Derek the Wanderer 2

When Derek pulled the colorful brown and green cloak from his shoulders in a swirling pinwheel blur the onlookers stood entranced. They had never seen one such as the towering man with his pouches and sacks full of tools and trinkets gathered from the many lands of his travels and explorations (not to mention exploitations). Nevertheless he seemed unamused by their bewildered expressions and tossed a satchel on the table, spilling small gears, levers and other apparatuses across the oak surface. With a collective gasp the crowd oooh’d and awww’d as Derek assembled a small clock right before their eyes with remarkable speed.  In a flash it was over. Somehow, as if through a tremendous force of magickal willpower, Derek had completed the clock already. No one understood it, yet none could doubt what they witnessed. Suddenly, a man at the back of the crowd shouted that he’d buy it for 15 Laranks. Another chimed in at 18 and more and more until the price had pushed up past 4 Sheldumns. Hastily bargaining with the top bidder Derek tucked his now hefty pouch of silver and gold beneath his cloak and moseyed on away.

                Now Darren Kettlesplumb was an honest man so far as honest men could be said to own a shady back alley corner store in the more than derelict district of the magnificent city of Thamond’s Gorge.  Though not one to often pull loose his purse strings there was something unusual about this clock and Darren couldn’t help but desire to get to the bottom of the mystery. He jostled aside the crowd after wrapping the clock gently in cloth and carried the swollen bundle out of the tavern, down towards his shop. Sweeping aside the fine linen wedding dresses, or what appeared as such at first glance, that littered the display table Darren placed the voluminous bundle in their stead with tremendous grace. It had seemed smaller when he first stuffed it inside the sackcloth, but now the pointed edges of the clock could be distinctly seen forcing themselves against the tight fabric. Curious, Darren peeled back the wrappings and to his great astonishment not only had the clock grown in size, but it had also changed. It was changing, morphing right in front of his eyes!

                Now free from its bindings the clock grew rapidly. From its humble beginnings as a funny shaped wooden box it grew, it evolved, developing intricate woodworking along slender lips and ridges. The clock face sprouted golden numerals and the hands elongated into spindly wisps of silver, while the base of the clock elongated and shot up swiftly one, two, five feet into the air. Then, as abruptly as it had begun the growing stopped and Darren was left standing wild-eyed and mouth agape at the grandfather clock now sitting on his tabletop.

                A distant chime told Derek that he had better hastily make his way out of Thamond’s Gorge and wither he will stop next only time shall tell.