In the great realm of Sarcasia, where compliments sting like daggers and insults are love letters, there lived a troll with a face so hideous that he could not walk past a mirror without shattering it into a thousand pieces. The troll went by the name of Slarff, or as his mother affectionately referred to him, “Oh, it’s you again.” You can imagine the kind of popularity he enjoyed around town.
The rolling hills of Sarcasia were littered with the ruins of countless fallen kingdoms, each with their own set of sarcastic heroes and insufferable braggarts to pave the way for the next. Our beloved Slarff lived beneath one such ruin, and he had all the company his repulsive heart desired: a thick colony of bats that enjoyed living under the illusion that he was actually one of them, thus merging with his unwelcome presence in what he called his home (read: hole). But we digress.
One day, as Slarff attempted to rub the dirt from his bulging eyes — a completely fruitless endeavor, as you can imagine — he heard footsteps approaching from above. It wasn’t the rhythmic pounding of fair maidens daintily skipping across a cobblestoned street; no, this was the thundering clatter of heavily-armored knights on horseback with egos far larger than thoughts that filled their helmeted heads.
As you can imagine — and quite in line with Sarcasian behavior — Slarff’s first thought was not to run and hide from these intruders but instead to confront them. “Ah, yes,” he thought, “How I adore meeting new people. Just swell.”
With a sudden surge of enthusiasm (and a smidgen of sarcasm), Slarff burst from underneath the crumbling remains of his abode. He found himself facing a motley crew of knights who, upon viewing the creature, felt a deep appreciation for their closed helmets and the minimal exposure to the troll’s hideous visage.
“Oh, fabulous,” grumbled Sir Gallas the Brave-ish, “Just what we need: another charming companion on our journey.”
Now you see, these knights were on a grand quest to retrieve the King of Sarcasia’s stolen golden ale goblet — because who wouldn’t go on a dangerous adventure for the sake of alcohol? They had been traversing the countryside, wooing fair maidens with their chivalry and nauseating chivalric pick-up lines, when their empty-headedness had stumbled them into Slarff’s territory.
“No, really,” drawled Sir Markon the Cautiously Overconfident, “A troll is exactly who we need, because we don’t have enough problems.”
As sarcasm was second-nature to the inhabitants of Sarcasia, Slarff took this as a compliment. Furthermore, he believed that venturing out of his miserable hole to help these knights was an excellent idea. So, with an overly enthusiastic grin that made all those who witnessed it want to dive face-first into a dark corner, Slarff agreed to join the band of knights in their quest for ale.
And so began the journey of Slarff and the knights – if only they knew how much more tiresome it was about to get. They spent days battling monsters and bravely avoiding housework. At night, they would gather around a fire they didn’t make and eat food they didn’t cook. Their combined wit was enough to make any village idiot feel like a genius.
All the while, Slarff did his best to assist, despite being repeatedly told not to bother by his new acquaintances. He would trip over his muddy feet in front of horse-drawn carts (scaring horses half to death), scare away fair maidens with a flick of his yellow, mangled hair, and disintegrate wooden bridges with his repugnant breath.
One particularly gloomy day, the group happened upon the lair of an enormous dragon that looked like it had been forged in the fires of Hell itself. You know, a totally mundane and run-of-the-mill dragon that posed no threat to anyone. Of course, the knights were just ecstatic to have found such a creature in their path. “Oh, a dragon,” cried Sir Nolan the Bold-ish with feigned excitement, “Just what we always wanted.”
This dragon had a well-earned reputation for guarding treasure such as the king’s golden ale goblet, so our courageous band slayed the dragon at great personal risk (not that they were worried, of course – Sarcasian knights never worry). When the beast at last fell to their swords, Slarff stumbled upon the goblet himself, lodged between the dragon’s terrified teeth. The knights could not help but grudgingly admire Slarff for having survived such an onslaught, especially when they considered his looks and abundance of clumsiness.
In a stroke of good fortune – or so it seemed – Slarff happened to have accidentally-on-purpose stumbled upon the very item the knights had been searching for. And so, the goblet was returned to the King of Sarcasia, who accepted it with a warm-hearted sneer and a summons for everyone to vacate his presence before he threw up.
And there you have it, dear reader. A joyous tale of sarcasm, trolls, and knights that makes you wish you never knew any of them. But let us rejoice! For this quest brought Slarff and the knights together in a bond thicker than the dirt that stained their clothes. They continued traveling through the realm with their newfound friend, spreading sarcasm and misery far and wide. After all, who needs a happily-ever-after in a land as delightfully dreary as Sarcasia?
Author: Opney. Illustrator: Dalli. Publisher: Cyber.
