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CorweenieTheJedi

The fall of Brandybrook…

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The fall of Brandybrook...

 

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*~The village at night, spooky!~*

 

It started out as an annual celebration of Knox’O’Ween. The apple bobbing, stick fighting, and costume contest had all concluded; and the judging of the Jack o’Lanterns was underway. Candy and pumpkin flavoured foods filled everyone’s stomach, and everything smelled like pumpkin spice something.

 

 

 

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*~Apple bobbing and social drinking was afoot in the tavern!~*

 

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*~The costume contest was a tie between Isalie and Acron!~*

 

The festival was going great. The turnout was huge, people were laughing and having so much fun. It was a shimmer of light in the darkness of the past few months of inferni attacks. People were happy.

 

What the participants of the night’s activities were not aware of, was that the carving of pumpkins had angered some sort of spirit, and that spirit desired vengeance.

 

Inexplicably, one of the pumpkins became animated, and grew larger and larger until it became as large as the entire Toady Traveller tavern. It suddenly became aggressive, spewing acid all over Brandybrook, wreaking havoc on the little village. The once beautiful Olive Garden where so many festivals had taken place was being melted away by the acid, the tavern began to buckle under the weight of the beast, the village was being wrecked.

 

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*~The great pumpkin beast!~*

 

The weefolk of Brandybrook were met with a tough situation, one far too large for them to take on with shovels, and the guard of Aegrothond was nowhere to be seen… They made the hardest decision they ever had to do, and detonated the Bombkins that were scattered through the village, prepared for a situation similar to this. 

 

The chain reaction of explosions was devastating, and tore apart the home of the halflings, splintered burrows apart, and reduced the village to dust. The descendants present were able to survive by sailing away on the Spicy Shrimp, where the halfling populace currently resides. The Brandybrook residents cried and wept as they watched their home explode. Many, if not most of them having lived there their entire lives. All the graves of the famous weefolk, those who built it, those who fought to defend it, those who passed away in it’s serene arms, blown away. Remembered only by those now on the Spicy Shrimp.

 

Without a home, they now sail. To where, they don’t know... All they knew, was that they were not going to let the village be destroyed by any beast. It was built by their hand... and it would fall by their hand...

 

OOC: First of all, I wanted to thank everyone who showed up to this event, thanks for making it such a success. Thank you to Jumper who helped me organize this. HUGE thank you to D4NNA for doing the emotes for the pumpkin beast and pasting in the monster so we had something to look at. You ran so many cool events with us, it's poetic that you were the one to run our last. Lastly, thank you to all the halflings and bigguns who made Brandybrook the village it was. I remember walking through the village when I first came to LOTC and thinking it was amazing, and I really am sad to see it go. But of course, all good things must come to an end. Here’s to an even better halfling village on the next map.

 

All in all, it’s been a slice. See you in 8.0 folks ❤️

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Tears in her eyes, Isalie mans her husbands ship, steering them away from the blaze. She doesnt have time for tears. After her god has doomed their home, she has to be strong for her people. But her husband has just abandoned her. Her home is gone. All she has left is her daughter, and she seems to be drifting away as well. A halfling can only be strong for so long, but she cannot break. Shes more than just a halfling; She beens more since she was burned alive. She has a destiny, though she’s unsure of it. She has to save her people. She must save her people, even if she has to do it alone. Isalie always seems to end up alone.

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Filibert gives a salute to the village as the Spicy Shrimp sails away. He’d watch Brandybrook blow up as the explosives rigged there go off one by one.

”Knox darned good village.... weh may never know another place qui’e loike ‘t.”

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Greta stood silently beside her husband at the ship’s edge, watching as her home for the past four years was consumed by flame and smoke. As tears streamed down her face, she held tight her daughter, Eliza, who she had rescued at the last moment alongside a few comparatively worthless trinkets. As Greta observed the destruction, she could not help but wonder why her own response was subdued compared to that of those around her. Perhaps, simply, it had not yet dawned upon her truly that the village was gone. Or, perhaps, she had been prepared for this moment ever since the bombkins were first placed, or even before that, when she, her friends, and her family had been holed up in the bunker below the village during the dreaded demonic siege of Aegrothond. Another part of her, however, the part that had been filled with elvish stoicism during her stay in the Silver City, could not help but question if she would truly miss Brandybrook’s cozy burrows and streets and if she was simply glad that all her loved ones had made it on board the Spicy Shrimp. For, while their homes could be replaced, they could not. 

Regardless, what was done was done. An entire people had been rendered homeless, and Greta knew it would fall partially to her to lead them to fairer shores. She did not weep for Brandybrook, and instead turned to the horizon, looking to the future ahead...


 

Edited by Johnnythewizard

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Only once the the Spicy Shrimp had set sail did Jeannette’s panic set in. The young girl realised she was now stuck aboard a ship with mostly strangers, without her cousin and Meemaw. Despite often going on journeys alone into human-populated nations, there hadn’t been a day she’d been away from them fully for years. She’d snuck to the Brandybrook Knox-o-ween festival. They didn’t know where she was

At least she had a change of clothes from her spooky get-up.

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