So. I would guess that it’s midwinter where you are. Yule, or Christmas, or whatever name they call it these days. The preponderance of pagan festivals at this time of year always amuses me. A literal celebration for having survived this long in a harsh winter! A welcoming of the return of the sun, or the son, or…
Suffice to say, the lean times are coming to an end, and what better way to celebrate the new year than with new stories from the storytellers? Perhaps though, we would be better to first reflect upon events as they have transpired…
Pierre, our feisty farmer, first stumbled upon the world of the supernatural thanks to some careless thievery. The existence of the piaffhomme was already known to his companion, who has acted as a mentor of sorts and was the first to realise the danger because SOMEONE WHO SHALL REMAIN NAMELESS DIDN’T PRACTISE HIS CANTRIPS AND BROUGHT A PLAGUE OF EVIL DOWN UPON THE WORLD.
‘I can hear you, you know. I mean, I’m literally the only person who can hear you. You’re inside my head, old man.’
Shut up and stop ChatSnapping that young wench, or whatever you call it. Anyway. The first of the sirens came to this world in search of SOMEBODY and on the way, enslaved the farmer, causing him to turn upon the young piaffhomme who had taken a liking to him. His aforementioned mentor was distracted by an accident that resulted in him swearing a boon to the princess of the rat people to come up with some way of curing her indigestion. Yes, sadly, you heard all of that correctly.
‘When you sum things up like this, you kind of realise how much weird shit has happened recently.’
Yes, and it becomes apparent how much of this could have been avoided by a master wizard stepping up and taking responsibility for his actions, rather than hiding behind farm workers and reindeer.
‘Not cool, Haitius. You’re affecting my self-esteem.’
Your self-esteem, as you call it, will cease to be an issue once you can throw a decent fireball and smite your enemies. Do I make myself clear?
The farmer, simple as he is, placed loyalty above perspicacity and tried to return to his homestead to rescue his pet. Thanks to some unlikely good fortune, the canine knocked the siren into a modern farming device that rendered her unable to present a threat.
‘I can’t believe she fell into the woodchipper. That’s like something off the TV.’
Now the sirens have returned in force and the heroic young piaffhomme has ridden back in search of her people. She must convince them to intervene before the presence of the sirens in the town reaches critical mass, threatening the very fabric of reality as we know it. And while she risks everything to save the world, the best of humanity is-
‘Oh, goddamn it. What’s that, four wins in a row? Are you using magic?’
‘He’s not using magic, Pierre. You just ain’t looking at what you’re throwing away.’
‘Any sign of any sirens?’
‘Can’t see nothing yet. Though maybe it’s worth loading the guns and putting the cheese in our ears now, just to be on the safe side.’
‘Fine. Your deal.’