Fierce Training Legend

Once there was a trollslayer so superlative in his accomplishments that the number of trolls dwindled below a point at which he was forced to evaluate his career.
"I hear more complaints about ogres than trolls these days. I never learned much about soil or negotiations, so why shouldn't I learn to slay ogres instead?"
With that reasoning he sought great ogreslayers to learn the trade, but he learned there were none worthy of consideration in the region, a lack which explained the contemporary situation. Having ascertained that, he approached an arms instructor who was known to have seen an ogre once. The instructor began by asking, "What is your usual method for dispatching trolls?"
"I approach with my weapon ready, I concentrate my vigor, and I shout, this is my habit but not an immutable one, 'Die, troll!' I then lop off its savage head with my flashing brand."
"Very good." The instructor considered. "I suggest this change. Try, when the shouting period is reached, to substitute 'Die, ogre,' for your typical address."
After a few drills, both judged the technique worthy of a trial, which proved the merits thereof. Soon the number of ogres dwindled too, but by then the ogreslayer had purchased productive land.
Finis

Upcoming Job Opportunities

Soon we'll all have productive work throwing pails of water on people to simulate rain in ships and colonies so that we don't succumb to space madness. Innovators will get ahead by finding ways to get people to sneeze during terrestrial allergy season and rig sirens to play during simulated night.

An Everyday Incident, Oddly

A man with hopes was hurrying along the road, but not with such hurry that he continued under the sudden rain. He found a shed at some distance from which he might wait it out, apologizing to the owner for any mess silently and remotely.
From the half-open door he could see the road and far beyond, then the road, then little at all, so thick was the rain and so dark the clouds which made the day a second night. Therefore he doubted he saw a company march down the road opposite his former direction; he doubted, but he shrank back and closed the door by a quarter. He was not so disturbed that he stopped watching.
He doubted even more his interpretation of what succeeded, for he thought that the figures (to call them "people" seemed a presumption) produced shovels or trowels and dug into the road, whereupon one brought forward a sapling and set it there. The figures joined in patting down the upturned soil though the road was paved. They then stood back.
The sapling grew swiftly into a full tree, or something with branches, and the figures waited under those branches, arms upstretched, save for one among them who withdrew a few paces. Above the waiting planters, nuts grew, and then the nuts were swords, and then the swords fell to impale the figures below. But not the one who withdrew; to him the tree bowed. The lone figure stepped forward, removed something from the crown of the tree, turned, and returned up the road. Behind him, the tree bowed lower, touched the ground, and dissolved.
The man, hopeful but not audacious, did not stir till the clouds cleared, or for a time after, but everyone must see to his own affairs. He went on. When first he came across another person, a local he supposed, he wondered whether to inquire about the scene. A decision however was unneeded, for somewhere in his manner or voice as he greeted the local was cause for the latter to smile and ask, "You've had a time, haven't you? Was it the tree, the procession? Else?"
"It may have been a tree."
"Ha! That's the right way to put it."
The local passed by, laughing. Perceiving he intended to say nothing more, the man tried to continue the conversation but had this as the response. "No, it's good news! Good news for you, be glad, but you have to keep going!"
The man did reach his destination. There he did receive the position he hoped to have. Whether the scene during the storm was a portent he never knew, though he thought on it from time to time.
Finis

Another Marketing Failure

I don't see cooper as a fantasy profession too often, and I suspect the reason is that it doesn't sound at all like what it is. Contrast that with smiths or vintners. Admittedly I don't see many vintners, but I think we should all ignore that for the time being.

A Caution

While we all know printer's devils are less cool than the name makes them sound, it's a mistake to make them into actual devils. It's too cutesy. If anyone has already done that, I forgive you, but cut it out.

Addendum

Deciduous tree monsters look like warriors in summer and wizards in winter, but they're actually rogues. They're just limited in their opportunities.

Nuances of Fantasy Professions

I bet successful lumberjacks are both educated and canny beyond most, what with all those dryads and forest spirits and whatnot that can cause them trouble. If there are outright tree monsters, the lumberjacks must be powerful champions as well.

A Grave Oversight

The job we keep featuring: Assassin
The job we keep forgetting: Master of Revels

Occupational Reminder

If a fantasy world has wizards, it will probably end up with people named Henry Wizard who aren't wizards at all. Same for necromancer, spellsword, summoner, and so on, mutatis mutandis.

Fantasy Archeology

Suppose there's some precursor civilization that left artifacts of irreplaceable might. Would that make archeology a higher or lower status occupation? Probably lower. Nothing's cruder than practicality.

Parallel Timelines

Raymond E. Feist was only two letters away from being a bank robber instead of a fantasy author. Strange to think about.