The Aaron Chronicles 2
From Atlantic Roleplay Wiki
Title: Aaron Chronicles 2
Author: DeadBob
IT'S MY PARTY AND I'LL SNUB WHO I WANT TO
When Aaron grudgingly announced his intention of throwing a free feed for all the characters in Haven, the reaction was immediate. All through the messy little slum could be heard squeals of "Woot!" and "Hot damn, grub!"
Slavering with anticipation, several recipients of the invitation devoured the messengers, temporarily deranged by transports of gluttony.
Jabbering rumors spread through the tatty lean-tos of recent shipments of whole, bewildered oxen, great barrels of foamy suds, fireworks, tons of potato greens, and gigantic hogsheads of hog's heads. Even huge bales of freshly harvested stingwort, a popular and remarkably powerful emetic, were carted into town.
The season was cool, early autumn, heralding the annual change in the Havenites' dessert from whole watermellons to whole pumpkins. But the younger newbs who were not yet too obese to trundle their hulkish selves through the thoroughfares of Haven saw evidence of a future treat at the forthcoming celebration: Fireworks!
As the day of the party drew nearer, carts drawn by sturdy plow-goats rolled through the bullrush gates, laden with boxes and crates each bearing the X-Runes of Goodgulf the Wizard and various elvish brand names.
The crates were unloaded and opened at Aaron's door, and the mewling newbs wagged their vestigial tails with wonder at the marvelous contents. There were clusters of tubes mounted on tripods to shoot rather outsized roman candles; fat, finned skyrockets, with odd little buttons on the front end, weighing hundreds of pounds; a revolving cylinder of tubes with a crank to turn them; and large "cherry bombs" that looked to the children more like little green pineapples with a ring inserted at the top. Each crate was labeled with an olive-drab elf-rune signifying that these toys had been made in the elf-shops of a fairy whose name was something very much like "Amy Surplus."
Aaron watched the unpacking with a broad grin and sent the young ones scampering with a vicious swipe of a well-honed toenail. "G'wan, beat it, scram!" he called merrily after them as they disappeared. He then chuckled and turned back to his shanty, to talk to his guest within.
"This'll be one fireworks display they won't forget," he laughed and said to Goodgulf, who was sitting rather uncomfortably in a chair of tasteless elvish-modern. The floor around it was littered with 4-letter scrabble arrangements.
"I am afraid you must alter your plans for them," said the Wizard, unsnaggling a clot of tangled hair in his dirty-gray beard. "You cannot use extermination as a method for settling your petty grudges with the townspeople."
He paused a moment to focus his eyes, which had recently developed a tendency to cross, and looked gravely at Aaron.
"It is time to talk of the Ring," he said.
"Ring? What ring?" said Aaron.
"Thee knows only too well what ring," said Goodgulf.
"The Ring in thy pocket, Aaron."
"Oooooh, that ring," said Aaron with a show of innocence. "I thought you meant the ring you leave in my tub after your seances with your rubber duck."
"This is not the time for the making of jests," said Goodgulf, "For evil ones are afoot in the lands, and danger is abroad."
"But-" began Aaron.
"Strange things are stirring in the east..."
"But-"
"Doom is walking the High Road..."
"But-"
"There is a dog in the manger..."
"But-"
"... a fly in the ointment..."
Aaron clapped his hand frantically over the working mouth of the wizard. "You mean... you mean," he wispered, "There's a balrog in the woodpile?!"
"Mmummffleflug," affirmed the gagged magician.
Aaron's worst fears had come to pass. After the party, there would be much to be decided.
COMING NEXT IN CHAPTER 3...
Everyone has a blast at Aaron's Haven Dinner Party thanks to "Amy Surplus."