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Description
So here I was in the dark wondering blindly through this peculiar and trickster like forest with an angry mud faery frothing in my hood. A cold wind grazed my ears and I pulled my fathers hat down firmly over my head and plodded on. Before hand I had seen a faint light in the distance before the tall eerie trees barricaded the light from my eyes, I tried the best I could to follow it. Eventually after learning that the best route to take would be the one that the gravel under my foot had laid out before I followed the faintly outlined pebble pathway.
A few mores hours pasted in my clumsy walk along this apparently well-used highway, until eventually I laid eyes on my first rest house. The rest house I was supposed to reach, according to Terrance, was called ‘The Toad in the Hole’. However this was not called ‘The Toad in the Hole’… this particular rest house was called ‘The Terrible Cold’. I stared warily at the sign above the door, a plank of wood that bore a giant nose and an equally large hanky with some form of green goo glooping down the sign. On even closer inspection it could be seen that this Green Goo was not in fact part of the sign whatsoever. The centre of the gloop glowed pathetically, and then sneezed. So I wasn’t out of this blasted enchanted forest of the rare bottle green leafed trees. The faery looked sorry for himself as he perched with a runny nose and the common cold. It grumbled in a high-pitched squeak before sneezing all over my jacket, including the hood. The faery that slept there, of which I had now named Faery Muck Muck, was not pleased. Before any other trouble could occur I reluctantly entered this forsaken flu infested house.

I removed my hat and the sight inside. A low wooden ceiling that dripped familiar green gooey faery glop to buckets just below. Lanterns hung lovingly around the downstairs floor of the pub restaurant, creating a warm yellow glow that complimented the green quite well. As my eyes glazed over the bar and the surrounding seats I took in each strange and yet familiar face. Some were indeed very tall and angular, elegant but rude as a buffalo with a hernia. Faint exotic music was being emitted from the corner. This was produced by a band of renegade dwarfs sitting on stools playing a tiny stringed instrument. A top hat, that probably came up to their hips was placed in front of them with a small collection of coppers at the bottom. I passed, intrigued, and found myself trying to prevent my own hips thrusting to the bounce of the tune they currently played. I suddenly found myself at the front of the bar, as if the music had whisked me to a far off place… from one end of the room to the other. A large burly man stood with arms folded across me, I inspected his facial hair, and on stereotype I assumed this was the Barman.
‘Wa yoo thin yoo doin’ bringin’ thar thang in ear’ He barked. I blinked at his extraordinary formation of words, of which I did not honestly believe even existed. What did my ear have to do with any of it? I scratched my left ear unconsciously. I looked truly baffled I assume before he pointed a sausage finger at my hood. I looked over my shoulder to see that Muck Muck had indeed been foaming. And now that lay in my hood was a triumphant puddle of angry mud slop that was beginning to seep through my coat, and plop large floundering lumps of mud up and over my hood on to the clean floor of the bar. Ironically missing all the buckets we had passed under the Flu Fae, and making a royally fantastic brown smear from the front door around most of the tables, to where I stood now. The only thing I was able to get my voice around was irregular vowel sounds. Cruelly the dwarf tiny guitar players began to play ‘Western Lands’ which only heightened the comical tension. I momentarily glanced at them and was amazed how their beards did not get entwined in their fingers as they strummed and plucked away at the strings. I smelt a faint scent of cheese and pickles and then realised that the Barman was leaning over the bar towards me. I stuttered.
‘Geoffrey!’ I manly yet feline voice came from the stairs to the right of the bar. A well-built woman of about ten years my senior stood at the base of the steps with hands on hips. She sported a jolly red and white nametag which read ‘Hello, I’m Dorothy!’ underneath in a large font of capital letters displayed ‘MANAGER’.
‘We be in the middle of a deranged forest what do ya expect! Plus its mud faery season!’ She frowned callously, and then her eyebrows rose as she plastered a false smile for my benefit. ‘Sorry for the inconvenience sir. How may we be of service?’
‘No it is I who is sorry!’ I replied. ‘I haven’t been able to get rid of this creature all day!’ on that more mud bubbled out of my hood as Muck Muck began to boil with rage. ‘All I need is a room for this evening.’
’You not staying for meals tomorrow sir?’ she replied quite musically compared to how she addressed the barman, Geoffrey.
‘No, I am on a quest of some sort. A quest for knowledge really.’
‘At this time of year? You not a terribly adventurous one are yee?’ She looked me up and down grimly. ‘What are ya in search for?’ I shuffled my feet a little before clumsily thrusting my grubby hands deep into my pockets.
‘The Awaazis…’ There was a loud clattering from the back. The room fell silent. Even the Flu Faeries had stopped their whimpering and coughing. The Manager appeared to have gone very, very pale.
‘I think its best yee sit down lad…We have somethin’ very important to tell yee…’

Description
So here I was in the dark wondering blindly through this peculiar and trickster like forest with an angry mud faery frothing in my hood. A cold wind grazed my ears and I pulled my fathers hat down firmly over my head and plodded on. Before hand I had seen a faint light in the distance before the tall eerie trees barricaded the light from my eyes, I tried the best I could to follow it. Eventually after learning that the best route to take would be the one that the gravel under my foot had laid out before I followed the faintly outlined pebble pathway.
A few mores hours pasted in my clumsy walk along this apparently well-used highway, until eventually I laid eyes on my first rest house. The rest house I was supposed to reach, according to Terrance, was called ‘The Toad in the Hole’. However this was not called ‘The Toad in the Hole’… this particular rest house was called ‘The Terrible Cold’. I stared warily at the sign above the door, a plank of wood that bore a giant nose and an equally large hanky with some form of green goo glooping down the sign. On even closer inspection it could be seen that this Green Goo was not in fact part of the sign whatsoever. The centre of the gloop glowed pathetically, and then sneezed. So I wasn’t out of this blasted enchanted forest of the rare bottle green leafed trees. The faery looked sorry for himself as he perched with a runny nose and the common cold. It grumbled in a high-pitched squeak before sneezing all over my jacket, including the hood. The faery that slept there, of which I had now named Faery Muck Muck, was not pleased. Before any other trouble could occur I reluctantly entered this forsaken flu infested house.

I removed my hat and the sight inside. A low wooden ceiling that dripped familiar green gooey faery glop to buckets just below. Lanterns hung lovingly around the downstairs floor of the pub restaurant, creating a warm yellow glow that complimented the green quite well. As my eyes glazed over the bar and the surrounding seats I took in each strange and yet familiar face. Some were indeed very tall and angular, elegant but rude as a buffalo with a hernia. Faint exotic music was being emitted from the corner. This was produced by a band of renegade dwarfs sitting on stools playing a tiny stringed instrument. A top hat, that probably came up to their hips was placed in front of them with a small collection of coppers at the bottom. I passed, intrigued, and found myself trying to prevent my own hips thrusting to the bounce of the tune they currently played. I suddenly found myself at the front of the bar, as if the music had whisked me to a far off place… from one end of the room to the other. A large burly man stood with arms folded across me, I inspected his facial hair, and on stereotype I assumed this was the Barman.
‘Wa yoo thin yoo doin’ bringin’ thar thang in ear’ He barked. I blinked at his extraordinary formation of words, of which I did not honestly believe even existed. What did my ear have to do with any of it? I scratched my left ear unconsciously. I looked truly baffled I assume before he pointed a sausage finger at my hood. I looked over my shoulder to see that Muck Muck had indeed been foaming. And now that lay in my hood was a triumphant puddle of angry mud slop that was beginning to seep through my coat, and plop large floundering lumps of mud up and over my hood on to the clean floor of the bar. Ironically missing all the buckets we had passed under the Flu Fae, and making a royally fantastic brown smear from the front door around most of the tables, to where I stood now. The only thing I was able to get my voice around was irregular vowel sounds. Cruelly the dwarf tiny guitar players began to play ‘Western Lands’ which only heightened the comical tension. I momentarily glanced at them and was amazed how their beards did not get entwined in their fingers as they strummed and plucked away at the strings. I smelt a faint scent of cheese and pickles and then realised that the Barman was leaning over the bar towards me. I stuttered.
‘Geoffrey!’ I manly yet feline voice came from the stairs to the right of the bar. A well-built woman of about ten years my senior stood at the base of the steps with hands on hips. She sported a jolly red and white nametag which read ‘Hello, I’m Dorothy!’ underneath in a large font of capital letters displayed ‘MANAGER’.
‘We be in the middle of a deranged forest what do ya expect! Plus its mud faery season!’ She frowned callously, and then her eyebrows rose as she plastered a false smile for my benefit. ‘Sorry for the inconvenience sir. How may we be of service?’
‘No it is I who is sorry!’ I replied. ‘I haven’t been able to get rid of this creature all day!’ on that more mud bubbled out of my hood as Muck Muck began to boil with rage. ‘All I need is a room for this evening.’
’You not staying for meals tomorrow sir?’ she replied quite musically compared to how she addressed the barman, Geoffrey.
‘No, I am on a quest of some sort. A quest for knowledge really.’
‘At this time of year? You not a terribly adventurous one are yee?’ She looked me up and down grimly. ‘What are ya in search for?’ I shuffled my feet a little before clumsily thrusting my grubby hands deep into my pockets.
‘The Awaazis…’ There was a loud clattering from the back. The room fell silent. Even the Flu Faeries had stopped their whimpering and coughing. The Manager appeared to have gone very, very pale.
‘I think its best yee sit down lad…We have somethin’ very important to tell yee…’