Poppy’s soliloquy of laments€¦witnessed by an evergreen.
A blanket€¦ a drab, brown blanket.
The clothing on my back€¦terribly boring.
Dinner stuff€¦even more boring than terribly boring.
A few gold pieces€¦quite exciting, but not exciting enough to do anything outstandingly exciting with.
Oh€¦I have a Moriel to keep safe.
The game of pluck and plunk must be exact.
So, everything else is gone. All of it left behind. The world is such an empty place, now. I made a promise to leave what I have and so that promise will stay a promise. I have ways to keep my promise by working around my promise. No one will suspect.
To Arms and Bounty!
The evergreen appears unimpressed as the Halfling strides away with purpose.
Poppy’s soliloquy of laments€¦witnessed by the slug stuck to the side of the rock she sat upon
I still have€¦
The blanket€¦still very drab
The weapons€¦minus several bolts
Dinner stuff€¦which seems out of place considering everyone prefers their fingers
A few gold€¦sadly, none to add to the few lonely pieces.
My clothing€¦ with the unwelcomed addition of Gronk’s blood on my cape.
Moriel€¦quite unharmed, but quiet. Perhaps the strange humans worry her.
Affairs have been quite messy as of late. Dwarfs bleed too much.
I must remember never to play with trolls. I don’t much like them. They throw my game off. No clear shots. Then of course, Gronk hogged the troll. Then the tree became involved. No one ever told the troll that an entire tree shouldn’t be used as a weapon. You get too tired swinging it around and you eventually lose, as he did. Moriel would have taught him that, and then she would have scolded him for yanking an entire tree out of the ground for the purpose of hitting Gronk with it. A complete waste! I think that’s why she sat back too. She was just too horrified at the tree being abused. I sat back for a while because Gronk was in the way. No room to plunk. My game was completely off. The entire affair was so boring, and unfair I decided to let the dwarf have his fun. I just didn’t play. Then after Gronk was done, my cape got dirty.
I’ll have to tell Gronk that if he insists on bleeding so much, he needs to be more tidy about it. Also, the one they call Banagher is very much out of place, kind of like a dirty dwarf in a dress shop. I wonder if he knows that the game isn’t played with books€¦well I guess it could be if he was in a position to bonk someone over the head with it. I’ll have to net an orc or something to see if he’ll use the book. I’ll set a fine example with my Hittin’ Stick, we’ll have a fine time bonk’en and a bash’en. Then we have the spirit worshipper, the one that gets a boo-boo on his ankle and chickens out of the orc game, and the one that stares at Moriel. They all play differently, but I’m not sure they’ll win. I shouldn’t complain since it gives me and Moriel more of a chance.
And then to top it all off after dealing with dark caves and dirty, smelly orc dung, Moriel took me away from a potential prize! A prize above all other prizes! Better than a shimmering, pink fountain of fluffy, flowing skirts to call my own€¦.
I could have had a star. Well, not a whole star, but a piece of one. But, that’s no matter, because a star’s a star and even a piece is a glorious thing! Imagine, a star, just for me! I’d tack it to a ribbon and wear it in my hair. I’d glow! Someday, when Moriel’s not looking, I’ll go back and find my star. For now I’ll just have to settle for the same old, and getting older drab items in my pack.
Perhaps tomorrow things will show signs of improvement.
To Arms and Bounty!
Poppy hops from the rock and shuffles off, leaving the slug, as a slug should be, securely attached to the side of the rock, being unaware of anything except that it is content being stuck to a rock.
Poppy’s soliloquy of laments€¦witnessed by Gronk, snoring on a nearby cot
I still have€¦
The weapons€¦I need a better crossbow. I have too many targets
Dinner stuff€¦plus a few spices
My clothing€¦ counting the stained cloak
Gold!…I finally got paid!
A Moriel€¦who told me to go home.
I could have told her my home is cinder, smoke, and ashes, but even that wouldn’t be true because the cinders and smoke are all gone. You figure the elves, being wise and all would know that dead ash isn’t home. But, no, she sees a bunch of stone soldiers and tells me to go home! Maybe she thinks ash is better than stone? I’d rather be a stone statue than something flighty and forgettable like ash. At times I’m not sure where her mind is! She’s an elf who needs to learn that ashes can’t be anything, especially a home. She is my home.
Now to focus on making history! The archery contest is the road to glory and bright-sunflower, satin shoes! Maybe a new cloak€¦I wonder if Itchy can get me some pink fur trim.
*Poppy takes a moment to study an unsuspecting, slumbering Gronk*
I wonder what Gronk would think about helping me with my target practice a bit while we travel.
Poppy lays back on her cot, her ponderings eventually turn into dreams of apple-juggling dwarves, the victory march of Poppy the Halfling Queen of Archers, and ashes. Gronk continues to loudly snore the night away.
A Halfling with a rather large crossbow sits upon a tree limb, swinging her feet and humming a little tune while a battle takes a place below.
(Loosely apply the tune from €œI Feel Pretty”)
I am Poppy, oh yes Poppy!
I am poppy, the Halfling crusade
I am Poppy, pluck and plunky
Won’t ye come and play my game?
I’m alarming, but so charming
My sharp stingers are very real!
Ah€¦no running from my stunning
One plunk and you’ll hardly feel!
I am Poppy, oh yes Poppy
A bounty more until I get paid!
The Halfling finds a target and lets fly a bolt. She wiggles and shimmies gleefully upon the limb as the bolt sinks into the targets back. Dismayed that her target did not drop she bites her lip, reaims and hums her tune a bit more forcefully.
Poppy’s soliloquy of laments€¦witnessed by a babbling brook
Weapons€¦still the same old crossbow
Dinner stuff€¦still got a lil bit of that red pepper.
My clothing€¦dwarven blood just doesn’t wash out! *she scrubs at the stain more vigorously*
Gold…shopping here I come!
A Moriel€¦she almost shot a human who wanted to shoot her, but then I would have shot him first, any way it went he’d of lost the game. Human’s can be dumb. I wish we got to play.
An idol€¦but he lost.
Xander was his name. I thought I was the best shot until I met him so it was only proper that he become my idol. I just wish he wasn’t so short lived so he’d have time to hear the tales sung about me. Xander, one of the masters of the game, shot dead, through the eye, a lesson to me. I will walk upon his footprints until I surpass them and take up his position as warder. I will be the pinnacle of warders, not leaving footprints of my own since all they lead to is the ending of the game. Instead I will be the warder legend, so fast, sure and true of aim even the mists will be baffled and awed! I will be Poppy, The Halfling Crusader, The Warder. Xander will be avenged, remembered, and his legacy shall be redefined so that the name Poppy will whisper through the winds and all will know it was he who inspired the legend.
Now to figure out who killed Xander. Orcs can’t read or write. I know a couple of humans who can read and write and one in particular who decided to guard a smokehouse who’s capable of writing a note. I’ll have to talk to Moriel to see whether or not I should shoot HIM through the eye.
Well I guess that’s as good as it gets.
*Poppy smoothes out the threadbare, mildly stained surface of her cloak, and tosses it around her shoulders. She picks up her crossbow, poses like royalty about to shoot a shoot a stag and breaks her pose to grimace at her cape*
Perhaps I’ll have time to get a new cloak before the archery competition. I must look my best, legends should never have stains!
*As Poppy stalks off towards the camp, the babbling brook continues to babble about nothing even remotely related to the Halfing*