Fevernort

A distressed young elf argued with a massive talking tree. “Come on Arty. I need those figs grown by tonight.”

The tree responded with a low and slow voice, “Hey...I...Will...Grow....As...Fast....As...I...Can....Grow.”

A few figs fall out of the majestic trees branches. “Arty your the best. My boss would kill me If she knew I was selling some figs on the side.”

“No...Problem....Marlon...Just …..Make.....Sure....To....”

Marlon ran away not waiting for the incredibly slow response. He began making his way into a dense region of forest. Every tree seemed happily alive from the bright sun shining on them. The day was so nice even busy Marlon had time to take in the weather. He saw numerous sprites playing in the nearby river. His happiness shattered under the familiarly inconvenient Bucklock bridge. The massive masonry structure was covered in moss and looked as though it could crumble at any moment.

Just as Marlon approached the bridge Bucklock reared his ugly head. His body was wide and tall, a full half-ling taller than Marlon and may be two minotaurs wider. The green skin was covered in warts and blemishes. He smelled of weeks old cabbage with his mouth closed. “Hey ya Marlon ol pal. Don't think that just cause we're buddies means ya can just cross da bride wit out answering me questions.” His mouth open brought a visible stench to the air that made every creature within sight run as fast as they could.

“Well Bucklock I am in a hurry you see. How about next time I cross the bridge I answer six questions instead of three?” Marlon began walking across. Bucklock's massive hand palmed Marlon's face and Bucklock easily prevented Marlon's advance.

“Nothing doin ol pal.” Bucklock stood firm.

Realizing the improbability of crossing without questions Marlon submitted. “Fine. I will answer your questions three.”

Bucklock's jagged teeth became visible in his unsettling smile. “Ohh Goody! First. What steel due you have with a .9% concentration of carbon that has a quenching time of less than thirty minutes cooled down from 680 degrees Fahrenheit?”

A quizzical look comes from Marlon's soft pale face. “Listen. Do I look like the town blacksmith to you? Uhhh. pearlite?”

“Wrong.”

Marlon quickly jumped off a pillar at beginning of the bridge clear over Bucklock's fat head. Running as fast as he could he manged to get about a quarter of the way down the bridge before Bucklock's giant body got too close for comfort. “The water level is down anyways you old green sack a leftovers,” Marlon yelled as he launched off the bridge. He landed in the slowly moving waste deep water. As he began moving towards his goal a loud splash rang out.

“You know what Marlon? I hates water. I hates water more than anyting!” A cloud of brown water came streaming from the trolls direction.
Marlon now seemed to panic a bit. His body had too much resistance in the water. Bucklock seemed to move without hindrance. A slight look of joy swept across the fearful Marlon. “Hey sprites! A fig to the one of you that can clean this beast!”

The desired Marlon fig had more uses to the town than any other commodity. It's powerful magic made it an ideal ingredient in almost every potion. The sprites responded quickly. A torrent of water began making its way to the rapidly closing in Bucklock. Just feet away from Bucklock, Marlon wondered what steel it was that Bucklock mentioned in a desperate attempt save his life. In the instant before Bucklok would have crushed Marlon a massive roaring wave carried Bucklock down the river. He rolled and flipped head over heels as he finally crashed onto a far away shore.

“May be next time Bucklock!” Marlon yelled as he made his way to the dry shore.

Still soaking wet, Marlon had arrived to the outskirt of his quaint little village. The small buildings never reached a height above four or five half-lings. The most grand structure was the towns massive wind mill at the center of the town. Its massive wooden blades swung along to the heart beat of the town. It helped manufacture the potions Fervernort was known for. Good potions being the only thing Fevernort was known for. The taverns had wide wenches and a slow bartender, the blacksmith was sub-par at best, and the bakery had a better chance of making an explosive potion than a loaf of bread.

Marlon made his way to the town center where he was greeted by a furious elven woman. “Its bloody half past noon Marlon. Tell me you at least have the dozen figs we need.”

Marlon shrugged and prepared to answer, but Kiva interrupted his excuse. “For the seven Gods. How many do you have?”

Marlon slowly pours his bag onto the nearby table with a look of anguish. “Listen Arty hasn't been getting as much sun lately and he is getting older. Perhaps if we had more manure carts stop by his tree and ...”

“Oh no you don't. I've seen the new sword you got last week. It looks like a mythiral sword from the cities. I haven't given you that much coin by a long shot.” A devious smile crawls onto her face. “Don't worry lad. I have the perfect job for you and your sword out back. Also, if I catch you selling the figs anymore I will hand deliver your butt to Bucklock myself.”

(Chop! Chop! Chop! Pant. Pant. Chop!)

Marlon swings his new enchanted sword at a stupendously large pile of wood. “Stupid hag making me chop wood.” He takes on a sarcastic tone. “Ehh! I'm Kiva! I need more figs. Ehh! Marlon, just cause your so awesome that you can get me more figs I'm going to make you chop wood. Ehh!” he goes back to a normal, but aggressive voice. “I'll give her something to chop.” back to the other voice. “Ehh! No Marlon! Your awesome sword is to awesome for me to handle. I'm dead. Ehh!”

a young elven woman's voice interrupts his foolish monologue. “Ohhh Busted!”

Marlon retorted. “I didn't know the bakery let out this early Daphne... Did you burn down the bakery... again?”

“Shut up Marlon. That could have been literally anyone.”
“Yeah. Literally anyone could have been observed to have the only red hair in town, wearing an apron that says “My bread doesn't explode....that often,” and was seen putting a loaf in the oven that did set on fire.”

“How bout I bake you a special loaf Marlon?”

“How bout me and my new sword show you what a real alchemist can do? This baby has a hurt-locker full of enchantments. I bet I can set things on fire better than even you can... May be not though.”

fire seemed to enter her eyes. “Gah! Just cause I chose to follow my dreams as opposed to coasting on daddies fortune doesn't mean you can make fun of me Marlon!”

Marlon seemed taken aback by the statement. Daphne broke the silence. “Sorry Marlon. That was pretty low. Its just that you always hassle me about my cruddy cooking and it gets...”

“No I am sorry. It’s just been a long day... and I am pretty sure this sword I got is a fake... Kiva will probably yell at me if we keep talking.”

“Yeah. I gotta get back to the bakery anyhow. Cya.” She began to walk away.

“Wait Daphne!” She turned around and looked at Marlon's serious eyes. “Those muffins you made last week were pretty good. You want to make some more for me?”

Her eyes seemed to brighten. “Yes! Absolutely! I even had an idea for a cake using just mushrooms and moss."

“Uh. Yeah. Sure. Why not?” Daphne happily skipped towards the nearby bakery.

Kiva quickly broke the happy scene. “I don't pay you to talk to all the lasses in town. I pay you to work!”

Marlon frantically began chopping wood.

Later in the evening Marlon returned to Arty the enchanted tree. Marlon told of his dilemmas. “Yeah. So all I did was make fun of her the whole time. I think she hates me.”

“You...Just...Need....To...”

“Also the sword I have probably isn't even enchanted.”

“Take....Life...A..Little...”

“So I blew all the money from the extra figs and made Kiva mad at me.”

“Less...”

“Now I can barely lift an arm from all the wood I had to chop.”

“Seriously.”

A look of relief struck Marlon. “Take life a little less seriously ehh? Oh. You mean like I shouldn't care that Dahpne doesn't like me.”

“Not...”

“And that next time I see Kiva I should say the next thing I chop sure won't be wood.”

“Exactly...I...Meant...To...Say...That”

Marlon had already made it halfway to his home by the time the tree finished his unheard speech. He had some of the terrible muffins Daphne made for him, and brushed his teeth. Marlon had a prayer for his late father and let the beautiful sounds of the forest lull him to sleep. Just another day in Fevernort.