"Oh, diggity-doo and a ho ho ho, watch this citrus fruit start to grow!"
Bimpnottin waved his hands over the citrus tree, sprinkling a bit of magical dust that caused bright, juicy oranges to burst forth from its branches. Then he danced over to the water storing cacti.
"With a wiggle and a waggle, no need to fuss, this cactus will soon store water for us!"
He hummed as he tended to them, coaxing them to swell and store precious water with a gentle pat, he continued, "Hey there, prickly friend, swell up tight, keep us hydrated day and night!"
With a clap of his hands, he moved to another room where a dangerous plant thrived behind a protective barrier made of jutting out bones of Sand Hounds.
"In the shadowy corner, hidden from sight, grows a plant that's poisonous, best not to bite!"
The gnome chuckled as he adjusted his hat, keeping a safe distance while nurturing the deadly plant with careful attention.
Bimpnottin was close to reaching Level 25. Soon, he’d gain a Class evolution, and he’d get stronger! So the Lord told him, but all he really cared about was tending to his garden. If that meant that Bimpnottin would be able to farm more, grow more, then that was all that mattered!
He had worked day and night, tending to the plants. He wasn’t happy about only having three plants, but he did the best with what he had access to. He’d have to ask the Lord to get to finding more seeds soon!
It was still early in the morning, and it was quite cold within the mountain. Bimpnottin had a fire pit set up for the dark night, and it was still casting its orange glow in the room. Right now, Bimpnottin was standing in the poisonous plant room. They needed a lot more care than the other plants. For some reason, his magic was making them unstable everytime he used it. It was a slight cause for concern, but Bimpnottin wasn’t known for giving up! Not that he knew, anyway…
Someone shouted from deep within the mountain. Bimpnottin rose from having his head precariously close to the poisonous plant, and moved his ear closer to the other room. He heard a scream this time. One of pain and suffering. It was those pesky orcs, it had to be!
Eyes widening, Bimpnottin jumped up and began pacing back and forth. He heard clanging now and it was getting ever closer.
“What does we do?” Bimpnottin bit his fingernails, then he suddenly kicked himself into action. He sliced one of the poisonous plants at the base and carefully, without touching it, moved it over to his fireplace.
Then, he moved most of the coals to the entrance of the long tunnel systems that those smelly men and women had been working on for hours, banging noise at all hours into his garden. He blew the coals until the fire rekindled. He heard metal clanging now, along with the snarling growls of those orcs. It was really close now. He heard the voices of the Miners.
“Not good,” Bimpnottin said as he picked up the pace. He returned back to the poisonous plant and brought it back to the fire.
"With a twinkle in my eye and a flick of my thumb, this poisonous plant will soon hum a new drum!"
He tossed the plant onto the crackling fire, watching as the smoke curled upward. He grabbed a large, frond-like fan, wafting the acrid fumes toward the tunnel's entrance.
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"Oh, this noxious brew, with its fumes so sly, will dance through the tunnels and make orcs cry!"
Bimpnottin hummed a jaunty tune, working the fan with precision to ensure the toxic smoke flowed directly into the tunnel.
"Watch them cough, watch them wheeze, breathe deep, my foes, and weaken at the knees!"
With a satisfied nod, he continued wafting the poisonous cloud, knowing it would drive the orcs away and protect his home. But it didn’t. He heard coughing, and then out stumbled the leader of the miners: Bron. He was severely wounded; cuts and gashes marred his body, something ugly. Blood dripped on the floor, marking Bimpnottin’s floor. Bimpnottin tutted. Bron coughed, almost choking. Then, the lead miner grabbed a huge round rock and rolled it onto the passage. The fire continued to spew smoke.
“Gnome,” Bron said, stumbling forwards. Orcs banged at the rock, still stuck in with a plume of the toxic smoke. “We need to warn our Lord. They have a sand mage with them.”
“You ruined my garden!” Bimpnottin stormed over, but nonetheless helped support the hulking weight of the giant Bron.
“We’ll clean it after,” Bron replied weakly.
With haste, they left the mountain. It didn’t take long for the sounds of rock crumbling to blast out of the mountain, dust billowing outwards. Bimpnottin barely saw their Lord glance over with a grim visage. A large, demi-human charged out from the walls. Bimpnottin remembered his name being Thorin.
Bimpnottin glanced backwards and saw over 20 orcs emerge from the dust cloud. Protected in the centre was a smaller orc holding a crooked staff. His eyes were an almost illustrious gold and the sand at his feet appeared to move at his command, allowing him to walk on the surface unperturbed.
The orcs, seeing Bimpnottin and Bron, charged forwards. 15 of them all running and screaming together caused Bimpnottin’s bones to rattle and his blood turn cold.
“Hurry you buffoon!” Bimpnottin shouted at Bron, but that man was too injured to pick up speed. The orcs were closing in. In minutes, no, seconds, they would be orc food. If it continued on like this, they would die—
The sand rumbled and Bimpnottin noticed Thorin’s speed sharply increase. Like a raging bull, he sprinted towards them with unrivalled speed. In a matter of seconds, Thorin swooped up both of them, while swinging his axe in a wild arc at the orcs. His weapon smashed into their messy formation, cutting through bone and flesh of two of the orcs in one swift motion. Thorin didn’t pause, he stomped his hooves, galloping back to the walls with Bimpnottin bobbing up and down on his back.
But much to his dismay, Bimpnottin seemed to have moved from one battlefield to another. The moment they entered the triangular castle, war commenced. Bimpnottin heard the twanging of bow strings, the war cries of orcs, and then the large stone gate of the castle clanged.
Bimpnottin jumped as the gate threatened to fall. The Lord’s soldiers waited with their weapons at the ready. Their faces, much like the weapons held tight in their grip, were cold and sharp. The Lord’s words had worked their magic. The soldiers were ready to die here today.
Bimpnottin wasn’t so committed. He just wanted to return to his garden and watch his precious plants grow into adulthood.
These damn orcs are ruining everything! Bimpnottin thought with fury. He looked around, only to lay his eyes on a sharpened kitchen knife. He quickly grabbed it and joined the warriors.
“Let’s beat them back, yes!” Bimpnottin yelled.
The other warriors looked in part amusement, part worry. But it wasn’t time to falter, all of a sudden, the gate exploded open. Orcs filtered through, dust and sand mingled together creating a potent cloud, abosuring vision. And then Bimpnottin laid eyes on the beast.
A hulking figure clad in green flesh and smouldering orange and red eyes. He held a massive war-axe, and he looked straight at Bimpnottin, amused at the sight of him.
Bimpnottin’s anger boiled over.
“Let's have it then, you overgrown green meat-sack!”
And then all hell broke loose as the orcen Lord charged amongst them, brandishing his axe like death’s scythe. One swing and it reaped the lives of 3 strong men, from shoulder-to-waist. The smell of blood wafted through the air like a sickening metallic concoction. Morale was beginning to waver at the monstrous sight.
A moment later, a skeleton roared. The general of his own Lord’s troops cleaved through 3 of the orcs' own warriors, replicating the orcen Lord’s feat of strength. One-on-one, they glared at each other. One, an undead, and another, a great Lord of tough green flesh.