Sven: Squirrel Whisperer

[MazourkaJoe]

Here is my attempt at a light-hearted, nonsensical fantasy adventure about a guy that can talk to little forest creatures. I'll be posting chunks of it every now and again, and I hope you guys enjoy it! mrgreen  

[MazourkaJoe]

Mist hung over the trees of Nether Wood forest in the early morning light. The air was still and crisp, filled with the sound of the creek running nearby and the wind through the trees. As the sun cracked over the horizon, many the creatures of the forest became lively, ready for the day. In the midst of the bustling forest animals building nests and gathering food, one creature lay asleep with no intention of waking; a traveler named Sven, peacefully sleeping against a tree.

He looked like an average vagabond in the land of Highmound with his soiled, brown tunic and leggings, wild straw colored hair hidden beneath an ugly green cap, and travel-worn boots. The only thing out of place was the weapon on his belt; a mace. A nice one. One that people would think stolen, though it wasn‘t. Wrapped in a dark, hole riddled cloak, he snored contently as a couple of squirrels began to gawk at the giant that was a man.

“Ugly son-of-a-b***h, ain’t he?” said one squirrel.

“You reckon they all look like that?” said the other.

“I can tell you one thing, I’s glad it ain’t awake yet!” said the first.

“Squirrels, do you mind? I’m trying to sleep,” said Sven, vexed and groggy.

The squirrels bolted off, terrified that that monster could speak in their tongue. Unbeknownst to the squirrels, that was the only thing he could do, besides being good with a mace; talk to small forest creatures. He couldn’t talk to bears or wolves. They would rip him to shreds if he tried to speak to them in squirrel or rabbit, so Sven had a mind to avoid that. Instead, he talked to the animals that would inevitably become a meal. Needless to say, he rarely made friends with the wildlife. But that wasn’t why he was in the Nether Wood. That wasn’t why he was asleep against a tree. That wasn’t why he smelt like he’d been sleeping against trees for a week. He was on a journey of purpose; to find his father.

His father was a paladin and went to war against the goblins of the east, an unruly, violent tribe bent on taking as much land as they could get away with. Sven’s mother, out of fear that the war would turn up at their doorstep, took baby Sven and moved to the farthest corner of the land, far from the war. Sven’s mother waited and waited for word that the end of the war had come, and when it finally did, she waited for her husband to return. There was one problem, though, that Sven’s mother had realized only too late. When she moved, she didn’t bother to tell Sven’s father. Irritated with his mother’s oversight, he took his fathers old mace and proceeded to travel to his old home on the other corner of the land. Along the way, however, he forgot how to get to his old home. He also didn’t know where he was. So Sven headed westward, in the general direction of his destination and ended up in the almost endless Nether Wood. This is where our story begins.  

[Juni chan]

It's "reckon"

No apostrophe either.

4laugh

I'm from Texas... oO  

[MazourkaJoe]

Fixed. 3nodding

Sven brushed his shoulders off and gave a long stretch as he prepared for another day of journeying. It seemed almost routine now; find a stream, wash his face, mingle with the rabbits, cook and eat one of them, walk on the trail for several hours, find a tree, and sleep. Something was in the air today, however, that seemed to Sven to be a sort indication that change was coming. At the moment he thought this, he heard an eagle fly overhead; with it, a voice crying, “You brute! Unhand me!”

Sven looked up and saw a Halfling in the talons of a giant eagle. He had seen only a few halflings in his whole life, none of them prey to some giant bird. Sven picked up a rock that he slept on the night before and threw it at the eagle, only to hit the fiery-headed Halfling in the head, knocking him unconscious. The bird was now aware of larger, more succulent prey; sure halflings are tasty, but with their hairy feet and meager portions, they can’t compare to humans. Swiftly it swooped toward Sven, dropping its prior prey into a thistle bush and screaming in hunger, talons open and ready to strike. Nonchalantly, Sven took his mace and swiped vertically, instantly defeating the bird. With the immediate threat gone, Sven decided to look for the havling in the bushes.

Sven attended to the halflings wounds, and afterward started to cook a fine meal of eagle drumsticks and dumplings, all the while glancing over to the figure laid down beside the fire. What a strange thing to happen, thought Sven as he salted his eagle stew, someone like that dropping in...  

[MazourkaJoe]

Geez, almost three years since I last posted here. Life just sort of bit me in the butt. Continuing on (if there's anyone out there...):

He checked on his now soundly sleeping, sky falling Halfling companion every so often and ate his delicious predator stew in silence. Clouds were gathering overhead with the promise of rain, and the thought of sleeping cold and wet made Sven cringe. It was bad enough for him to be lost in an abysmal labyrinth of trees with an unconscious Halfling but the thought of being in such a situation soaked to the bone made everything so much more distressing. He only had his ratty old cloak, which was draped over the furry eagle victim, for protection from the elements. Sven sighed in discontent, anticipating a long night.

A sniffing noise came from beneath the cloak and a little voice asked, "That smells divine, is there any left?"

"Sure, help yourself," Sven replied, "just know that you're doing what your dinner wanted to do to you."

Disregarding the morbid nature of the last statement, the Halfling ate, a smile stretching across his scraped face. Bits of eagle had found their way into his bushy sideburns by some inexplicable means and after a relatively short while the Halfling lounged back against a tree with a look of satisfaction. Neither he or Sven spoke for a long while until the Halfling stood and said, "Thank you kindly for saving me and preparing that fine meal, but I must tarry home now. My wife will surely be worried."

"If you don't mind me asking, where is your home?" asked Sven.

"Oh, not more than a moment's walk. There's no need to worry about escorting me or anything of the like, I'll be alright."

"So... you live nearby?"

"Yes. Quite near, really."

"And this whole time we could have been indoors, with a fireplace and comfortable furniture and a chance of a bath?!"

"Why yes! A bath would be nice, I haven't had one all day!"

Sven's frustration was building, but finding the inner strength to not brain the furry idiot he asked if he could spend a night with him and his wife. With a chuckled approval they started to walk through the trees, Sven following his short, moronic savior from the elements.