A Halfling prays

[Porkgasm 267]

 

Huckle Honepot waddled into the small Knoxist shrine in the heart of Dunshire. His movements stiff and pained, his wounds stiched closed, and his entire body sore from the troubles of the past few weeks.

 

He sat on a pew in silent contemplation. He did not consider himself important in the grand scheme of things. He was a simple halfling, with simple hopes and dreams. A peaceful life, in a happy burrow, with a pleasant community of other weefolk to share it with. And yet...he could not help but let his mind wander to the tragedies that he has seen unfold, time and again, during his years in Dunshire. Bandits. Psychotic murderers. Troublemaking Bigguns of almost any stripe, coming into his humble community and causing chaos. Orks demanding tribute. Worse still...creatures of darkness that Huckle would be hard pressed to explain.

 

He looked down at his hands. He left pointer finger, lopped of off when a random monstrosity in armor came to town, the finger bone resting in his Burrow, reclaimed by the Pumpkin Preacher himself. It would be a relic of his family for the rest of his days, and a reminder of how the Pumpkin Lord watches over the Halfling people. He reaches up, touching absentmindedly at the fading scars on his forehead, carved into him by a bandit. He sighed. Life in Dunshire has taken it's toll on his body, certainly. And yet, he worried more about those wounds unseen.

 

His people are renowned for their toughness of spirit. Able to keep a positive attitude despite any troubles that beset them. Huckle sighed. He felt as if his spirit were worn down to a nub. He thought of Ley, the poor child he found wandering Dunshire, and adopted as his own. Was this truly a place where one could grow up in safety?

 

He closed his eyes. It had taken an enormous effort of will to post a note the town boards. It had caused quite a stir in the community. Some weefolk suggested arming themselves. Others suggested moving entirely, finding shelter in one of the Biggun communities. Still, the Elder members of the town seemed to simply shrug and shake their heads, clinging to ancient Halfling tradition, determined to keep to the way of life the community always had done, regardless of the troubles these same traditions bring.

 

Huckle did not know what to do. He would have spoken to Daisy, the Prophet O' Knox..but she had recently given birth. He respected the new mother's need to rest. So he came here, to this simple shrine of Knox, and he prayed. Prayed for patience. Prayed for peace. Prayed for Guidance. Halflings, as a whole, did not express their faith as some other people did. Theirs was a simple faith, perfect for a simple people. He laid his offering on the shrine, a bundle of wheat, laid a hand on the Pumpkin that rested on the shrine, and then slowly waddled back towards the town.

 

Life in Dunshire would continue as it ever had. The fields needed harvesting, and Huckle would have his work cut out for him.
 

[TheDragonsRoost 116]

Karren would walk into the Dunshire shrine and see Huckle sitting quietly in his pew. "Hey, you alright bud?"

[osumanduas 1442]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.