Winter Stew
Dec 3, 2020 15:46:24 GMT -5
Post by Artemis on Dec 3, 2020 15:46:24 GMT -5
In the middle of the swamplands, nestled among the trees was a plain little witch's hut. Literally in the trees, it's a treehouse, there's a rope ladder up and everything. Or you know, fly in, if you trust trying to make a landing between all the thick boughs of the creaking willow trees and gnarled mangroves. Ferns grew plentifully at the base of the old thick tree the house was nestled in, providing a soft landing for any failed landings, at least.
In the hut, there was of course a witch. It was a witch's hut. You think there was going to be a zombie or something? Don't be silly. The witch had green skin, and a big nose, and a broad rimmed black hat, and was stirring over a heavy iron cauldron of something bubbling and possibly troubling.
She didn't usually look like that, she just had a skin condition, okay, she's really sensitive about that, try not to bring it up. It's rude. You don't like someone pointing out when you have a bad rash, do you? There you go.
Anyway, there was a nice little fire under the brew, and in the fire were four eggs, looking much like Dragon eggs only tiny, barely bigger than those of a Firelizard. After taking a sip from her stirring spoon, she crouched down to peer at the eggs, gently poking at the leathery skin, then straightened up and went to lean out her open window.
"GEORGE! GEORGE THEY'RE READY!" she shrieked into the air, startling a flight of four-winged birds into the honey-coloured sky.
Not a full minute later, the drums sounded out a message. Eggs. Swamp. Hut. Go get'em if you're inclined. Or don't. George ain't your mom, he's a troll. Goblin? Maybe a small ogre. He's a George. Don't question it.
((bebe sneks! bring whoever you want, post whatever, send prefs pls, nice little simple thing |D))
In the hut, there was of course a witch. It was a witch's hut. You think there was going to be a zombie or something? Don't be silly. The witch had green skin, and a big nose, and a broad rimmed black hat, and was stirring over a heavy iron cauldron of something bubbling and possibly troubling.
She didn't usually look like that, she just had a skin condition, okay, she's really sensitive about that, try not to bring it up. It's rude. You don't like someone pointing out when you have a bad rash, do you? There you go.
Anyway, there was a nice little fire under the brew, and in the fire were four eggs, looking much like Dragon eggs only tiny, barely bigger than those of a Firelizard. After taking a sip from her stirring spoon, she crouched down to peer at the eggs, gently poking at the leathery skin, then straightened up and went to lean out her open window.
"GEORGE! GEORGE THEY'RE READY!" she shrieked into the air, startling a flight of four-winged birds into the honey-coloured sky.
Not a full minute later, the drums sounded out a message. Eggs. Swamp. Hut. Go get'em if you're inclined. Or don't. George ain't your mom, he's a troll. Goblin? Maybe a small ogre. He's a George. Don't question it.
((bebe sneks! bring whoever you want, post whatever, send prefs pls, nice little simple thing |D))