Black Raspberry, Rocky Road, Fudge Ripple
Author: Rachel (tag please, mods? :D)
Challenges: Black Raspberry #30 (A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step), Rocky Road #10 (Bar), Fudge Ripple #11 (Hesitation).
Extras/Toppings: none
Rating: PG for tavern setting
Word Count: 750
Story: In the Kingdom of Chittamy
Summary: Prince Julian seeks companions for his Noble Quest.
Author's Note: Far from what I talked to the mods about, this is the beginning of a fantasy story designed to be silly and cliche. I'm intending to go in more-or-less chronological order, but, knowing me, that plan is likely to go out the window. Thank you for reading, and I'd love to hear what you think!
In the kingdom of Chittamy, Tradition was very important. In fact, if you asked the people of Chittamy what was more important, obeying the King or obeying Tradition, seventy-three percent would say Tradition. The other twenty-seven percent would dither, and end up saying the King, but as the King tended to obey Tradition, there were rarely any problems in this regard.
This is the reason that, on his seventeenth birthday, Prince Julian found himself outside the door of a particularly dark and dirty tavern. Tradition insisted that when the oldest son of the king was seventeen years old, he was to be given a sword, a cloak, and a horse, and be sent to the most disreputable establishment in the capital. There he would meet his questing companions. They were, invariably, a rather stupid hero, covered in bulging muscles and scars; a wise old wizard with more power then he knew what to do with; and a faithful sidekick. Where these three came from was a mystery. One would think that any such powerful wizards would be training up other wizards, or working for the king or another wealthy patron. The hero should have been off killing giants or being the guard for some beautiful, cruel maiden. The sidekick...well, the sidekick should have been doing what sidekicks do best: being faithful, loyal, and helping their friend out of scrapes. However, whenever a Crown Prince came of age, these three would be there.
Prince Julian was not precisely thrilled to be undertaking this quest, but one did not argue with Tradition, especially when it determined your future. The Quest was Prince Julian’s future. On the Quest he was to find his one true love, rescue her from a dragon, or an ogre, or a vampire stepmother, or a wicked uncle, bring her home triumphantly, marry, and bring up another batch of princes and princesses.
He looked at the tavern door. It was thick, heavy wood, stained black with a myriad of liquids, dirts, and other things, all of which Prince Julian was sure he did not want to know the details about. It also had more slashes and cut marks and burned patches than should be possible, in a door still whole. But it was whole, and very forbidding. Prince Julian considered knocking, but, fortunately, realized this would be precisely the wrong thing to do. Striking what he hoped was a heroic pose, Prince Julian shoved the tavern door open.
The effect was somewhat spoiled by the door being entirely too heavy to be opened by a ordinary-sized seventeen-year-old boy’s shove, when that shove was more for looks and did not have the boy’s full strength behind it. After another try, Prince Julian gave up trying to look heroic, put his shoulder against the door, and pushed. The old wood groaned, moved slightly, and then, as if to get its irritation over with, opened suddenly, causing Prince Julian to stumble down the one step into the tavern.
Smoky torches lit the square room, showing a dozen tables in the same dark wood as the door, a highly polished bar with several giant kegs behind it, and a grumpy-looking barman endlessly polishing a glass. Not seeing anyone else of significance, only several dwarves drowning their sorrows in mugs of ale nearly the size of their heads, he approached the barman. He stopped a pace away from the counter, and stared at the man.
The barman stared back, his face still set in grumpy lines, highlighted with dirt.
“Erm,” Prince Julian said, and stopped. This was not how a prince should behave when setting out on his Quest.
“Good man, I am Prince Julian of Chittamy, and I have come to find Companions for my Noble Quest.” Prince Julian’s tutor had made sure that he knew how to put capitals into his words when he spoke. It was a very valuable talent, especially for inciting people to a cause.
The barman said nothing, but stopped polishing long enough to jerk a thumb in the direction of the darkest corner of the already dark tavern. Blinking hard to get his eyes to adjust to the dim light, Prince Julian strode manfully, or what he thought was manfully and looked more like a child trying to step in an adult’s footsteps on the wet sand of a beach, to the corner.
“I am Prince Julian,” Prince Julian said for the second time in a minute. “Are you interested in undertaking a Noble Quest?”
Challenges: Black Raspberry #30 (A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step), Rocky Road #10 (Bar), Fudge Ripple #11 (Hesitation).
Extras/Toppings: none
Rating: PG for tavern setting
Word Count: 750
Story: In the Kingdom of Chittamy
Summary: Prince Julian seeks companions for his Noble Quest.
Author's Note: Far from what I talked to the mods about, this is the beginning of a fantasy story designed to be silly and cliche. I'm intending to go in more-or-less chronological order, but, knowing me, that plan is likely to go out the window. Thank you for reading, and I'd love to hear what you think!
In the kingdom of Chittamy, Tradition was very important. In fact, if you asked the people of Chittamy what was more important, obeying the King or obeying Tradition, seventy-three percent would say Tradition. The other twenty-seven percent would dither, and end up saying the King, but as the King tended to obey Tradition, there were rarely any problems in this regard.
This is the reason that, on his seventeenth birthday, Prince Julian found himself outside the door of a particularly dark and dirty tavern. Tradition insisted that when the oldest son of the king was seventeen years old, he was to be given a sword, a cloak, and a horse, and be sent to the most disreputable establishment in the capital. There he would meet his questing companions. They were, invariably, a rather stupid hero, covered in bulging muscles and scars; a wise old wizard with more power then he knew what to do with; and a faithful sidekick. Where these three came from was a mystery. One would think that any such powerful wizards would be training up other wizards, or working for the king or another wealthy patron. The hero should have been off killing giants or being the guard for some beautiful, cruel maiden. The sidekick...well, the sidekick should have been doing what sidekicks do best: being faithful, loyal, and helping their friend out of scrapes. However, whenever a Crown Prince came of age, these three would be there.
Prince Julian was not precisely thrilled to be undertaking this quest, but one did not argue with Tradition, especially when it determined your future. The Quest was Prince Julian’s future. On the Quest he was to find his one true love, rescue her from a dragon, or an ogre, or a vampire stepmother, or a wicked uncle, bring her home triumphantly, marry, and bring up another batch of princes and princesses.
He looked at the tavern door. It was thick, heavy wood, stained black with a myriad of liquids, dirts, and other things, all of which Prince Julian was sure he did not want to know the details about. It also had more slashes and cut marks and burned patches than should be possible, in a door still whole. But it was whole, and very forbidding. Prince Julian considered knocking, but, fortunately, realized this would be precisely the wrong thing to do. Striking what he hoped was a heroic pose, Prince Julian shoved the tavern door open.
The effect was somewhat spoiled by the door being entirely too heavy to be opened by a ordinary-sized seventeen-year-old boy’s shove, when that shove was more for looks and did not have the boy’s full strength behind it. After another try, Prince Julian gave up trying to look heroic, put his shoulder against the door, and pushed. The old wood groaned, moved slightly, and then, as if to get its irritation over with, opened suddenly, causing Prince Julian to stumble down the one step into the tavern.
Smoky torches lit the square room, showing a dozen tables in the same dark wood as the door, a highly polished bar with several giant kegs behind it, and a grumpy-looking barman endlessly polishing a glass. Not seeing anyone else of significance, only several dwarves drowning their sorrows in mugs of ale nearly the size of their heads, he approached the barman. He stopped a pace away from the counter, and stared at the man.
The barman stared back, his face still set in grumpy lines, highlighted with dirt.
“Erm,” Prince Julian said, and stopped. This was not how a prince should behave when setting out on his Quest.
“Good man, I am Prince Julian of Chittamy, and I have come to find Companions for my Noble Quest.” Prince Julian’s tutor had made sure that he knew how to put capitals into his words when he spoke. It was a very valuable talent, especially for inciting people to a cause.
The barman said nothing, but stopped polishing long enough to jerk a thumb in the direction of the darkest corner of the already dark tavern. Blinking hard to get his eyes to adjust to the dim light, Prince Julian strode manfully, or what he thought was manfully and looked more like a child trying to step in an adult’s footsteps on the wet sand of a beach, to the corner.
“I am Prince Julian,” Prince Julian said for the second time in a minute. “Are you interested in undertaking a Noble Quest?”