Sophia White
Stories
6
Chapters
1,465
Words
493.5 K
Comments
0
Reading
1 d, 17 h
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Two dwarves sat in a restaurant, their table piled high with food. They took a few bites from each dish in turn, and then discussed. *crunch* *crunch* “Too salty.” “I like this one, Bran.” “Too sweet, try this.” “Ugh, what “Grilled cuttereel wi’ a balsamic glaze.” “It’s foul.” “Can’t really disagree, Pete. Try tha beer-braised roast goat and mushroom sauce.” *munch* *chew* “Mmm… now this I can get behind. It melts in my mouth. The roast goat has a strong…-
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Pete stood and waved at the young gnomess as she entered the cafe. "Hey Lillyweather, over here!" The mousey haired girl smiled brightly and made her way over, awkwardly maneuvering around a beladen barista as she did so. "Hi Peter!" "Pete is fine. It's great to see you." Pete offered his hand in greeting at the same moment that Lillyweather moved in to initiate a hug. An awkward shuffle of hands, arms, and feet followed until the pair decided on a companionable handclasp. Pete cleared his throat and…
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“Oh hellooo, Barck.” The short statured gnomess purred as she sidled up to the dwarf. He was in his usual spot, on the bluff near the top of the mountain. He said it offered the best views. He had created a plush leather recliner, like those used in gnomish cafes, and was lounging in it while staring up into the clouds. He looked miffed at being interrupted, but then he always looked miffed. “What do ya want, Tiara.” “We all felt some Godly power being used yesterday. Did you have a nice…
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“What’s wrong Bran?” Bran pulled up the covers as Opal nestled into his chest. He sighed mightily and held her tight. She curled his beard while he thought for a moment and answered. “I’m bored, Opal.” “Not with me, I hope?” Opal joked. “But you have lost a bit of your spark lately. What happened? Do any of the new inmates have you down? Do I need to spike someone’s drink with laxative until they get the picture?” Opal pulled violently at his moustache and he tickled her viciously…
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“I’m not going to be your chosen one.” I harrumphed and crossed my arms. There were very few things I would never budge on, and this was one of them. Chosen ones lived a life of conflict and pain, and their stories always ended with some kind of sacrifice. I had zero interest in that. Several hundred years of brewing and good eating followed by a death surrounded by mustachoied great great great great grandbabies sounded just fine. Assuming I ever married again. Maybe great great great great…
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The wall of greenery that was Barck sidled a bit closer as he presented a cheek. My boots shook; I’d seriously been contemplating punching Did he just read my mind too!? I don’t think so! I imagined the dirtiest, most twisted stuff that I could from the internet. Real unigoatse and four dwarves one mug kind of shit. Take that! I deflated a bit. This was not at "So you’re Barck.” I began. “And you’re all Barck, no bite, right?” I gave a sick smile. Hah! Take my dad-fu! He paused. “I…
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I was never a church guy before. I mean, I grew up in what could best be described as a heavily Christian household, but I was always a bit more of an agnostic myself. That didn’t mean I wasn’t appreciative of all the art and culture surrounding religion. Heck, going to cathedrals was always on my bucket list whenever we jetted to some new country on vacation. Whether it was a golden temple in South Asia or an imposing gothic edifice in Europe, they all carried the same feeling of reverence and…
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“” I looked around the market, but nothing really ‘pinged’ in my vision. Sigh, another bust. “You do know that you don’t need to say a Milestone out loud to use it, right?” Annie remarked as she checked out some produce, frowned, and tossed it aside. “Ugh, this one is rotten. How can you sell rotten food like that? Do I need to complain to city hall?” “My cabbages!” “Oh, hey Gimbletack! How are you doing?” “I assume you will pay for that wasted produce you lovely…
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“Why the long face?” I asked, as I pushed the mop around the dirty floor. I couldn’t really say I was cleaning; it was more like I was artistically moving mud around. “I’m… still digesting what Balin told me.” Annie said, her eyes a little hollow. Her golden tresses and silky beard were wrapped up in nets, and we were both in grubby leather work-armour. “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to Penelope. Do you want a goat treat, princess? Who’s the only clean thirsty goat in…
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"Three hundred five mugs of beer on the rack, three hundred five mugs of beer! Take one down, swirl it around, three hundred four mugs of beer on the rack!" If dishes were wishes, I’d own this whole damn brewery. Pick up the mug, rinse the mug in scalding hot water, look for the soap. Fail to find the soap. Because apparently, DWARVES DON’T USE SOAP! Put the mug on the drying rack and move to the next mug. The party had ended sometime around noon the next day. Pong was a big hit, and I was…
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