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MidReal Story
The Thieving Orphan And The Archery Tournament
Scenario:Engineered on the dark side of a grove, the metropolis of Hillfar is home to humans lead by Duke Gedney.
This metropolis wasn't built by a grove by accident, as it has an ancient water source, which is of great importance to the people of Hillfar and its success.
The metropolis itself looks glorious. With its ebony wood rooftops, bamboo walls and everclear night sky, Hillfar has a seductive atmosphere.
The main attraction is the stadium, which was built 55 years ago and designed by trolls.
Hillfar has a wounded economy, which is mainly supported by baking, animal breeding and herbalism. But their biggest strengths are highly skilled thieving and deadly archers.
However, Hillfar lacks people skilled in fletching.
Despite its strengths and weaknesses, Hillfar is most likely headed towards a grisly future under the leadership of Duke Gedney. But this remains to be seen.
Create my version of this story
Eliza
She is a young orphan with a mysterious past, living in the dark side of Hillfar. She is curious, determined, and resourceful. Her parents died under unclear circumstances, and she was left with a head wound. Eliza has a unique connection with trees, able to communicate and sense their emotions. She dreams of uncovering the secrets of her parents' death and the history of Hillfar. Eliza's journey begins when she encounters a group of trolls attempting to harm her, leading her to seek shelter and unravel the mysteries of her past.
Duke Gedney
He is the ruler of Hillfar, noted for his harsh leadership and strict policies. He is driven, authoritarian, and ambitious. Gedney seeks to expand his power by any means necessary, including exploiting resources and people. His focus on growth overlooks social issues and puts pressure on the people living in Hillfar. Despite his efforts to strengthen the economy, his rule is feared and resented. Gedney's desire for expansion puts him at odds with other nations, increasing the likelihood of conflict.
Trolls
They are strong, lumbering creatures often feared by humans and used as labor in Hillfar. They are loyal, intelligent, and formidable. Trolls were engineered by humans 55 years ago to assist with construction projects, like the stadium. Despite their size and strength, they possess a sense of justice and protect fellow trolls from harm. They interact with Eliza when she encounters them in a dangerous situation, revealing their complex nature and potential allies in her quest for answers.
Hillfar, the metropolis on the dark side of a grove.
It wasn't built here by accident.
This grove has an ancient water source, and that water source is important to the people of Hillfar.
Without it, this metropolis wouldn't be as glorious as it is today.
The rooftops are made of ebony wood, the walls are made of bamboo, and the night sky is everclear.
The smell of food wafts through the air, making my stomach growl.
I want to eat so badly, but I don't have any money to buy food.
I'm so hungry that I could eat a whole elephant.
I've been walking for hours and finally, I see the entrance of Hillfar.
As I approach the entrance, I notice that there are no guards at the entrance.
Isn't this city supposed to be on the dark side?
Isn't it supposed to be dangerous?
A warning sign reads, "Magic is forbidden. Trespassers will be punished to the fullest extent of the law."
I can't help but wonder why this city is on the dark side.
This city doesn't seem scary or dangerous to me at all.
As I walk into the city, I notice that all of the houses look different from one another.
Some houses have stone walls while others have bamboo walls.
Some houses have tile rooftops while others have ebony wood rooftops.
I drag my feet toward the weathered building.
My hunger is making each step heavier than the last.
The wooden door creaks as I push it open.
The room is dimly lit, and the air is thick with the smell of stale bread and sweat.
Several people in dirty clothes huddle on benches along the walls.
A burly man with a scarred face sits behind a desk, scratching names into a ledger.
He barely looks up as I approach.
"Name?" he grunts.
I hesitate for a moment before answering, "I don't have one."
The scratch of his quill stops.
He slides a sheet of paper across the desk to me.
It's a contract for kitchen work at the stadium.
My trembling fingers reach for the quill, and my stomach growls again.
"You're not from around here, are you?" the man asks, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"No," I admit, "but I need to understand why magic is forbidden here."
He leans back, a shadow crossing his face, "Because magic is what keeps the grove's water flowing, and if it stops, Hillfar will fall."
I hesitate, studying the faded text in the dim light.
The man drums his fingers on the desk, his impatience growing with each passing moment.
Through the grimy window, I see a troll hauling construction materials toward the stadium - their engineered muscles straining under the weight.
My stomach growls again, louder this time.
The man clears his throat, pushing the quill toward me.
I scan the document one final time: twelve-hour shifts, minimal pay, shared quarters in the stadium's underground level.
I grip the quill with trembling fingers, lean over the desk, and sign my name in a shaky scrawl.
The scratch of the quill on parchment echoes through the musty office.
The scarred man snatches the contract, stamps it roughly, and hands me a worn brass key attached to a leather cord.
"Quarters are down the street," he barks, "first shift starts at dawn."
I nod, clutching the key tightly, "And what happens if someone uses magic here?"
His eyes flicker with something between fear and anger, "Then the water stops, and Hillfar becomes a ghost town overnight."
"But why would anyone risk that?" I press, sensing there's more to the story.
He gestures toward the door, "Follow the street to the end, take a left, then a right. You'll see the worker quarters. Now get out."
I exit the office, following the man's directions.
The brass key feels heavy against my chest as I navigate through narrow alleys.
Groups of laborers pass me, heading home for the night.
A troll pushes a cart of stone blocks nearby, its massive form casting long shadows in the dim light.
The air is thick with dust and the smell of fresh mortar.
I turn right at the last intersection and see the stadium's imposing structure looming ahead.
The worker quarters come into view - a squat building of weathered stone tucked beneath the stadium's eastern wall.
I push open the creaky door and step into a narrow hallway that smells of mold and sweat.
The walls are bare, except for flickering torches that cast eerie shadows on the ground.
I make my way down the hall, my footsteps echoing off the walls.
The third door on the left has a small keyhole that matches my brass key.
I insert it, turn it, and push open the door to reveal a cramped room with two narrow beds and a rickety table in between.
On top of the table lies a worn journal left by the previous occupant.
I sit on the creaky bed and open the journal, its leather cover cracked and stained.
The first few pages are filled with cramped handwriting, detailing mundane complaints about the work at the stadium - long hours hauling garbage, cleaning spills, dealing with drunk spectators.
But halfway through the journal, the entries take a darker turn.
The writer describes seeing trolls gathering at night near the ancient water source, performing strange rituals.
They mention Duke Gedney watching from the shadows, his face twisted with rage.
The final entry is written in shaky script: "Someone is coming. I don't know what they want but I can feel it in my bones. They will destroy everything."
The writer never finished the sentence.
A soft voice behind me says, "Need help settling in? I'm your new roommate, Elara."
I look up to see a wiry man with sharp eyes, "Yeah, just got here. You know anything about these rituals?"
She steps inside, lowering her voice, "Only that Duke Gedney's been trying to control the water source for years, and those trolls are the only ones who can stop him."
I sit on my thin mattress, clutching the journal tightly while Elara unpacks her few belongings into the rickety dresser.
She's worked in the stadium kitchens for three years, she explains, and has seen Duke Gedney's weekly inspections grow more frequent and aggressive.
I ask her about the water source, and she hesitates before whispering about a hidden tunnel beneath the stadium that leads there.
She's seen trolls entering at midnight, carrying strange crystals that glow with an otherworldly light.
I consider showing her the journal entries, but something holds me back.
Instead, I ask if she knows anything about the previous occupant of this room.
Elara's eyes widen, "You mean the one who disappeared?"
My heart skips a beat, "Disappeared? What happened?"
She leans in closer, lowering her voice further, "He started asking too many questions. The last time I saw him was when he was snooping around the tunnel entrance. Next morning, his bed was empty and his belongings gone. Some say he got caught by the duke's men."
I swallow hard, tucking the journal under my mattress for safekeeping.
Elara glances at the hidden journal, then back at me, "You should be careful with that. If they find out you have it, you'll end up like him."
I nod, feeling the weight of her warning, "Do you think the trolls would help us if we approached them?"
She hesitates, biting her lip, "Maybe, but approaching them is dangerous. They don't trust outsiders, especially not with Duke Gedney watching."
I follow Elara through the dimly lit corridors, our footsteps echoing off the cold stone walls.
We're on our way to the dining hall for dinner, and the smell of stale bread and thin soup grows stronger with each step.
The air is thick with the scent of sweat and exhaustion.
As we approach the hall, I see workers shuffling in line, their metal bowls clutched tightly in their hands.
Their faces are gaunt, their eyes sunken from long hours of labor.
The line snakes around the room, passing by a massive cauldron steaming with hot broth.
A troll stands behind the cauldron, ladling out portions into each bowl.
His massive frame towers over the workers, his skin a deep shade of green.
His eyes are fixed intently on my face as I approach.
I can feel his gaze burning into my skin, as if he's searching for something within me.
I look away, focusing on the cauldron and the steaming broth inside.
As I reach the front of the line, the troll portions out a generous amount of soup into my bowl.
He then adds a few extra ladles, his movements slow and deliberate. I glance up at him, wondering why he's giving me more than anyone else.
He doesn't meet my gaze, but instead nods subtly toward a back corner of the room where several other trolls sit at a table separate from the humans.
It's as if he's telling me to join them, to sit among my own kind.
I hesitate, glancing at Elara, "Do you think it's safe to go over there?"
She nods slightly, her voice barely above a whisper, "If they're inviting you, it's probably important. Just be careful."
Taking a deep breath, I move toward the trolls' table, my heart pounding as I wonder what they might reveal.
I approach the trolls' table, clutching my bowl of steaming soup tightly in my hands.
Three massive figures hunch over their meals, their skin rough like bark in the dim light of the dining hall.
Their eyes flicker toward me as I draw near, but none of them speak.
I set my bowl down on the table, feeling the weight of their gaze upon me.
The serving troll joins us, his presence commanding attention as he takes a seat at the head of the table.
He introduces himself as Korrax, his voice low and rumbling like thunder.
"We've been watching you," he says, his eyes fixed intently on mine.
"You're different from the others. There's something about you that draws us in."
I swallow hard, unsure how to respond.
Korrax continues, "We've lived in these tunnels for generations, ever since our ancestors helped build this place. They were tasked with protecting the water source, ensuring it remained pure and untouched."
The other trolls nod silently, their faces expressionless.
Korrax leans forward, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone.
"But what most don't know is that our ancestors performed rituals to keep the water flowing. They used crystals imbued with ancient magic to maintain its purity."
As Korrax speaks, a heavy tread echoes through the hall - a guard making his rounds.
The trolls immediately fall silent, their heads bowed as if in prayer. The guard passes by our table without a glance, but I can sense his suspicion lingering in the air.
Once he's gone, Korrax slides a small crystal across the table to me.
It glimmers softly in the dim light, pulsing with an otherworldly energy.
"This is one of those crystals," he whispers urgently.
"It holds the key to understanding our rituals and protecting this place. But be careful - if Duke Gedney finds out you have it, he'll stop at nothing to claim its power for himself."
I clutch the crystal tightly through my pocket as I walk back to Elara's table.
Its smooth surface feels warm against my palm, as if it's alive and pulsing with energy.
Workers shuffle past with their empty bowls, their footsteps echoing off the walls.
Guards patrol the perimeter, their eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of dissent.
Elara looks up at me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion as I take my seat next to her.
She eyes the crystal in my hand, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"What is that?" she whispers urgently.
I lean closer, my voice barely audible over the din of the hall.
"The trolls gave it to me. They said it holds the key to understanding their rituals and protecting this place."
Elara's eyes widen, her grip on my wrist tightening under the table.
"You can't show that here," she hisses.
"If anyone sees it, they'll think you're plotting something." I nod quickly, tucking the crystal back into my pocket and focusing on my meal.
The soup is lukewarm now, but I force myself to eat it anyway, not wanting to draw attention by leaving food uneaten.
As we finish our meal, a guard approaches our table, his eyes scanning us suspiciously.
Elara keeps her head down, avoiding eye contact as he looms over us.
"Everything okay here?" he growls, his voice dripping with disdain.
I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady as I respond, "Yes, everything's fine."
The guard lingers for a moment longer before moving on to another table.
Once he's gone, Elara releases her grip on my wrist and whispers urgently, "We should get back to our room. It's not safe to talk about this here."
I keep my head down and match Elara's quick pace as we leave the dining hall.
We weave between workers carrying metal bowls, the clatter of metal against stone echoing through the corridors.
The crystal pulses against my palm, its warmth seeping through the fabric of my pocket.
A guard's boots scrape against the stone floor nearby, his footsteps heavy and deliberate.
Elara grabs my sleeve, pulling me behind a column as he passes.
We press ourselves against the cold stone, our hearts pounding in unison as he pauses mere steps away.
He turns toward us, his gaze lingering for what feels like an eternity before he continues on his way.
Elara tugs on my sleeve again, urging us forward.
We hurry past the kitchen's steam and worker's chatter, reaching the darker corridor that leads to our room.
I fumble with the brass key at our door, my hands trembling slightly.
Elara keeps watch behind me, her eyes scanning the dim hallway for any sign of movement.
The torches flicker, casting eerie shadows on the walls as we slip inside.
I slide the bolt across and sink onto my narrow bed, the crystal still warm in my pocket.
Elara paces the small space between our beds, her footsteps making the floorboards creak.
The single torch flame outside casts moving shadows through our tiny window, illuminating her worried face.
I pull out the crystal, its faint blue glow illuminating our faces in the dim light.
Elara stops pacing and sits beside me, reaching toward it with trembling fingers.
Suddenly, a knock at our door makes us both jump.
Elara's eyes widen in panic, and she whispers, "Who could it be at this hour?"
I quickly hide the crystal under my pillow and call out, "Just a moment!"
The door creaks open slightly, revealing Korrax's massive silhouette.
He squeezes through the doorframe, his broad shoulders scraping the sides.
He closes the door carefully behind him, checking the corridor before stepping inside.
Elara backs against the far wall, her eyes darting between us.
The crystal pulses beneath my pillow, its warmth seeping through the fabric.
Korrax's voice rumbles low as he speaks, "Guards are searching workers' quarters tonight. Duke Gedney's orders."
He pauses, his gaze falling on Elara before returning to me.
"I can hide it in a secure place. Where we perform our rituals."
I hesitate, unsure of what to do.
Korrax adds, "Your room will be searched within the hour."
Elara looks at me, her voice urgent, "We have no choice. We can't risk them finding it here."
I nod, my decision made, "Alright, Korrax. Take it and keep it safe."
Korrax extends his hand, his eyes steady, "Trust me. I'll return it when the time is right."
I pull the warm crystal from beneath my pillow, its blue glow casting strange shadows on our room's moldy walls.
Korrax's massive hand engulfs mine as I pass it to him, his rough skin scraping against my palm.
The pulsing energy fades as he tucks it into a hidden pocket of his patched cloak.
His shoulders relax slightly, but his eyes remain fixed on the door.
Heavy boots echo down the hall, growing closer.
Korrax nods once and squeezes through our doorframe.
I sweep my hands across the bedsheets where the crystal had rested, brushing away the faint blue residue it left behind.
Moving methodically through our cramped quarters, I check every surface for telltale signs.
The pillow needs fluffing to hide the depression, and dust must be redistributed where Korrax's large feet disturbed the floor.
The boots in the hallway grow louder.
Elara helps me straighten the rickety table that had shifted during Korrax's visit.
My fingers brush against a tiny shard of crystal under the bed frame.
I swallow it quickly, not wanting to risk its discovery.
The door swings open, and the guards step inside, their eyes scanning every corner with cold precision.