The Jord of Ipsidom – A tale of heroic mediocrity.

I am attempting, for the umpteenth time to write a story. I don’t knows how this will go. Going by the past record. I will just drop it. However, if it does turn out to be something nice (although the chances are highly unlikely) I promise to work hard on it and get it published ( Note to myself – roflmao, looser ).

My Name is Wah’reek’Achwak. I am a nondescript records keeper in a nondescript town in the Empire of Dor. I have an extraordinary story to share with you. However, unlike most authors out there, my intention is not to sell the book well and live off the royalty. So, I am to share with you the gist of it all before I dive into details.


It starts with a the most unfortunate tale of a hero, who didn’t know he was the heir to the empire he lived in. This was before the time Unfortunately, his parents couldn’t afford to bring him up (raising up princes is a costly affair), so they had to abandoned him. He was taken in by a kindly Rheasus Macaque who took him up ‘The grand tree’. There he was happy for time being until a lumberjack found him. He was swinging his great axe on ‘the grand tree’, and the lake spirit had just decided to pretend screwing him over by hustling his axe-head and playing her dirty little game…

Oh well, I am rambling. Anyways, the gist of it – a lot of things happen. The hero fell in love with a passably good looking and rather exotic elf princess’s scullery mail. But it all doesn’t matter since in the end everything is destroyed ( which I will describe in graphic details with illustrations ). Then Heimdall raises the Gjallarhorn into the air and blows deeply into it.

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