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Last time he had gone out to forage, Arkobold the VI didn't have the best time.
Well, no. No. Not true. He thought as his long knife turned over a clump of forest stuffs, stuck together by lichen and webs and other sticky filth. Nothing there... but maybe the webs and the lichen were good for something? He popped open one of his side pouches, and greedily stuffed the random stuffs in before he clicked the pouch up and slipped his knife away with a swift snikt.
He had found the mushy mushrooms last time he went out, he remembered as he rushed about the forest floor, head low to the ground, little hands clutched to his chest as he waddled quick across an open space. That is true, yes, mushrooms were found, and so were other horrible things. But! He reminded himself as he lifted a downed branch with some effort, breath sputtering out of pressed and scaly lips. Fun was always had when a good mush was found. Just ask Syr Ars, he was the funniest little mush that Ark had ever met. But, he was a different sort of fungus. A talking sort. Not good for eating. Well... no, no. It was best not to think about that.
"Ah..." he sounded excitedly as he spotted a glowing white shroom. It looked like a cabbage. The mush. Sept it almost sparkled as it gave off its soft light. "Moon cabbage shrumps," he remembered from some lesson he'd taken in the burrow. He dug deep into his tiny well of strength, and he huffed as he lifted the big branch up and off the mushroom. It thud not a half foot away, and he sighed with relief. "Valuable, and tasty, this shrump. I know!" His eyes squint happily, and he waddled over to it with measured steps.
Out came his knife, and he collected the prized mushroom.
Syr Ars was the sort of mush you met. Not the sort you find. And certainly not the sort you eat. Those were the sort that grow under roots and logs and hide in the wet and the damp. The sort that don't talk!
Arko shook his head, and stashed his prize away, and sheathed his tool in turn before he went on waddling through the forest, eyes on a swivel as he looked for more mushrooms.
Now he could not help but wonder where Syr Ars had grown. Was it under a log, just like any other shrum?
Those were the sorts he was out on the hunt for. The sorts that did not talk and were most certainly good for eating. Word around the Knoll was that Syr Jinhae, rude and scary man that he was, had wasted one of Syr Orsolya's prized shrooms. And, well, if he were ever asked, not that anyone ever would, Sry Orsolya was probably the best mushroom hunter in all the Vale.
He just hoped his uncle would never hear him say that.
Did Meepo hunt mushrooms?
No matter, maybe-
Smack!
The little Kobold yelped and fell back onto the floor. Eyes shut in pain, he rubbed his snout. He looked up, and saw... a strange mirror. Out in he middle of the forest. How it twinkled and glittered and seemed to simply exist. Its frame gilded and twisted and breathtakingly beautiful.
Arko let out a scratch of a sound from his throat, and backed away from the stray artifact, found the nearest brush he could dive into. Safe, or at least safer in his mind as his tiny heart pounded, Arko stared wide eyed at the enchanting thing that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Yet... felt as if it had always been there all the same.
Orsolya Embermoss
Well, no. No. Not true. He thought as his long knife turned over a clump of forest stuffs, stuck together by lichen and webs and other sticky filth. Nothing there... but maybe the webs and the lichen were good for something? He popped open one of his side pouches, and greedily stuffed the random stuffs in before he clicked the pouch up and slipped his knife away with a swift snikt.
He had found the mushy mushrooms last time he went out, he remembered as he rushed about the forest floor, head low to the ground, little hands clutched to his chest as he waddled quick across an open space. That is true, yes, mushrooms were found, and so were other horrible things. But! He reminded himself as he lifted a downed branch with some effort, breath sputtering out of pressed and scaly lips. Fun was always had when a good mush was found. Just ask Syr Ars, he was the funniest little mush that Ark had ever met. But, he was a different sort of fungus. A talking sort. Not good for eating. Well... no, no. It was best not to think about that.
"Ah..." he sounded excitedly as he spotted a glowing white shroom. It looked like a cabbage. The mush. Sept it almost sparkled as it gave off its soft light. "Moon cabbage shrumps," he remembered from some lesson he'd taken in the burrow. He dug deep into his tiny well of strength, and he huffed as he lifted the big branch up and off the mushroom. It thud not a half foot away, and he sighed with relief. "Valuable, and tasty, this shrump. I know!" His eyes squint happily, and he waddled over to it with measured steps.
Out came his knife, and he collected the prized mushroom.
Syr Ars was the sort of mush you met. Not the sort you find. And certainly not the sort you eat. Those were the sort that grow under roots and logs and hide in the wet and the damp. The sort that don't talk!
Arko shook his head, and stashed his prize away, and sheathed his tool in turn before he went on waddling through the forest, eyes on a swivel as he looked for more mushrooms.
Now he could not help but wonder where Syr Ars had grown. Was it under a log, just like any other shrum?
Those were the sorts he was out on the hunt for. The sorts that did not talk and were most certainly good for eating. Word around the Knoll was that Syr Jinhae, rude and scary man that he was, had wasted one of Syr Orsolya's prized shrooms. And, well, if he were ever asked, not that anyone ever would, Sry Orsolya was probably the best mushroom hunter in all the Vale.
He just hoped his uncle would never hear him say that.
Did Meepo hunt mushrooms?
No matter, maybe-
Smack!
The little Kobold yelped and fell back onto the floor. Eyes shut in pain, he rubbed his snout. He looked up, and saw... a strange mirror. Out in he middle of the forest. How it twinkled and glittered and seemed to simply exist. Its frame gilded and twisted and breathtakingly beautiful.
Arko let out a scratch of a sound from his throat, and backed away from the stray artifact, found the nearest brush he could dive into. Safe, or at least safer in his mind as his tiny heart pounded, Arko stared wide eyed at the enchanting thing that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Yet... felt as if it had always been there all the same.
Orsolya Embermoss
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