Smegmore

“It’s name were Smegmore. But people round-abouts weren’t be knowin that. Them who still spoke at all, if did they speak of it, did call it Wangrim they did.

Smoke and bile be pourin forth from twixt it’s grimy pondrous stones. Not one poor sould did come back from that place.

Long ago them that sent heroes off to that thing would say there be a princess, or maybe treasure, or some other foolery like that. But the truth were far different from that it were. No more be they sendin young heroes off to their ignorant deaths. No, let me tell you what horrors lie ahead.

Not nigh but five thousand short years ago Gorganks tore flesh and broke bones to raise up that monstrousity. Cut out tongues of those what nay-said him he did. Worked them poor folk day and night, no torches nor candles to see by.

Listen closely and you do still hear them screams of what that fell from it’s twisted heights, plunging into the black bubbly goo smack at the bottom. Dead for they even hit the ooze from those noxious fumes what filled their aching lungs.

When built up that tower they did, atop they painted a great big eye. Gorganks a-swore he’d watch them all from them rocky hieghts. Loft emself up with them great black bat-wings to the top where for some time he sat.

Watch them he did.

Those what didn’t fall from there, nor get crushed by the stones Gorganks hurled at them to build ever more, didn’t know whatsabout to put themselves to do once that building were done.

But Gorganks did. Plans he had for them.

Deep in the bowels of the pitted caves of the earth for three decades Gorganks bred dog spiders. Released them he did.

Gorganks set the lot of them poor peasant builders free, if only they could reach the bottom. Away they crawled and limped. Starving and broken and bruised and bleeding dragging themselves through the twisted paths of Gorganks evil lair. Till about half way down they got, and so met the dog spiders come up from below. Their deaths were swift and Gorganks howled with evil pleasure as watch it all he did.

No one knows what happened after that. Some say Gorganks got eaten by the very spiders. Others say he flew away to some other town to torture them that live there too. Some say up there, somewhere, he still be.

All that’s known is that my great grandaddy escape to the forest nearby he did. Found a few good others with him living there. They dared not leave the shelter of the trees. Few who did went to Gorganks tower to free us from the hordes of dog-spiders pour forth from there each summer. Gone to kill the queen they said. Gone to their deaths the lot of em.

Now each summer the Oracle picks one hearty boy, seventeen summers old, to brave the heights. Not one has ever returned, but it always keeps them spiders away.

This summer young Pedrick. This summer that youth be you. Here is your spear and shield. The whole villiage is gathered round about, and we turn our backs on you now. Look one last time at your mothers face, and now be gone with you. May God grant you a good death.”

And with that old Rinktle  handed the young horror-stricken Pedrick his spear and sheild, patted him on the shoulder, and turned his back on him. The whole village looked at the ground and did likewise. Pedrick looked pleadingly at his mother, as one small tear rolled down her cheek, and turned as well.

And so Pedrick, setting his jaw and gripping his spear turned his own way, toward the path denied him all his youth. The path not talked about in the villiage. The dark path where the morning fog came from. The over-grown path no living thing was ever seen down. The path where Pedrick would meet his fate. Maybe even meet his doom. He took his first step and his journey was begun.

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All that was inspired by this little lego fort I built during our dept. metting: