted like waves to wander around him, avoiding his gaze. Two fine horses pulled his cart, one midnight and one chestnut in colour, and they rested quite happily in their harnesses. He pulled a hammer from his belt and with a few good loud THWAKs the sign he had brought with him was planted firmly in the ground, stating his business here.
"EARN GOOD GOLD QUICK, ADVENTURERS WANTED"
