Fiction Gallery

Dandoran – The Factory

Far from the lights and glamour of the hotels, the casinos and the pleasure barges, lays a squat grey stone building in a rocky deserted area of the planet with emptiness for hundreds of miles in any direction. The building has sheer walls, only small windows, heavy metal doors and a flat roof with weapon turrets and small shuttle bays. A century or more ago this used to be the harshest maximum security facility on the planet, where local and off world prisoners served their sentences with little hope of early release or rescue. Now it is an even more sinister place than before, for this is where the helpless who owe money to the Hutts try and work off their debts against spiralling interest rates, or slaves brought in to work to death before being replaced.

Much of the original layout of the old prison has been kept, with the small cells off the balcony landings being even more stark and basic for the new residents and those of the overseers are only little better. Below them the large communal areas have been turned over to workstations and assembly lines where the workers toil for eighteen hours a day with only short breaks in between. Everything from electronics to basic food stuffs to narcotics have their own area, and the overseers walk amongst the pour souls labouring watching for signs of slacking or theft and are ready to use a shock rod for any transgression.

The lighting is dim , the only lights being those hanging from the balconies above or smaller lamps above the more specialist workstations. There are a large number of competing smells from damp and mould, sweat and body odour, stale dropped food and melted plastic, merging into a general miasma that pervades over the area so long that those there barely notice it but immediately hits anyone entering like an assault.

The Factory is a place of despair and hopelessness. A few come believing they can work off their debt and leave, but soon reality hits and then acceptance. There is no escape from the factory, unless one is willing to fight their way out and get others to do so. And only the boldest or most desperate would be prepared to make an attempt to leave, or take the place for themselves and free those within, or become their new master.

Cinder-Tail Spaceport

Py'zah the Hutt wants visitors to Dandoran to get a positive first impression when disembarking from their journeys. The Cinder-tail spaceport is a meticulously kept facility with recently constructed buildings lined with gold and flashing lights. The thoroughfares of the spaceport are lined with gaudy merchant stands and faux-high class restaurants.

Outside of the main thoroughfare is the underbelly of the spaceport where “the help” lives with incomplete or rundown buildings that do not fit the illusion of wealth created on the main avenues. There is an open air blackmarket in the rundown part of the spaceport where those not concerned with maintaining an air of legitimacy can pry their wares.

Small ringed atoll full of white sandy beaches and spare vegetation. The inner pool is about three meters deep in the middle. Colorful tropical fish can be seen swimming around the area. Calm waves and a slight breeze carrying the smell of the sea.

Dandoran Lumber Yards

This once heavily-forested region shows signs of the complete disregard the Imperials had for the planets they occupied. The trees that remain at the edge of the clear-cut only survived by simple luck at being outside of the scything action of the Imperial engineers. The burned out hulks of machines and buildings are proof of the desolation that awaits anything that falls out of favour with the Imperials and their successors.

You look around and spot a handful of small lumber lifts packed together, appearing like a pack of metallic, tusked animals huddling together for warmth. You know that it was likely just where they were last parked before the conflagration hit the yard, but the imagery of beasts sheltering is just too vivid to shake.

The faint breeze brings the distinctive smell of rot to your senses, prompting you to break your attention from the rusting machinery and over to a nearby pole that looks newly installed. As you focus on it, you can see the gentle sway of half a corpse - rodian you'd guess, but it's hard to tell after being exposed to the elements - hanging from the top of the post. This gruesome sight is a reminder of the real power-broker in the area, Py'zah the Hutt, and that you should tread carefully while in their territory.

Casino Hub

Within Garganta Galleria Casino Hotels many buildings, lies the main Hub, the biggest of them hall. It’s there you will find all the colorful and noisy slot machines, the Pazaac tables and the Sabacc suites.

The Hub is a dim lighted labyrinth of tables, credits and most of all, people. It is quite easy to get lost amidst all the chaos. There are three levels that can be accessed in the Hub.

The Main level is a circular floor with a big stage in the center that rotates when the bands are playing live. To the north, opposite to the entrance, you can find a huge bar area where the most exquisite and extravagant drinks can be acquired. By the entrance, several clerks will trade your credits for betting chips or vice-versa. The floors are made of orange marble with beautiful gray-like veins. Several carpets of the finest silk are spread along the floor.

On the second level, the high betting tables of Sabacc and Pazaac are located. The second floor is a circular balcony that allows view to the first floor, and also a privileged view of the stage in the middle.

On the third level are the private VIP booths where one can indulge in more pleasurable activities. All the best treatment experiences are available there, from delicate massages to private dances, to exotic food and beverage tasting.

Nevo Race Track Pod Racer Garage

Built into a cliff face below one of the main spectator stands next to the starting line, the garage contains 20 individual stalls along the back wall opposite the main doors to the track. Along the front wall there are a number of necessities needed for each pod Racer. These include an inspection stall for ensuring compliance with the regulations and to make sure nobody is obviously cheating and no weapons systems are mounted on the racers Pod. The inspection stall is filled with scanners and tools for the inspector team to do a very thorough investigation of the pod racer before they approve it. There are two security droids posted there for the teams safety to avoid any misunderstandings with teams caught cheating. Next to the inspections stall is the Bulk fuel storage containing four large fuel tanks that take up the rest of the wall. Each with a main line that goes out to the exterior pit area before splitting to each of the exterior pit stalls for mid race refueling. This area and all the piping is clearly marked in yellow and red paint to tell any would be fighters to avoid shooting in that direction. The Hutts put a high degree of importance on securing their money making assets and have installed a large beskar cage around the fuel depot to avoid any errant mishaps. The fuel depot is also guarded by two security droids whose only parameter is to keep unauthorized or unwanted personnel from entering.

A Hutt run establishment wouldn't be complete without a fairly large gambling center and bar. On the opposite side of the door on the exterior wall is an elevated lounge area equipped with a caged off bookies nook for taking bets on the races. The rest of the raised platform is lined with a full bar and tables and chairs for the crews to lounge and enjoy the racer while throwing back a few. The Hutts spared no expense in the lounge area with Krayt dragon leather seating and Kashyyykian wood table tops. This area has been known for extra curricular activities and has two more security droids assigned to keep the peace.

Two more security droids are at the entrance to the garage to ensure spectators can't sneak in and bother the crews or their favorite racer. The droids main function is to keep the peace but they are directly controlled by the Hutts who are known to let a scuffle go if they can place bets on the fight. The security droids are more of a referee than a security measure in most instances.

The "Nest", as many crews have come to call it is an oval room above the main door that can see out both the front of the garage and into the garage. This room is used by the announcers and broadcasters to give prerace broadcasts as well as call all the action from the race. This rooms broadcasting array is state of the art and is tasked with sending the video from their numerous camera droids around the track, the stands, and the garage to the large megatron video screens to provide for the juiciest action for the race fans across the city and across the galaxy.

In the center of the garage is a two lane causeway for the podracers to travel along to get to the inspection stall or the track and is marked with lights to divide it. The walls and floor are entirely durasteel. Giving the garage a very clean and upkept look.

Set in the run-off area for the Garganta Galleria Casino Hotel The Pits are a maze of trash, toxic runoff, and whatever other waste that comes out of the casino. The Pits are set away from the actual Casino and Hotel. The area is mired in mud and pools of liquid that are beyond identification. Various machines once meant to bury or clean up the waste lay littered about the area. Various pipes and chutes continually drain into the area. Some have become stopped up due to lack of maintenance. The force behind them can cause them to erupt with massive force raining down waste and debris on combatants.

Not sacrificing profits the Hutt Py’zah halted all waste treatment operations at the location and turned the toxic dump into a deathmatch venue. Py’zah has erected floating viewing barges for what has become the most sought-after deathmatch venue on the planet.

Not sacrificing profits the Hutt Py’zah halted all waste treatment operations at the location and turned the toxic dump into a deathmatch venue. Py’zah has erected floating viewing barges for what has become the most sought-after deathmatch venue on the planet.

Droid chatter, loud bangs, tools being used in relentless fashion, the familiar sounds of the Sacred Heap spilled into the dense foliage surrounding Gui's emporium. The shop itself was tucked away, off the beaten trail, not because Gui didn't enjoy the company of others. It was others who didn't appreciate the artistic noise that Gui was known for. Yet, even as the racket intensified, the Odan-Urr Rollmaster wasn't the one making it. 

His black dreads flicked in the embrace of Kiast's soothing breeze as it cooled his sweaty skin and while it was pleasant, it wasn't the cause of the smirk creasing his lips. He tapped his cybernetic fingertips against the metal chair he manufactured out of spare parts as contemplation stirred his indecisiveness. 

Lingering thoughts washed over his mind ever since Aura announced her retirement. The holo-recording he received wrenched his stomach, still, he knew the time had come. Revak, with Turel at his side, would carry Odan-Urr with more tradition than Gui cared for, but their passion was admirable. Without his voice of reason, he wondered where he fit anymore. Who would he go to with his problems, who could he confide in, or would he be called to lead the Clan someday, an Order with his own set of morals and traditions? 'Now THAT's a thought.' he chuckled as he twisted a rusted hydrospanner in his organic but gloved hand. 

"I'll never forget you Aura," he spoke softly, peeling the glove from his hand. Rarely did he allow his skin to investigate objects. Items contained too many memories, some good, others bad. The hydrospanner, a gift from his Consul, was filled with her memory. The memory of when they first met. 

"Look how young I was then.." Gui spoke once more, guiding his fingers over the metallic surface as his mind opened up, unlocking the contents inside. 

---

"Patience, kid!" Aura's brow was furrowed as her eyes assessed a young Kiffar slumped over in deep thought. "What I'm asking of you is to learn patience." 

"What would I do with younglings?" the Kiffar grumbled. "I can't teach, if you remember, it wasn't that long ago I was being taught myself!" 

"We have lost much Gui, perhaps you, more than others. New Tython was the only home you'd ever known and in the blink of an eye, it was taken from you. But you never gave in. Those younglings you rescued when you fled to Nar Shaddaa are alive today because of you. They continued their training, because of you. They are Padawans now," Aura poked him in the chest, "because of you, Gui."

"I can't fix this.." tears began to fill the newly Knighted Kiffar's eyes. "I can't fix any of this." 

Aura reached to her back and pulled a hydrospanner from her belt before sitting down next to him. 

"Do you see this?" the boy looked at the tool and nodded. It was a rusted piece of junk that had seen better days. "Could you still use this?" 

Gui nod his head. 

"But it's older and worn out. It's rusted and battered."

"So?" Gui sniffled, "It still works the same. It's function isn't compromised because of its outward appearance." 

The Zeltron's eyes sparkled like blue crystals. "Exactly." she added a soft smile. 

"You still have a purpose, Gui. Even though you feel rundown and broken, know that you are more valuable to me, to this Clan, than how you appear on the surface." 

Gui wiped the tears from his eyes and latched onto Aurora with a hug. 

"You're going to be a better Jedi than any of us someday, kid. Trust in this," she poked him in the head, "this," she touched his heart, "and the Force. It will never forsake you, Gui. Your instincts have carried you through some rough times, it has kept you sharp, kept yourself alive, and has kept them alive." She pointed to the Padawans training in the Praxeum courtyard. 

Gui smiled, with a newfound confidence. His eyes shifted to the younglings and he could feel their life-force. Each one was like a conduit attached to an advanced circuit-board. Together they became one.

"But what if I fail?"

"You will," Aura smirked, "But you will also succeed. That I am sure of."

"When do you want me to start?"

"You already have." Aura grinned. 

---

"Quiet, Barry!" Gui shouted and slammed his metal hand into the wall. 

Sharp whistles rattled off from the door as the little PIT droid burst outside with a blowtorch in one hand and a pair of goggles it didn't even need draped crookedly over its head. 

"Sorry, bud. I just need time to think," he slipped his glove back onto his hand. "Thank you for everything Aura, I love you." he thought to himself, hoping she knew that. 

---

The Zeltron stopped in the middle of her training with Revak and looked to the dense foliage below the Council tower. A smile crossed her face and she immediately stopped.

"I know." she whispered to herself. 

"What was that?" Revak queried, taking in deep breaths. 

"It's nothing, Revs, was just thinking of an old friend." 

 

"That was too easy," a Twi'lek guard chuckled to his comrade in arms; a lanky human who had the look of a toddler cutting his teeth, inexperienced and green, "Vigo was right." 

"Ha-yea-ye!!" the young infiltrator couldn't unsheathe his words as he began to choke on them. He clawed his throat and his wide eyes flicked to his superior. He too was scratching at an invisible force. Fear washed over their pain laden faces and the panic of suffocation began to plague their fragile minds. In an instant, before both men surrendered to black, they were hoisted from the stone threshold they were told to protect. 

"Let NO-ONE enter this castle!" they remembered Vigo saying, but they had no other choice.

The sudden levitation worked against them and like fragile twine, their necks simultaneously popped under the pressure. Slumped heads signaled the end as the two lifeless bodies fell to the ground forming a pile of meat and bone.

Soft footsteps grew louder and piercing the night, a green skinned Sephi, a Mirialan? slithered to the side of the door and pressed his back against the wall firmly. In his hands was a rather large sniper rifle, yet he didn't need to fire a single shot, not yet, as another man approached. There was no sneakiness or subtlety in the encroaching shadow. Just an air of unpleasantness masked by a regal appearance.

A thick curly mane jostled with each step the man took, his stride was unwavering, as was his resolve. His calloused hand waved out in front of him and if you were paying close enough attention, you could see the Night Hawk Squadron sigil on the cuffs of his sleeves. The door slid open and without breaking stride, the large man entered the castle the same way he had been since he was but a lowly apprentice. Often he entered in search of wisdom from the old masters, this time it was different. A group of insurgents were on his turf, holding hostage members of his Clan. This was a death sentence to anyone with the same disregard for logical thought.

As Corvo entered his home, Juda slid in behind him, his eyes ever watchful. 

A guard streaked across the hallway in front of Corvo and his brow twitched in amusement. Juda lifted the barrel of his rifle and aligned it, not where the terrorist was, but where he thought the terrorist would go next. His mind calculated the angles and trajectory of the shot before he even made it and as the trespasser went to dart back from where he came from, Juda squeezed the trigger with an exhale. The attacker's body twisted as a bright green bolt burned into his flesh, immediately stopping the primary function of his heart as the shot hit center mass. 

Corvo maintained his brisk approach as he could feel the minds of the officers being held in the room at the end of the hall. There were only two more men left, the Force told him so. This little attempt to earn quick credits with a ransom or the acquisition of resources with a list of demands was foolish. The Nubian was not impressed, not in the slightest, this was a novitiate attempt at best. 

Corvo flicked his hand once more and the door opened to reveal two men waiting on the other side, their blasters were at the ready and as they saw the Sith, they opened fire. 

hssss, a sanguine blade entered the fray, bursting from the dominant hand of the Juggernaut. Typically, this weapon would be used to deflect the shots, instead, the bolts would merely melt against an invisible barrier. The eyes of the two men grew wide and they shot faster as the Dragon of Tarthos pressed forward and closed the gap with a powerful lunge that carried the tip of his blade through one of the heavy blasters. The Zabraki backpedaled but Corvo caught him with an invisible grip and pulled him into the red blade. The creature squealed and screamed as the blade slowly burned through his belly. 

"Zabrak were supposed to have a higher pain tolerance.." Corvo pondered as he shifted his attention to the next terrorist. This man was more heavily equipped and had the look of leadership about him. It had to be Vigo. 

"Wa-wait, we can talk this through!" Vigo stammered, pathetically trying to prolong his life. 

Corvo whipped his blade and froze the blade within an inch of Vigo's throat causing the chubby man to gulp.

"What brings you to this domain?" the robotic voice of the Squad Leader queried. 

Vigo swallowed harder.

"First meeting with Aura? Hmm, let me think...

Well, my first contact with Aura came about with a private message. I had known the High Councilor a little before this but my involvement with the Clan was more perusing my own studies. I was never one to get into politics, as my time as a Peacekeeper kept me busy on other systems after the destruction of New Tython.

I had just gotten back from investigating a small outpost of Dark Jedi. I had been tracking them for a while and it was rumored they where worshipping some old holocron containing the spirit of some ancient Sith lord. Turned out not to be anything except a few "lost" darksiders trying to do their own thing and worshipping nothing more than a busted relic. So I was sitting in the Sanctifier, playing on my datapad when a little chat notification popped up from the High Councilor's office. I was a little hesitant to open it because I hadn't exactly gotten permission to go on the mission or take the supplies from the quartermaster. Thought for sure I was getting fired. Why? I don't know. It's not like I had anything they could fire me from. Anyway, we start chit chatting about the Clan and stuff going on. Next thing I know the conversation shifts into how Sunrider is in need of new leadership. Had I known what I was getting myself into, I would have taken my phone to the nearest cliff, flung it off, started shooting at it with rockets then nuked the entire planet into oblivion. It all started with a simple "hey, have you though about getting back into leadership?" Now, I'll be honest, the last leadership role I had was Aedile and that was when House Hoth first opened, so I was ready to step back into the ring, but as an Aedile or Battleteam Leader, something not too crazy as a lot had changed in the Clan over the past few years and like I said, I was perusing my own studies and had not kept in touch with any of my old contacts. Well that's not what she had in mind and she was not about to take anything any less than me agreeing to be Quaestor. She started buttering me up a little, but then started pouring it on pretty thick. I had never heard a High Councilor sound so desperate. After hours of deliberation, she finally broke me down. I agreed to command Sunrider.

It was fun for about three seconds. Then I found myself helping the Vatali in a civil war started by the Quorahi. Way to ease into a position right? Not at all what I had planned. Eventually it all worked out though. Aura and I started working very closely. Then came her next big deception. She made me second-in-command, knowing full well that she was going to step down and needed a replacement. Now here I am. High Councilor of Odan-Urr and as luck would have it, a bunch of crazies are engaging in another war. I mean, that figures, right?"

• Revak Kur
  

Manually added by Warlord Bentre Sadow

Manually added by Warlord Bentre Sadow

Manually added by Warlord Bentre Sadow

Manually added by Warlord Bentre Sadow

Manually added by Warlord Bentre Sadow

Manually added by Warlord Bentre Sadow

Manually added by Warlord Bentre Sadow

Bounty 4 The Hound of the Basketweaver

“Did you hear? There was another one last night,” Mrs. Trimble whispered to Lady Grey. Sinya tried not to listen to the gossip, but talk of the murderers always caught her attention.

“Yes, so tragic. The miller’s son was a sweet boy. What a terrible end to such a short life.” Lady Grey replied with the typical lies afforded the dead. In truth, Thomas was fifteen and already had a reputation among the maids. They knew not to let themselves be alone with the bastard. Of course, everyone knew he was a bastard– except his mother’s husband.

“That is the third one this year. Do you think it will happen again next month?” the lady’s maid queried. A look of fear overtook her countenance.”Who or...what could do such a thing.” She looked around suspiciously. In a town of hundred, the suspect list was rather short.

Sinya tried to ignore the lady and her maid as she continued her work. She needed to weave three more baskets and sell four before she could go home. Her father made it clear she had to make her quota today or there would be consequences. Lady Grey and Mrs Trimble had wandered out of earshot. It was for the best, she knew how the conversation would go. They would cast suspicion on the town drunk, the mortician, and the huntsman. Then, they would then say no one could be that savage and decide it must be an animal.

A few hours later, Sinya walked home dejected. She was still one basket short. As she rounded the last turn, she tried to prepare herself for her father’s reaction. Cutting reeds was hard work, and he always drank when he returned from the fields. By the time Sinya returned home, he was well in his cups and mean. But today, as the hovel came into view, she froze—. The sheriff and the constable were loading her father into the patty wagon. After a moment of shock, she ran down to them.

“What’s happened?” she cried as she reached the sheriff. “Do na take me dad! He has na done anythin’!

“I’m sorry Miss Ani. We have irrefutable evidence that your father killed the miller’s son,” the sheriff explained. “We found a trail of blood leading from the body to your barn where we found several bones buried. There’s only one explanation for it. Mrs. Crawley will be by shortly to help you collect your things and move you to the public house. She’s going to let you stay there for free. It’s all arranged. I’m sorry.” With that, they boarded the wagon and carted the inebriated man off.

Twenty eight days later…

Sinya was making the best of her situation. Her father had been beheaded for his crimes in the town square. She didn’t weep, though. She hadn’t loved the man. She just hadn’t known she could survive without him. But now, she was bussing tables at the pub and things were looking up. The town had moved on. Nobody spoke of the grisly murders or the man punished for it. It seems like everything was going to be ok. Then–the dream returned.

As Sinya wiped down tables, she overheard the patrons whispering. There had been another one. This time right here in town. The constable found him in his office...well mostly in his office. Some of the sheriff was also in the street, and on the sidewalk, and on the walls. Timer was, he had been dipping his pen in the company ink and his secretary left town after being seen with mysterious injuries to her neck. The morning after the next full moon, he was found butchered.

Apparently, her father hadn’t been a murderer, just a mean drunk. But that didn’t help anyone figure out who the true butcher was. Sinya didn’t know why she always dreamt of the murders, but they always left her tired and scared. She wished the premonitions would stop. She knew she couldn’t tell anyone. Witches were drowned here, no matter how helpful they were. So she continued in her work and left the mystery to the professionals...or what was left of them.

Twerpfart City Kingdom of Ralf the Flatulent

Benn and his brother Gegryck looked at the local bounty board and then grinned at each other.

“Goblins? Really These wankers can’t kill goblins?” Gegryck snorted, hawking a glob of phlegm into the nearby horse trough.

“Must you do that? You know how disgusting I find that habit of yours,” Benn responded sighing. “Yes, apparently these poor folk cannot fend off some goblins.”

Gegryck read the board again. “Whatcher thinkin’? We go and rescue the miners and then save der poor, grateful daughters from their virgi-”

“GEG! What is your problem? You went through all the brothels in Vindaloo, Pan-ty-girdal and then here as well. Does nothing sate that libido of yours?” Benn interrupted. “Give it a rest will you?”

“I hafta make up fer you, my oh so pious and proper brother. Da would shite his coffin if he knew what ye had turned inta’, ye Paladin wannabe.” Gegryck mumbled, chastised.

Benn glared at his older brother and then rolled his eyes. “C’mon, it says we can find more information from someone named Lord Stinkypitts at city hall.”

The two ambled off, looking around the squalid town as they went. Finally coming upon a ramshackle building in the center of town. A crude “City Hall” sign hanging over the door.

Entering they looked around and spotted an obease slob of a man snoring behind a desk. Drool dribbled from his mouth and flies crawled in and out of his hair and the ripped seams of his clothing.

Gegryck kicked the desk and the man awoke with a snort. “OY! We’re here about the goblins.” He yelled.

“What! Goblins, where? Whoozit? buuurrrrrp Wha Goblins?” The man stammered rising to his feet. “Who, who, ‘scuse me, whr I put tha’ bottle?”

Digging around in his desk the portly man smiled as he grabbed a large bottle of something that smelled like apples. “Here’s mud up your nose!” he toasted and then took a huge drink of the brandy.

Putting the bottle back he turned and looked at the two men before him. “Now, burrrrp Sorry, now what can I do for you and your goblins?”

Benn stepped back from the breath of the foul smelling man. “The bounty board said to see you Lord Stinkypitts about a reward and information concerning a nearby mine with goblins in it and some missing miners?”

“Oh, right, right, um, bounty reward, yeah,” Lord Stinkypitts mumbled. “Ri-, hic right. You nee’ ta killem’, all of them. An then bring the goblins back. No,hic no thash not right, kill the goshblins and bring the people back. Yeah, yeah, you hic you, you get your money then.”

Benn and Gegryck looked at each other and then nodded. “10,000 gold, right?” Benn asked.

“Yesh, thash rite.” the corpulent lord answered. “10 thoushan gold.”

“Fine , put that in writing and we’ll take care of your wee problem.” Gegryck smiled, handing the man a paper, ink and quill.

Lord Stikypitts scribbled the sum and his scrawl across the sheet of parchment. Then affixed his ring seal to a blob of wax on the bottom of it.

Benn grabbed it up, read it and put it away in a pouch for safe keeping. Nodding to the lord, he turned and walked out of the filthy building.

“Gods, I feel like I need a bath now. That was truly disgusting.” Benn huffed as he headed off toward the mine on the outskirts of town.

Passing the livery where their horses were staying Gegryck glanced at it as they walked by. "Not gettin' the 'orses?"

Benn shook his head. "No, the mine isn't far, and the horses can't go into it. Besides, you look like you could use the exercise." He laughed.

"Wha? Sod you! I'm fit as a man can be!" Gegryck squawked, his dander getting up.

Benn smiled, looking at his brother out of the corner of his eye. "Temper, brother, temper. All the Kingdom of Flatulence knows the amazing strength of Gegryck Nevis. Your ego is getting the better of you."

Gegryck stopped his posturing and sulked at his younger brother's tone. "Foin, jes you wait brother, one day, one day I'll be very famous. An all the ladies will want to love me."

Just then an elderly man hobbled up to the two. Wheezing and gasping he tried to stammer out something.

"Calm yourself elder, what is your hurry?" Benn said, placing his hands on the old man's shoulders.

"You are, gasp, heading to the mines, gasp, gasp, yes? To kill the goblins? Yes?" The old man finally gasped out.

"Whatchit to ya?" Gegryck asked, putting his hand on his pistol crossbow.

"Be warned! 5 and 9 adventures have ventured to that mine, none have returned! None I say. The mine is haunted, I tell you!" the elder cried, gripping Gegryck's armor and shaking him.

Benn separated the two and pushed the old man away. "Calm yourself grandfather, we have heard all the stories. We shall be fine."

“You young fools, there is evil there I tell you spooks, goblins, evil!” He wheezed, collapsing onto a nearby bench.

“Let’s go before he gets riled up again,” Gegryck muttered, pulling at his brother's sleeve.

Moving quickly away from the old man, the two men headed out of town and into the woods along the road to the mine.

After traveling about an hour they came to the area where the mine was located. There were goblins sleeping around the opening, many goblins. Filth and reek were mostly what was to be found. The goblin stench of feces, the funk of unwashed dirty under shorts and rancid breath were overpowering. A noxious green mist floated near the creatures making the men’s eyes water and blink.

Backing away they hunkered down and tried to figure out a way to deal with the smell and all the monsters present.

“This is not what i expected,” Benn whispered. “I wonder if a magic missile would ignite the gasses and crisp them. I have a spell on a parchment we could use.”

“Try it! Aim for the opening. I should roast all those stinky little freaks.” Gegryck encouraged.

Benn rummaged around in his hip pouch and found the small bone scroll holder. “As far as I know, all I have to do is read it.”

“What? No spell components? Guano? Sulphur? Wax? Nothing?” Gegryck whispered back surprised.

“I don’t know, I’ve never used a spell scroll before. When I got it I was told I just had to read it and it would work.” Benn said shrugging his broad shoulders. “Here goes nothing.”

Unrolling the scroll Benn squinted at the odd magic language. Figuring out the sounds in his head he took a deep breath and spoke the words. "Klaatu barada nikto, Treguna Mekoides Trecorum Satis Dee, Wingardium Ala Peanutbutter sandwiches!”

Nothing happened and Gegryck looked at his brother like he was crazy. “What in all the Gods names was tha’? Are ye kidding me?”

Benn stared at the paper wide eyed, then looked at Gegryck. “I don’t know, I just read it!”

Suddenly the paper began to smoulder, sparks shot out of it and it began to whistle.

Awoken by the noise, the goblins began to stir and look about. Spotting the flashes and smoke they charged the brother’s hiding spot.

Throwing the scroll towards the oncoming goblins, they backed away as a huge flaming orb appeared and streaked towards the cave. Charring the onrushing goblins and setting the air on fire. It entered the cave and then exploded.

The world went blinding white as the gasses in the tunnel ignited. For miles around everything was flattened and turned into jam from the shock wave. Fires raged out of control, the air an inferno of stinky fire.

Then rumbling, what was left of the mountain over the mine collapsed in on itself.

Two shimmering figures appeared amongst the debris of the area.

“Benn? Are you sure that was a magic missile spell?” One asked, fading away.

“Ummm now that you mention it…” and the other was gone.