Squire Mannely and the she-ogre
By: LEYLIAH
Posted on: January 16, 2012

Of Sir Mannely and his Adventures:

The morning was new and crisp with purple streaks hanging above the distant horizon, hovering at the very edge of Dun Valley. Squire Mannely marched at a brisk pace, hoping to reach the western Vashnar Mountains before dawn arrived. With any luck, he would reach his true destination by noon. Suddenly, he found his path blocked, standing before an old and lonesome ogre. Fading rays of moonlight danced upon the her features, fickle motes of light barely dispelling the shadows upon her wizened face. After a few moments, a weary sigh crept from the ogre's lips. And then she spoke.

"Sir Mannely, Sir Mannely, take my hand in marriage, for that I will gladly bid, may you not only say 'yes' or 'no', will you do so or not?" Pleading eyes stared from a face marked by pain, yet upon the Squire's ears fell a voice full of cunning and deceit. "To thee I wish to gift legendary steeds by the number of twelve, who graze in sweet, rosen meadows. Never has saddles been strapped upon their backs, nor have they bitten bridles in their mouths." A spark of interest stirred within the fair, young Squire, yet his response was firm, "Work your dishonest tricks upon another man, lest I run you through with my sword!"

Content with his reply, Squire Mannely strode forward in a resolute gait. The ogre turned to follow him as he passed, falling in line just a few steps behind him. Her clothes were simple and almost completely worn out. Upon her left hand was a simple tree tattoo and a small moon had been inked upon her throat, both almost completely faded. Suddenly, a mild breeze swept through the valley, causing a nearby shrubbery to rustle ominously. And then she spoke again.

"Sir Mannely, Sir Mannely, take my hand in marriage, for that I will gladly bid, may you not only say 'yes' or 'no', will you do so or not?" With two long steps, the she-ogre caught up to the Squire, a heavy hand landing upon his shoulder. "To thee I wish to gift precious tuns by the number of twelve, carefully built from the reddest of brass. Upon their sides grows ornaments of silvery vines and within squelshes mysticals brews of health." With an insistent tug, Mannely pulled himself free, growling viciously, "Dare to put your hand upon me again and I shall sever it by your wrist, so help me Matsuhama!"

With renewed vigour, Squire Mannely continued onwards, the elderly ogre following shortly behind. Casting a sidelong glance, he could clearly discern her distress yet spoke nothing about it. Approaching the end of the trail, he stopped and inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with fresh air before exhaling again. Hands resting at the hilts of his blades, Squire Mannely turned to his silent companion, his face an expressionless mask. He opened his mouth to speak but the ogre interrupted him with a final, panicked speech.

"Sir Mannely, Sir Mannely, take my hand in marriage, for that I will gladly bid, may you not only say 'yes' or 'no', will you do so or not? To thee I wish to gift a gilded blade, that rattles with golden rings in the number of twelve. And strike with it in combat if you will, so that victory may find your arm upon fields of battle. Sir Mannely, Sir Mannely, take my hand in marriage, for that I will gladly bid, may you not only say 'yes' or 'no', will you do so or not?"

Crossing his arms, the fair, young Squire Mannely spoke with a cold, unyielding voice. "Such gifts I would gladly receive, had you been a woman of virtue and decency. But you are the worst amongst ogres, echoing lustful words of the Lady of Sin." At that, the lady ogre ran back into the valley, wailing and shrieking so loudly in pain. "Had I married the fair, young Squire, my torment would now surely had ended. Sir Mannely, Sir Mannely, take my hand in marriage, for that I will gladly bid, may you not only say 'yes' or 'no', will you do so or not?"

The sun had climbed and the first rays of light finally peeking across the valley's rim. And as these sunrays hit the ogre, a miraculous transformation began to take place; within moments she had turned into a beautiful young woman, still fleeing in obvious fear. Before Mannely's eyes her milky flesh turned translucent, her slender limbs becoming wispy ghost-like appendages and her now extravagant clothing decaying before his eyes. And then, she was gone. There was a moment of disbelief before Squire Mannely fell to his knees, praying to his Lord to protect him from whatever evil witchery he had just witnessed.

Unbeknown to the Mannely, a figure was hiding in the darkness twenty paces away. This man had stalked the arrogant Squire since he had departed Dun Fortress a few hours earlier. Even if Mannely had looked directly at the cloaked man, he would remain undetected in the depths of the lingering shadows. With a final burst of concentration, the figure dispelled the last fragments of his illusion, banishing the spectral woman-ogre in a trail of hazy smoke. With a wide grin, he rose silently, his long, thin fingers gripping a cruel dirk. He looked over his shoulder once, staring directly at the still kneeling Squire, before returning from whence came. Certainly, this story would amuse his fellow housemates during the coming month. It would be a story worth telling. It did not take long before he started chuckling to himself. Indeed, a story worth telling.