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Story Hour
The Ecology of the Grick (unpublished 3.0 version)
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<blockquote data-quote="Richards" data-source="post: 2191484" data-attributes="member: 508"><p><strong>THE ECOLOGY OF THE GRICK</strong></p><p></p><p>Dreelix banged his trusty gavel three times on the table in front of him, but before he could get a word out Buntleby grabbed the gavel roughly from his hands. "Give me that!" he snarled at the President of the Monster Hunters Association.</p><p></p><p>"But it's mine!" whined Dreelix petulantly.</p><p></p><p>"You want it that bad?" taunted Buntleby, dangling it obnoxiously in front of Dreelix's face. "Huh? Do you?"</p><p></p><p>"Give it to me!" commanded Dreelix, making an ineffectual swipe at his most beloved material possession as Buntleby deftly pulled it away.</p><p></p><p>"Give it to you," repeated Buntleby, the evil grin spreading across his face showing that that was exactly what he had hoped to hear. He reached back his arm and brought the gavel crashing full force onto the top of Dreelix's head. Dreelix made a little squeaking noise as it struck (sounding amazingly like the rodential victim of the Whack-A-Mole booth at the annual fair) and repeated it with each subsequent blow. Buntleby, meanwhile, called out the traditional opening to the weekly meeting as he slammed Dreelix repeatedly in the head with his own wooden gavel: "This!" (squeak!) "Meeting!" (squeak!) "Of!" (squeak!) "The!" (squeak!) "Monster!" (squeak!) "Hunters!" (squeak!) "Association!" (squeak!) "Is!" (squeak!) "Hereby!" (squeak!) "Opened!" (squeak!) Each blow drove Dreelix a little deeper into the floor like a hammered nail into a piece of wood--</p><p></p><p>Buntleby awoke with a start. Sweat dripped from his face and he clutched the bed sheets in a death-grip with both hands, but he slowly relaxed when he realized it had just been a dream. He let out a loud sigh in the stillness of the night. "Just a dream," he said aloud to himself.</p><p></p><p>His vocalization was answered with an unmistakable "squeak!" like that from his dream, emanating from somewhere in the darkness of his bedroom.</p><p></p><p>Buntleby bolted upright in bed and bonked his head on the creature hovering just above him. He felt writhing tentacles brush against his forehead, gave a startled bleat and dived sideways out of bed, crashing to the floor in a heap with his legs still tangled in the blankets. He spun around and quickly cast a <em>light</em> spell on the first object at hand (his left slipper, as it turned out, which sat with its mate at the side of his bed where he had left them last night before retiring for the evening), the better to see what he was up against.</p><p></p><p>Magical light spilled across the room. Buntleby mentally scanned his spell inventory for an appropriate combat spell before his brain fully registered the nocturnal intruder's identity.</p><p></p><p>"Sorry," said the little green flumph in its squeaky little voice, spitting the human syllables out of one of its rim-holes.<strong>[1]</strong> "No harm. Need help."</p><p></p><p>"I'll get the others," Buntleby promised.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Richards, post: 2191484, member: 508"] [b]THE ECOLOGY OF THE GRICK[/b] Dreelix banged his trusty gavel three times on the table in front of him, but before he could get a word out Buntleby grabbed the gavel roughly from his hands. "Give me that!" he snarled at the President of the Monster Hunters Association. "But it's mine!" whined Dreelix petulantly. "You want it that bad?" taunted Buntleby, dangling it obnoxiously in front of Dreelix's face. "Huh? Do you?" "Give it to me!" commanded Dreelix, making an ineffectual swipe at his most beloved material possession as Buntleby deftly pulled it away. "Give it to you," repeated Buntleby, the evil grin spreading across his face showing that that was exactly what he had hoped to hear. He reached back his arm and brought the gavel crashing full force onto the top of Dreelix's head. Dreelix made a little squeaking noise as it struck (sounding amazingly like the rodential victim of the Whack-A-Mole booth at the annual fair) and repeated it with each subsequent blow. Buntleby, meanwhile, called out the traditional opening to the weekly meeting as he slammed Dreelix repeatedly in the head with his own wooden gavel: "This!" (squeak!) "Meeting!" (squeak!) "Of!" (squeak!) "The!" (squeak!) "Monster!" (squeak!) "Hunters!" (squeak!) "Association!" (squeak!) "Is!" (squeak!) "Hereby!" (squeak!) "Opened!" (squeak!) Each blow drove Dreelix a little deeper into the floor like a hammered nail into a piece of wood-- Buntleby awoke with a start. Sweat dripped from his face and he clutched the bed sheets in a death-grip with both hands, but he slowly relaxed when he realized it had just been a dream. He let out a loud sigh in the stillness of the night. "Just a dream," he said aloud to himself. His vocalization was answered with an unmistakable "squeak!" like that from his dream, emanating from somewhere in the darkness of his bedroom. Buntleby bolted upright in bed and bonked his head on the creature hovering just above him. He felt writhing tentacles brush against his forehead, gave a startled bleat and dived sideways out of bed, crashing to the floor in a heap with his legs still tangled in the blankets. He spun around and quickly cast a [i]light[/i] spell on the first object at hand (his left slipper, as it turned out, which sat with its mate at the side of his bed where he had left them last night before retiring for the evening), the better to see what he was up against. Magical light spilled across the room. Buntleby mentally scanned his spell inventory for an appropriate combat spell before his brain fully registered the nocturnal intruder's identity. "Sorry," said the little green flumph in its squeaky little voice, spitting the human syllables out of one of its rim-holes.[b][1][/b] "No harm. Need help." "I'll get the others," Buntleby promised. [/QUOTE]
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