Gilbreth's Quest
Once upon a time in a land far, far away there was a picturesque village that was known throughout the kingdom. Sitting in the shadow of mountains of the Northern Realm it was home to an exclusive guild of wizards, known by all as the Powerhousecreatives.
Legend has it that the missing treasure of the Dragonriders of Helatia is being held and closely guarded by the Powerhousecreatives. During the epic battle between the Dragonriders and the Queen’s Red Army, thieves stole the treasure away from the lair of the Dragonriders. Survivors of the battle claim that a band of black cloaked wizards had set a spell upon the guards of the armory and then had disappeared with the treasure in a poof of purple smoke.
Many have tried to regain the treasure. All efforts by man or beast to gain entry to the castle of the wizards met with failure. The spells cast by the wizards and a boundry of magic stones in the moat around the castle protected it well.
The Dragonriders were enraged at the theft of their treasure and their inability to reclaim it. They drew up a proclamation and sent it out to all the kingdom:
In the outlying village of Kergale a tribe of halflings lived in solitude as outcasts. One fine summer day a caravan of traders stopped by to exchange supplies from the realm for the furs offered by the halflings. While sitting around the campfire that evening, eating their usual meal of beans and pork, talk turned to the reward offered by the Dragonriders. Gilbreth, the biggest and strongest of the halflings, thumped his furry chest and proclaimed that he, Gilbreth, would set forth on this quest and earn the reward for the tribe. The traders let out a round of hearty laughter as they scoffed at this boast and turned the conversation to other matters.
The next morning found Gilbreth up at dawn and gathering supplies to sustain him on his journey. The secret weapon he possessed would allow him to gain access to the castle when all others had failed. You see, the halflings were immune to magic, it affected them not all. All the spells and magic stones in kingdom would be for naught.
After many days of travel Gilbreth arrived at the village and stared up at the castle of the Powerhousecreatives. It was a huge imposing creation and surrounded by a deep moat of still black water. Halflings, with their slick fur and strong legs were excellent swimmers, so Gilbreth had no problem swimming across the moat in the dead of night.
The wizards had become complacent, entirely dependent on their warding spells and magic rock boundary that no creature thus far had been able to breach. Gilbreth crept into the castle and found all to be still and silent at this late hour. He spied a huge golden throne in an open chamber. Never had he seen anything so extravagant and royal. He was drawn to it like a moth to a flame and could not resist sitting on it. For the moment he pretended to be the King and imagined a room of loyal subjects bowing at his feet.
Alas, had Gilbreth stuck to his mission and located the treasure, he would now be back home, a rich and revered hero in his village. But while Gilbreth was basking in the adulation of his imaginary subjects he had been discovered by a lone wizard on his way to the scullery for a midnight snack.
The wizard was shocked to see a furry half man-half beast sitting on the Grand Master’s throne. Immediately he sent a freeze bolt at the intruder, which should have covered it with the web of immobility. But much to his surprise, the creature stood, raising his arms and bowing with a flourish. Gilbreth, lost in his fantasy, was astonished himself to see the stunned wizard gaping at him.
The sound of running feet came from all directions as other members of the Guild were alerted by their telepathic network. The air smelled of ozone and magic and tingled with spells crossing back and forth, but Gilbreth remained unaffected. At last, understanding the problem, a savvy wizard launched a cast iron cooking pot from the nearby hearth at Gilbreth’s head. With a resounding “thunk!” Gilbreth went down in a heap.
Much later Gilbreth awoke to find himself in the castle dungeon chained to the weepy damp wall. A throbbing head and the large knot atop his noggin reminded him of his misfortune. If only he hadn’t stopped to covet the power of the great golden throne, he would have found the treasure and been away with it.
Gilbreth spent the rest of his life within the castle walls, being studied by the wizards. The village never knew what had become of Gilbreth and the Dragonriders still haven’t recovered their treasure.
The End.
[credit@EdibleCthulhu]
