"Lucky Me..."
Quest Offering by Cordir
Writing Contest: "..Lucky Me..." I will be hosting a writing contest, open to mortal and immortal alike. ***ENTRIES THAT DO NOT MEET THE MINIMUM REQUIREMENTS BELOW WILL BE DISQUALIFIED.*** Size: Minimum of 500 words. Topic: Any of these: Luck - good or bad Participation: Only one entry per *character*. You must state which *character* each submission belongs to. Judging Requirements: Spelling and grammar are important and will affect your score. Entries must clearly relate to the required topic. ALL Entries will be posted to the wiki. The contest is open as of this writing. The contest closes on March 24th at noon, system time. I will be the sole arbiter of the contest. Write to your audience. Entries should be submitted via NOTE on TFC or via EMAIL (cordir at tfcmud dot com / cordir at hotmail dot com). Prizes: 1st place: 500,000 gold (OR a Lyrical of your choice), AND a 3 Quest Point voucher, AND a restring of my design, inspired by your writing. 2nd place: 250,000 gold (OR a Lyrical of your choice) AND a 2 Quest Point voucher, AND a restring of my design, inspired by your writing. 3rd place: 150,000 gold (OR a lyrical of your choice), AND a 1 quest point voucher, AND a restring of my design, inspired by your writing.
Entry 1: by Lexie
Lexie
Princess of Calamity
Kuroth, South Continent
11am on Searynx the 1st, the month of the Lifegiving,
in the year 3497
(March 21, 2018)
Cordir, Goddess
Lady of Fate, Triat Weaver
Ebon Bard and Patroness of Bards
A Midnight Garden
Dear Cordir,
Enclosed please find a copy of a log, taken on what I consider to be my most luck-filled day in over 2,500 years. I’ve redacted my stat line and some commands to preserve my right to privacy and to prevent any future subversive, nefarious actions against me.
Sincerely,
Lexie
*** SCAVENGER HUNT IN PROGRESS ***
*** THERE IS A QUEST IN PROGRESS ***
*** Quest scheduled to end in: 4hr (2018-03-19 18:13:08) ***
who
Hum [ Wa:30 Th:30 Ma:30 ] Lexie, Princess of Calamity
Elf [ Ra:30 Th:30 Ma:30 ] Mugen McNasty, Demonic Overlord of Nashite
Hum [ Lady Regent ] Malystryxx the Girl..Advisor of Candyland
Ogr [ Bard: 30 30 30 ] Eathor, Formerly known as "Rockstar of the Hunt"
OMG! A scavenger quest and no sign of the usual suspects? Lucky me! Often, teleporting helps keep the lazy mage in me motivated. So, I teleported. I quickly began amassing and submitting scavenger items from all regions of the Realm. But soon I found myself out of mana.
You sleep.
You're standing in Gimble's Gambling Hall in front of one of the
slot machines. Reaching into your pocket you find a few gold
coins and drop them into the machine then pull the handle.
Hey look at those cherries on the wheel!
You won 100 gold coins!
Lucky me! This dream was surely a sign of things to come. I awoke, ran straight to Seaside, and patiently awaited the Sailing Ship. This could be the day I win the Powerball. When the ship docked, I sneaked in to the Gambling Hall and plopped myself down in front of the slot machine.
slot 500
You put 500 gold into the slot machine and pull the handle.
The wheels roll and the machine begins dinging.
_________________________ CHERRY CHERRY ____ --- payline _________________________
You are a WINNER!
The slot machine spits out 1000 coins at you.
I won! Lucky me! It may not be a Powerball win, but 1000 gold helps bribe the clerk. I continued to submit scavenger items and checked my score.
scav score
RANK NAME SCORE
1. Lexie : 102.
By now, there were only 8 minutes left until the end of the scavenger quest and I had the highest score. Lucky me! There was NO way even Mercury could beat this score now. I knew prizes would be distributed in the Guild Hall once the scavenger ended. I was low on mana, did not want to walk, felt confident, and oh, so very lucky. I decided to quaff a recall potion. I knew it could be catastrophic, but I felt lucky!
quaff red
You quaff a clear red potion.
You are wrenched from the room!
A Dark Tunnel
[Exits: north south]
The blackness swallows your light a few feet away, giving you little
indication where to go, where you've been, and how far it is to the
next exit.
You managed to trample any tracks that were here...
You are forcibly thrown to the ground!
That hurt, but I was OK. Still low on mana, and now lower on hps, nevertheless I believed in my luck. I decided to quaff another recall potion.
You stand.
quaff red
You quaff a red potion.
Your vision dims to black. When it returns, your surroundings are different.
Uh oh. I knew I should’ve Id’ed that random potion in my inventory.
The Room of Mirrors
[Exits: south]
Gasping for breath seeing all this wealth you look around. Marble and onyx
tiles form an dazzling pattern on the floor on which many ancient pieces
of furniture are standing, newly-waxed and gleaming. Large yellow candles
attached to the ornate mirror-covered walls burn brightly, filling the room
with their soft light, reflected in the many mirrors. Behind a huge crystal
globe embedded in a low marble pillar, you see the two most beautiful items
of this impressive room. Made of silver and gold two large ornate thrones,
covered with expensive tapestries, sparkle in the light of the candles.
(White Aura) The Lady of the Tower looks at you with piercing eyes.
(White Aura) Angrily, the Master of Magic rises from his golden throne.
The Lady *** DEMOLISHES *** you.
The Lady *** DEMOLISHES *** you.
You parry the Master of Magic’s attack.
Your pierce mauls the Master of Magic.
The Master of Magic *** DEMOLISHES *** you.
The Master of Magic dodges your attack.
c ‘dark’
The Lady EVISCERATES you.
Your pierce maims the Lady.
The Master of Magic EVISCERATES you.
You parry the Master of Magic’s attack.
Ok.
Someone EVISCERATES you.
Someone EVISCERATES you.
You dodge someone’s attack.
Your pierce maims someone.
c ‘jump’
Someone utters the words, ‘qaiyguai’.
You dodge someone’s attack.
You jump out of combat!
Someone utters the words, ‘gurunsoqz’.
Silence envelopes you!
Well, this was NOT good. Thanks to Venom and his hair-brained, unbelievably ridiculous, nonsensical idea to keep exits unknown in a dark room (even though I can use my hands to FEEL around the room for an EXIT, like Helen Keller), I was in serious trouble! And, note to self: Stop using clear red potions, it’s time to grow up and drink the spiked lemonade.
Tynian appears before you.
Tynian comforts you.
You burst into tears.
Tynian says, ‘I was surprised to see you teleport to this room. I made it practically impossible to do so. Did you know the odds of teleporting to this particular room are 100,030,402,700 to 1?’
Tynian says, ‘That’s pretty amazing!’
You burst into tears.
Tynian pats you on your back.
Someone utters the words, ‘qaiyguai’.
Lucky me?
Nicholai (unseen) cants, ‘Greetings’.
You cant, ‘OMG, Nich! I’m in a terrible situation, please help?!’.
Nicholai (unseen) cants, ‘I have 4 minutes to win the scavenger, then I can help’.
You cant, ‘I’ll be dead in 1 minute! Probably less!’.
Nicholai (unseen) cants, ‘So that really means you have at least 18 minutes.’
You cant, ‘Nich! I’m IN THE ROOM OF MIRRORS!!’.
Nicholai (unseen) cants, ‘Don’t worry, my endorphins will save you. I’ll pass your score in the scavenger, and meet you in approximately 2 minutes and 2 seconds.’
Lucky me.
Entry #2: By Nicholai
I’ve never been one to put much stock in luck, good or bad. To me everything is just a series of events following the laws of causation. But one recent adventure has me wondering if there isn’t some mystical force working behind the scenes to manipulate the outcome. Maybe the immortals were in a favorable mood, maybe I had a guardian demon watching out for me, or maybe it was just luck. Whatever the case, I didn’t feel particularly lucky throughout the ordeal, rather quite the opposite.
I had arrived in the realm to find the floor of the Great Hall of the guild clean of all tracks, the air smelled fresh, and there was a sense of renewed energy as though the residents of this world had just woken up from a deep sleep. It was the perfect time to do some locates. After a few tries I got a promising hit, An Elven Chain girth in “somewhere mysterious”, again “somewhere mysterious”, then bingo! Arghhh…. on a Giant Pudding. “Well, that narrows it down” I grumbled to myself. Time to start hunting puddings. I figured I would start by checking the Great Western Road since puddings seem to hang out there, and with the heavy foot traffic maybe someone noticed one with shiny new duds. Upon reaching the foot bridge West of Midgaard, I encountered a peculiar gnome standing on a fresh cut tree stump, bringing him about chest height to me.
“Excuse me, have you seen any Giant Puddings around?” I inquired.
“Ahh! are you seeking adventure?” He replied, answering my question with a question, which I found rather annoying.
“Not exactly.” I replied, “There is a well armored one squishing about somewhere, I was hoping to relieve him of his burden”.
“Well, my good sir, I saw a one a few hours ago, North of here, heading into the tall grass. And he was all shiny. But you are going to need quite a bit of luck to find him in there! And I just happen to have something that may help.”
The gnome continued, “I acquired this beauty on my travels to the outlands” and produced an oversized four-leaf clover with some slight burn marks on the edges of its leaflets.
“It has served me well, but I may be convinced to part with it for a few gold coins”.
“I think I’ll pass on that” I retorted, “but here are some coins for the tip on the pudding” I said as I reached into my money pouch and gave him a couple coins.
“oh, you are far too kind! Take the trinket, you will need it” He insisted as he leaned in and tucked the stem into my belt. He then flashed a rather creepy wink, creepy even for a gnome, wished me luck, and vanished in green puff.
“Gnomes are a strange breed” I thought to myself as I stifled a cough from the smoke. Glancing down at the clover, I noticed my belt felt a little lighter. Damnit! My money pouch is missing! I had only been carrying a few thousand gold, but still, the little thieving bastard tricked me! And I don’t have time to detour in search of a banker if I wanted to catch that pudding. Hopefully I won’t need to make any purchases.
I headed North on the Great Western Road until I saw slimy tracks, and sure enough they led into the shifting plains. After wandering aimlessly through the grass, I felt my sanity waning like the daylight. It had been hours since I last saw tracks of anyone or anything but myself and I was about to abandon my quest when I stumbled upon a foggy pathway leading up to a ticket booth. It appeared to be a circus, not the best location for a business in my opinion, but at least it was something other than tall itchy grass. And, although I didn’t have high hopes for it, perhaps someone here saw the giant pudding. As I approached the gate I was beckoned by a rather dismal and unhealthy-looking figure who informed me there would be no entry without purchasing a ticket.
“No problem, uh, wait… yes problem” I stammered.
I nearly forgot I had been relieved of all my gold.
“Would you accept a lovely green leafy clover?” I pleaded.
“No ticket, no entry” mumbled the Ticketmaster.
As I turned to walk back I noticed a faded red ticket almost buried in the mud, seemingly dropped and trampled under a child sized footprint. “well, isn’t that lucky” I thought to myself as I retrieved the treasure and held it up.
“Ticket!” I announced through a forced grin.
The Ticketmaster promptly took it and unlocked the gate.
No sooner had I entered the fine establishment did I regret my decision. The gate immediately closed and locked behind me and I tripped over the corpse of some unfortunate fellow, kicking a paper envelope from his stiff hand, which I quickly grabbed and stuffed in a bag to examine later. The air was foggy and tainted with the scent of burnt popcorn and rotting flesh. I could hear carnival music off in the distance towards the North along with faint sobbing and an occasional blood curdling scream. Following a small overgrown wagon trail, I found myself outside some tents and directly in the path of a small girl with very pale skin.
“Excuse me, little girl? Could you tell me…”
My words were cut short as she bared her sharp, pointy teeth and assaulted me with her evil intent.
“Bloody hell!” I exclaimed as I frantically tried to defend myself.
The commotion must have attracted the attention of a few other patrons since she was joined by a ghostly figure who was sobbing uncontrollably, and a very angry customer who, despite his obvious lack of breathing, moaned incomprehensively “jiyzhhzf”, and I suddenly felt very disconnected from the world around me.
“This isn’t good” I thought to myself as I took off running in whichever direction they weren’t.
I reached the end of the path, rounded the corner, and ran right into a wraith who stopped crying just long enough to summon a hailstorm. Before I could flee yet again, a large spike of ice tore through one of my bags, spilling out black potions which were swallowed up by some kind of anthropomorphic fog just as fast as they hit the ground.
“Damnit! There go my necroports” I cursed as I took off running in another direction.
I kept running, past more unfortunate circus dwellers, each seeming angrier than the last, and around another corner until I reached a briar patch. Unable to stop in time, I slammed into a bush and managed to squeeze through emerging on a narrow path that appeared to be the road less traveled. Taking a moment to catch my breath as I had eluded the pursuing group, I decided to just give up and get out now while I was lucky to be alive. Unfortunately, a survey yielded no wizard marks.
“Well, this is just wonderful” I quipped to myself sarcastically.
“Now I’m stuck in here with no potions and nowhere to portal, there must be another way out.”
I followed the briar path until I came to a clearing and stopped dead in my tracks. To the North I could see a decrepit looking shack. But right next to me, propped up against a stump, sat a man, or what used to be a man, asleep next to a blue bag with a letter sticking part way out. I was hoping to avoid another crazed encounter, but my curiosity was piqued, and I am a pretty good sneak, so I quickly grabbed the letter and quietly moved away from him and closer to the shack. It appeared to be a letter of apology from the Ring Master of the circus addressed to someone named Conzy. Remembering the envelope I had found earlier, I retrieved it from my bag and opened it to find another letter, hand written with poor spelling and grammar. This one from Conzy to the “RingMazta” claiming she would show him the way out if he apologized for putting the circus on her land.
“Yes! There is a way out!” I shouted in my head, hoping the sleeping messenger could not read minds.
I looked up from the letter to the door of the shack, I thought “maybe Conzy lives here?” And I proceeded to enter.
The small, one roomed hut was filled with…stuff. Just stuff everywhere, dolls all over the floor, vials and antlers and other curiosities covered the walls. In the center stood a large, bubbling cauldron which was obviously the source of the noxious fumes infesting the curcus, and standing next to it was a grinning, green hag. “Um, are you Conzy?” I sheepishly asked.
“I is her" she cackled, “what you want? you trezpaz in my swamp too?”
“Not willingly, I’m trying to get out.” I responded, handing her the apology letter. “I believe this is for you.”
She looked it over, turned it around a few times, then began laughing. “Ahhhh, now he is sowwy.”
Handing me a small compass, she said “Here, dis show you wat you want. Now go!” and she shooed me out the door.
As I studied the compass, the needle was spinning wildly around and around.
“Yeah, that about sums it up” I thought. “Show me the way out!” I commanded.
The needle stopped and pointed back along the path towards the circus.
“Maybe my luck is turning around” I muttered throwing a quick glance at the clover still stuck in my belt and proceeded to make my way back to the bramble bushes.
I followed the compass, re-entering the main path of the circus and surveyed the area for my “friends”. With no one in sight, I continued East until I came to an intersecting path, the needle turned and pointed South, right towards an unruly mob led by an enraged little girl.
“Well, I don’t care what you say, I’m NOT going that way” I scolded, shaking the compass.
The girl screamed upon spotting me, and the rest of her posse charged my way. I turned to run North and nearly collided with a rather large man guarding the entrance to a giant tent. He glared at me, barring my entrance, then noticed the unruly mob screaming and running right towards us. While he was distracted, I slipped past the entrance and into the big top, frantically looking for a place to hide. Once inside I was stopped by well dressed greeter who eyed me from head to toe.
“Pretty flower!” he exclaimed, pointing at the clover. “I like flowers! I want! We trade!”
Before I could even think about objecting he snatched the clover from my belt, shoved a flower headed staff at me. The force of his push knocked me towards the center ring and right into gaze of the Ring Master, who was entirely engulfed in flames and rightfully unhappy about it. At the same time, the group who had given me chase barged in, blocking my escape back out, and leaving me in a very dangerous predicament. As the Ring Master raised his hands to begin his assault I ducked low, clutching my newly acquired staff, and brandished it defensively. The Ring Master’s attempt to hit me with a hailstorm failed as the shards of ice missed me entirely, striking the girl and her friends, setting off a very messy battle between her group and him. Trying to make myself unnoticed, I watched in horror as he proceeded to tear each of them apart taking quite a bit of damage himself. As the girl’s lifeless body hit the ground, a red potion fell and rolled towards me. Hoping it to be a recall potion, I quickly grabbed it and quaffed.
Nope, guess I couldn’t be THAT lucky!” I whined, since I was still there watching the carnage.
As the severely injured Ring Master finished with the group he turned towards me to cast a powerful attack. Wincing, as I expected to have my soul rifted right out, I felt a strange tingle throughout my body. The spell bounced off me and right back at him, killing him instantly.
“Hah!” I said to myself, “It wasn’t a recall, it was a reflection potion! Maybe I had some good luck after…”
I may have spoken too soon, because the ghost of the Ring Master shimmered and appeared in front of me, glaring icily. Rather than engage the ghost, I had an idea.
“Sir!” I proclaimed, bowing deeply. “I delivered your message to Conzy, and she asked me to give you these” handing him both her hand-written letter and the compass.
I could see the expression in his face fade from anger to a sense of peace”. He nodded in acknowledgement and motioned towards the North, vanishing in a ripple of space and leaving behind a flaming key. Extinguishing the fire with my boot, I grabbed the key and made haste in that direction, unlocking a door and finding myself at the back of a wagon. Looking towards the East I could see a way out! I ran as fast as I could to escape, hoping to put this whole nightmare behind me, and slammed right into something sticky.
“Oh gods, what now!” I bemoaned.
I had stepped right on a…a GIANT PUDDING! And not just an ordinary Giant Pudding, this one was sporting a fancy Potent Magic Elven Chain girth about it’s midsection.
Lucky Me!
Entry #3: By Mercury
Mercury leaned on the doorframe of the bar, trying to get both his eyes to focus properly as he gazed into the dimly-lit room. It could be hard to find gods when in a mortal form, but then he heard a yelp from a waitress as she slipped and went down. Hard.
Mercury steeled his spleen, took a swig from his flask, and wandered over to the back table. There sat the very embodiment of misfortune. With an eyepatch hanging loose, most of his skin looking like melted candle wax and a wooden stump of a leg, this guy had perfected the thousand-yard stare from birth. Mercury almost tripped over a dead body by the table and righted the chair it had fallen out of opposite of this pitiful excuse for a man.
“Messages, eh?” muttered the man as he sipped his beer from a broken mug.
Mercury nodded slowly, never quite sure about this one.
“Anything nice? Or is it just another bunch of curses and insults?” he went on.
Mercury shrugged, eyeing the full mug of beer in front of him.
“Mostly insults this time,” Mercury replied. “This poisoned?” he asked as he nudged the beer.
The man shook his head and leaned over to look at the body on the floor.
“Ghosts in his blood or somewhat. The beer’s fine. The beer’s always fine,” the man replied.
Mercury smiled and took a big swig of the beer, hiccupping in the middle and slopping some onto his shirt. This god didn’t scorn him or look down on him, and oddly enough, the beer was always good around him.
“How’s things?” Mercury asked, plopping an overly-stuffed mailbag onto the table, pushing the bag and a few of the spilled letters towards the man.
The man didn’t respond and just stared at nothing for a long time. As Mercury was finishing his beer and standing, the man spoke.
“You got any family Mercury?” he asked.
“No, just me,” he replied.
“Well, I got a sister,” the man said, pausing for a notably long moment. “You know how it feels being named specifically not after someone?”
Mercury looked at the beer and settled back into his chair, waving for a refill from the waitress.
“What do you mean?” Mercury pushed quizzically, as the waitress filled up his mug and carefully made her way back to the bar.
“Well, if you had a brother named Steve. What if your parents named you Not-Steve?” the man asked, never really looking at Mercury, whom was just taking a sip of beer.
Mercury snorted and sprayed some beer out his nose.
“And I work ten times harder than her. All those little spider webs you walk through, or the bird crap landing on your head. That’s work. Hard work. She’s just lazy,” the man continued. “OOOOOOH, I found some money I forgot I had. She gets thanks and praises for that kind of lazy crap all the time.”
Mercury nodded and waited. Encounters with this god were always unpredictable.
“I mean, how much do you have to hate your kid to name him ‘not the kid we wanted’??” the man said as he leaned back and stared up at the ceiling.
“Do you ever try to get back at them?” Mercury asked.
“Oh yeah, all the time. But when I do, they just pray harder to my sister. Ever see someone try to bribe me to NOT mess with them? No. It’s just curses, and threat. It’s just this,” the man said as he kicked the mail bag off the table and fell over onto his back with a loud snap.
Mercury paused for a moment and looked over the edge of the table. The man’s neck was bent at a very wrong angle. He’d have to ask him about the beer next time.<
Entry #4: By Golson
An Ogre’s Luck
Gragrog came into this world at a most inconvenient time. His dam was navigating tunnels, the sumptuous looking elf in sight when the pain came unexpectedly. She was just charging under the ladder the elf had ducked past as she felt her body expel the additional weight at last. Having no time to spare if she wanted to catch her lunch, she barged on through the dark cave.
Gragrog survived on rats and lizards until at last he was able to manage a lone kobold. Though he was just trying to survive, with experience came growth. The elves who frequented the cave took pity upon him, sparing his life. It had been thought that even the least fortunate Ogre would be born with some luck, bit Gragrog appeared to be the exception. The elvish children, however, were particularly cruel. Meleki, the prince pretended to befriend Gragrog and to help him with his problem. On the eve of each growth, Meleki would hold a ceremony for Gragrog attended by other elven youths. Each ceremony was the same, a mirror was presented to Gragrog who was instructed, “Should you wish better luck to befall you, you must break from your past. See what you are in the mirror and destroy it to allow for what you wish to become.” For three consecutive growths, Gragrog did as instructed. Each year, he grew taller and stronger, but also felt less lucky.
As he grew, he required more and more food to survive. The tunnels were clear of rats now and nearly clear of kobolds. He began to suspect that the elves tolerated him because he rid them of the vermin that annoyed them. How the elves could subsist on seeds and plant remains he could not fathom.
When assigned to clear the tunnels, Meleki would track Gragrog down and ask him if he wanted to explore the caves with him. Gragrog who enjoyed companionship -though he seldom had any- always agreed. Once into the deeper caves, Meleki would allow Gragrog to select which paths to take. After dozens of expeditions and difficult battles with fireworms, earthcrawlers, and kobold packs Gragrog began to notice that Meleki would select the opposite tunnel choices and rarely encountered prey. However, as time passed, Gragrog’s wounds healed and he encountered growths more and more frequently, while Meleki’s growth appeared to stagnate. The elven trainers were puzzled. It was thought impossible to have such low levels of luck as Gragrog had attained, and such prodigious strength. In fact Esdarian, the most experienced trainer surmised it was not possible for Gragrog’s luck to decrease any further. He had already decreased well below what was believed to be an Ogre’s minimum luck.
As Gragrog’s fortunes decreased, Meleki spent more and more time with him. During the mid-year challenges, Meleki always selected Gragrog as his opponent during the 4th round. Gragrog was honored to participate. During his first year he won a giant’s accumulation of bellybutton lint after triggering a trap which immobilized him. During his second year he won a pair of heavy, extra thick beer goggles after opening a door releasing a basilisk which nearly ended him. In his third year he won a pair of aromatic giant boots which increased his dexterity and stamina after selecting the chute which led to the village dung heap. Meleki’s chute led him to the tunnel entrance. Though Gragrog noticed Meleki always came away with the more magical and exquisite looking items, he was happy to participate and grateful for even the smallest gifts. He suspected that the elvish leaders had taken pity on him and were selecting useful if not elaborate prizes for the loser of the bouts with Meleki.
When Gragrog found fire lizard lairs or kobolds with illicit gold, Meleki was always quick to offer a round of dice or cards. Gragrog enjoyed the games, though as time passed he recognized that he had yet to win. On his fifth growth, it all began to change.
The ritual began as it always had, Meleki producing the mirror, Gragrog hefting it in one hand and smashing it down on his head as he gained the last bit of experience needed to initiate the growth. However, this time something marvelous happened. Gragrog felt, luckier, not just luckier but extraordinarily lucky. He kept the sensation to himself.
Gragrog found it easier to find meals. He no longer needed to traverse the full distance of the caves before finding the animal which lost its way. Although it defied logic, each kobold he found seemed to have greater riches. Gragrog was able to accumulate a small amount of wealth for the first time. After learning of his growth, Esdarian the trainer asked Gragrog to visit him. Upon examining his inherent abilities, Esdarian was shocked, breaking into a broad smile. Esdarian had been long angered by the treatment Gragrog received from Meleki. It was Esdarian who had pressed the elders to split the value of the fourth round of competition prizes to ensure that Gragrog was not wholly forgotten. This year would be different.
The elders met to discuss prizes. This year Esdarian did not object when it was proposed that the entire amount of allotted treasure be utilized for the winner’s prizes, with mere trinkets to be given to the loser. He also allowed without contest that the prizes grow in value substantially with each round. The prize for the winner of the fourth round would be the most valuable it had ever been. The elders thought at last Esdarian had recognized the value in having the most able member of their community receive the largest share of riches. Esdarian paused, “With such wealth I am concerned that the bested participant might seek to bully or harm the winner after.” The elders recognizing the size and strength of Gragrog agreed that someday he might try to turn upon their beloved Meleki and readily agreed that they would proclaim the winner to be under the protection of the elders.
Meleki through his wit and guile won the first three rounds, but by narrower margins than he had in past years. It was noted that he was a growth behind most of his cohort and it was wondered how this could be given the number of tunnel clearing assignments he had been given this year trying to help him keep up with others his age. As in past years he selected his opponent for the fourth round. Gragrog smiled broadly upon hearing his name called, so too did Esdarian.
As in prior years Meleki avoided tests of strength or stamina, knowing that Gragrog could best any of the elves at these. He also knew Gragrog’s dexterity had markedly improved with the foul smelling boots he wore. The choice was easy, it would be a contest of luck. As Meleki and Gragrog were taken to the chamber of paths, Meleki bowed and indicated that Gragrog should proceed him. Gragrog stared hard into the tunnels, he never knew which to take and always seemed to select the wrong one. To the guffaws of the elves watching, he placed the bellybutton lint inside his beer goggles ensuring that his senses would not interfere with his choice. Blindly he spun in circles then stopped, allowing lady luck to guide his steps. Meleki’s smile grew as he realized what Gragrog was up to. Gragrog entered the tunnel on the left, removing the lint and walking with sure steps. Meleki took the tunnel to the right. Gragrog tried to block out the sounds he heard as he progresses deeper into the tunnel, just making out the trumpets of an enraged earthcrawler, the blasts of a fireworm. His path was clear, leading to a comfortable room with a crimson Orb sitting on a table. He reach the inscriptions on the token. The bearer of this token shall be protected from spells and inflict additional damage upon their prey. He wore the token with pride as he walked back to the chamber hall. He was surprised to find Meleki had not yet returned.
After nearly an hour of waiting, a soaked Meleki entered the chamber. The edges of his robe were burned and he still bore the signs of battle. He walked with a noticeable limp and he was angry, angrier than Gragrog had ever seen him. Meleki had never lost before.
Without thinking Meleki roared to Gragrog, “I challenge you to a game of dice.” To his relief, Esdarian interceded on Gragrog’s behalf. “Allow him his prize, Meleki,” said Esdarian, “He has so little and has won it fairly. You know of his weakness, it is not just to manipulate him so.” Meleki stared in rage, “Very well, I will give him ten to one odds.” Gasps arose. Esdarian looked to Gragrog, “Go, gather your wealth, return here at once.” Not wanting to anger the elder, Gragrog hurried to his cove, uncovered his cache of gold which had grown large and difficult to heft and trudged his way back to the room. The elves stared in disbelieve, even the wealthy youth, save the prince himself had not acquired such wealth. Meleki’s eyes gleamed, but Esdarian interceded. “How will you match his wager, he implored?” Esdarian was angered but he replied, “my ring shall suffice.” Esdarian shook his head. “The Crimson Orb itself is worth more than your ring.” Meleki was taken aback at the value. Esdarian spoke further, “To meet the stakes stated you must wager all of your winnings from each of the past contests, your ring, and your shard.” Meleki was stunned, but he knew of Gragrog’s weakness. “So be it.”
Meleki produced a pair of dice. He rolled them three times as prescribed. Decent rolls to be sure. Gragrog’s hand trembled as he clutched the dice. He had never won a game of dice in his life. He rolled the first pair, double sixes. The elves in attendance gasped. If he bested Meleki with just two rolls, his winnings would double. Meleki blanched, this had never occurred before in all the times he had played Gragrog. Gragrog slowly retrieved the dice and rolled them again. The elders were angry, turning upon Esdarian, “What foul play is this?” Esdarian replied, “We have watched Meleki prey upon Gragrog for years, reducing his luck at each growth, tricking him out of his meager earnings. It was only by making his prizes smell, or appear ratty or useless that we have been able to provide Gragrog with anything at all.” Gragrog’s eyes turned to Meleki, realizing at last the import of the breaking mirror, the games of dice, the dangerous fiends he had faced alone for years. He looked down at the dice, double sixes. The elves were in an uproar. How could an Ogre have bested their own prince? Esdarian slammed his staff into the stone floor, the magically enhanced sound echoing through the chasm drawing all attention towards him. The chamber was utterly silent. Esdarian spoke in a clear voice, “let it be known to all that Gragrog is under the protection of the Elders, none shall harm him or take action against him. Any such harm or offense shall be treated as if it were against an Elder.” The crowd was stunned. Esdarian turned to Meleki, “Deliver his winnings, do not forget to double its value in coin, then go in peace.”
So is the story of the beginning of Gragrog, the Lucky.
And the Winners:
1st Place: Golson
2nd Place: Nicholai
3rd Place: Mercury
4th Place: Lexie