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LhydiaTue 21-Feb-06 05:48 PM
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#379, "Here's a lot of the stuff I wrote regarding Flumpel sta..."


          

Flumpelrog and the Lost Gnome

- Flicknepplican Sart was depressed, again. The cold, wet drizzle that dripped continuously down onto his bulbous nose did little to brighten his demeanor. Glaring around himself at the dark and dreary landscape around this muddy crossroads, he cursed the gods of magic for the umpteenth time that morning. He was lost, again. The mud that was caked on his wet pants felt like bricks around his ankles yet he knew he must trudge onward.
A loud and frustrated bellow of anger shattered the silence of the once calm area, seeming to echo from miles to the west. ‘’East,’’ Flicknepplican said, ‘’east looks right.’’ He then walked with a renewed fear born vigor towards the east from the crossroads he had stopped at.

- Flumpelrog was angry, infuriated even. Letting out a savage bellow of rage that could be heard for miles, he swung his massive axe at the cursed road sign. The splinters flying away from the shattered marker did little to satisfy the burning fury he still felt, they never did. If he was keeping count, that is, if he could count, he would know that that was the nineteenth road marker he had shattered in the last three hundred miles of his journey. He knew where he was going, he just didn’t know how to get there; Flumpelrog couldn’t read road signs. He let out a loud sigh, and continued to walk east.

- Flicknepplican sat down in the shadow of a large boulder. The sun had come out, turning the cold dreariness into an oppressively dank and humid foulness. After reaching yet another intersection of roads he swore at his family, cursing everyone in his ‘’gifted bloodline.’’ Being born with no magical abilities in his family of powerful mages meant that he may as well have not been born at all. It wasn’t his fault that they had tried to boost his mana channeling powers in the womb in an effort to make him even more powerful a mage then his predecessors and failed horribly, but that’s just what happened, and his birth and presense was a huge marking of failure to his family. As soon as was morally right and possible, they sent him on his way, educated in everything he would never be able to do, bitter, and lonely.

- The low rumble of the growl could be felt in the chests of all living things within a hundred foot radius. The sign stood tall and proud, speaking its own language to all the privileged masses that could understand it, unaware of its impending doom. Flumpelrog didn’t even make it to the sign, the boulder on the side of the road looked much more satisfying. Hefting his massive axe over his sweat beaded shaved head, he hurled the axe straight into the boulder, splitting it with a loud crack and a dull thud as the axe landed on the dirt that was once shadowed by the rock. Hocking up a massive amount of phlegm from deep within his chest, he launched a massive projectile out of his mouth to land right beside where his axe had come to rest deep in the earth.
Floating down to retrieve the axe Flumpelrog saw a most unusual sight. There a mere few inches beside his axe and protruding from his pile of steamy spit was a pair of tiny, wiggling shoes. Pinching the shoes gently between his massive fingers he lifted a gooey little person off the ground, a string of slimey spit following close behind the figure until it broke away a few meters off the ground. ‘’Wut yu?,’ Flumpelrog asked the gnome, ‘’Yu seen wizards roun here?’’

Flicknepplican slowly came out of his shock. After nearly being deafened by a rock blast, cleaved in half by the axe, and drowned in the most disgusting substance he had ever encountered, the only thing he could think of to say was naturally, yet unnaturally for any civil gnome was, ‘’Put. Me. The. ####. Down.’’ Flumpelrog, feeling slightly bad already for his temper, rushed to obey, tossing the little gnome back to the ground and saying ‘’Yuh okay.’’ The impact of the ground fractured Flicknepplican’s left ankle and his world finally caved in as he felt waves upon waves of the most desperate sadness and loneliness he had ever felt. He began to cry, softly at first, but increasingly louder from both pain and sadness. Through his tears and sniffles he felt a vibration forming in his chest that grew increasingly stronger. ‘’Huuuuuuuuuuuu, ahuuuuuuuuuu, ‘’Flumpelrog cried, ‘’Mmsorry for wut done to tiny mun!’’ Just then Flick felt a bucket of warm liquid slam onto his head and all around him, quickly bringing him out of his bout of despair. Knowing he had better gain control over this giants emotions before he was nearly drowned again, he yelled up at the sensitive brute that everything was okay. The massive giant looked down at the little gnome, and the gnome looked up at the hulking giant. Something seemed to pass between them on a level far above every day contact, and they began to talk, soon after setting up camp. Both knew somehow after that conversation that the other really needed them, and were content with each others company for that evening, and the evening after. Soon they realized that while from completely different backgrounds, they had a lot in common. What Flick lacked in stamina and strength, Flumple lacked in book smarts and counting. Together they found an alliance and brotherhood that lasted them for a long, long time; to this very day even.



Flumpelrog’s Quest

- Some would say that Flumpelrog is an unusual giant, and they would be correct. The heart that beat in his chest is larger then the gnome who sits upon a special stool on his shoulder. Flumpelrog has a lot of love for his village as well as his companion. He seeks to impress them with his mightiness and courage. Flumpelrog was raised in a village that inherently paid homage to Lord Ordasen for blessing them with courage and battle. Theirs was the way of warfare and bravery, and they start young. By their preadult life they are expected to slay ten mages in tribute to the battle god. For everyone knows that killing mages pleases the true gods because it is the gods power that mages steal for their magics. While Flumpelrog doesn’t like the killing aspect of life, he loves warfare and battles and fears displeasing his Lord. He always seeks to talk the greedy wizards out of stealing from his Lord, but so far their greed has been their downfall. When they steal from Flumpelrog’s Lord, he doesn’t mind butchering them.

Upon Flumpelrog’s last visit to his village with another mage skull for the skull shrine, the village shaman blessed Flumple with a toss of the bones and told him he was destined for great things, to go learn of the world and live as a true warrior of Ordasen, taking war to the village’s enemies with orders to never return to the village until wizards no longer took what wasn’t theirs to take.



Says the Giant to the Gnome

-“Was long time go since did meet on road brudder, much changing have done. Am mighty warrior now, Commander say only want strongest of warrior in him village. Flumpelrog much strong, live and die by axe, prove courage and strength to Ordasen and Commander, new brudders and sisters too. Is long, hard road head, full danger for gnome brudder if is stay with Flumpel. Flumpel need worry more bout wizard killing, not can be concerned much for brudder during battle. What want do?” Flumpelrog Sart (who took his brother’s last name after he was told it was more civil a thing then just being named Flumpelrog the giant) took a deep breath after finishing the uncharacteristically long sentences. Obviously he was very concerned.

-The small gnome sitting on the table across from Flumpelrog took a swig of his mug of ale before replying. “I know as always you are worried about my health and I do appreciate the gesture. You know as well as I do that I am quite capable of wielding the dagger I have been training with. If a full scale assault on the village comes, I will stand up and fight as all will. I have always been able to run and hide while you fight otherwise, this is nothing new. I will stay with you, there is much I can offer the village. I would like to teach the children the history of the village, possibly even how to read and write. I will continue to read to you, write for you, and count your coins so people will not cheat you. I will stay with you and guard your back, brother, and you need not worry about my safety. The mana pool is not meant for mortal dabblings, I am living proof. I will stay and contribute all I can to the village, with or without your approval.” The glaring gnome then pulled the dagger from it’s sheathe on his side. As the giant was shaking his massive head in disapproval while taking a swig from his massive stein, he heard a loud *thunk* and felt a splash of ale in his lap. Grunting to himself he put the stein back on the table and removed the dagger from it, handing it back to the angry gnome.

-“That be that then” said the giant to the gnome, ending the conversation.

Maagician’s Headache


This painting seems to be focused on the end of a long battle. A massive cloud giant is clearly the victor. The whiteness of his skin is brought out by the red blood that covers his muscled body and the fury is plain to see in his bloodshot eyes. A wide grin splits his face, showing a mouth filled with white teeth and giving him a slightly mad appearance. He wields a massive poleaxe that is in a fatal down-strike, already embedded into the left side of a robed human’s skull and swiftly falling downward. A fine mist of blood explodes from the head as a result of the cleave. An ear attached to a flap of skin is peeled to the left of the axe head, while to the right is a terror-stricken face, wide-eyed in a doomed stare at the massive giant. The arms of the wizard are flailing wildly, pointing in different directions. Glowing projectiles from the fingers on the wizard’s hand fly wildly into the air, some already exploding into the dirt on the ground. In the background you can see an air elemental and a holy archon bathed in white light as they hold each other with terrified expressions, fleeing in the air from the gory scene below. Giving the poleaxe a second look, another comedic aspect reveals itself. A small gnome is perched on the shaft of the massive axe. He is gripping the weapon with his legs and hands and his head is thrown back in laughter, obviously he is enjoying the wild ride. At the bottom of the painting in gold writing is a signature; Flicknepplican Sart.

In a fine black print at the bottom of the painting you read the words; ‘Warning: Using magic can be hazardous to your health.’


DESCRIPTION

Flumpelrog is quite a large giant, as far as giants go. Whether it is because he floats a few feet off the ground or that he is naturally seventeen feet tall, he looks like a very impressive and imposing figure. He has no hair and his bare head looks recently shaven, yet he has a white braided beard that hangs just to his massive chest. Bushy white eyebrows rest like clouds over large pale-blue eyes. His muscles are huge and thick and he looks as if he could easily hold his own in combat against any opponent. He carries himself with pride and his head hangs high in most situations. Upon his right shoulder a most peculiar sight is usually beheld; a little stool shaped device is fastened secularly with a tiny gnome perched on it.

The gnome can usually be seen either perched upon Flumpelrog’s shoulder or running around nearby. He is small even for a gnome, and wears normal, everyday leathers. A large bulbous nose protrudes from his face and large brown eyes peer wisely around himself. The tiny gnome is barely noticeable when resting on Flumpelrog’s shoulder and usually only speaks directly to him in his ear, sometimes receiving a chuckle from the giant, and sometimes a glare.

  

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