Lexa
Fledgling Freddie
- Joined
- Aug 3, 2004
- Messages
- 210
Note: this is not my entry for the story competition but I do enjoy writing short stories and whilst I was thinking of a theme for my entry this one just came out, hope it amuses you a little, but as you can see not really appropriate for WAR to publish 
Pushing the heavy wooden door open Blake Goldenhair entered the pub, the din of several dozen drunken voices swept over him, taking in a deep breath he smiled as a mixture of ale, wood smoke and roast boar assailed his nostrils.
Scanning the room he found a dwarf matching the description he was given, short, fat, with a ginger Mohawk and spouting a strange accent. He was certainly short even for a dwarf, a well tended beer gut bulged out over his belt with a well positioned tankard resting neatly on top. The dwarf was fast asleep oblivious to the ruckus going on around him.
As Blake sat in the empty chair across from the dwarf his eyes flicked open, wiping some sleep drool from the side of his face he sat up and deftly placed the tankard back on the table.
“Who may you be?” said the dwarf, indeed in a strange accent that forced Blake to cover a smirk
“I’m Blake, I was told by one of the town guards that you may have a quest worthy of a Knight of the Sun?” he replied still trying to school his face to a more serious tone.
“Ah indeed I do, I have a quest that will test the very limits of your honour and that shiny armour of yours.”
Now desperate to laugh Blake struggled on,
“I see and what would you have me do, that would task my honor and armor so?”
“Well I’m in need of someone to paint my house, the recent storms have dulled the colour, so I…..”
At this point Blake burst out laughing, no longer able to control himself against the onslaught of the dwarf’s accent.
A look of confusion crossed the dwarf’s face at the interruption,
“What ever is so humorous?” demanded the dwarf,
Composing himself for a moment Blake managed to explain
“Your accent, it’s so weird, you say armour instead of armor, honour instead of honor, I apologize but it’s so damn strange”
“WHAT!!!” cried the dwarf,
“Oh your one of those, I don’t know, you take our language and put z’s where the s’s go and miss out the u’s, I bet you even call football ‘soccer’ don’t you. Well I’ll be having nothing to do with you, go on get out of here, get out of my pub!”
Cringing back from the now very irate dwarf Blake stood, he felt the eyes of the entire now silent common room staring at him, backing up he made his way slowly out of the pub and back onto the cobbled road.
It was only then that he noticed the small brass sign on the pub door.
“This is an English speaking European server please use the Queen’s English when addressing the occupants, thank you for your patronage.”
Pushing the heavy wooden door open Blake Goldenhair entered the pub, the din of several dozen drunken voices swept over him, taking in a deep breath he smiled as a mixture of ale, wood smoke and roast boar assailed his nostrils.
Scanning the room he found a dwarf matching the description he was given, short, fat, with a ginger Mohawk and spouting a strange accent. He was certainly short even for a dwarf, a well tended beer gut bulged out over his belt with a well positioned tankard resting neatly on top. The dwarf was fast asleep oblivious to the ruckus going on around him.
As Blake sat in the empty chair across from the dwarf his eyes flicked open, wiping some sleep drool from the side of his face he sat up and deftly placed the tankard back on the table.
“Who may you be?” said the dwarf, indeed in a strange accent that forced Blake to cover a smirk
“I’m Blake, I was told by one of the town guards that you may have a quest worthy of a Knight of the Sun?” he replied still trying to school his face to a more serious tone.
“Ah indeed I do, I have a quest that will test the very limits of your honour and that shiny armour of yours.”
Now desperate to laugh Blake struggled on,
“I see and what would you have me do, that would task my honor and armor so?”
“Well I’m in need of someone to paint my house, the recent storms have dulled the colour, so I…..”
At this point Blake burst out laughing, no longer able to control himself against the onslaught of the dwarf’s accent.
A look of confusion crossed the dwarf’s face at the interruption,
“What ever is so humorous?” demanded the dwarf,
Composing himself for a moment Blake managed to explain
“Your accent, it’s so weird, you say armour instead of armor, honour instead of honor, I apologize but it’s so damn strange”
“WHAT!!!” cried the dwarf,
“Oh your one of those, I don’t know, you take our language and put z’s where the s’s go and miss out the u’s, I bet you even call football ‘soccer’ don’t you. Well I’ll be having nothing to do with you, go on get out of here, get out of my pub!”
Cringing back from the now very irate dwarf Blake stood, he felt the eyes of the entire now silent common room staring at him, backing up he made his way slowly out of the pub and back onto the cobbled road.
It was only then that he noticed the small brass sign on the pub door.
“This is an English speaking European server please use the Queen’s English when addressing the occupants, thank you for your patronage.”
