I needed another project to take my mind off the failure that was Reaver Saga. Then I realized I hadn’t done a QFG fic in a LONG time, and that I never did any games besides the fourth. Hence, a fic about the first.
Since QFG is not the most well-known series out there, I doubt many will read this, but here goes.
Quest for Glory: The Fanfic
Part 1: No Experience Required
By d_Galloway
Prologue: The Curse
A long time ago, in a world called Gloriana, there was a land known as Spielburg. It was indeed a beautiful land, a valley nestled between towering, snow-covered peaks. Although the only pass into the valley was often covered in the winter, and the land had occasional monster problems, the people were nonetheless happy and content with their lives.
Control of Spielburg was given to the local Baron. At the time of this tale, the Baron was Stefan von Spielburg, a kind ruler who helped the land by clearing the monsters, guarding the pass, and helping keep the local brigands under control. He had two children: a teenaged son named Barnard, and a young daughter named Elsa. The Baron was happy, and thus was the land.
In one day, that all changed…
A small squad of knights approached the fog-covered mountainside, the vegetation around them rotting as they drew closer. The captain raised his hand, and the soldiers stopped.
“Have you heard of this witch?” whispered one of the knights. “They say she’s an ogress!”
“I heard she turns men into frogs,” whispered another. “And not only that…she eats them!”
“Sometimes she doesn’t even transform them! She just eats them whole!”
“I hear her hut is alive, and crushes men she doesn’t think are worth eating!”
Finally the captian motioned forward. “I will have no more of that chatter! She is a mere witch, nothing more. She must be driven from the land!” The knights reluctantly followed the captain, until they reached a ledge on the far end of the mountain. A crooked wooden fence, constructed entirely from wooden stakes, human skulls, and pieces of flesh, stood in front of a straw hut, apparantly resting on giant chicken feet. Near the fence, outside the hut, stood a hunched creature, barely resembling anything female, its purple skin covered in warts and boils, its eyes slanted and misshapen, its fingers long and bony. It was hunched over a large cauldron, stirring its steaming contents with a large bone.
The captain dismounted his horse, slowly approaching the creature. He reached into his pockets and removed a scroll, bearing the Seal of Spielburg. The captian’s eyes remained locked on the monstrosity as he unfurled the document and started reading. “Baba Yaga! By the authority of Baron Stefan von Spielburg, you are hereby banished from Spielburg forever!”
Baba Yaga didn’t even lift her head. “Tell your Baron I have no intention of leaving! I rather like it here!”
The soldiers started to back their mounts, as the captain, enraged by the lack of respect given to him by the ogress, grabbed a rock and threw it at the cauldron. The projectile slammed into the liquid, splashing its contents about. Baba Yaga stopped, and slowly turned to the soldiers, the sky darkening as she turned. The horses reared up, dropped their riders, and raced away from the scene as quickly as possible. The captain realized he had made a terrible mistake…
“My Mandrake Mousse!” cursed Baba Yaga. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to FIND a mandrake?!” The captain just stood there, frozen in terror. “First that Baron tries to steal my home, and NOW he ruins my lunch! HE SHALL PAY!”
The eight-year-old Elsa von Spielburg sat on one of the courtyard bench, watching the strapping fencing instructer and her older brother train. Her eyes were planted on the teacher, analyzing his every movement, his every pose, his every strike. Her brother, meanwhile, was barely able to remain standing, his scrawny body unable to match the physique of the instructer. Finally, Barnard fell, gasping for air.
“That is enough for today,” said the instructer. “I would recommend you start practicing, your majesty.”
Barnard climbed to his feet, humiliation etched across his face. “I will do whatever I want, you…peasant!” He grabbed his sword and marched off, enraged at his defeat.
The instructer turned to the smiling girl. “My lady, what are you doing here? You should be inside with your father!”
“But it’s so BORING!” said Elsa. “I really want to be with you!”
“…I know what you want, Elsa,” said the sword master. “You want me to teach you.” Elsa nodded excitedly. “I’m sorry, my lady, but I cannot do this. It is not a woman’s place to fight!” Elsa hung her head sadly, as the instructer went on with how a woman should just marry and have children; preferably boys.
The gatekeeper, Karl, marched on the battlements above the castle gates, paying only slight attention to the ground in front of him. Suddenly, he saw a guard captain standing at the gate, his eyes half-closed, his body pale, his face twisted.
Karl cupped his hands over his mouth. “Hold on! I’ll open the gate!” He pulled a nearby lever, and the portcullis lifted itself, allowing the captain to slowly stumble inside. The instructer grabbed the captain’s shoulder, and started to mention a missed lesson, but was thrown aside with a single swipe. Elsa raced to the downed swordsman, helping him raise his upper body back up. The guards at the castle front door tried to stop him, but the captain bashed their heads together in one quick motion, and smashed the doors open.
The magnificent throne room, filled with suits of armor, stained-glass windows, finely-masoned stone walls, red carpet, and gold-trimmed throne, fell silent as the captain entered. Stefan von Spielburg, a handsome young man with a finely-trimmed moustache and finely-tuned body, rose to his feet, the guards surrounding their leader.
The captain stopped moving when he was only fifteen feet away from the Baron. He pointed a finger to the stunned Baron and spoke, in a voice that was far from human. "You, who have tried to drive me from this land! You shall pay for your insolence!
“Thrice I curse thee,
Thrice shall I pain thee.
First, thou shalt lose your most precious love,
Next, thou shalt lose your most pathetic lug.
Last, thou shalt come to see
That this land shall wither and seeth!”
The captain started laughing at his horribly-bad poetry, as if he was possessed. Suddenly, his body started to turn black, armor and all, and slowly poured out onto the ground. Soon, he had completely melted into a black pool on the ground, leaving only frightened and confused men.
(to be continued)