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Where is your sense of adventure? Heroes aren't supposed to be in the game just for the money!
What about for princess bosom?
Princess bosom is nice, but even with that you are still only a cheap imitation of a true hero. Besides, I do not see any princess bosom in the area, and no, you cannot buy princess bosom. You must earn such luxuries.
Are you telling me I don't actually get to go home?
No, you can go home if you want. I'm merely giving you an opportunity to reconsider because I am a kind and kindred spirit. Eh, who am I kidding? I'm kind of a dick, but my offer still stands.
> You convinced you, oh benevolent and mighty guardian angel.
No one likes a kiss ass. I'm more akin to a god than an angel anyway.
Taking a deep whiff of air you can smell the magic. This place has more to it than abandoned pots of gold and rainbows after all. You order your horse to stay and guard your gold as you dart towards the disturbance, and he obeys, because that is what good horseys do.
You storm through the trees, snapping branches and scaring furry little forest critters. In your haste, you trample a chipmunk. The little fellow's bones make a nice crunching noise.
"Hey what's the big idea!"
You whirl around but do not see anyone. You inspect the bottom of your boot, but the chipmunk is not the speaker. He is squashed like a rotten pumpkin all juicy and splattered.
"Over here you idiot." A giant of a man posing as a tree rumbles toward you. He has moss and vines for a beard and hair. His green eyes glimmer with malice. A bear and a wolf lumber along at his sides. "Why are you destroying my forest?"
"Sorry, I was looking for whatever made that awful cry."
"That was a leprechaun bemoaning his sorry fate of being a leprechaun."
"Cool, can you show me where they are?"
"You murder my friend and harm my trees and you ask me for help? Give me one reason why I shouldn't bring you home to my wife and tickle you to death for her amusement while my children eat your toes!"
What in the name of Pegasus is this thing? Oh, if only you had brought that book on mythical creatures Samwellington bought you for your birthday. At any rate, something tells you he does not belong in Irelandshire. You do not think you will be able to reason with him. If the chipmunk was his friend, honor would dictate that he avenge the cute little guy's mushy corpse. How do you want to play this?
> You tell him, 'Everything you say is a lie.'
A smug smirk crosses your lips as you proudly declare, "Everything I say is a lie."
The weird tree man thing stares at you then shakes his head in pity. "What did you think a paradox would do? Make my brain melt into soup?"
"Yes, actually."
"I am a leshy. Not an imbecile."
"I have no idea what that is. Do you sing songs?"
"You'll see what I do."
The leshy's animal friends attack and pin you to the ground before you can react. You manage to strangle the bear to death with your ethereal arm, but this only enrages the leshy further. He plucks you from the ground as a princess would an eyelash and carries you off to his shanty with the wolf nipping at your feet.
Once inside his home, he binds you with vines and hangs you from the ceiling. His wife and children enter from kitchen.
"Oh, wonderful," his wife cries with glee, "you found a wanderer! We get so few in the Valley of Rainbows."
"The stupid leprechauns keep everyone away," says one of the children. "No one wants to be near a leprechaun."
The leshy's wife smacks the child upside the head. "You treat the leprechauns with respect young man. They have enough misfortune without your drivel."
"That's right. Behave yourself, or I won't let you eat his toes," says the leshy.
"Yes Pa."
The leshy begins tickling you as the children nibble on your toes. The wife shoves a hand down her dress and begins to moan and giggle. You shut your eyes and vomit between fits of laughter and screams of agony. Piss runs down your leg.
"You evil bastard!" you scream.
"I'm not evil. You're just a failure and a murderer," says the leshy as he proceeds to tickle you to death. "Chipper was one of my best friends. He will not be forgotten." |
No one likes a kiss ass. I'm more akin to a god than an angel anyway.
Taking a deep whiff of air you can smell the magic. This place has more to it than abandoned pots of gold and rainbows after all. You order your horse to stay and guard your gold as you dart towards the disturbance, and he obeys, because that is what good horseys do.
You storm through the trees, snapping branches and scaring furry little forest critters. In your haste, you trample a chipmunk. The little fellow's bones make a nice crunching noise.
"Hey what's the big idea!"
You whirl around but do not see anyone. You inspect the bottom of your boot, but the chipmunk is not the speaker. He is squashed like a rotten pumpkin all juicy and splattered.
"Over here you idiot." A giant of a man posing as a tree rumbles toward you. He has moss and vines for a beard and hair. His green eyes glimmer with malice. A bear and a wolf lumber along at his sides. "Why are you destroying my forest?"
"Sorry, I was looking for whatever made that awful cry."
"That was a leprechaun bemoaning his sorry fate of being a leprechaun."
"Cool, can you show me where they are?"
"You murder my friend and harm my trees and you ask me for help? Give me one reason why I shouldn't bring you home to my wife and tickle you to death for her amusement while my children eat your toes!"
What in the name of Pegasus is this thing? Oh, if only you had brought that book on mythical creatures Samwellington bought you for your birthday. At any rate, something tells you he does not belong in Irelandshire. You do not think you will be able to reason with him. If the chipmunk was his friend, honor would dictate that he avenge the cute little guy's mushy corpse. How do you want to play this?
> You turn your clothes inside out and put your shoes on the wrong feet.
You remember now! This creature is a leshy, and there is only one sure fire way to stop a leshy. You whip off your clothes, put them on inside out, kick off your shoes and slip them onto the opposite feet.
The leshy grimaces and his animal companions slink away. "I guess I have to show you the way out now."
"I know the way out. Can you take me to the leprechauns?"
"You want to see the leprechauns? Are you dull in the head?"
"I like bacon, yes."
The leshy's eyes twinkle with fear. "Clearly, you're mentally unhinged. Just like those poor leprechauns. If I take you to them, promise you'll leave me and my family alone."
"Sure."
You follow the leshy into a glade, within a glen, within a gorge, within a holler, within a hollow, within a dell, within a dale, within a dingle, within a canyon, within a vale within the Valley of Rainbows. The trip is quite, shall I say, trippy.
The leshy points to a pool of water where all the rainbows spring forth. "I'm not getting any closer. Give the leprechauns my condolences, and please don't murder rape my family. Good day." The leshy leaves in a hurry without another word.
You approach the pool with eager enthusiasm and the leprechauns begin to appear from the surrounding trees…
...
Why are you stopping?
I'm sorry. It's too depressing. Give the leprechauns my condolences as well, poor sorry bastards. |
Truer words have never been said. Well, they probably have, but you cannot think of any at the moment.
"Alright," you nod, "bring on the magic."
"That's the spirit." Osprey bumbles around finishing his runes. He mutters some incantations, bops you on top of the head a few times with his staff and bursts into poetry.
A wizard did it, a wizard bid it.
An arm grew, fresh and new.
Ethereal, but not imperial.
As we live in a realm, surrounded by elm.
Nature's magic, is never tragic.
My rhymes are bad, but I'm not mad.
This spell worked, 'cause Cyrus twerked.
Just like that, a sprite and shiny ethereal arm appears from your shoulder. You clench your fist and feel the power pulsing through your… veins? Jon claps politely as Osprey bows.
The hedge wizard slaps you across the back, smiling. "Now don't go committing sins of self-pleasure with that thing. You might rip something important off."
You gulp.
Osprey cackles and slaps you some more. He seems to like hitting you. "You can shoot magic energy blasts out of that thing too. I thought that might be useful for a hero."
Jon shakes his head. "If you want to be a heroic knight, don't do that. Knights aren't magic. Only trouble can come of it. This isn't a wizard's tale."
Osprey shrugs and wanders back into his hut. The door creaks shut and you soon hear the calamity snap back to life. He pokes his head out to offer one last piece of advice. "You treat them leprechauns with respect, boy, you hear me?" He slams the door shut and that is that.
"What do we do now?" you ask Jon.
"Well, I'm going to go back to the hamlet and make sure everything's in order. You should go try out your new arm and get used to it."
You consider that a smashing idea and head off to the neighboring kingdom of Irelandshire to seek out one of these mystical leprechauns. With the help of several drunken and boisterous natives, you learn the not-so-secret location of the Valley of Rainbows where the leprechauns supposedly abound. They warn you not to go though because it is a sad and wretched place. Obviously, you ignore them.
Hundreds of rainbows dot the easy to access valley, and you have little difficulty tracking one down to its end. Naturally, a great pot of gold sits next to it, but no leprechaun.
You try calling for them, taunting them, begging them, praising them, but none appear.
"Well at least I'm rich."
You pack as much gold as you can onto your horse (which isn't anywhere near the entire pot since gold is heavy, yet it's still enough to buy a castle or two) and prepare to return home.
As you approach the precipice with the cave that leads out of the valley, a shrill cry booms from deep in the heart of the valley.
> You investigate the cry.
Taking a deep whiff of air you can smell the magic. This place has more to it than abandoned pots of gold and rainbows after all. You order your horse to stay and guard your gold as you dart towards the disturbance, and he obeys, because that is what good horseys do.
You storm through the trees, snapping branches and scaring furry little forest critters. In your haste, you trample a chipmunk. The little fellow's bones make a nice crunching noise.
"Hey what's the big idea!"
You whirl around but do not see anyone. You inspect the bottom of your boot, but the chipmunk is not the speaker. He is squashed like a rotten pumpkin all juicy and splattered.
"Over here you idiot." A giant of a man posing as a tree rumbles toward you. He has moss and vines for a beard and hair. His green eyes glimmer with malice. A bear and a wolf lumber along at his sides. "Why are you destroying my forest?"
"Sorry, I was looking for whatever made that awful cry."
"That was a leprechaun bemoaning his sorry fate of being a leprechaun."
"Cool, can you show me where they are?"
"You murder my friend and harm my trees and you ask me for help? Give me one reason why I shouldn't bring you home to my wife and tickle you to death for her amusement while my children eat your toes!"
What in the name of Pegasus is this thing? Oh, if only you had brought that book on mythical creatures Samwellington bought you for your birthday. At any rate, something tells you he does not belong in Irelandshire. You also doubt you will be able to reason with him. If the chipmunk was his friend, honor would dictate that he avenge the cute little guy's mushy corpse. How do you want to play this? |
You doubt you will be of much use as a combatant, so you may as well make yourself useful in some other fashion.
You grab your severed arm and wing it as hard you can toward the trolls. The troll feasting on Bowie ignores the bloody mess of flesh, but Jon's troll clambers after it on all fours. A deep sadness seeps into your bones as you hear the troll crunch your arm in its jaws. Heroes are not supposed to be eaten.
Jon slices the back of the trolls' knees, and the troll howls in agony as its legs buckle. Jon leaps onto its back and cleaves the head clean off with one swipe with your arm still clenched between its teeth.
"Go Jon," Samwellington cheers. The fat coward is still cowering behind wreckage from the wagon.
"Why don't you try and help?" you snarl.
"I am helping. I'm providing emotional support."
You roll your eyes and look back in time to see Jon finish off the second troll.
"Wow, that was fast," you say.
Jon shrugs. "A little emotional support can go a long way. Nice job yourself. You didn't even need to have your sword arm attached to the rest of your body for it to be useful. Try dodging next time though."
"I don't know if there will be a next time. How can I fight without a sword arm?"
Jon winks. "I know a guy: magic fellow and what not. He should be able to do something for you." Jon raises his hand. "Hold on one second. I'll be right back."
Jon darts into the forest and you hear the lovely sound of steel biting into flesh and the accompanying screams.
"Sam, why don't you go back to the hamlet and draft the report," says Jon, emerging from the forest, "add five dead bandits to it. I'll take our buddy here to the hedge wizard."
With that, you and Jon part ways with Samwellington and enjoy a relatively droll venture to the hedge wizard's hut. You understand why he is only a hedge wizard. The hut is a ramshackle smattering of twigs and leaves that appear to be held together by nothing but mud and bird poop. The entire place smells worse than a popcorn fart. This may not have been the best idea, but before you can raise your concerns with Jon, he hollers out.
"Hey, Osprey, get out here. I need a favor."
"Is that you Jon?" You hear weird pops and bangs from inside the bird poop hut. "Just a second."
"Take your time," says Jon. "No hurry."
After a few minutes, a bent white-bearded man with smoldering eyebrows and a staff teeters out of the hut amidst a cloud of smoke. The smoke shrouds Osprey and follows him around. It smells of rancid cheese and burning bird shit.
"Whew," Jon attempts to wave the stink away, "what were you doing in there?"
Osprey's eyes light up. His lips twist into a smirk as he cackles. "Wizard things."
"Oh, Dear God."
Osprey's smile vanishes as he notices you and totters over. He grabs your head in both hands, lifts your chin, peers into your eyes, and prods your chest with a bony finger. A chill courses through your bones. He proceeds to violate your personal space for several minutes while you do your best to avoid suffocating in the smoke.
"Mmhmmm," he says to himself. "Just as I thought. The boy is missing an arm."
You roll your eyes. "How observant."
Osprey whacks you upside the head with the staff. "Mind your manners, boy, or I'll turn you into a leprechaun." He shakes his head. "Ain't nothing sadder than a leprechaun."
"Not even a smelly old man living in a bird shit hut?"
Osprey clobbers you with the staff again. "I'll have respect from you boy. This is no joking matter. You ever see a leprechaun you give that poor bastard nothing but your sincerest sympathies." He smacks you with the staff one more time for good measure. "Now about that arm. I can fix you right up. Get you a brand new ethereal arm. Those things are sweet: impervious to physical damage. Magic will fuck you up though."
Osprey begins nodding his head and drawing weird symbols in the ground with his staff while mumbling to himself.
"Jon," you whisper, "I really don't think this is a good idea. This guy is cracked."
Jon scoffs. "Posh. You want to be a knight, right? Well, a knight needs both arms."
> You continue as a cripple.
There is no way you are about to let this bird-brained lunatic work any form of magic on you. Somehow, someway, you will adapt to your crippled state.
"It's just not happening, Jon," you say and walk away.
"Hey, get back here, kid!"
"Let him go, Jon," you hear Osprey say. "He'll come back. They always do."
You ignore them and keep walking. Left, right, left, you allow your mind to wander and just let your feet carry you where they will. How could this have happened? You are supposed to be a hero! A young knight in training, you had such a promising future…
Time passes and the sky darkens as you continue to roam without purpose. Self-wallowing will certainly help you in your quest for glory. You meander deeper into the forest, down into a dell. A coyote's howl jars you back to reality. You slump against a rock beside a bubbling stream and bury your head into your hand.
"Everything I ever dreamed," you scream, "ripped apart and devoured by some beast from hell."
"Oh, do tell," whispers a soft voice from behind. "I love stories about fallen heroes." The voice giggles. "Or, would-be heroes."
Slippery wet fingers trace your cheeks and run through your hair. A veil of mist seeps into the dell. Queer sensations stir in the pit of your gut. You think you are being enchanted, and you are not sure if that is necessarily a bad thing.
"Who are you?"
"I have many names," sings the sweet voice. Her fingers caress your body. You feel at ease in her arms, as if all the aches in your body and pains in your mind wash away at her command. "But you may call me Organa Mel Fy."
"What are you?"
"Ah, now that is a better question, but still not the right one." You feel her teeth nibble at your neck. "I am an angel to some: demon to others. Last question my sweetness, make it count."
> You say "What happens next?"
"What happens next?"
"Now that, that is the question of the hour, isn't it?" sings the sweet voice.
The mysterious creature's slick fingers trace their way into your breeches and tickle your Johnson. An overwhelming sensation of euphoria courses through your veins. Blood surges through your body. You feel… invigorated, as if you have more energy than the sun itself.
"I get ever so lonely here by myself," the voice sings. "Won't you… play with me?"
> You sexytime!
You have never felt so amazing in your life. How could you possibly let this sensation escape? You make sweet tender love to the mysterious creature. She looks human enough, except for the fact she can transform into water at will, which only serves to enhance the awesomeness of the experience. It just feels soooo damn good.
A little too good. Blinded by euphoria, ecstasy, magic, hormones, and a fatal condition I like to call "being a goddamned idiot," you fail to notice your lover drag you down into the deceptively deep depths of the stream where you drown in the throes of love-making. Oh, those pesky water sprites! |
"What happens next?"
"Now that, that is the question of the hour, isn't it?" sings the sweet voice.
The mysterious creature's slick fingers trace their way into your breeches and tickle your Johnson. An overwhelming sensation of euphoria courses through your veins. Blood surges through your body. You feel… invigorated, as if you have more energy than the sun itself.
"I get ever so lonely here by myself," the voice sings. "Won't you… play with me?"
> You it's a trap!
Shit, it's a trap! Jon once gave you a book about just this situation. This magical sexy creature is none other than a water sprite, posing as the evil sorceress, Organa Mel Fy, probably one of her sultry minions. She'll sex you up then drown you in the stream and feast on your corpse.
"I want you to want me." The water sprite moans and works magic on your body with her fingers.
Try as you might you cannot resist her allure as she toys with you in her lap. The magical enchantment and sexual tension corrode the fibers of your mind, breaking the mental barriers you constructed for just such a situation.
Saggy old nuns. Saggy old nuns. Saggy old nuns. Sally David. Mom. Oh shit, I'm still getting hard.
Hard as a brick in fact.
Help me!
Do you have a sister?
Yes, but that won't work.
You whacked it while watching her bathe in the river didn't you, perv.
Maybe…
I suppose there is always self-castration.
Go to hell.
"Don't be shy, baby," sings the water sprite, "I just want to rock you like a hurricane, shake you all night long, twist and shout, scream a rebel yell, make you walk on water, take you down to the paradise city, administer rough justice, and get your rocks off."
Losing the battle of self-control your johnson twitches wildly. "Oh, sweet merciful God, that sounds orgasmic."
The water sprite leans in close and whispers in your ear, "Let me take you home tonight so I can keep on loving you."
The sultry songs of the water sprite prove too much for your feeble constitution. Your johnson explodes into a fountain of blood from a colossal aneurysm brought on by an overload of magical sexual tension. Since I'm not completely depraved, I'll spare you the grisly details. Short agonizing story in brief: you bleed out. |
There is no way you are about to let this bird-brained lunatic work any form of magic on you. Somehow, someway, you will adapt to your crippled state.
"It's just not happening, Jon," you say and walk away.
"Hey, get back here, kid!"
"Let him go, Jon," you hear Osprey say. "He'll come back. They always do."
You ignore them and keep walking. Left, right, left, you allow your mind to wander and just let your feet carry you where they will. How could this have happened? You are supposed to be a hero! A young knight in training, you had such a promising future…
Time passes and the sky darkens as you continue to roam without purpose. Self-wallowing will certainly help you in your quest for glory. You meander deeper into the forest, down into a dell. A coyote's howl jars you back to reality. You slump against a rock beside a bubbling stream and bury your head into your hand.
"Everything I ever dreamed," you scream, "ripped apart and devoured by some beast from hell."
"Oh, do tell," whispers a soft voice from behind. "I love stories about fallen heroes." The voice giggles. "Or, would-be heroes."
Slippery wet fingers trace your cheeks and run through your hair. A veil of mist seeps into the dell. Queer sensations stir in the pit of your gut. You think you are being enchanted, and you are not sure if that is necessarily a bad thing.
"Who are you?"
"I have many names," sings the sweet voice. Her fingers caress your body. You feel at ease in her arms, as if all the aches in your body and pains in your mind wash away at her command. "But you may call me Organa Mel Fy."
"What are you?"
"Ah, now that is a better question, but still not the right one." You feel her teeth nibble at your neck. "I am an angel to some: demon to others. Last question my sweetness, make it count."
> You kill it
When in doubt, flay 'em like a trout. Swift as a cat hopped up on methamphetamines you draw your sword, spin around, and hack off Organa Mel Fy's head. Magic may not be dope, but you sure are.
What didn't you know? Magic is a stimulating drug. That's why even the best wizards are twitchy and half-cracked in the head. Shit's addictive, man.
Whoa, what the hell is going on? Organa Mel Fy's body and freshly decapitated head melt into what appears to be water and seeps into the ground. That is not normal. Perhaps now would be a good time to get out of here. You are still feeling funny from the magic and can swear you are being watched as you clamber up out of the dell. In fact, your feet are moving in a flurry, but it does not seem like you are getting anywhere. You definitely passed that big ass maple like five times already.
You whirl around and brandish your sword. "Ok, what the fuck gives? Will the mysterious magic bitch or bastard please stand up?"
"If you insist." A mysterious magic bitch with bountiful breasts appears before you out of thin air wearing low-cut red robes. She reeks of magic and virility.
"Listen, err, lady, my day's been one odious load of shit, so unless you want me to wrap you up in the stink, I suggest you bugger off."
The woman's lips curl into a seductive smirk. "Aren't you curious as to whom I am, or what I am going to offer you?"
"At this point, I really don't give a damn."
"Perhaps you should."
"Perhaps you should suck my dick."
"If that is what you truly desire, that may be arranged. But for now, you will listen to my proposal like a good puppy." The woman raises her hand, immobilizing your body with her magic. "Now then-"
> You hear her out.
"If you agree to be my obedient and ever loyal servant, I will allow you to be my second in command and we shall rule the world with a magical fist! I'll even fix up your arm for you, much better than that crackpot Osprey could do for you too."
"Can I be a Knight in Shining Armor?"
"You can be a Black Knight."
"Awww, that's not heroic at all."
"Well, you could just be my Dragon."
"You'll turn me into a dragon! That's awesome!"
"No. A Dragon is a trope. Don't you have the internet?"
"What's a trope? Or the internet? Is it like a cliché?"
Organa Mel Fy face palms. "Go here and waste countless hours of your life and educate yourself. http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HomePage"
"I don't speak foreign. Just Common."
"I think I'll just kill you."
And so she does. Now you are free to lose your soul in the vast voids of the internet. |
When in doubt, flay 'em like a trout. Swift as a cat hopped up on methamphetamines you draw your sword, spin around, and hack off Organa Mel Fy's head. Magic may not be dope, but you sure are.
What didn't you know? Magic is a stimulating drug. That's why even the best wizards are twitchy and half-cracked in the head. Shit's addictive, man.
Whoa, what the hell is going on? Organa Mel Fy's body and freshly decapitated head melt into what appears to be water and seeps into the ground. That is not normal. Perhaps now would be a good time to get out of here. You are still feeling funny from the magic and can swear you are being watched as you clamber up out of the dell. In fact, your feet are moving in a flurry, but it does not seem like you are getting anywhere. You definitely passed that big ass maple like five times already.
You whirl around and brandish your sword. "Ok, what the fuck gives? Will the mysterious magic bitch or bastard please stand up?"
"If you insist." A mysterious magic bitch with bountiful breasts appears before you out of thin air wearing low-cut red robes. She reeks of magic and virility.
"Listen, err, lady, my day's been one odious load of shit, so unless you want me to wrap you up in the stink, I suggest you bugger off."
The woman's lips curl into a seductive smirk. "Aren't you curious as to whom I am, or what I am going to offer you?"
"At this point, I really don't give a damn."
"Perhaps you should."
"Perhaps you should suck my dick."
"If that is what you truly desire, that may be arranged. But for now, you will listen to my proposal like a good puppy." The woman raises her hand, immobilizing your body with her magic. "Now then-"
> You spit in her face.
Spitting isn't exactly heroic, unless you're a cowboy. Unfortunately for you, you are not a cowboy.
You hack a glob of spittle onto the woman's face. "I'll cut your fucking heart out. Bitch."
"Interesting, I'd love to see you try." The woman wipes your saliva from her face, as you remain helplessly immobilized. "Yes, that's what I thought. Though I imagined you had a little more sense in you than that. You are not the vessel I am looking for. That is clear to me now. Still, I can use your corpse as a fine minion. And you gave me such a wonderful idea of how to kill you."
The mysterious magic bitch magics up a dagger and proceeds to cut out your heart, which she then consumes. You watch in horror as the last moments of your life fade away. Perhaps, antagonizing your captor was not the best of ideas.
Sadly, you cannot even enjoy peace in death, as the mysterious magic bitch reanimates your corpse to do her bidding, trapping your soul within your decaying body. The tasks she orders you to perform are humiliating and degrading, but there is nothing you can do. You are hers, now and forever. |
When in doubt, flay 'em like a trout. Swift as a cat hopped up on methamphetamines you draw your sword, spin around, and hack off Organa Mel Fy's head. Magic may not be dope, but you sure are.
What didn't you know? Magic is a stimulating drug. That's why even the best wizards are twitchy and half-cracked in the head. Shit's addictive, man.
Whoa, what the hell is going on? Organa Mel Fy's body and freshly decapitated head melt into what appears to be water and seeps into the ground. That is not normal. Perhaps now would be a good time to get out of here. You are still feeling funny from the magic and can swear you are being watched as you clamber up out of the dell. In fact, your feet are moving in a flurry, but it does not seem like you are getting anywhere. You definitely passed that big ass maple like five times already.
You whirl around and brandish your sword. "Ok, what the fuck gives? Will the mysterious magic bitch or bastard please stand up?"
"If you insist." A mysterious magic bitch with bountiful breasts appears before you out of thin air wearing low-cut red robes. She reeks of magic and virility.
"Listen, err, lady, my day's been one odious load of shit, so unless you want me to wrap you up in the stink, I suggest you bugger off."
The woman's lips curl into a seductive smirk. "Aren't you curious as to whom I am, or what I am going to offer you?"
"At this point, I really don't give a damn."
"Perhaps you should."
"Perhaps you should suck my dick."
"If that is what you truly desire, that may be arranged. But for now, you will listen to my proposal like a good puppy." The woman raises her hand, immobilizing your body with her magic. "Now then-"
> You struggle to break the spell with sheer willpower.
Ah, yes, the only thing more powerful than the human spirit is the spirit of a hero. You dig deep inside yourself, channeling your energy into an explosion of heroism. Eww, gross, it smells… sticky.
"- hey wait, what are you doing?" shrieks the mysterious magic bitch as you take a step forward. She doubles her efforts to paralyze you, but you are fixated on your goal and nothing is going to stand in your way. You cock your arm and deliver a vicious left hook. Crack. "Foolish mortal," she screams as blood dribbles down into her frock, "that was most unwise."
It really was, you think as you massage your broken hand against your thigh. Why didn't I just hack off her head?
Good question hero, how do you plan to kill her now with one arm and a broken hand?
I dunno, but it was worth it. The blood glistens gorgeously on her bosom.
Maybe. If you are into that kind of stuff. But the time for internal dialogue and wall shattering is over, you have a situation here.
The mysterious magic bitch hurls a poorly aimed fireball in your direction. "I bet you don't even have it in you to kill a woman!"
"Didn't I just kill that water creature thingy? What was her name, Morgan Le Fay?"
"Organa Mel Fy, you fool!" The mysterious magic bitch hurls another fireball, but once again, her aim is so dreadful you do not even have to dodge.
"Oh, whatever."
"Did you really think that half-witted harpy was the real Organa Mel Fy, sorceress supreme?"
"Kind of."
"Well she wasn't! I am!"
Organa Mel Fy whips up a magic firestorm, igniting the forest in a blaze of light and charred forest critters. You have to respect her strategy. When you cannot hit the broad side of a barn, just fire a broadside and blow everything to hell.
"I could have given you power beyond your wildest dreams! Sex the likes of which you have never known possible! We could have ruled the world together and ascended into the divine! Now DIE!"
Flames lick at you from all angles while smoldering branches and roasted birds tumble around you. Your stomach rumbles and mouth waters. Too bad you do not have time for a snack; a nice greasy roasted duck would really hit the spot right about now. One problem at a time though. You think you see a small avenue of escape, but you will have to bolt for it now. Of course, running away admits defeat.
> You fight
I didn't know you were courting Death.
I'm not. What the hell are you talking about?
Oh dear, this is awkward.
What!?
I just assumed you had a date with Death, how else to explain such an absolute act of pure, unadulterated retardation.
Crashing through the inferno, you barrel toward Organa Mel Fy as the flames sear your skin. One armed and broken handed, I'm certain the fight would have been worthy to watch. Sadly, you collapse before you close even half the gap where the dancing fires consume your corpse.
It is a shame really. You came so close to discovering Organa Mel Fy's secret. I actually thought you were going to make it. Instead, Organa Mel Fy did the world a service by culling a hero that just wasn't cut out for the job. |
Ah, yes, the only thing more powerful than the human spirit is the spirit of a hero. You dig deep inside yourself, channeling your energy into an explosion of heroism. Eww, gross, it smells… sticky.
"- hey wait, what are you doing?" shrieks the mysterious magic bitch as you take a step forward. She doubles her efforts to paralyze you, but you are fixated on your goal and nothing is going to stand in your way. You cock your arm and deliver a vicious left hook. Crack. "Foolish mortal," she screams as blood dribbles down into her frock, "that was most unwise."
It really was, you think as you massage your broken hand against your thigh. Why didn't I just hack off her head?
Good question hero, how do you plan to kill her now with one arm and a broken hand?
I dunno, but it was worth it. The blood glistens gorgeously on her bosom.
Maybe. If you are into that kind of stuff. But the time for internal dialogue and wall shattering is over, you have a situation here.
The mysterious magic bitch hurls a poorly aimed fireball in your direction. "I bet you don't even have it in you to kill a woman!"
"Didn't I just kill that water creature thingy? What was her name, Morgan Le Fay?"
"Organa Mel Fy, you fool!" The mysterious magic bitch hurls another fireball, but once again, her aim is so dreadful you do not even have to dodge.
"Oh, whatever."
"Did you really think that half-witted harpy was the real Organa Mel Fy, sorceress supreme?"
"Kind of."
"Well she wasn't! I am!"
Organa Mel Fy whips up a magic firestorm, igniting the forest in a blaze of light and charred forest critters. You have to respect her strategy. When you cannot hit the broad side of a barn, just fire a broadside and blow everything to hell.
"I could have given you power beyond your wildest dreams! Sex the likes of which you have never known possible! We could have ruled the world together and ascended into the divine! Now DIE!"
Flames lick at you from all angles while smoldering branches and roasted birds tumble around you. Your stomach rumbles and mouth waters. Too bad you do not have time for a snack; a nice greasy roasted duck would really hit the spot right about now. One problem at a time though. You think you see a small avenue of escape, but you will have to bolt for it now. Of course, running away admits defeat.
> You flee
Sometimes you have to lose the battle to win the war. You seize your opportunity to escape and disappear in the smoky haze. That crazy loon must have set half the forest on fire. Things cannot get much worse at least, right?
A gale pummels you from behind and knocks you down. Coals soar through the air. The force of the wind uproots entire trees, filling the air with splintering missiles of fire and death. Shit just got worse.
"Oh come on," you mutter, "the bitch has to have some limit to her magic."
You stagger onto your feet and proceed to dodge the incredible amount of bullshit and debris flying through the air all the way back to Osprey's ramshackle birdshit hut. Osprey and Jon are sitting on stumps around a bonfire drinking tea, completely ignoring the magic fire engulfing the forest.
Osprey nudges Jon with his elbow. "See, I told ya he'd come back. They always come back."
"Never doubted you for a second Osprey. The boy is young. He'll learn."
You throw up your arms in exasperation. "In case you two didn't notice, we have a situation here."
"You heroes today, always in such a hurry." Osprey bops you on the head with his staff. "Never taking any time to stop and smell the pteguonias." Osprey takes a deep whiff. "Putrid."
"That's your birdshit hut burning up."
Osprey's eyebrows shoot up, nearly off his forehead. "Damnit, Organa, you've gone too far this time. Show yourself! It ends now!"
Organa Mel Fy once again materializes out of thin air. She blasts an ice spike through Osprey's heart without so much as a howdy-do. The cooky old hedge wizard voids his bowels and leaves this world once and for all. So much for getting a new arm.
Jon draws his sword. This battle may rest entirely on his blade now because you certainly do not appear to be in any condition to help. "Heartless harpy," he growls.
Organa Mel Fy shrugs, which causes her bountiful breasts to bounce beautifully. "Well aren't you a luscious lug. The world is a better place without the old fart stinking up half the forest. And I assure you, while I may be tart, I do have a heart. I know I just met you, and this may seem a tad crazy. But I'm ovulating, so would you like to make a baby?"
"Well, I am a sucker for gingers."
"Power, sex, and divinity, we could have it all."
Jon lowers his sword. "That is tempting."
"Jon, what the hell!" You make a fist and drop to your knees in pain. Yep, still broke.
Jon stares at you with puppy dog eyes. "But she's a ginger! I love gingers. Besides, heroes aren't supposed to hit girls let alone kill them. That's villainy right there."
The man makes a strong argument. Are you really willing to begin the long dark descent down the path of debauchery and villainy just to stop one lone psychotic bitch with a magic addiction? Maybe it is not too late for you to get in on the action too. Organa Mel Fy does have a pretty sweet body and has a serious sexual appetite. There are probably some fantastic adventures awaiting the three of you in your potential sexcapades.
> You grope Organa Mel Fy
Something has been off about Organa Mel Fy ever since you first took a whiff of her presence. Eureka, that's it! You just have to get close enough to check and make sure.
"Organa, I think I made a terrible mistake. Just think of all the sexy good times the three of us could have."
"Hmmm, maybe." Organa's eyes fall to your junk, judging you.
You saunter over to Organa Mel Fy, trying your best to look charming and horny. Yeah, she wants some of that. When you get in close, you shove your hand down her robes and clutch onto her naughty bits. Son of a peasant, you were right!
"She's packing heat Jon," you shout as you simultaneously twist Organa Mel Fy's genitals and headbutt her in the temple. "I knew I smelled the unmistakable musk of virility on you when we first met."
Jon gawks stupidly. "You mean Organa Mel Fy is a transsexual?"
You mercilessly curb stomp Organa Mel Fy into the forest floor, not feeling the least bit bad about it. "Nope, she's a hermaphrodite."
"Oh, wow. That could have got… kinky?"
"Not the word I would have used, but you're probably right."
"You're still kind of beating up a woman you know."
"Eh, it's got a penis. I think my hero's soul is safe."
"You son of a whore!" Tears pour down Organa's cheeks. "We could have achieved great things, the three of us, united as a triumvirate of power, glory, and sexual ecstasy."
This is true. Do you want to give all of that up? I know it requires a new perspective on life and an open mind, but that sounds interesting if nothing else. You could shatter boundaries and usher in a new age of sexual exploration and understanding. Then again, she does want to take over the known world, so it is not like she's a nice lady… gentleman... person. Or is (s)he just misunderstood?
> You heroes kill evil things. She's evil.
You don't make the rules; you just follow them. Canon dictates you kill all evil things that cross your path. Open-mindedness is not canon. Therefore, it must be evil. When was the last time you read a cliché story about two homoerotic knights swordfighting their way through the kingdom, never.
A few curb stomps later, Organa Mel Fy is dead. Congratulations, you rid the world of a great evil. Jon shoots a passing red herring. Ain't nobody got time for that.
Jon slaps you on the back. "Well kid, turns out you had it in you to be a hero after all. You'll earn a knighthood for this beautiful handiwork, no doubt. How do you feel?"
"Dirty."
"Nothing a good bath won't fix."
"So what happens next?"
"Oh, I imagine you'll have some titillating adventures over the years and wind up marrying a big bosomed princess with blond hair and blue eyes. She'll give birth to a brood of little prince-lings and you'll grow old in a nice big ass castle. Doubt you'll ever get your arm fixed though. You proved today you don't need it."
"That sounds fine by me."
"Amen. A cliché life is a happy life." |
Something has been off about Organa Mel Fy ever since you first took a whiff of her presence. Eureka, that's it! You just have to get close enough to check and make sure.
"Organa, I think I made a terrible mistake. Just think of all the sexy good times the three of us could have."
"Hmmm, maybe." Organa's eyes fall to your junk, judging you.
You saunter over to Organa Mel Fy, trying your best to look charming and horny. Yeah, she wants some of that. When you get in close, you shove your hand down her robes and clutch onto her naughty bits. Son of a peasant, you were right!
"She's packing heat Jon," you shout as you simultaneously twist Organa Mel Fy's genitals and headbutt her in the temple. "I knew I smelled the unmistakable musk of virility on you when we first met."
Jon gawks stupidly. "You mean Organa Mel Fy is a transsexual?"
You mercilessly curb stomp Organa Mel Fy into the forest floor, not feeling the least bit bad about it. "Nope, she's a hermaphrodite."
"Oh, wow. That could have got… kinky?"
"Not the word I would have used, but you're probably right."
"You're still kind of beating up a woman you know."
"Eh, it's got a penis. I think my hero's soul is safe."
"You son of a whore!" Tears pour down Organa's cheeks. "We could have achieved great things, the three of us, united as a triumvirate of power, glory, and sexual ecstasy."
This is true. Do you want to give all of that up? I know it requires a new perspective on life and an open mind, but that sounds interesting if nothing else. You could shatter boundaries and usher in a new age of sexual exploration and understanding. Then again, she does want to take over the known world, so it is not like she's a nice lady… gentleman... person. Or is (s)he just misunderstood?
> You heroes show compassion and understanding.
With time and love, you are convinced that Organa Mel Fy can be converted into a peaceful member of society. Perhaps she will even redeem herself and become a hero. As much as you would like to tell yourself that your actions are purely heroic, deep down you know what you really wanted. Don't worry, I won't judge you. After all, you are at that age of sexual hyperactivity where the only thing on your mind is sex, and sex, and sex, and sex.
You offer Organa Mel Fy an awkward hand of love and friendship, which she accepts, not that (s)he has much of a choice at this point. You, Jon and Organa Mel Fy consummate your union in the smoldering ruins of a once proud forest and Osprey's birdshit hut. The sensations you experience are… unique.
The divine overseer in the eternal heavens is rather displeased with your choice. Canon dictates Organa Mel Fy is evil and deserving of a gruesome death. You cannot just spit in the face of canon and expect to come out unharmed. Consequently, the titles of knight and hero are beyond your grasp. Naturally, you turn to a life of villainy in retaliation.
and your unholy union is on the verge of kingdom-wide conquest and savagery. The bedroom antics are as fierce and wild as ever. Organa Mel Fy didn't lie about the sexual ecstasy. It's amazing what a little magic can do in the bedroom. By the screams, one would swear the dead are cumming. But kingdom-wide devastation is not all sex games. Castles lay in ruin, cities burn, and famine and plague ravage the land. You personally hunted down and rape murdered every last unicorn to prevent the birth of another hero who may one day end your reign of terror. Fortunately, villains always get their comeuppance in the end.
One day while enjoying your depravity a rouge dragon from the nearby kingdom of Irelandshire flies overhead and roasts the three of you in a blast of dragonfire. The wyrm proceeds to eat you and utilize your energy as an aphrodisiac. The dragon is celebrated as a hero and he and his mate are pronounced king and queen of the kingdom. |
Sometimes you have to lose the battle to win the war. You seize your opportunity to escape and disappear in the smoky haze. That crazy loon must have set half the forest on fire. Things cannot get much worse at least, right?
A gale pummels you from behind and knocks you down. Coals soar through the air. The force of the wind uproots entire trees, filling the air with splintering missiles of fire and death. Shit just got worse.
"Oh come on," you mutter, "the bitch has to have some limit to her magic."
You stagger onto your feet and proceed to dodge the incredible amount of bullshit and debris flying through the air all the way back to Osprey's ramshackle birdshit hut. Osprey and Jon are sitting on stumps around a bonfire drinking tea, completely ignoring the magic fire engulfing the forest.
Osprey nudges Jon with his elbow. "See, I told ya he'd come back. They always come back."
"Never doubted you for a second Osprey. The boy is young. He'll learn."
You throw up your arms in exasperation. "In case you two didn't notice, we have a situation here."
"You heroes today, always in such a hurry." Osprey bops you on the head with his staff. "Never taking any time to stop and smell the pteguonias." Osprey takes a deep whiff. "Putrid."
"That's your birdshit hut burning up."
Osprey's eyebrows shoot up, nearly off his forehead. "Damnit, Organa, you've gone too far this time. Show yourself! It ends now!"
Organa Mel Fy once again materializes out of thin air. She blasts an ice spike through Osprey's heart without so much as a howdy-do. The cooky old hedge wizard voids his bowels and leaves this world once and for all. So much for getting a new arm.
Jon draws his sword. This battle may rest entirely on his blade now because you certainly do not appear to be in any condition to help. "Heartless harpy," he growls.
Organa Mel Fy shrugs, which causes her bountiful breasts to bounce beautifully. "Well aren't you a luscious lug. The world is a better place without the old fart stinking up half the forest. And I assure you, while I may be tart, I do have a heart. I know I just met you, and this may seem a tad crazy. But I'm ovulating, so would you like to make a baby?"
"Well, I am a sucker for gingers."
"Power, sex, and divinity, we could have it all."
Jon lowers his sword. "That is tempting."
"Jon, what the hell!" You make a fist and drop to your knees in pain. Yep, still broke.
Jon stares at you with puppy dog eyes. "But she's a ginger! I love gingers. Besides, heroes aren't supposed to hit girls let alone kill them. That's villainy right there."
The man makes a strong argument. Are you really willing to begin the long dark descent down the path of debauchery and villainy just to stop one lone psychotic bitch with a magic addiction? Maybe it is not too late for you to get in on the action too. Organa Mel Fy does have a pretty sweet body and has a serious sexual appetite. There are probably some fantastic adventures awaiting the three of you in your potential sexcapades.
> You villain Smillain, you're saving the day.
"I don't give a damn if she is a woman, I'm kicking her ass."
Jon sighs. "Fine, but you owe me a red-headed whore."
"Dude, Jon, man, you need therapy."
"No, I need a fire-crotch to melt the icy walls of my soul."
Organa Mel Fy claps her hands together. "What a wonderful idea. Ice and fire! And in song form." She claps her hands once more, and a snowstorm blizzards into existence. Ice, fire, and steam clash together while small mutant dwarf elves dance and sing in circles.
A song and storm of ice and fire, while we strum on our lyre.
Hit the bong and throw 'em in the fryer, while we drum by the funeral pyre.
Dum dee dee dum dum dum dum ho, dum dee dee dum dum dum dum wo,
Magic in the morning.
Watch them suffer hear them scream, while we make love by the bubbling stream.
Botch the murder we die as a team, while we fuck in a collective dream.
Dum dee dee dum dum dum dum ho, dum dee dee dum dum dum dum wo,
Magic in the morning.
Drink blood red wine at a wedding on the river, hope we get to dine on someone's liver.
The bread is fine honey don't you shiver, hope we bet on the cruelest sinner.
Dum dee dee dum dum dum dum ho, dum dee dee dum dum dum dum wo,
Magic in the morning.
If you suckle too long on Organa's teat, we hope you find an extra treat.
We may chuckle 'cause she's packing heat, pray we don't die for this beat.
Dum dee dee dum dum dum dum ho, dum dee dee dum dum dum dum wo,
Magic in the morning.
You blink and rub your eyes. "Jon, I think I'm tripping. I inhaled a lot of smoke; there must be some wicked shrooms growing in the forest."
"Either that or the narrator isn't even trying anymore."
A flaming chunk of ice crashes into the back of Jon's skull. The poor bastard never saw it coming. He topples to the ground like a turd. You feel your emotions building up, too surreal to touch. They boil over and burst. You feel yourself nut, but it doesn't matter it's time to get rough.
"Bam! Pow!" you shout.
Organa Mel Fy cocks her head and gawks at you. "Uhm, excuse me?"
"Those are the sound effects about to go off upside your head, bitch."
Bam. Pow.
Your headbutt kick to the jaw combo work perfectly. Organa Mel Fy hits the ground, and the magical maladies plaguing the forest vanish. Tears well in her eyes as you end her miserable existence by stomping on her face.
"Too bad so sad," you say. "By choosing villainy over heroism you brought this on yourself."
With one final stomp, the light in Organa Mel Fy's eyes go out, hopefully for good. You never know with these magic types. They come back like cockroaches or supposedly dead G.R.R.M characters. Just playing homie, we love you.
Jon picks himself off the ground and massages the back of his head. "Eh, I've had worse."
You nod. "Good to hear."
Well congratulations my noble crippled hero. You killed the evil Organa Mel Fy. Now go find Jon a fire-crotch like you owe him. |
In your eagerness to fight at Jon's side, you forget the most important lesson of your training: always dodge.
A troll whips a horse leg in your direction. Off balance and off guard, you cannot avoid the hurling limb as the hoof nails you in the shoulder, severing your sword arm. Blood spouts like a geyser from your body as you crumple to the road.
"Bowie, help Jon!" Samwellington shrieks. "I've got the kid." Samwellington stumbles to your side and rolls you onto your back. "Hang in there little buddy. It's going to be alright."
Blood loss is making you delusional. It is the only way to explain what is happening. Samwellington draws his dagger and sticks himself in the gut. He drags the blade across his stomach, slips his hand into the incision, and pulls out a chunk of his own fat. He smacks the lard on your wound and it sticks in place, stemming the blood flow.
"Can you walk?" asks Samwellington.
"Can I walk? Can I walk! I just had my fucking arm cleaved off. What the fuck do you think?"
"Yeah, an arm, not a leg. Don't be a baby."
"Sam we could really use your fat ass over here," shouts Bowie. "Any motherfucking time!"
You hear a gurgle and a gasp just before Bowie's head goes sailing through the air. Samwellington gulps and scurries away to hide behind the wreckage of the wagon. What a coward. Oh well, at least he saved your life.
Leaning against your sword, you stagger to your feet. One of the trolls ravages Bowie's headless corpse. The crunching and snapping of bones sickens you, and you fight the urge to hurl as bile tickles your throat. Jon appears to be holding his ground against the other troll, but once his friend finishes devouring Bowie's corpse, even Jon won't be able to fend off their combined savagery. You have to do something quick or all of your worthless lives will be over.
> You charge into the fray.
You throw caution and sanity to the wind and charge into the fray.
Well, charge is a kind term. You mostly stagger along the blood-slicked road, swaying from side to side, until you topple over and slam your head against the cobblestones. Your sword flies from your grasp and slides beyond your reach. Adjusting to missing limbs takes time.
Both trolls look up, and in your blurred vision, you swear they are laughing at you.
Mocked by a troll, you think, how embarrassing.
Jon takes advantages of your momentary distraction and hacks his troll in the legs, sending the beast to its knees. The troll roars. Jon drives his blade into the troll's open mouth and out the back of its throat. One down.
The second troll grabs the remnants of Bowie's body and rushes toward you. The troll stands above you and squeezes the juices from what used to be Bowie, taking care to cover every inch of you in Bowie juice. The stink is agonizing.
"Oh my god," Samwellington cries, "He's marinating you!"
"Just kill me you son of a bitch," you sputter as you spit some of the vile goop from your mouth.
The troll grips you by the shoulders and bares his teeth. The tip of a blade tears through the troll's chest. Troll blood and the sweet smell of apples descend upon you. And the troll's lifeless corpse… which crushes you. |
"Hell yeah I'm in."
Jon nods. "Glad to hear it."
This could be your big chance to finally prove yourself. You need to get your name out there if you want to have any chance of receiving a knighthood someday. They do not just hand those things out like… well, nobody has ever actually handed you anything except a nice big steaming pile of shit. Peasantry blows.
Under cover of darkness, you and the three guards head out along the Baron's Road in the back of a covered wagon. No one has ever thought of ambushing bandits in a covered wagon while guised as merchants. Surely, the plan will go off without a hitch.
Samwellington the Fat jitters in his seat. You are not sure if it is because he is scared or hungry. How Sam became a member of the guard is beyond your imagination. Jon trusts him for some reason, and that is good enough for you. "Nervous kid?" he asks.
That you might eat me. "No. If Jon says I'm ready, then I'm ready."
Bowie bobs his head. "It's best to trust Jon. I didn't once and then my world went to shit. That draugr attack during the winter of '69 was brutal… I still have nightmares."
Jon rolls his eyes. "If you hadn't st-"
"Hey, let's let bygones be bygones," says Bowie.
"Hey do you hear that?" you ask.
"Sorry, my stomach rumbles when I travel," says Samwellington.
"No, not-"
The horses whinny and bolt. One of the wheels catches a snag in the road and topples over. Luckily, you land on Samwellington's gut. Jon cuts a hole in the wagon covering and climbs out into the night, and you and Bowie follow.
"Oh, fuck…" Jon clutches his sword in both hands and rushes.
Two trolls tower over the corpses of the horses and the wagon driver, tearing chunks of bloody flesh with the effort you would rip apart a boiled chicken.
> You dODGE!!!
All of Jon's training really pays off. Using your sixth sense, you see the attack coming leagues away. With all the grace of youth, you jump to the side as a horse leg soars past your ear. Quite unfortunate for Bowie, who takes the hoof straight in the face. You do not even look. The crack and thump tells you all you need to know.
Dodging more chunks of horse and human, you maneuver your way to Jon and the trolls. Master and apprentice stand back-to-back as you fend off the fearsome beasts. Dodge, parry, dodge, dodge, strike, dodge, parry, dodge, dodge, dodge, strike. And so the battle goes. Troll blood drenches you as you hack away. Surprisingly, it smells like apples.
"Jon," you say, while dodging another troll fist, "they keep regenerating when I dodge them. It's a troll blood bath, but they aren't going down."
"DODGE!" Jon shouts. "Always DODGE!"
"Then RAM," screams Samwellington, bulling into the fray. By the sound of the collision, you think Samwellington just tackled Jon's troll. What an awful, squishy sound.
"Where the fuck have you been?" you ask.
"Cowering."
Your troll swings its long hairy arms wide and claps them together, aiming for your head. You dodge and slide along the blood slicked ground, slashing the beast's legs as you slip between them. Hopping to your feet, you deliver the finishing blow as the beast drops to its knees before splashing face first into a puddle of its own blood.
Jon's troll has met the same fate. Jon appears unwounded, though breathing heavily, leaning on his sword.
"Oh, dear god! Samwellington!"
Samwellington lies on the ground with a grisly gash on his robust gut that looks inches deep. "Oh don't worry," he says. "They just cut into the fat. I always knew eating all that pork lard would pay off one day."
Jon smirks. "See, I told you. Dodge."
"I won't question you again Jon. Too bad about Bowie though."
"Meh, he was a fucking dick anyway."
Sam struggles to sit up. "I don't think those trolls were the reason those people went disappearing."
You nod. "Because all this blood and gore would have been pretty hard to miss."
"No. Because there are five guys with loaded crossbows behind you."
"Shit."
> You turn and rush them.
Without a moment's hesitation, you turn and rush the bandits. You are the fledgling hero of this story after all, and the hero always wins. The bandits either agree or are too shocked by your blazen stupidity and gawk at you as you close the gap.
By the time one of them gathers his wits, three of them are dead at your feet. A bolt grazes your cheek as you cut the fourth man down. The fifth man, who fired the bolt, turns to flee back into the forest. He does not make it. Jon skewers him from behind.
"That's going to be quite the scar," says Jon. "It's not so much a deforming scar as a handsome, charismatic scar. All great heroes get them. Chicks dig it."
"I don't have one," whines Samwellington.
Jon rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I wonder why."
The three of you hobble back to the hamlet. You have one of the priests help draft a report of the incident and send a runner to deliver it to the baron. Some unimportant nobodies go clean up the mess while you kick back and relax. Not bad for a (k)night's work.
"Good work today kid, but don't get ahead of yourself kid," says Jon. "You still have a long way to go to be a true knight. It takes hard work to bang a princess and ride off into the sunset. Oh, and remember."
"Dodge," you say in unison.
The baron is pleased with what he reads in the report. You become Bowie's replacement in the hamlet guard and undertake some other minor missions with Jon and Samwellington. Soon you become a bit of a celebrity and inspiration, and your fame goes countywide. Priests take time out of their day to tutor you in your letters, and the baron invites you and Jon to take place in the next tournament he's hosting. The king will even be there; it is supposed to be quite the shindig. Things are looking up. All you have to decide now is what event you are going to compete.
> You compete in the joust.
For reasons far beyond normal human comprehension, you elect to compete in the joust: never mind the fact that you do not own a horse and have never held a lance in your life. Remember, dodging is against the rules in a joust, so you are not exactly playing to your strengths.
During a morning patrol, you and Jon discuss the upcoming tournament.
"I still think you should participate in the melee with me instead," says Jon. "But if you're dead set on jousting, you're going to need a horse."
"Any recommendations?" you ask.
"Jousting horses are expensive. You're either going to need a big loan or a big friend. And don't forget, if you lose the joust, you lose your horse and your armor."
"Can I use a quarter-horse? I bet old man Nathaniel David would let me borrow Bessy."
"Sure. You can ride out naked too, but you'll just embarrass yourself." Jon smacks you upside the head. "If you aren't going to take this seriously, don't even bother showing up."
You finish your patrol with Jon and head over to old man Nathaniel David's orchard before you visiting the moneylender in the next town. You know it is not wise to ignore Jon's advice, but you want to keep your options open. Old man Nathaniel David proves easy to find, he is humped over, shitting on a sapling when you arrive.
"Um, what are you doing David?"
"Fertilizing," he says with a massive grin. "What can I do for you lad?" He sticks out his hand for you to shake, which you begrudgingly accept.
"I decided to joust in the king's tournament, but I don't have a horse."
"Ah, well, I can't imagine you'd want to use any of the horses in the hamlet. Plow horses ain't going to win that for you, but I know you don't have much money. So if you want Bessy, you can have her, on one condition."
"What's that?"
"If by some miracle you win, you name my lil' pumpkin, Sally, Lady Fair of the Tournament. If you lose, you pay me back by marrying her. You're a good lad, and you'd make a fine husband for my girl."
You have seen Sally David before, strutting around. She has a fine body for a wench, but holy matrimony is her face hideous. It looks like someone took a rake and beat her bloody. You will have to mull this one over; these are high stakes. Even if you won, you could offend many important people.
"Alright, David, I'll keep the offer in mind," you say as you wave goodbye.
Old man Nathaniel David hitches up his trousers and nods. "You do that, boy."
The Baron's Road has been nice and calm ever since you took care of those trolls and bandits, and you arrive at the moneylender's office without incident. The moneylender's office is small and simple: one desk, two hard wooden chairs, and a few bookshelves. You have heard of these types before, and they are nothing but trouble. The moneylender skims over the pleasantries and bids you sit and begin your business.
"What can I do for you, friend?" he asks. His hair is dark and oily, eyes small and beady. An unnecessarily pointy goatee graces his chin. Yep, slap the evil and unscrupulous label on him.
"I need money for a horse to use in the joust. I'm one of the guys that killed those bandits and trolls on the Baron's Road awhile back."
"I know who you are," he snaps. "I also know you have no money and no experience jousting."
"How do you know that?"
"Because." He points at his goatee. "Now I will lend you the money if you agree to my terms."
"Which are?"
"If you win, I get 50% of the ransom and prize money. You keep the horse. If you lose, you become my personal slave for a year." The moneylender pulls, ink, quill and parchment from his desk. "We can get the contract signed right now."
> You done deal!
As you reach to sign the contract, the moneylender stabs your hand with the tip of the quill. He pops the end of the quill into his mouth and sucks the blood off with a loud slurp. Black and blood-red sparks shoot randomly from his body. Wings burst forth from his back and claws grow from his fingers.
"First, I kill you. Then, I rule the kingdom. Finally, I get all the bitches."
You blink in confusion. "What?"
"That's what is going to happen, and you can't stop me."
"Why did you drink my blood? Are you a vampire? So help me Stephanie, if you're lurking around here, I'll kick your ass."
"There's power in heroes blood."
"And?"
"Actually, I have no idea what I am now. I was an evil sorcerer in disguise. Then I drank hero's blood, and since I'm evil that would probably make me an anti-hero now."
"Would I become an anti-villain if I drank your blood?"
"I don't think it works like that."
"Why not?"
Because you're dead. The evil monster rips your head off with his claws and devours your corpse. That will teach you to make dirty deals with shady characters. |
For reasons far beyond normal human comprehension, you elect to compete in the joust: never mind the fact that you do not own a horse and have never held a lance in your life. Remember, dodging is against the rules in a joust, so you are not exactly playing to your strengths.
During a morning patrol, you and Jon discuss the upcoming tournament.
"I still think you should participate in the melee with me instead," says Jon. "But if you're dead set on jousting, you're going to need a horse."
"Any recommendations?" you ask.
"Jousting horses are expensive. You're either going to need a big loan or a big friend. And don't forget, if you lose the joust, you lose your horse and your armor."
"Can I use a quarter-horse? I bet old man Nathaniel David would let me borrow Bessy."
"Sure. You can ride out naked too, but you'll just embarrass yourself." Jon smacks you upside the head. "If you aren't going to take this seriously, don't even bother showing up."
You finish your patrol with Jon and head over to old man Nathaniel David's orchard before you visiting the moneylender in the next town. You know it is not wise to ignore Jon's advice, but you want to keep your options open. Old man Nathaniel David proves easy to find, he is humped over, shitting on a sapling when you arrive.
"Um, what are you doing David?"
"Fertilizing," he says with a massive grin. "What can I do for you lad?" He sticks out his hand for you to shake, which you begrudgingly accept.
"I decided to joust in the king's tournament, but I don't have a horse."
"Ah, well, I can't imagine you'd want to use any of the horses in the hamlet. Plow horses ain't going to win that for you, but I know you don't have much money. So if you want Bessy, you can have her, on one condition."
"What's that?"
"If by some miracle you win, you name my lil' pumpkin, Sally, Lady Fair of the Tournament. If you lose, you pay me back by marrying her. You're a good lad, and you'd make a fine husband for my girl."
You have seen Sally David before, strutting around. She has a fine body for a wench, but holy matrimony is her face hideous. It looks like someone took a rake and beat her bloody. You will have to mull this one over; these are high stakes. Even if you won, you could offend many important people.
"Alright, David, I'll keep the offer in mind," you say as you wave goodbye.
Old man Nathaniel David hitches up his trousers and nods. "You do that, boy."
The Baron's Road has been nice and calm ever since you took care of those trolls and bandits, and you arrive at the moneylender's office without incident. The moneylender's office is small and simple: one desk, two hard wooden chairs, and a few bookshelves. You have heard of these types before, and they are nothing but trouble. The moneylender skims over the pleasantries and bids you sit and begin your business.
"What can I do for you, friend?" he asks. His hair is dark and oily, eyes small and beady. An unnecessarily pointy goatee graces his chin. Yep, slap the evil and unscrupulous label on him.
"I need money for a horse to use in the joust. I'm one of the guys that killed those bandits and trolls on the Baron's Road awhile back."
"I know who you are," he snaps. "I also know you have no money and no experience jousting."
"How do you know that?"
"Because." He points at his goatee. "Now I will lend you the money if you agree to my terms."
"Which are?"
"If you win, I get 50% of the ransom and prize money. You keep the horse. If you lose, you become my personal slave for a year." The moneylender pulls, ink, quill and parchment from his desk. "We can get the contract signed right now."
> You you'll just go with Bessy.
Probably not a great idea to borrow money from such an obviously evil character: you excuse yourself, leaving the moneylender fuming. He mutters something under his breath while stroking his goatee as you walk out the door. Perhaps you will cross paths with him again.
Your heart is still set on riding in the joust, so you head back to old man Nathaniel David's orchard and agree to his bargain. You spend the remainder of your free time preparing for the tournament. Jon coaches you as best he can, which is not very well since he has never jousted either, but you think you have the hang of it.
Bessy's training has mixed results. She works hard and seems to appreciate the change of scenery. You figure being a plow horse is probably pretty dull. She has spirit, but the old girl does a lot more plodding than charging. At least, she does not shy away when the other horse speeds toward her.
The day of the tournament dawns cool and crisp. Sweaty with excitement, you try to relax in your pavilion before your first match. You have already made water five times this morning, and you think you have to go again. So many things ride on the outcome of today's events, but you cannot think about that. The here and now is what is important. You watch squires scurry around the grounds, doing the bidding of Sir this or Sir that or some other random bastard. You fall into a daze and your thoughts wander.
Why don't I have a squire? Crap, I think I need to piss again. Dear lord, please grant me the strength and will to win today. I don't want to marry that troll Sally David. Have you seen her? Oh, is that who I think it is?
Sir Jamison Hill, The Iron Boar, approaches and shakes your hand: what an honor! Ser Jamison serves as the Baron's champion and is renowned throughout the kingdom for his tourney skills.
"I heard about how you helped take care of those bandits and trolls on the Baron's Road," he says. "The kingdom needs more fine young men like you. I expect to see great things from you today and in the future."
"Thank you, sir."
You want to talk some more with him – he certainly has plenty he could teach you – but the herald calls you for your first bout. You wave farewell and enter the lists, wishing you had taken the time to make water one more time.
"Are you ready girl?" you ask as you mount Bessy. Bessy snorts in reply. "That's the spirit."
Your first match is against Lord Isaac Cleaver, The Cleaver. The man has a penchant for the flamboyant. The sun gleams off his silver gilded armor as he rides into position on his roan courser: his shield emblazoned with his house emblem, a silver cleaver beheading a golden goose.
Not a very creative nickname, you think. Perhaps not, but it is the badassery of a nickname that is too be feared, not the cleverness.
The herald blows his trumpet, and you urge your horses on. Bessy hobbles along as fast as she can, but she is completely outmatched in speed by the roan courser. Everything else disappears as you focus on Lord Cleaver. The distance closes. You raise your lance and prepare to strike.
> You just hold the hell on
There is no way you have gained enough skill to make a precise aim. Your best bet is too just hold on with the fury of hell and hope for the best. You grit your teeth; here it comes.
Crack! Both of your lances splinter on contact. The collision jars you, but you manage to hang in the saddle. What a rush. Your heart hammers in your chest, and the world snaps back into focus. The crowd screams and cheers. Flags twirl in the wind and a herald's trumpet booms. You turn around and see Lord Cleaver's squire helping him to his feet while another attendant runs down his horse. You won!
Jon rushes forward to greet you. "Fantastic, I never thought you could win riding that old draft horse! It looked like you were moving in slow motion compared to Lord Cleaver."
"Bessy and I may not be a fast duo, but we're tough as nails and hard as stone."
Jon chuckles. "Interesting, we'll have to have someone take care of that for you."
"What are you talking about?" you ask. Your face flushes red as you realization hits you. "Oh, damn it. You perverse bastard."
Jon snatches the reins from you and snarls. "Never call me a bastard again. Got it?"
"Uh, sure."
He helps you off Bessy and slaps you on the back. "Good."
I wonder what that was all about?
You head back to your pavilion and bask in your glory. The road ahead is still long and perilous, but you took another step down the path of success. You kick back to relax when the flap of your tent opens. In steps a gorgeous lass, with gingersnap hair and vicious eyes. She looks wild and… hungry.
"May I help you?" you ask.
"The name is Bell. I've been sent to help you with a little problem." She winks. "Your friend said you needed some refreshment before your next bout." She shakes her breasts free from her loose shift and steps fully into the tent.
Before the tent flap falls, you see the shady moneylender prowling around Sir Jamison's pavilion.
"Come on hero," she urges. "Don't keep me waiting."
> You say "Jump on top of me, baby."
"Jump on top of me baby."
Bell does as you say. Two beings disappear and reemerge as one as the pair of you become lost in the heat of passion. Funny thing about passion: it often comes and goes without warning. In this case forty-seven seconds.
Bell giggles. "First time?"
You groan. "First time."
"No shame in that, darling. I'll be here when you get back. Practice makes perfect, am I right?"
You nod and step out of the tent.
"Holy shit, what the hell happened!?"
The entire fairground is on fire. The air is rank with burning flesh and hair. Bodies are everywhere. Horses whinny in agony. Those not too injured to flee scramble about in sheer terror. High above you see the evil moneylender, floating on a black cloud, cackling and tossing lightning bolts.
Bessy plods toward you. A bolt catches her in the flank and explodes into a fireball. She collapses to the ground and shrieks. Another bolt pierces her neck and her and she lies silent.
You hear the tent flap jostle, and you wheel around. You clutch Bell by the throat and dive-tackle her into the tent. "What the fuck is this?" you scream.
Bell claws at your hand, gasping for breath. You relieve pressure, but keep her pinned to the ground.
"I don't know." Tears well in her eyes.
"Liar."
"No, I swear. Your friend Jon sent me."
> You she's lying. Beat the truth out of her.
"You lying whore!" You bash her head into the ground and clobber her with your fist.
"Stop, please. I don't know anything."
"Tell me the truth!"
"I am. Please, you've got to believe me."
Her pleas for mercy only anger you more. You know she is lying. "Last chance. Tell me what's going on. Who are you? Who sent you? What the hell is that floating madman doing?"
"I don't know."
You hit her again and again and again and again. You pummel the poor girl until her once fair face is a mask of blood and tears. The tent flap ruffles open and you spin around to see Jon step inside the tent.
He gapes. "What the hell are you doing?"
"She distracted me while the lunatic set the world on fire."
"No she didn't. I sent her to f-" he smacks his forehead. "Damn it all. What's done is done. We can worry about this later. Right now, we have to stop this lunatic. Come on."
You leave a broken Bell lying on the tent floor and follow Jon outside. Everything except your tent is in flames. The moneylender – perhaps it is time to start calling him a sorcerer – floats toward you on his cloud. You and Jon draw your swords.
"Why didn't he fry my tent too?"
"How should I know?" says Jon. "Let's just kill him and go into damage control mode."
> You demand the sorcerer explain himself
No, this is too confusing and you have too many questions. You already stripped your honor by beating up an innocent whore. You can at least play the hero's role and make the evil sorcerer reveal the details of his plans.
"Explain yourself, fiend," you say, brandishing your sword.
The sorcerer floats closer on his cloud and shrugs. "Sure, why the hell not?"
Jon sits and crosses his legs.
"What are you doing?" you ask.
"Preparing for a monologue."
"Comfy? Good," says the sorcerer. "My name is Merek the Mad Mage of Misery. I pose as a moneylender to conceal my true operations as an evil wizard."
Jon sighs. "A cover that is now blown."
Merek the Mad Mage of Misery ignores Jon. "Ever since you walked into my office, I knew you had the makings of a hero. I knew of the unicorn fart, and I knew a hero had been born. I knew he was somewhere in this area, but not exactly where. You are that hero. It's in your eyes, your blood, your-"
"Urine?" you ask.
"Sure… The only person who could stop me was Sir Jamison and his magic sword and shield."
"I didn't know he had a magic sword and shield."
"You just met him, and stop interrupting me!"
"Sorry."
"As you can see, I have Sir Jamison's magic sword and shield nice and safe up here with me." Merek clinks the magical artifacts together. "I need to drink your blood to gain the power for my master plan to succeed. That is why I did not fry you and your tent. Once I extract your blood, I can complete my master plan."
"Which is?"
"World domination."
"You seem to be doing pretty well without my blood."
"Shut up and prepare to die!"
Bolts appear in Merek's hands as his cloud races toward you.
"Jon wake up, he's attacking."
"Huh, oh sure." Jon leaps to his feet. "Let's get this over with."
Merek hurls his bolts, which you and Jon dodge with ease. You slice Merek's arm off as his cloud whizzes past. Jon leaps onto the cloud and stabs him in the back.
"So that's what doing that feels like," says Jon as he yanks Merek off the cloud.
Black sparks shoot from Merek's body as he slams into the ground. The sparks shoot and dance, stitching his arm back on. He rises to his feet and cackles at the sky.
"Fools! Only a magic weapon can kill me. Ahhhhhhhhhargggggg"
Merek slumps over and falls face down in the dirt.
Sir Jamison bends down and pulls a dagger from Merek's back. "He forgot about my magic dagger."
Jon shakes his head. "I hope this doesn't become a thing."
The three of you do your best at damage control. Jon kills Bell, and the two of you bury her in a shallow grave, pretending she never existed. Merek managed to kill literally everything else in a three mile radius, so the three of you take over ruling the kingdom. Sir Jamison becomes King Jamison. Jon becomes Warden of the North. And you receive the honor of knighthood, vowing to keep your whore murdering lifestyle in the past.
You marry a buxom wench – seeing as all the noble Ladies are dead – and, in a strange twist of fate, have seven daughters who all grow up to be fabulous whores. |
"You lying whore!" You bash her head into the ground and clobber her with your fist.
"Stop, please. I don't know anything."
"Tell me the truth!"
"I am. Please, you've got to believe me."
Her pleas for mercy only anger you more. You know she is lying. "Last chance. Tell me what's going on. Who are you? Who sent you? What the hell is that floating madman doing?"
"I don't know."
You hit her again and again and again and again. You pummel the poor girl until her once fair face is a mask of blood and tears. The tent flap ruffles open and you spin around to see Jon step inside the tent.
He gapes. "What the hell are you doing?"
"She distracted me while the lunatic set the world on fire."
"No she didn't. I sent her to f-" he smacks his forehead. "Damn it all. What's done is done. We can worry about this later. Right now, we have to stop this lunatic. Come on."
You leave a broken Bell lying on the tent floor and follow Jon outside. Everything except your tent is in flames. The moneylender – perhaps it is time to start calling him a sorcerer – floats toward you on his cloud. You and Jon draw your swords.
"Why didn't he fry my tent too?"
"How should I know?" says Jon. "Let's just kill him and go into damage control mode."
> You attack
You don't have the time to sit around and listen to a monologue. When evil rears its ugly mug, there is only one viable option: destroy it with extreme prejudice.
With swords in hand, you and Jon leap into action, literally. Unfortunately, the sorcerer is beyond your reach on his floating cloud. You and Jon jump as high as you can, but your best efforts are nowhere near good enough.
"Well this is embarrassing," says Jon after another failed leap.
"A bow and arrow would really come in handy right about now." You scan the bedlam for a projectile, but there is not much of anything to work with. "Well I'm stumped."
"Fools." The sorcerer cackles as he tosses bolts of lightning toward you. "You should know better than to defy an all-powerful mage such as myself. Now perish!"
You successfully dodge the first couple bolts, but the sorcerer is throwing them around like candy and eventually one catches you in the leg. The bolt explodes on contact, obliterating muscle, tissue, ligaments, tendons, and bones. The intense heat cauterizes what little remains of your leg. The stink of your own charred flesh hits your nostrils and you gag. Crawling on hands and knee, you seek shelter in your tent, praying the smoke will conceal your movements. Jon will have to handle this on his own now.
Inside the tent, you pass out from the pain: never to awake again.
What the hell happened?
Bell cut your throat with your own dagger while you were unconscious. If it is any consolation, Jon and Sir Jamison Hill managed to kill the sorcerer. When Jon found your lifeless corpse, he took it upon himself to brutally murder Bell.
What happens now?
Well, you were on the path to heroism, but you failed to kill the big baddie and fell into an act of villainy by beating the ever-loving life out of poor sweet Bell. So I imagine you'll go to limbo where they'll force you to play a never ending game of Monopoly for the next 1,000 years. |
"Jump on top of me baby."
Bell does as you say. Two beings disappear and reemerge as one as the pair of you become lost in the heat of passion. Funny thing about passion: it often comes and goes without warning. In this case forty-seven seconds.
Bell giggles. "First time?"
You groan. "First time."
"No shame in that, darling. I'll be here when you get back. Practice makes perfect, am I right?"
You nod and step out of the tent.
"Holy shit, what the hell happened!?"
The entire fairground is on fire. The air is rank with burning flesh and hair. Bodies are everywhere. Horses whinny in agony. Those not too injured to flee scramble about in sheer terror. High above you see the evil moneylender, floating on a black cloud, cackling and tossing lightning bolts.
Bessy plods toward you. A bolt catches her in the flank and explodes into a fireball. She collapses to the ground and shrieks. Another bolt pierces her neck and her and she lies silent.
You hear the tent flap jostle, and you wheel around. You clutch Bell by the throat and dive-tackle her into the tent. "What the fuck is this?" you scream.
Bell claws at your hand, gasping for breath. You relieve pressure, but keep her pinned to the ground.
"I don't know." Tears well in her eyes.
"Liar."
"No, I swear. Your friend Jon sent me."
> You trust her.
Whether you trust Bell or not, a true knight never harms a lady… or a whore.
"Alright," you say pulling Bell to her feet, "help me save the day, and we can get back to putting a little baby hero in your belly."
"You think I want that after what you just did to me?"
"Everyone wants the hero," you deadpan. "So yes."
And you are right. Feminism is for spunky heroines, not the spunk covered ragtag sack ticklers of heroic knights. Bell grumbles a pithy supplication and follows you out of the tent into the inferno of the fairgrounds.
The evil moneylender stares at you from his floating cloud, with his face screwed up into a scowl of utter disgust and contempt. He leans over the edge of his cloud and vomits.
"You," he jabs an accusatory finger, "are a vile, putrid, scumbag of a hero. Have you no sense of decency?"
You hear a soft plop, plop behind you.
"What are you talking about?" you ask, drawing your blade, preparing to pounce during the villain's moment of weakness, but you hold off, curious of his ailment.
"Your woman is naked before the world, dripping your seed! And the script says I'm the villain? What depraved fool green-lit this?"
*Poof*
The narrator appears, riding a gigantic black German Shepherd, which is both ferocious and adorable. He wields a word processor and keyboard with a suspiciously sticky set of keys. He wields unadulterated badassery and lowbrow humor.
"I'll tolerate snark from the hero and the spirits that control him, but not the damn villain, and yes the script says you are the villain. So unless you want to be spontaneously transfigured into an elephant entering the initial stages of menopause, then I suggest you shut the fuck up and let his hoe decide if she's being mistreated." The narrator turns to Bell. "Are you being mistreated?"
"Sort of, I guess."
"Would you like a pony?"
"Yes?"
"Done."
A pony wanders through the carnage, and Bell climbs on top, uncertain of what to do.
The narrator scowls at the villain. "Merek the Mad Mage of Misery, are you content with the current proceedings? Well are you?"
The villain tugs at the collar of his robes. "Yes, your godliness."
*Poof*
"That was interesting," you say. "Anyway, I'm making baby heroes. And that's heroic. The naked human body is an art form to be admired, not scorned! Besides there's no one left to ogle her since you killed them all. Except Jon, over there, staring at her burning bush. And I bet Sir Jamison is alive somewhere. He seems pretty badass."
Jon smiles dumbly, sword in hand.
Merek the Made Mage of Misery shrieks. "You perverted bastards! I'll kill you all!" Lightning bolts sparkle in his hands, and he hurls them at you with the accuracy of a drunken Storm Trooper smoking black tar heroin.
You stand still, watching the blasts scorch the already scorched ground twenty yards away.
Jon lurches out of his stupor and rushes into battle, tucking away his playing sword and drawing his fighting one. "I'll show you who the bastard is, you slut!"
Merek the Mad Mage of Misery curses his incompetence and swings his attention toward Jon. The two engage in a very boring battle. Wild lightning blasts scatter the land while Jon meanders around and tries to jump onto the floating cloud, which always drifts beyond his reach.
You turn to Bell. "I have an idea." You pull Bell from the pony's back and make sweet love to her in the middle of the burning fairgrounds. Merek the Mad Mage of Misery catches sight and gawks in horror. This provides Jon the opening to leap onto his magic cloud and cut his throat with the magic dagger Sir Jamison conveniently just threw to him: because deus ex machina is beautiful and everyone knows only magic items can kill magic beings.
…
Sweet, so what happens now?
The spirits guiding you probably leave mean comments because of the sexism and ridiculousness bomb we just exploded all over the place. At least we took it up to eleven.
It was rather ridiculous, but hey, I won, right! What should I do with the pony?
Breed it with a unicorn and find out what manner of being is born when the abomination spawn spews magical flatulence.
Wicked. Do you have any parting words of advice for me or wrap-up narration?
What the hell, is this twenty questions? I don't know, go murder every sparkly vampire and warrior-cat that you see and you can't go wrong. Shit, I just earned more hate comments. |
There is no way you have gained enough skill to make a precise aim. Your best bet is too just hold on with the fury of hell and hope for the best. You grit your teeth; here it comes.
Crack! Both of your lances splinter on contact. The collision jars you, but you manage to hang in the saddle. What a rush. Your heart hammers in your chest, and the world snaps back into focus. The crowd screams and cheers. Flags twirl in the wind and a herald's trumpet booms. You turn around and see Lord Cleaver's squire helping him to his feet while another attendant runs down his horse. You won!
Jon rushes forward to greet you. "Fantastic, I never thought you could win riding that old draft horse! It looked like you were moving in slow motion compared to Lord Cleaver."
"Bessy and I may not be a fast duo, but we're tough as nails and hard as stone."
Jon chuckles. "Interesting, we'll have to have someone take care of that for you."
"What are you talking about?" you ask. Your face flushes red as you realization hits you. "Oh, damn it. You perverse bastard."
Jon snatches the reins from you and snarls. "Never call me a bastard again. Got it?"
"Uh, sure."
He helps you off Bessy and slaps you on the back. "Good."
I wonder what that was all about?
You head back to your pavilion and bask in your glory. The road ahead is still long and perilous, but you took another step down the path of success. You kick back to relax when the flap of your tent opens. In steps a gorgeous lass, with gingersnap hair and vicious eyes. She looks wild and… hungry.
"May I help you?" you ask.
"The name is Bell. I've been sent to help you with a little problem." She winks. "Your friend said you needed some refreshment before your next bout." She shakes her breasts free from her loose shift and steps fully into the tent.
Before the tent flap falls, you see the shady moneylender prowling around Sir Jamison's pavilion.
"Come on hero," she urges. "Don't keep me waiting."
> You ugh, you better go check out what that moneylender is doing.
Despite adamant protests from your little head, your big head wins the day, insisting you act responsibly and investigate what that shady character is up to: shenanigans no doubt.
"I'm sorry, Bell. I have to take care of something quick."
"Oh, don't leave me hero." Bell wraps her arms around, drawing you in tight against her bare bosom.
You pull away from her enticing embrace before you change your mind. Now where did that moneylender run off? You don't see him skulking around Sir Jamison's tent anymore. Could your eyes have been playing tricks on you? The bad feeling in the pit of your gut says no.
Muffled noises are coming from Sir Jamison's tent. Not wanting to intrude on a living legend in the throes of lovemaking, you ruffle the flap of the tent to announce your presence. "Sir Jamison, are you in there? I noticed a shady character lingering around your tent a moment ago."
The noise inside the tent ceases.
Oh, crap. Your dodge sense tingles.
You jump aside just in time to avoid incineration via fireball. Within the smoking remains of the tent, the shady moneylender stands poised to attack. Magic crackles in both of his hands. The shady moneylender is a sorcerer, who knew.
"I knew you were up to no good," you say, drawing your sword. "I don't know what you're up to, but I'm going to put a stop to it."
"Imbecile, you may have the skills, but you lack the tools to defeat me."
"We'll just have to see about that!"
"Is that really the best line you've got?"
"I know you are but what am I?"
The sorcerer face-palms. "You're an idiot aren't you?"
"Bring it on, bitch!"
Onlookers scurry about to put out the fires the fireball ignited and to get a front row view of what is shaping up to be a good old-fashioned melee on magic standoff.
The sorcerer simultaneously hurls a fireball and casts a bolt of lightning.
> You dodge the bolt; bat the fireball back at him with your sword
You dodge the bolt with ease and set your feet. You're going to knock this fireball right out of the park. You step, swing, and… your sword melts as the fireball passes through and explodes amongst the crowd of onlookers.
You scream in agony as molten steel splatters across your body.
The sorcerer cackles. "Imbecile, only a magic artifact can repel a magical attack."
You collapse to the ground, defeated. And dead. The sorcerer proceeds to extract your hero blood, which he uses to conquer the entire kingdom. A shame, you couldn't even save your friends. |
Despite adamant protests from your little head, your big head wins the day, insisting you act responsibly and investigate what that shady character is up to: shenanigans no doubt.
"I'm sorry, Bell. I have to take care of something quick."
"Oh, don't leave me hero." Bell wraps her arms around, drawing you in tight against her bare bosom.
You pull away from her enticing embrace before you change your mind. Now where did that moneylender run off? You don't see him skulking around Sir Jamison's tent anymore. Could your eyes have been playing tricks on you? The bad feeling in the pit of your gut says no.
Muffled noises are coming from Sir Jamison's tent. Not wanting to intrude on a living legend in the throes of lovemaking, you ruffle the flap of the tent to announce your presence. "Sir Jamison, are you in there? I noticed a shady character lingering around your tent a moment ago."
The noise inside the tent ceases.
Oh, crap. Your dodge sense tingles.
You jump aside just in time to avoid incineration via fireball. Within the smoking remains of the tent, the shady moneylender stands poised to attack. Magic crackles in both of his hands. The shady moneylender is a sorcerer, who knew.
"I knew you were up to no good," you say, drawing your sword. "I don't know what you're up to, but I'm going to put a stop to it."
"Imbecile, you may have the skills, but you lack the tools to defeat me."
"We'll just have to see about that!"
"Is that really the best line you've got?"
"I know you are but what am I?"
The sorcerer face-palms. "You're an idiot aren't you?"
"Bring it on, bitch!"
Onlookers scurry about to put out the fires the fireball ignited and to get a front row view of what is shaping up to be a good old-fashioned melee on magic standoff.
The sorcerer simultaneously hurls a fireball and casts a bolt of lightning.
> You double dodge!
Few living souls can successfully perform a double dodge, but you are a hero damn it. From the moment the unicorn farted, you were destined to accomplish great feats. You have the skill. You have the power. You have… ah, to hell with it. Just get on with it.
You avoid the bolt and the fireball, perfectly executing a textbook double dodge. The onlookers cheer and scream approval… except for the ones who got incinerated by the fireball you dodged. The bloodcurdling screams of the not quite dead but still severely burned could wake the dead. Way to not take one for the team, asshole.
"Dodge all you want!" cries the sorcerer. "It won't do you any good in the end. Your pathetic blade can't kill me."
You're about to test that theory when a sparkly pulsating glow coming from behind the sorcerer catches your eye. The tantalizing and addicting flash of spectral lights can be only one thing: a magical artifact. The sorcerer must have been trying to steal it from Sir Jamison. If the sorcerer wants them, that must mean they can kill him. Or destroy the kingdom. One or the other.
"We'll see about that," you shout as you charge ahead.
"I'll humor you, simpleton," says the sorcerer. "Just try and strike me down. I'll stand still."
The sorcerer crosses his arms and smirks as you lumber toward him. His evil sneer disappears once you run past him. The magical artifact turns out to be a magic sword and shield combo. It's on like a donkey's hard on now.
"No, you can't!"
"Sure I can," you say as you bash and slash him with your magic weaponry. "By the way, if these things can kill you, why did you let me get so close to them?"
The world will never know the answer to that question. The sorcerer shrivels up and dies within a cloud of evaporated blood. His death screams awaken some of the recently deceased onlookers, which you swiftly put back in their graves unburied corpse state.
Fires rage throughout the fairgrounds and more bodies than you feel like counting litter the ground. Crows and ravens already flock to the feast. It looks like the tournament is going to have to be canceled. Oh well, there is always next year. You turn around and look to see if Bell is still alive and willing for a romp. |
Probably not a great idea to borrow money from such an obviously evil character: you excuse yourself, leaving the moneylender fuming. He mutters something under his breath while stroking his goatee as you walk out the door. Perhaps you will cross paths with him again.
Your heart is still set on riding in the joust, so you head back to old man Nathaniel David's orchard and agree to his bargain. You spend the remainder of your free time preparing for the tournament. Jon coaches you as best he can, which is not very well since he has never jousted either, but you think you have the hang of it.
Bessy's training has mixed results. She works hard and seems to appreciate the change of scenery. You figure being a plow horse is probably pretty dull. She has spirit, but the old girl does a lot more plodding than charging. At least, she does not shy away when the other horse speeds toward her.
The day of the tournament dawns cool and crisp. Sweaty with excitement, you try to relax in your pavilion before your first match. You have already made water five times this morning, and you think you have to go again. So many things ride on the outcome of today's events, but you cannot think about that. The here and now is what is important. You watch squires scurry around the grounds, doing the bidding of Sir this or Sir that or some other random bastard. You fall into a daze and your thoughts wander.
Why don't I have a squire? Crap, I think I need to piss again. Dear lord, please grant me the strength and will to win today. I don't want to marry that troll Sally David. Have you seen her? Oh, is that who I think it is?
Sir Jamison Hill, The Iron Boar, approaches and shakes your hand: what an honor! Ser Jamison serves as the Baron's champion and is renowned throughout the kingdom for his tourney skills.
"I heard about how you helped take care of those bandits and trolls on the Baron's Road," he says. "The kingdom needs more fine young men like you. I expect to see great things from you today and in the future."
"Thank you, sir."
You want to talk some more with him – he certainly has plenty he could teach you – but the herald calls you for your first bout. You wave farewell and enter the lists, wishing you had taken the time to make water one more time.
"Are you ready girl?" you ask as you mount Bessy. Bessy snorts in reply. "That's the spirit."
Your first match is against Lord Isaac Cleaver, The Cleaver. The man has a penchant for the flamboyant. The sun gleams off his silver gilded armor as he rides into position on his roan courser: his shield emblazoned with his house emblem, a silver cleaver beheading a golden goose.
Not a very creative nickname, you think. Perhaps not, but it is the badassery of a nickname that is too be feared, not the cleverness.
The herald blows his trumpet, and you urge your horses on. Bessy hobbles along as fast as she can, but she is completely outmatched in speed by the roan courser. Everything else disappears as you focus on Lord Cleaver. The distance closes. You raise your lance and prepare to strike.
> You pinpoint your aim
If you can hit Lord Cleaver's shield just right, then you can knock him right off of his horse. You can do this. This is what you spent all those hours training for. You pinpoint your target and adjust your aim. The horses draw closer. You can see the roan courser's breath. Here it comes!
Crack! Thud! Crack!
Weightless, you are falling. A flash of pain. Blackness.
I have good news, bad news and worse news, hero. Good news: you managed to hit your target. That first crack was both of your lances splintering. Bad news: the thud was you hitting the ground. Worse news: the second crack was your skull splitting in two when it bounced off a rock. |
For reasons far beyond normal human comprehension, you elect to compete in the joust: never mind the fact that you do not own a horse and have never held a lance in your life. Remember, dodging is against the rules in a joust, so you are not exactly playing to your strengths.
During a morning patrol, you and Jon discuss the upcoming tournament.
"I still think you should participate in the melee with me instead," says Jon. "But if you're dead set on jousting, you're going to need a horse."
"Any recommendations?" you ask.
"Jousting horses are expensive. You're either going to need a big loan or a big friend. And don't forget, if you lose the joust, you lose your horse and your armor."
"Can I use a quarter-horse? I bet old man Nathaniel David would let me borrow Bessy."
"Sure. You can ride out naked too, but you'll just embarrass yourself." Jon smacks you upside the head. "If you aren't going to take this seriously, don't even bother showing up."
You finish your patrol with Jon and head over to old man Nathaniel David's orchard before you visiting the moneylender in the next town. You know it is not wise to ignore Jon's advice, but you want to keep your options open. Old man Nathaniel David proves easy to find, he is humped over, shitting on a sapling when you arrive.
"Um, what are you doing David?"
"Fertilizing," he says with a massive grin. "What can I do for you lad?" He sticks out his hand for you to shake, which you begrudgingly accept.
"I decided to joust in the king's tournament, but I don't have a horse."
"Ah, well, I can't imagine you'd want to use any of the horses in the hamlet. Plow horses ain't going to win that for you, but I know you don't have much money. So if you want Bessy, you can have her, on one condition."
"What's that?"
"If by some miracle you win, you name my lil' pumpkin, Sally, Lady Fair of the Tournament. If you lose, you pay me back by marrying her. You're a good lad, and you'd make a fine husband for my girl."
You have seen Sally David before, strutting around. She has a fine body for a wench, but holy matrimony is her face hideous. It looks like someone took a rake and beat her bloody. You will have to mull this one over; these are high stakes. Even if you won, you could offend many important people.
"Alright, David, I'll keep the offer in mind," you say as you wave goodbye.
Old man Nathaniel David hitches up his trousers and nods. "You do that, boy."
The Baron's Road has been nice and calm ever since you took care of those trolls and bandits, and you arrive at the moneylender's office without incident. The moneylender's office is small and simple: one desk, two hard wooden chairs, and a few bookshelves. You have heard of these types before, and they are nothing but trouble. The moneylender skims over the pleasantries and bids you sit and begin your business.
"What can I do for you, friend?" he asks. His hair is dark and oily, eyes small and beady. An unnecessarily pointy goatee graces his chin. Yep, slap the evil and unscrupulous label on him.
"I need money for a horse to use in the joust. I'm one of the guys that killed those bandits and trolls on the Baron's Road awhile back."
"I know who you are," he snaps. "I also know you have no money and no experience jousting."
"How do you know that?"
"Because." He points at his goatee. "Now I will lend you the money if you agree to my terms."
"Which are?"
"If you win, I get 50% of the ransom and prize money. You keep the horse. If you lose, you become my personal slave for a year." The moneylender pulls, ink, quill and parchment from his desk. "We can get the contract signed right now."
> You changed your mind; you'll fight in the melee like Jon said.
Wise decision: it is best to stick with your strong suits.
You excuse yourself and get up to leave. The moneylender, mutters something to himself while stroking his beard as you head toward the door. Something is really evil about this guy. You turn around and lop off his head before heading home. Yeah, that was probably a good idea.
The morning of the tournament dawns crisp and cool with a slight breeze, just enough to give the ladies' skirts a nice billowing. You feel a familiar stirring in your loins, and it is driving you insane. As a fledgling hero, you have been saving yourself for your future princess bride, but dear God has it left you on edge, not that you have not had offers. Jon was right; your scar is a chick magnet. You practically have to beat them off.
A gaggle of girls giggle as you walk past them. Bitches.
Whoa, where did that come from? That is not very heroic. The proper term is 'wenches.' Remember that next time, fledgling hero.
With your minor slip into villainy over, you prepare for the melee and take your place in the fighting field. There appear to be fifty or so participants as you try to pick out some of the people the Baron told you about. You see Mad Moose McDoogle in his clumsy antlered helmet, Sir Richard Lionsmane with his shaggy locks, Sir Henry Williams a.k.a. The Rabid Fox, the Weasel brothers in their matching silver gilded armor, and Bucktooth Barry among others.
"Save your energy," says Jon. "Let the others wear themselves down. They'll make a mistake eventually. Then you can strike when they're weak and out of position. And stay by me. We might both be able to get knighthoods out of this."
"Don't worry. I got your back Jon."
A blast from the bugle signals the start of the melee. The clamor of blunted steel on blunted steel rings through the fairgrounds. You and Jon fight back-to-back, just as you did against those trolls several years ago. You two are not the only ones fighting on teams. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the Weasel brothers and Mad Moose McDoogle charge The Rabid Fox.
The Rabid Fox looses ground as the trio attempt to surround him. He isn't dodging. He's parrying. He's done for. The Rabid Fox's and one of the Weasel brother's swords shatter on impact. Mad Moose McDoogle peels off the attack and rounds on the Weasel brothers, catching them unaware. He knocks them both down and out just before The Rabid Fox charges him in turn.
A sword slashes inches from your cheek, and you regain your focus. Dodge, slash, dodge, dodge, slash, dodge, trip, kick. Another one bites the dust.
The fighting continues until there is just you, Jon, The Rabid Fox, who has not only obtained a new sword but a horse as well, and Bucktooth Barry left.
Maybe you should turn on Jon now?
> You fight with Jon.
Heroes fight with honor at all times. There is no way in hell you are going to betray Jon. How could you ever look him in the eyes again? Besides, he is pretty fucking awesome. If you are going to win this thing, you are going to do it the right way and beat him with pride, honor, dignity, and all the other bullshit that goes with being a hero.
"I'll distract him. You knock him off the horse," says Jon.
"What about Bucktooth Barry?"
"Dodge."
Jon darts off to run interference while you attempt to flank. The Rabid Fox is on to your plan though and outmaneuvers you while Bucktooth Barry hedges his position. This might go on for a while. What would a hero do?
You glance up at the spectators and catch sight of the princess. A blonde haired blue eyed bombshell with a bosom to die for. She flashes you a smile of perfect pearly whites. Did you expect anything else? Take a moment to picture all the ways you would love to chivalrously plow her into next Sunday. Just try not to ejaculate prematurely in your armor. That is not heroic. No, go ahead. I can wait.
Got all that out of your system? Good. With the princess's bosom in your mind to inspire you, you charge the mounted knight. He reels the horse around and barrels toward you, eager for the challenge. As you are about to collide, you dodge. The Rabid Fox brings the horse around for another pass. You feel the blood pumping through your veins. The air tastes sweet. Colors are brighter. The world slows down. This is what being a hero is all about.
You and The Rabid Fox rush each other once more. As you are about to collide, not only do you dodge, but you grab the reins as well and yank. Your arm feels like it is going to pop out of its socket, but you grit it out. The Rabid Fox flies through the air and thuds into the dirt. He stumbles to his feet and grabs a greatsword off the ground. Man, this motherfucker just does not give up.
He has the reach advantage, but he is hurt. Pretty bad, judging by the fact he just fell off a galloping horse decked out in mail while brandishing a sword. He should probably be dead: or at least broken. He uses his reach to keep you at a distance, but you bide your time. He will make a mistake. Dodge, backstep, yawn, dodge. A quick glance up at the princess's bosom. With princess bosom lighting your fire, you see an opening and dive in and drive The Rabid Fox to the ground.
"Well fought, friend. I yield," says The Rabid Fox as you hold your sword tip over him.
Jon has finished off Bucktooth Barry. It is down to the two of you.
> You for princess bosom!
There is only one way this story can unfold, and that is with you finally surpassing your master and claiming the princess as your own. For princess bosom! You charge.
Jon dodges your blow. You swing again. He dodges and counters with an upward thrust. No time to dodge, you catch his sword with your shield. The wood splinters, and you snap your wrist, catching his sword in the shield. Déjà vu?
Not quite. A knee slams you in the groin, and you crumple to the ground. Fight through the pain hero! You lash you with your legs, catching Jon in the chest. Both of you regain your feet and slam into each other. Over and over you roll, grappling on the ground. Dust swirls around your heads. You throw blind punches. The crowd cheers.
You fight the good fight, but Jon wins in the end, catching you in a stellar headlock. The king congratulates you both and the crowd gives a standing ovation.
"Best melee in years. I think the both of you earned a knighthood for such a fine display of chivalrous combat," says the king. "Tonight there will be a feast for the ages... on the Baron's tab of course."
You are bummed you will not be getting princess bosom, but you feel proud of how you fought. Even heroes take their lumps from time to time.
As expected, Jon names the princess Lady Fair of the tournament. You see him whisper something in her ear and point in your direction. She is walking toward you! What the hell did he say?
"Princess Anne." You bow. "It is my pleasure."
"And mine. Would you care to walk with me in the gardens?"
You readily agree and spend much of the remainder of your time getting to know Princess Anne. She is everything you could hope for in a princess, blonde, blue eyed, fair skinned, sweet, charming, big bosomed, and all the works.
"What did you say to her?" you ask Jon one evening.
He shrugs. "I love princesses as much as the next guy, but really, I'm in to redheads." He smirks. "I think the farmboy turned knight getting the princess makes the better story. I'm nailing the Baron's daughter. Wildfire hair on her." He winks. "Just the way I like it."
Months pass and you perform several fantastic heroic feats. Jon marries the Baron's daughter and you become engaged to the princess. Some days it all seems so unreal, like just the other day you were selling turnips and mucking shit. Now you are a hero.
> You time to kill a motherfucking dragon.
That's the spirit!
Emissaries arrive at the capital from the neighboring kingdom of Irelandshire pleading for assistance with a dragon problem. It seems the fiend has been soaring around the country, torching towns, devouring livestock, looting treasuries and snatching young ladies from their bedchambers. Naturally, you don your shining armor and volunteer to help rid them of the menace once and for all. Princess Anne kisses you goodbye as you ride off to hunt down the winged beast.
Finding the dragon's lair – a cave high up a tall mountain with half the forest burnt to ashes – proves easier than you anticipated. No one ever said dragons were discreet. The march up the mountain presents more of a challenge. Far too steep for your steed, you hike up on foot. You soon learn hiking in full plate armor is not easy. Every step requires sheer willpower and brute strength. Sweat pores off you so fast you fear you are going to rust, so you strip down to your leathers and continue to the top light as feather, just like the old days when you first practiced with Jon in the yard.
"Well at least you aren't a knight in shining armor," says the dragon as you enter his cave. The behemoth is resting on a hoard of gold, jewels, swords, cups, and other valuable crap because of course he is.
"Pardon me?"
"Do you have any idea how annoying it is fighting knights in shining armor? I just fry them with a nice blast of fire. They're too heavy and clunky to dodge. No challenge at all. You should see the nice collection of armor I have though. I could outfit an entire empire."
"Actually, I stripped my armor coming up. I got sweaty."
The dragon sighs. "Well you're smarter than most at least."
"Your days are done dragon!" You prepare to make a heroic speech, but cut it off. "Wait, where are the noble ladies?"
"Didn't you see all the dung piles on the mountainside?"
"You ate them!?"
"What did you think I do with them? Keep them as company?"
"You bastard!"
You draw your sword. Fate has finally arrived. Are you up to the task?
> You attack his eyes.
The eyes: go for the eyes. If you can blind the dragon, you can pounce in and end this while his guard his down.
You scoop a handful of ashes from the ground and fling them at the dragon's eyes as you bound toward him. It's not very effective… The dragon stares at you and shakes his head as you scuttle to a stop.
"I burn entire cities and forests for a living," says the dragon. "Do you have any idea how much ash is floating around in the air after I start lighting shit up?"
"Uhm…"
"Literally, a metric fuck ton." The dragon blinks. "I have protective coverings over my eyes to keep all that crap out. How else would I be able to see with all that debris in the air? I'd be spending my entire fortune on eye-drops."
"Like a camel?" You sidle closer to the dragon.
"Did you just compare me, a dragon, to a dirty, smelly, filthy, no good camel? You wannabe heroes have no resp-" the dragon sighs. "You know what? It's not worth it. Sure, like a camel," the dragon sighs.
"So where's your hump?" You continue to inch closer to the dragon.
"Wh- what?"
"Your hump. You said you're like a camel, so where's your hump?" You jump up and down, searching for a hump on the dragon's back while closing distance.
"You have got to be kidding." The dragon slams his head into the cave wall. "Why do all the retarded heroes have to come fight me?"
While the dragon wallows, you pitter-patter your way in close and drive your sword deep into his eye socket. The wyrm wails in agony as you wrench the sword free, clamber over his snout and shove the blade into his other eye. Before you can scurry away, the dragon whips his head around and snaps his massive jaws around you. You scream as your bones splinter and your innards trickle from your body. The world fades to black as the dragon swallows you down his gullet.
That seemed quite painful. If it is any consolation, you managed to both severely wound the dragon and piss him off before he ate you. The dragon goes on to burn the entire kingdom of Irelandshire to ashes in a blind rage before Jon and The Rabid Fox save the day and cut out his heart.
Princess Anne is heartbroken and goes on to become a sex addict and develops a dungeon porn fetish to cope with your untimely death. |
That's the spirit!
Emissaries arrive at the capital from the neighboring kingdom of Irelandshire pleading for assistance with a dragon problem. It seems the fiend has been soaring around the country, torching towns, devouring livestock, looting treasuries and snatching young ladies from their bedchambers. Naturally, you don your shining armor and volunteer to help rid them of the menace once and for all. Princess Anne kisses you goodbye as you ride off to hunt down the winged beast.
Finding the dragon's lair – a cave high up a tall mountain with half the forest burnt to ashes – proves easier than you anticipated. No one ever said dragons were discreet. The march up the mountain presents more of a challenge. Far too steep for your steed, you hike up on foot. You soon learn hiking in full plate armor is not easy. Every step requires sheer willpower and brute strength. Sweat pores off you so fast you fear you are going to rust, so you strip down to your leathers and continue to the top light as feather, just like the old days when you first practiced with Jon in the yard.
"Well at least you aren't a knight in shining armor," says the dragon as you enter his cave. The behemoth is resting on a hoard of gold, jewels, swords, cups, and other valuable crap because of course he is.
"Pardon me?"
"Do you have any idea how annoying it is fighting knights in shining armor? I just fry them with a nice blast of fire. They're too heavy and clunky to dodge. No challenge at all. You should see the nice collection of armor I have though. I could outfit an entire empire."
"Actually, I stripped my armor coming up. I got sweaty."
The dragon sighs. "Well you're smarter than most at least."
"Your days are done dragon!" You prepare to make a heroic speech, but cut it off. "Wait, where are the noble ladies?"
"Didn't you see all the dung piles on the mountainside?"
"You ate them!?"
"What did you think I do with them? Keep them as company?"
"You bastard!"
You draw your sword. Fate has finally arrived. Are you up to the task?
> You attack his belly.
Everyone knows the underbelly of a dragon is vulnerable. If you get in close, your sword can rip through him like hot crocodile shears through flesh.
You charge the dragon with sword in hand. The dragon blasts fire. You have too much forward momentum; there is no way to dodge this one. The world slows to crawl and your entire life flashes before your eyes: all that time spent mucking shit and selling cabbages, long hours training in the yard with Jon, your sexless courting of Princess Anne. Wow, your life sucked.
Well, maybe you can take the dragon with you: go out a hero and all that.
You grit your teeth and shut your eyes as you barrel into the firestorm. The stink of charred flesh and burning hair cloak you. Your blood boils, lips sear off, eyes burst and brain tingles as it begins to melt inside your skull. Somehow, you are still conscious as you storm through and plunge your sword through the dragon's soft underbelly bounce your sword off the dragon's rigid scales. Turns out those underbelly scales are just as tough as the rest of them. Who knew?
The dragon chuckles as you collapse to the cave floor in a smoldering heap. "Foolish bravery, mortal, is foolishness all the same." The dragon admires you a moment longer before he devours you as a midday snack.
If it serves as any consolation, your remains go on to fertilize several small trees… which promptly get burnt down. |
That's the spirit!
Emissaries arrive at the capital from the neighboring kingdom of Irelandshire pleading for assistance with a dragon problem. It seems the fiend has been soaring around the country, torching towns, devouring livestock, looting treasuries and snatching young ladies from their bedchambers. Naturally, you don your shining armor and volunteer to help rid them of the menace once and for all. Princess Anne kisses you goodbye as you ride off to hunt down the winged beast.
Finding the dragon's lair – a cave high up a tall mountain with half the forest burnt to ashes – proves easier than you anticipated. No one ever said dragons were discreet. The march up the mountain presents more of a challenge. Far too steep for your steed, you hike up on foot. You soon learn hiking in full plate armor is not easy. Every step requires sheer willpower and brute strength. Sweat pores off you so fast you fear you are going to rust, so you strip down to your leathers and continue to the top light as feather, just like the old days when you first practiced with Jon in the yard.
"Well at least you aren't a knight in shining armor," says the dragon as you enter his cave. The behemoth is resting on a hoard of gold, jewels, swords, cups, and other valuable crap because of course he is.
"Pardon me?"
"Do you have any idea how annoying it is fighting knights in shining armor? I just fry them with a nice blast of fire. They're too heavy and clunky to dodge. No challenge at all. You should see the nice collection of armor I have though. I could outfit an entire empire."
"Actually, I stripped my armor coming up. I got sweaty."
The dragon sighs. "Well you're smarter than most at least."
"Your days are done dragon!" You prepare to make a heroic speech, but cut it off. "Wait, where are the noble ladies?"
"Didn't you see all the dung piles on the mountainside?"
"You ate them!?"
"What did you think I do with them? Keep them as company?"
"You bastard!"
You draw your sword. Fate has finally arrived. Are you up to the task?
> You neither.
Attacking him head on would be suicide. Sure, it would be nice to blind him or cut into his underbelly, but he would just fry you with a blast of fire before you even got close. There is only one course of action to take in times like this: dodge.
Like a timid bear you perform a false charge, pulling up at the last second as a blast of fire scorches the ground in front of you. Without your bulky armor you are able to twist and twirl, spin and swirl, dip and dive, jump and jive and pirouette away from the dragon fire while inching ever closer to the monster. Since when did you get moves like Jagger?
"Die mortal," the dragon shouts, releasing another blast of fire.
You duck behind a conveniently placed boulder just in time to escape. The dragon stalks closer. His massive limbs quake the ground with every step: his tail smashing the wall without purpose. Another blast of fire. The heat coming off the rock is like lava. You fear it is about to melt.
Is this it? Is this the end?
"Foolish mortal. The only way to kill a dragon is with a disorganized band of heroes and a bard, or with a magic sword. And you don't have either. Mwhahaha."
Shit. I'm totally fucked. Why didn't I read that book on dragon clichés Jon bought me last Christmas? Think fast, think fast, think fast. Brain blast! Music! Music soothes the savage beast. Shit, I forgot my fiddle.
The dragon rumbles closer, taking his sweet time. Any more bright ideas, Mr. Hero?
> You cry and Beg for Mercy
"Please, Mr. Dragon spare me!" Tears pour down your cheeks, and you drop to your knees. "I'll do whatever you want. I can be a good servant, or a steward. Everyone can use a good steward."
The dragon laughs so hard the entire mountain shakes. The roof of the cave above his head collapses, crushing his head. Ever the opportunist, you leap to your feet and plunge your sword down his gullet. The dragon's jaws snap shut before you can remove your arm. Steam spouts from his nostrils, burning your face. You see the dragon's body burst into flames as you blackout from the pain.
You awake sometime later in unfamiliar surroundings. A nice plush pillow is beneath your head, and half your head is wrapped in bandages. Your balls itch, but when you go to scratch them you realize your arm is gone.
"Where the fuck am I?"
A comely wench caresses your hand. "My good knight, you killed the dragon! We heard the battle from down in the valley, and some of the braver folk went to investigate. They found you gravely wounded, so they brought you to me and I nursed you back to health."
"Are you a herb woman?"
"No."
"What are you?"
"A milkmaid."
"Why did they bring me to you?"
"Milk gives you strong bones?" She shrugs. "But don't worry, I did a good job taking care of you. I watched over you day and night, and I only touched your private bits a few times."
"Well that's nice of you, but… WHAT?"
"To clean them, Sir."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I just thought… never-mind. Thank you."
The milkmaid wench smirks coyly. "With my tongue."
Goddamn it.
Well, there you go, Mr. Hero. You killed the dragon. Not exactly the most heroic showing, but it got the job done. I imagine you expect to go back to your princess bride now, am I right? Princess Anne must be dying to see you. Boy, do I have bad news for you.
Princesses' do not marry hideously scarred men, and your face, well go look in a mirror. You look like someone slammed your head into a flaming brazier. Hey, don't get too upset. You are still a knight, and you have the eternal gratitude of the kingdom of Irelandshire. Plus, you got a ton of booty from that dragon's lair.
Time passes and you heal, more or less. You have the pick of any non-princess in two kingdoms, but you decide to settle down with the milkmaid wench, whose name turns out to be Marie. The two of you have several healthy children together with heroic aspirations of their own. You still keep in touch with your old pals Jon, Samwellington, and The Rabid Fox. You have a few castles built in both kingdoms and become a legendary hero. Of course, when you tell the story, you leave out the crying and begging for mercy part.
Your life with Marie is hot and steamy. You are not sure if you will ever get used to all of her kinks – you find yourself in some interesting scenarios when you wake up from time to time – but at the same time they kind of turn you on.
> You once upon a time...
The wintry winds howl a horrible wail, whipping white watery snow against the weathered watchtower's westernmost wall. Yes, it is indeed a dark and stormy night, but darker and stormier and maybe just a tad more purple than your run-of-the-mill dark and stormy night.
Somewhere deep in the forest a unicorn frolics in a magical glade, as elves watch and scamper amongst the trees, polishing their bows with the blood of dwarves.
"Killed a big fat one today, Elfrond," says Elfmoor. "Bastard was trying to chop down a cherry tree. Can you believe it, a fucking cherry tree? Sacrilege."
"Have you ever wondered why we hate the dwarves so much?" asks Elfrond.
"What do you mean? They're fucking dwarves! And this one chopped down a tree. A cherry tree. Only thing that rivals my love of trees are cherries. And music. And song. And like five other things."
"Yeah, I've just been thinking lately. How did we get these sweet bows, if we didn't chop down a tree to shape them. And how do we burn fires without firewood? And why exactly do we hate the dwarves?"
"It's canon. Don't ask questions."
"What's a cannon?"
Suddenly, the elves quit bickering. Something that only happens once in a thousand years occurs. The glade explodes with magical aura as the unicorn releases its legendary rainbow fart. Magical anomalies, such as this, signal only one thing: the birth of a hero.
Elfmoor takes a big whiff of the magical aroma. "B. E. A. Utiful. Times like this make life worth living."
Elfrond shakes his head. "Elfmoor, we're immortal. I've seen this like ten times already. And every time this happens, it means something evil is about to come afoot."
"But the hero always wins."
"Have you ever heard the term collateral damage?"
"Is that a sword?"
And there you have it. The magical unicorn fart that marks your birth. How exciting! I wonder what type of hero you will grow up to be.
> You want to be a wizard! Step aside, Potter!
A fine choice my friend. What is fantasy without wizards and magic?
You are born to parents of mysterious lineage. You cannot recall their faces or remember much of anything about them. When you are three years old, an old grey-bearded man in a tall pointy hat whisks you away to his society of magical folk and teaches you all he knows of the arcane. Naturally, the society is on a magical island whose shores are shrouded in fog, located some indeterminate number of leagues off the coast of the mainland. Growing up is fun, but tedious. Spells and incantations do not learn themselves.
Everything is peaches and plum pudding until one day you receive a summons – via giant flying eagle – from your old master. You are high up on the mountain, collecting snow samples for an alchemical experiment. It would take several days to hike all the way back to Manawell.
"Mr. Eagle?" you ask. Your voice is hedging, what you are about to ask is groundbreaking.
"What is it friend?"
"Could you give me a lift back down the mountain? This sounds important."
The eagle cocks his head. You are not sure if an eagle can look bemused, but if it could, you imagine this is what it would look like. "You know, no one has ever asked me that before. I always wondered why."
"Wizards are notorious for staying in shape," you say. "How else could white-beards run around with swords and keep pace with adventuring young heroes?"
"Ah, I see. You learn something new every day. Well, very well. Hop on my back, but try not to pull out any feathers."
The eagle flies you down to Manawell in no time at all. There may even be time to run a nice 10k this evening to make up for your lost exercise. You rush through the magical community to your master's tower, stopping only a brief moment to window shop at Merlim's Beard Trimming Emporium. Don't worry, I understand. Proper beard care is essential. No one wants to be the ruddy wizard with a bird's nest in his beard. That guy sucks. You finish your browsing and proceed to your master's tower without further incident.
"Master Dumbledalf," you shout as you reach the top room of the tower. "I received your summons. Is everything alright?"
Dumbledalf sets down his alchemical decanter and stares at you, his face expressionless. "Why are you here?"
"I told you. I received your summons."
"Yes, but you aren't supposed to be here for five more days."
"I hitched a ride with the eagle."
"You what!? Oh you ruined everything."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm not supposed to die for five more days. You sapped all the drama from my character. Oh well, just sit tight one second."
Dumbledalf crushes a few rattails and snake fangs with his mortar and pestle, boils some rum and troll's blood, sprinkles some belladonna power, and mixes all the goop together. He downs the concoction in one gulp and collapses to the floor.
"There, that's better," he says, coughing blood. "You have finally completed your apprenticeship under me. My time has come and gone, but yours is just beginning. As a true wizard, you must now undertake a heroic adventure. Let me see here." Dumbledalf pulls a scrap of parchment from within his robes. "Ah, here we go. There are two available that fit your qualifications."
Dumbledalf dies in your arms. You scream and curse the gods for taking the life of such a fine man. He was only 1984. He should have had at least another century in him. You finish your mandatory blubbering and look at the paper.
> You travel to Westengland and Kill some Evil Wizard
Why bother tutoring the next great hero when you can be the next great hero? Killing an evil wizard is certain to garner the fame and acclaim necessary to ascend to the ever sought after hero status. You grab an assortment of essential wizarding supplies from Dumbledalf's stores, cast a burying spell on his body, and head to the port to set sail for Westengland.
The captain of the Briar Rose is thrilled to have a wizard onboard. Wizards prove quite invaluable at sea, what with all the pirates, storms, and sea monsters lurking beneath the depths.
"A wizard at sea is worth his weight in silver," says Captain Horatio.
"I thought the saying was 'worth his weight in gold.'
"No offense your magicness, but if a wizard was worth his weight in gold, I'd have no room for a profit."
"Better to be alive and penniless than dead and rich."
"A wise wizard," chuckles Captain Horatio. "Who would have guessed?"
Captain Horatio excuses himself and bustles about the ship, blowing his horn. What a pleasant fellow.
You watch as the magic island that has been your home for so many years shrinks in the distance. Leaving feels so weird, but when destiny calls, heroes must rise to the summons. Perhaps someday you will return.
Despite all the perils of the sea, your trip to Westengland is nothing but sugarplums and rainbows. Dear Lord are you sick of sugarplums. Captain Horatio could have stocked the ship with a wider and more nutritional array of foodstuffs. At least all of the rainbows are pretty to look at.
Thrilled to be back on dry land and away from the sugarplums, you hasten to the king's castle – aptly named King's Castle – on the outskirts of the capital city. The road reveals no signs of this evil wizard, though the lack of peasants proves quite disturbing. On second thought, perhaps that is a sign.
As you near King's Castle, the unmistakable and addicting allure of magic thickens in the air. Sweet, succulent, salacious magic. Coaxing your horse to gallop like she never galloped before and thanking God for the widespread success of the Rent-a-Horse industry, you burst onto the scene of a massive siege of King's Castle.
Grotesque trolls, disfigured by horrible magic spells, batter the gates with uprooted trees. Goblins beyond count shriek and swarm the outer walls on ladders crafted from bones. Wyverns – the dragon wannabes of the world – lash at the human defenders from above. Centaurs loose arrows and rape women, even in the midst of battle: the deviant equines. Mages cast spells and necromancers awaken the dead. The defenders fight with vigor and valiance only for the slain to arise and fight on. Most horrible of all, waves of human corpses throw themselves at the castle walls, snaking from the smoking ruins of the capital city down in the valley.
The evil wizard is really throwing the gauntlet at King's Castle. The castle may be beyond saving already. The old adage a wizard is never late or early isn't really true. Of course, a wizard can be late or early! They are human after all. Sort of. The wisest thing may be to find the king and save his sorry ass. Then again, heroes aren't known for always making the wisest decision. So how about it hero, do you pack enough punch to turn the tides of battle on your own? |
The wintry winds howl a horrible wail, whipping white watery snow against the weathered watchtower's westernmost wall. Yes, it is indeed a dark and stormy night, but darker and stormier and maybe just a tad more purple than your run-of-the-mill dark and stormy night.
Somewhere deep in the forest a unicorn frolics in a magical glade, as elves watch and scamper amongst the trees, polishing their bows with the blood of dwarves.
"Killed a big fat one today, Elfrond," says Elfmoor. "Bastard was trying to chop down a cherry tree. Can you believe it, a fucking cherry tree? Sacrilege."
"Have you ever wondered why we hate the dwarves so much?" asks Elfrond.
"What do you mean? They're fucking dwarves! And this one chopped down a tree. A cherry tree. Only thing that rivals my love of trees are cherries. And music. And song. And like five other things."
"Yeah, I've just been thinking lately. How did we get these sweet bows, if we didn't chop down a tree to shape them. And how do we burn fires without firewood? And why exactly do we hate the dwarves?"
"It's canon. Don't ask questions."
"What's a cannon?"
Suddenly, the elves quit bickering. Something that only happens once in a thousand years occurs. The glade explodes with magical aura as the unicorn releases its legendary rainbow fart. Magical anomalies, such as this, signal only one thing: the birth of a hero.
Elfmoor takes a big whiff of the magical aroma. "B. E. A. Utiful. Times like this make life worth living."
Elfrond shakes his head. "Elfmoor, we're immortal. I've seen this like ten times already. And every time this happens, it means something evil is about to come afoot."
"But the hero always wins."
"Have you ever heard the term collateral damage?"
"Is that a sword?"
And there you have it. The magical unicorn fart that marks your birth. How exciting! I wonder what type of hero you will grow up to be.
> You are Vegeta, prince of all saiyans!
No teaser here, but you wouldn't actually get to play as Vegeta, just an angsty prince with a dead father. |
The wintry winds howl a horrible wail, whipping white watery snow against the weathered watchtower's westernmost wall. Yes, it is indeed a dark and stormy night, but darker and stormier and maybe just a tad more purple than your run-of-the-mill dark and stormy night.
Somewhere deep in the forest a unicorn frolics in a magical glade, as elves watch and scamper amongst the trees, polishing their bows with the blood of dwarves.
"Killed a big fat one today, Elfrond," says Elfmoor. "Bastard was trying to chop down a cherry tree. Can you believe it, a fucking cherry tree? Sacrilege."
"Have you ever wondered why we hate the dwarves so much?" asks Elfrond.
"What do you mean? They're fucking dwarves! And this one chopped down a tree. A cherry tree. Only thing that rivals my love of trees are cherries. And music. And song. And like five other things."
"Yeah, I've just been thinking lately. How did we get these sweet bows, if we didn't chop down a tree to shape them. And how do we burn fires without firewood? And why exactly do we hate the dwarves?"
"It's canon. Don't ask questions."
"What's a cannon?"
Suddenly, the elves quit bickering. Something that only happens once in a thousand years occurs. The glade explodes with magical aura as the unicorn releases its legendary rainbow fart. Magical anomalies, such as this, signal only one thing: the birth of a hero.
Elfmoor takes a big whiff of the magical aroma. "B. E. A. Utiful. Times like this make life worth living."
Elfrond shakes his head. "Elfmoor, we're immortal. I've seen this like ten times already. And every time this happens, it means something evil is about to come afoot."
"But the hero always wins."
"Have you ever heard the term collateral damage?"
"Is that a sword?"
And there you have it. The magical unicorn fart that marks your birth. How exciting! I wonder what type of hero you will grow up to be.
> You is there any way you can be a girl?
Certainly, you can be a girl. However, I am afraid it only comes in one flavor: spunky!
Born to ho-hum parents in a ho-hum village in a ho-hum kingdom, life growing up bores the daylights out of you. You are faster and stronger than all the boys are, and sexier and wilder than all the girls, despite their best efforts. You thirst for adventure and always prance around with an almost – but not quite – slutty smile on your face.
One evening you find yourself down at the lake with your friends: Cherry, Melisa, Tommy, and Brad. Of course, you have more friends because you are just so damn spunky, but these are your best friends.
You notice Tommy staring at you for the sixth time today. "Is everything alright, Tommy?" you ask. "You seem to be off in the clouds."
"Yeah, I'm ok. Can I tell you something?"
"You can tell me anything, Tommy."
"No offense, but you have awesome breasts."
You smack Tommy upside the head. "Tommy. Stop. Now. That is not cool. Just because I'm spunky does not mean you get to ogle my body. If that is all you can think about, stare at Melisa. She's the whore of our group."
Melisa nods. "Guilty as charged."
You storm off with Brad and Cherry following at your heels like a pair of nipping puppies while Tommy and Melissa disappear into the bushes. After all, this is a tale of a heroine's escapades, not her sexcapades.
"The nerve of that guy," you say, shaking your head. "I am a prime virgin flower, and I will not be treated like some common whore. I think it's time we went off on a grand adventure and left that jerk behind."
Brad's face glows with delight. "I second that!"
"What about Melissa?" asks Cherry.
"As long as there is a man around with a penis and a pulse, Melissa will be fine," you say. "I say we go adventuring!"
So you decide to leave your quaint little life in village ho-hum for the experience of a lifetime. Any thoughts as to where you are adventuring? |
The wintry winds howl a horrible wail, whipping white watery snow against the weathered watchtower's westernmost wall. Yes, it is indeed a dark and stormy night, but darker and stormier and maybe just a tad more purple than your run-of-the-mill dark and stormy night.
Somewhere deep in the forest a unicorn frolics in a magical glade, as elves watch and scamper amongst the trees, polishing their bows with the blood of dwarves.
"Killed a big fat one today, Elfrond," says Elfmoor. "Bastard was trying to chop down a cherry tree. Can you believe it, a fucking cherry tree? Sacrilege."
"Have you ever wondered why we hate the dwarves so much?" asks Elfrond.
"What do you mean? They're fucking dwarves! And this one chopped down a tree. A cherry tree. Only thing that rivals my love of trees are cherries. And music. And song. And like five other things."
"Yeah, I've just been thinking lately. How did we get these sweet bows, if we didn't chop down a tree to shape them. And how do we burn fires without firewood? And why exactly do we hate the dwarves?"
"It's canon. Don't ask questions."
"What's a cannon?"
Suddenly, the elves quit bickering. Something that only happens once in a thousand years occurs. The glade explodes with magical aura as the unicorn releases its legendary rainbow fart. Magical anomalies, such as this, signal only one thing: the birth of a hero.
Elfmoor takes a big whiff of the magical aroma. "B. E. A. Utiful. Times like this make life worth living."
Elfrond shakes his head. "Elfmoor, we're immortal. I've seen this like ten times already. And every time this happens, it means something evil is about to come afoot."
"But the hero always wins."
"Have you ever heard the term collateral damage?"
"Is that a sword?"
And there you have it. The magical unicorn fart that marks your birth. How exciting! I wonder what type of hero you will grow up to be.
> You bonus Material
Thanks for playing. Enjoy the troll blood.
> You play as an Elf
Elves are certainly cliché. But I'm a species-ist. That means while I have no problem with humans be they white, orange, green, blue, black, yellow, pink, purple, brown, grey, indigo, crimson, maroon, cream, peach, pie… wait where was I going with this. Oh, right. I have a deep hatred of other species. We humans are superior and everyone else must bow down to our supremacy. Don't judge me. It's a disease. Now excuse me while I enslave this squirrel. |
Thanks for playing. Enjoy the troll blood.
> You play as a Dwarf
Game of Thrones changed the world for dwarf kind forever. Are they a species or are they people? The species-ist in me is skeptical. Judgment shall be reserved. |
Thanks for playing. Enjoy the troll blood.
> You play as a Warrior-Cat
You ran out into the road and got trampled by a runaway carriage, and your corpse was devoured by a pack of dogs. The End. |
Thanks for playing. Enjoy the troll blood.
> You play as a Dark Elf
Have you not read Eternal? Go read Eternal. Then come back and tell me how heroic dark elves are. |
Thanks for playing. Enjoy the troll blood.
> You play as a Sparkly Vampire
Really, you want to be a sparkly vampire? What kind of writer do you think I am? I have standards after all. Do you really want to be a sparkly vampire, or are you just trying to piss me off?
> You you're sorry. You'll pick something more appropriate.
That's right young lady. No hero of mine is going to be some sissified vampire. My heroes have pretty blue eyes, long blonde hair and flawless pearly whites. Manliness. |
Really, you want to be a sparkly vampire? What kind of writer do you think I am? I have standards after all. Do you really want to be a sparkly vampire, or are you just trying to piss me off?
> You sparkly Vampire!
Stephanie, I hate you.
Fine, you want to be a sparkly vampire, go ahead.
Once a pompous little lordling living in the south of Spainland you not only had the misfortune of being bitten by a vampire while having sex with your sister, but also getting gene spliced with a unicorn by the hands of a genre-bending – and seriously twisted – wizard from the future called a Brony. The magic involved with this transformation goes far beyond my comprehension of the arcane, but I assure you it was incredibly painful. On the positive end, however, you now fart bubblegum and shit figgy pudding. |
Attacking him head on would be suicide. Sure, it would be nice to blind him or cut into his underbelly, but he would just fry you with a blast of fire before you even got close. There is only one course of action to take in times like this: dodge.
Like a timid bear you perform a false charge, pulling up at the last second as a blast of fire scorches the ground in front of you. Without your bulky armor you are able to twist and twirl, spin and swirl, dip and dive, jump and jive and pirouette away from the dragon fire while inching ever closer to the monster. Since when did you get moves like Jagger?
"Die mortal," the dragon shouts, releasing another blast of fire.
You duck behind a conveniently placed boulder just in time to escape. The dragon stalks closer. His massive limbs quake the ground with every step: his tail smashing the wall without purpose. Another blast of fire. The heat coming off the rock is like lava. You fear it is about to melt.
Is this it? Is this the end?
"Foolish mortal. The only way to kill a dragon is with a disorganized band of heroes and a bard, or with a magic sword. And you don't have either. Mwhahaha."
Shit. I'm totally fucked. Why didn't I read that book on dragon clichés Jon bought me last Christmas? Think fast, think fast, think fast. Brain blast! Music! Music soothes the savage beast. Shit, I forgot my fiddle.
The dragon rumbles closer, taking his sweet time. Any more bright ideas, Mr. Hero?
> You dodge?
If Jon taught you one thing, it is how to dodge like it is your job, and it kind of is. Sort of. I don't know, just kill the damned thing.
You leap over the rock and attempt a triple double-axle barrel roll in midair and land on the dragon's head. For some reason, this works and you manage to dodge the dragon's fire breath in the process with your sixth sense.
The dragon thrashes his head against the cave walls, but you manage to cling on while avoiding having your body smashed to a thousand bloody bits. You hack at the dragon's head with your sword, but it may as well be a butter knife for all the good it does against the tough dragon scales. Maybe you should have dodged over toward one of those fancy looking magic swords.
Shut up. I have this under control.
Ok. Whatever you say, Mr. Hero.
"Hey, dragon, you suck."
"I will not have a mortal make mockery of me!" the dragon bellows. "Get. Off. My. Head."
The dragon swings his mighty tail at you, but once again, you manage to use your sixth sense to dodge all of the attacks. The dragon repeatedly pummels himself in the head with his own tail to the point where he shatters both his scales and his skull. You drive your sword into the crevice and perform a super-duper double whammy backflip with a 720 degree spin off the dragon's head as he bursts into flames.
"Wicked. Now how the hell am I going to haul all this shit down the mountain?"
…
What, aren't you going to finish the story?
Yeah, just give me a second.
What the fuck is the problem? I won, I want to marry my princess and lose my damn virginity already.
I'm just struggling to comprehend how you turned into a jedi.
A what?
Never mind.
…
Word of your victory quickly spreads across the land. The king of Irelandshire showers you in gratitude and offers you his daughter as a bride, which you decline because you proved to be a noble and heroic knight and you already have a bride. You take some of the dragon's treasure back home with you and build a series of castles and forts at strategic points across the countryside. Your future kin are keeping this kingdom for life. Historians and bards alike flock to scribble down your life story and paint it in song.
Your wedding to Princess Anne is a legend in its own right: drunken revelry at its finest. Samwellington entertains the masses by sticking himself with pointy knives and not screaming in pain, good old pork lard. Jon and The Rabid Fox have a friendly sparring match, showcasing some of the finest swordsmanship since your melee. Jon later demonstrates another kind of swordsmanship with his wildfire gingersnap of a wife. On the table. Next to one of the cakes. The king gets drunk and accidentally burns down the stage while a troupe of troubadours are performing. No one important dies.
Most importantly, you finally get to bang Princess Anne, that blue-eyed blonde haired big bosomed goddess of your dreams: a night of ecstasy ends in an explosion of pleasure with many more to come. |
Attacking him head on would be suicide. Sure, it would be nice to blind him or cut into his underbelly, but he would just fry you with a blast of fire before you even got close. There is only one course of action to take in times like this: dodge.
Like a timid bear you perform a false charge, pulling up at the last second as a blast of fire scorches the ground in front of you. Without your bulky armor you are able to twist and twirl, spin and swirl, dip and dive, jump and jive and pirouette away from the dragon fire while inching ever closer to the monster. Since when did you get moves like Jagger?
"Die mortal," the dragon shouts, releasing another blast of fire.
You duck behind a conveniently placed boulder just in time to escape. The dragon stalks closer. His massive limbs quake the ground with every step: his tail smashing the wall without purpose. Another blast of fire. The heat coming off the rock is like lava. You fear it is about to melt.
Is this it? Is this the end?
"Foolish mortal. The only way to kill a dragon is with a disorganized band of heroes and a bard, or with a magic sword. And you don't have either. Mwhahaha."
Shit. I'm totally fucked. Why didn't I read that book on dragon clichés Jon bought me last Christmas? Think fast, think fast, think fast. Brain blast! Music! Music soothes the savage beast. Shit, I forgot my fiddle.
The dragon rumbles closer, taking his sweet time. Any more bright ideas, Mr. Hero?
> You how about you steal one of those sweet magic swords sticking out of his treasure pile.
You make a mental note to thank the dragon for providing you with the recipe for his death at his funeral as you yank the first magic sword you find from the mountain of plunder. The sword shines a brilliant blue-gold and has a queer hourglass shape carved into the blade: yep, definitely magic. Though, something feels awful familiar about this. Oh well, you can worry about that later. You have a dragon to kill.
"Your day of reckoning has come, dragon!"
"No, you fool," the dragon rasps. "Put that down. Hasn't anyone ever told you not to meddle with magic you don't know how to use?"
"Nope."
The dragon breathes fire at you, but you knock it away with a swing of the sword. The resulting fireball explodes in the treasure hoard. Molten gold and silver splatter everywhere. Droplets burn into your arms and chest, but you struggle through the pain and raise the magic sword for the killing blow.
"You'll doom us all," the dragon pleads.
Not that it's my place, but I think you should listen to the dragon.
What do you expect me to do, negotiate a treaty?
I would endorse that.
> You fine.
"Alright dragon," you say. "The asshole narrator told me not to kill you. What's the deal?"
The dragon sighs in relief as steam spouts from his nostrils. "Of all the fucking magic swords, you grabbed the Time-Warper."
"And I care why?"
"Once the blade slices into something living, the last five seconds of all life are replayed on an infinite loop."
"How do you stop it?"
"You can't."
"That's fucking retarded. Who would make such a stupid sword?"
"A villain."
"But the villain would be damning himself for all eternity too."
"I said a villain. Not a smart villain."
Agreeing you are at an impasse, you and the dragon negotiate a treaty the two of you find mutually acceptable. The dragon receives 50% of all taxes collected within Irelandshire, 1 out of every 3 sheep, 1 princess of his choice per year, and you receive one dragon ride every Sunday after church. You are not very good at negotiations. |
You make a mental note to thank the dragon for providing you with the recipe for his death at his funeral as you yank the first magic sword you find from the mountain of plunder. The sword shines a brilliant blue-gold and has a queer hourglass shape carved into the blade: yep, definitely magic. Though, something feels awful familiar about this. Oh well, you can worry about that later. You have a dragon to kill.
"Your day of reckoning has come, dragon!"
"No, you fool," the dragon rasps. "Put that down. Hasn't anyone ever told you not to meddle with magic you don't know how to use?"
"Nope."
The dragon breathes fire at you, but you knock it away with a swing of the sword. The resulting fireball explodes in the treasure hoard. Molten gold and silver splatter everywhere. Droplets burn into your arms and chest, but you struggle through the pain and raise the magic sword for the killing blow.
"You'll doom us all," the dragon pleads.
Not that it's my place, but I think you should listen to the dragon.
What do you expect me to do, negotiate a treaty?
I would endorse that.
> You you're killing him.
"You'll doom us all," the dragon pleads again.
"No, just you." And you hammer the sword into the dragon.
> You deja vu
"You'll doom us all," the dragon pleads again.
"No, just you." And you hammer the sword into the dragon. |
There is only one way this story can unfold, and that is with you finally surpassing your master and claiming the princess as your own. For princess bosom! You charge.
Jon dodges your blow. You swing again. He dodges and counters with an upward thrust. No time to dodge, you catch his sword with your shield. The wood splinters, and you snap your wrist, catching his sword in the shield. Déjà vu?
Not quite. A knee slams you in the groin, and you crumple to the ground. Fight through the pain hero! You lash you with your legs, catching Jon in the chest. Both of you regain your feet and slam into each other. Over and over you roll, grappling on the ground. Dust swirls around your heads. You throw blind punches. The crowd cheers.
You fight the good fight, but Jon wins in the end, catching you in a stellar headlock. The king congratulates you both and the crowd gives a standing ovation.
"Best melee in years. I think the both of you earned a knighthood for such a fine display of chivalrous combat," says the king. "Tonight there will be a feast for the ages... on the Baron's tab of course."
You are bummed you will not be getting princess bosom, but you feel proud of how you fought. Even heroes take their lumps from time to time.
As expected, Jon names the princess Lady Fair of the tournament. You see him whisper something in her ear and point in your direction. She is walking toward you! What the hell did he say?
"Princess Anne." You bow. "It is my pleasure."
"And mine. Would you care to walk with me in the gardens?"
You readily agree and spend much of the remainder of your time getting to know Princess Anne. She is everything you could hope for in a princess, blonde, blue eyed, fair skinned, sweet, charming, big bosomed, and all the works.
"What did you say to her?" you ask Jon one evening.
He shrugs. "I love princesses as much as the next guy, but really, I'm in to redheads." He smirks. "I think the farmboy turned knight getting the princess makes the better story. I'm nailing the Baron's daughter. Wildfire hair on her." He winks. "Just the way I like it."
Months pass and you perform several fantastic heroic feats. Jon marries the Baron's daughter and you become engaged to the princess. Some days it all seems so unreal, like just the other day you were selling turnips and mucking shit. Now you are a hero.
> You time to retire.
Did you seriously just turn down the opportunity to kill a dragon? You may be a hero, but you aren't the cliché' hero you were destined to be. You could have done more. Oh well, what is done is done.
You marry Princess Anne and have a beautiful wedding ceremony. All the dukes, earls, barons, and other lords in the kingdom attend. Jon serves as your best man and leads the wedding toast. Samwellington gets drunk and passes out in one of the massive strawberry cakes while receiving a blowjob from one of the maids, not quite sure how that happened.
Sir Henry Williams, your old friend The Rabid Fox, regales the guests with tales from the tournament and other ventures you undertook together in the aftermath. "Would you believe," he says, "we saw a unicorn fart in a glade a few months back? Mark of a hero's birth is what that is." Hmm, so much for that once every thousand years bullshit. You lame ass heroes are becoming a dime a dozen.
Too bad ma and pa could not be around to see this, but heroes almost never have parents survive long enough to see them achieve success. You know their watching over you from somewhere above though.
Later that night, you finally get to relief all that pent up tension that has been building up in your loins for all of these years. You are glad you saved yourself because it was something special. All thirty seconds of it. But you get better with time, and Princess Anne plops out several little you's, one of which grows up to be king someday.
Still. You could have killed a dragon. |
Heroes fight with honor at all times. There is no way in hell you are going to betray Jon. How could you ever look him in the eyes again? Besides, he is pretty fucking awesome. If you are going to win this thing, you are going to do it the right way and beat him with pride, honor, dignity, and all the other bullshit that goes with being a hero.
"I'll distract him. You knock him off the horse," says Jon.
"What about Bucktooth Barry?"
"Dodge."
Jon darts off to run interference while you attempt to flank. The Rabid Fox is on to your plan though and outmaneuvers you while Bucktooth Barry hedges his position. This might go on for a while. What would a hero do?
You glance up at the spectators and catch sight of the princess. A blonde haired blue eyed bombshell with a bosom to die for. She flashes you a smile of perfect pearly whites. Did you expect anything else? Take a moment to picture all the ways you would love to chivalrously plow her into next Sunday. Just try not to ejaculate prematurely in your armor. That is not heroic. No, go ahead. I can wait.
Got all that out of your system? Good. With the princess's bosom in your mind to inspire you, you charge the mounted knight. He reels the horse around and barrels toward you, eager for the challenge. As you are about to collide, you dodge. The Rabid Fox brings the horse around for another pass. You feel the blood pumping through your veins. The air tastes sweet. Colors are brighter. The world slows down. This is what being a hero is all about.
You and The Rabid Fox rush each other once more. As you are about to collide, not only do you dodge, but you grab the reins as well and yank. Your arm feels like it is going to pop out of its socket, but you grit it out. The Rabid Fox flies through the air and thuds into the dirt. He stumbles to his feet and grabs a greatsword off the ground. Man, this motherfucker just does not give up.
He has the reach advantage, but he is hurt. Pretty bad, judging by the fact he just fell off a galloping horse decked out in mail while brandishing a sword. He should probably be dead: or at least broken. He uses his reach to keep you at a distance, but you bide your time. He will make a mistake. Dodge, backstep, yawn, dodge. A quick glance up at the princess's bosom. With princess bosom lighting your fire, you see an opening and dive in and drive The Rabid Fox to the ground.
"Well fought, friend. I yield," says The Rabid Fox as you hold your sword tip over him.
Jon has finished off Bucktooth Barry. It is down to the two of you.
> You actually, you was going to name one of the other girls Lady Fair of the Tournament.
You have to be kidding me. Don't you know anything about the antics of cliché knightly heroes? The gallant knight always marries the blue eyed blonde haired princess and enjoys blissful princess bosom until the end of his days. And you want to throw all of that away for some lowly baron's daughter or common wench? You disgust me.
Fighting for an unworthy cause, you race forward to meet Jon in good old-fashioned master-student combat. The clamor of steel on steel fills the field as you and Jon clash and slash. Sweat stings your eyes as Jon attacks with relentless vigor. You dodge, parry, and counterstrike as best you can, but you are fighting against the man who taught you everything you know. How can you possibly hope to win? You don't even have the righteous thirst for princess bosom riling your untapped potential.
For gritty lowborn buxom wenches!
Well, I must admit they do have their own special brand of flavor. It just doesn't have the same ring to it though.
Drunk on visions of buxom wenches you dodge blow after blow after blow. You resist the urge to strike and continue to dodge; your heart will tell you when it is time to attack.
"I taught you well," Jon pants. "You're dodging like a true champion."
"I learned from the best."
"Time for another lesson." Jon backs off and takes a defensive position. "You can't dodge if I don't attack."
"You son of a bitch."
Jon smirks. "Trumped."
A crazy idea crosses your mind. You don't know if it'll work – or if it even makes any sense – but it just might be stupid enough to work. With nothing to lose and everything to gain, you begin the attack. Just as expected Jon dodges. Then you dodge his dodge, catching Jon completely by surprise. Taking a page out of Samwellington's incredibly short book of useful combat skills you follow up with a dodge ram attack, circling Jon and barreling him into the ground. The maneuver hurts like hell, but like a true hero you ignore the pain and leap to your feet.
You hold your blade over Jon's throat. "Yield."
Jon chuckles. "Nice moves. You win."
You help Jon to his feet as the crowd erupts into a chorus of cheers and shouts.
"What skill! What daring! What a fight!" The king bids you and Jon both kneel and knights the pair of you right there in the field. "They'll be talking about this tourney for ages. I don't even know what that was you did there Sir, but it was fantastic."
All that is left is for you to name the Lady Fair of the tournament. I still don't approve of your anti princess antics, but you showed mettle in the melee and that is something to take pride in.
Two buxom wenches who have caught your eyes on since the tourney started: the ginger haired Baron's daughter, Ginger, and a lowly servant woman, Abbey, with rather typical and mundane features. What the servant woman lacks in grandeur she makes up for with a charming smile and pleasant cuteness all her own. Of course, naming a servant woman Lady Fair could cause some very serious problems by offending the nobles.
Not that it is my place to intrude young knight, but Jon has been ogling the gingersnap all day. Take that as you will. The choice is yours after all; you earned it.
> You name Ginger Lady Fair
It takes a very special and talented person to handle a fire-crotched wildfire gingersnap, and quite frankly I don't think you have what it takes.
You name Ginger Lady Fair and marry her shortly after. Jon turns down your request to be your best man, saying something about a dragon he needs to kill in Irelandshire. You're bummed, but you understand. A hero's work is never done until the end of the story. Ginger is a freak in bed, and just as I warned, it takes all of your energy to feed her wicked sexual appetite.
Life goes on and you undertake a series of adventures with your new friend The Rabid Fox. Sadly, as the years pass you and Jon grow further and further apart. Years go by without seeing or hearing from him at all.
…
It has been ten years since the fateful tournament, and you have a small brood of gingersnap children to go with your gingersnap wife. You doubt any of them have it in them to be heroes. There isn't even a strawberry blonde one in the bunch.
After several weeks of adventuring with The Rabid Fox, you wave farewell to him at the fork in the road and head to your respective castles. On the way, you find your lands burnt and salted. The villages are nothing but smoldering ruins and the peasants have completely vanished. Massive piles of dung litter the landscape. Urging your trusty steed, Hot Biscuit Slim, to a full gallop you arrive at your castle to find it lying in ruins. Oh, and there's a dragon sitting on top of the pile of rubble. Jon is there too.
You are starting to think Jon may be jealous about you marrying Ginger. He does have an unhealthy fixation for fire-crotched gingersnaps.
"Where the hell is my family?" You draw your sword, waving it menacingly.
"In my belly." The dragon guffaws, releasing a blast of deadly dragon fire. "Thank you so much Sir Jon for raping the woman first. I love my food when it's properly terrorized and ravaged."
"Jon! How could you?" You fall to your knees in sorrow. "You were my friend!"
"Don't listen to the dragon! She's lying. I've been tracking her for weeks. She's the mate of the dragon I killed in Irelandshire years ago. To avenge her lover, she's trying to turn you against me by creating this incredibly unnecessary scenario to frame me for the rape, murder, and plunder of all you know and love."
"That seems excessive, Jon. Excuse me if I don't buy that."
"It's true! She wants to set us against each other so she can kill us both while we're at one another's throats."
"For what greater purpose?"
"Elaborate revenge and kingdom domination."
"Hmmm, we are pretty badass. I doubt she could kill either of us one on one. And that does sound like something a dragon would do."
The dragon roars and flaps her massive wings. "I never lie about properly terrorized and ravaged food. Rape and betrayal are the perfect seasonings."
Well now, this is an unfortunate situation. Who is telling the truth?
> You kill the dragon
"I trust you, Jon. Let's make this scaly freak go the way of the dinosaurs. Extinct."
"Leave the witty one-liners to me and you've got a deal."
Together you and Jon dispatch the dragon after a long and grueling battle. You don't remember any of the details because your heart is too choked with grief. The important thing is the dragon is dead and you're not. Exhausted and suffering from severe burns you and Jon slump against the ruins of your castle.
"Well, so much for a heroes ending," you say, emptying your canteen. "I guess this is what I get for breaking the cliché."
"I have a confession to make," says Jon.
"Oh, God, don't tell me the dragon was telling the truth."
"It's a dragon, man. They always tell half-truths. Everything I said was true. I really was tracking the dragon to kill it."
"But…"
"But I got here before the dragon and raped your wife. I'm sorry, man, I have a sickness for fire-crotch. In the meantime, the dragon wasted your livelihood then came and ate Ginger out from under me." |
It takes a very special and talented person to handle a fire-crotched wildfire gingersnap, and quite frankly I don't think you have what it takes.
You name Ginger Lady Fair and marry her shortly after. Jon turns down your request to be your best man, saying something about a dragon he needs to kill in Irelandshire. You're bummed, but you understand. A hero's work is never done until the end of the story. Ginger is a freak in bed, and just as I warned, it takes all of your energy to feed her wicked sexual appetite.
Life goes on and you undertake a series of adventures with your new friend The Rabid Fox. Sadly, as the years pass you and Jon grow further and further apart. Years go by without seeing or hearing from him at all.
…
It has been ten years since the fateful tournament, and you have a small brood of gingersnap children to go with your gingersnap wife. You doubt any of them have it in them to be heroes. There isn't even a strawberry blonde one in the bunch.
After several weeks of adventuring with The Rabid Fox, you wave farewell to him at the fork in the road and head to your respective castles. On the way, you find your lands burnt and salted. The villages are nothing but smoldering ruins and the peasants have completely vanished. Massive piles of dung litter the landscape. Urging your trusty steed, Hot Biscuit Slim, to a full gallop you arrive at your castle to find it lying in ruins. Oh, and there's a dragon sitting on top of the pile of rubble. Jon is there too.
You are starting to think Jon may be jealous about you marrying Ginger. He does have an unhealthy fixation for fire-crotched gingersnaps.
"Where the hell is my family?" You draw your sword, waving it menacingly.
"In my belly." The dragon guffaws, releasing a blast of deadly dragon fire. "Thank you so much Sir Jon for raping the woman first. I love my food when it's properly terrorized and ravaged."
"Jon! How could you?" You fall to your knees in sorrow. "You were my friend!"
"Don't listen to the dragon! She's lying. I've been tracking her for weeks. She's the mate of the dragon I killed in Irelandshire years ago. To avenge her lover, she's trying to turn you against me by creating this incredibly unnecessary scenario to frame me for the rape, murder, and plunder of all you know and love."
"That seems excessive, Jon. Excuse me if I don't buy that."
"It's true! She wants to set us against each other so she can kill us both while we're at one another's throats."
"For what greater purpose?"
"Elaborate revenge and kingdom domination."
"Hmmm, we are pretty badass. I doubt she could kill either of us one on one. And that does sound like something a dragon would do."
The dragon roars and flaps her massive wings. "I never lie about properly terrorized and ravaged food. Rape and betrayal are the perfect seasonings."
Well now, this is an unfortunate situation. Who is telling the truth?
> You kill Jon and the dragon
"You bastard! How could you rape my wife!?"
"I'm not a bastard!"
You and Jon attack each other, and just as Jon warned, the dragon fries you both with a blast of dragon fire. With the two of you dead the dragon goes on to… get slain by The Rabid Fox a few hours later. |
You have to be kidding me. Don't you know anything about the antics of cliché knightly heroes? The gallant knight always marries the blue eyed blonde haired princess and enjoys blissful princess bosom until the end of his days. And you want to throw all of that away for some lowly baron's daughter or common wench? You disgust me.
Fighting for an unworthy cause, you race forward to meet Jon in good old-fashioned master-student combat. The clamor of steel on steel fills the field as you and Jon clash and slash. Sweat stings your eyes as Jon attacks with relentless vigor. You dodge, parry, and counterstrike as best you can, but you are fighting against the man who taught you everything you know. How can you possibly hope to win? You don't even have the righteous thirst for princess bosom riling your untapped potential.
For gritty lowborn buxom wenches!
Well, I must admit they do have their own special brand of flavor. It just doesn't have the same ring to it though.
Drunk on visions of buxom wenches you dodge blow after blow after blow. You resist the urge to strike and continue to dodge; your heart will tell you when it is time to attack.
"I taught you well," Jon pants. "You're dodging like a true champion."
"I learned from the best."
"Time for another lesson." Jon backs off and takes a defensive position. "You can't dodge if I don't attack."
"You son of a bitch."
Jon smirks. "Trumped."
A crazy idea crosses your mind. You don't know if it'll work – or if it even makes any sense – but it just might be stupid enough to work. With nothing to lose and everything to gain, you begin the attack. Just as expected Jon dodges. Then you dodge his dodge, catching Jon completely by surprise. Taking a page out of Samwellington's incredibly short book of useful combat skills you follow up with a dodge ram attack, circling Jon and barreling him into the ground. The maneuver hurts like hell, but like a true hero you ignore the pain and leap to your feet.
You hold your blade over Jon's throat. "Yield."
Jon chuckles. "Nice moves. You win."
You help Jon to his feet as the crowd erupts into a chorus of cheers and shouts.
"What skill! What daring! What a fight!" The king bids you and Jon both kneel and knights the pair of you right there in the field. "They'll be talking about this tourney for ages. I don't even know what that was you did there Sir, but it was fantastic."
All that is left is for you to name the Lady Fair of the tournament. I still don't approve of your anti princess antics, but you showed mettle in the melee and that is something to take pride in.
Two buxom wenches who have caught your eyes on since the tourney started: the ginger haired Baron's daughter, Ginger, and a lowly servant woman, Abbey, with rather typical and mundane features. What the servant woman lacks in grandeur she makes up for with a charming smile and pleasant cuteness all her own. Of course, naming a servant woman Lady Fair could cause some very serious problems by offending the nobles.
Not that it is my place to intrude young knight, but Jon has been ogling the gingersnap all day. Take that as you will. The choice is yours after all; you earned it.
> You name Abbey Lady Fair
You already shunned cliché protocol by refusing to fight for princess bosom, so you may as well go full renegade and elect the servant woman Lady Fair. There is something bewitching about good old down to earth country cuteness. All of the beautiful noble Ladies can primp themselves up all they want, but they can never attain the country wild of a lowborn servant girl.
A wave of awe spreads through the crowd as you proclaim Abbey Lady Fair. Fights break out, which quickly turn into full-blown riots. You grab your new ladylove and disappear in the chaos while you still have a chance to escape.
"Not so fast," snarl the high-pitched bitch voices of the weasel brothers. "You committed a great insult today. I think the king will be quite pleased when we bring him your heads."
"I won the melee. By law and tradition the right to name Lady Fair is my choice and mine alone. Now get out of my way or else I'll have to kick your ass all over again."
"Can you fight the both of us and defend your whore at the same time?"
"He doesn't have to." The Rabid Fox draws his blade and springs to your side. It appears you have made a friend. "My good, Sir, my sword is yours."
"Thanks, but why are you helping me? I broke the cliché."
"I don't know what that means, but you fought with honor. And that I can respect."
The weasel brothers topple over unconscious. Jon and Ginger stand behind them each holding a big ass rock.
"My way saves time." Jon discards his rock and beams. "Now let's get out of here so I can get it up and get it on. Know what I mean?"
With that taken care of the six of you make your escape. (The Rabid Fox picked up a prostitute on the way out, that dog.) The kingdom devolves into a bloody civil war as a result of the tournament debacle. In the mayhem, the king got trampled to death and poor Princess Anne was brutally raped by no less than sixty-nine men. Princess Anne recovered from the savagery and personally hunted down every single one of the scum and forced them to castrate themselves and consume the mess. Future reference, don't mess with her.
You, Jon, and the Rabid Fox carve out your own minor kingdoms and remain close friends to this day. You feel horrible about what happened to Princess Anne and offer her a place of honor in your court, but she politely declines, harboring no bad feelings against you. She elects to travel the world as an adventurer. Your life with the newly crowned Queen Abbey is blissful and filled with bosom and country cunt. You never get the ever sought after princess bosom, but queen bosom is a nice too.
I swear she called it that, not me! |
Wise decision: it is best to stick with your strong suits.
You excuse yourself and get up to leave. The moneylender, mutters something to himself while stroking his beard as you head toward the door. Something is really evil about this guy. You turn around and lop off his head before heading home. Yeah, that was probably a good idea.
The morning of the tournament dawns crisp and cool with a slight breeze, just enough to give the ladies' skirts a nice billowing. You feel a familiar stirring in your loins, and it is driving you insane. As a fledgling hero, you have been saving yourself for your future princess bride, but dear God has it left you on edge, not that you have not had offers. Jon was right; your scar is a chick magnet. You practically have to beat them off.
A gaggle of girls giggle as you walk past them. Bitches.
Whoa, where did that come from? That is not very heroic. The proper term is 'wenches.' Remember that next time, fledgling hero.
With your minor slip into villainy over, you prepare for the melee and take your place in the fighting field. There appear to be fifty or so participants as you try to pick out some of the people the Baron told you about. You see Mad Moose McDoogle in his clumsy antlered helmet, Sir Richard Lionsmane with his shaggy locks, Sir Henry Williams a.k.a. The Rabid Fox, the Weasel brothers in their matching silver gilded armor, and Bucktooth Barry among others.
"Save your energy," says Jon. "Let the others wear themselves down. They'll make a mistake eventually. Then you can strike when they're weak and out of position. And stay by me. We might both be able to get knighthoods out of this."
"Don't worry. I got your back Jon."
A blast from the bugle signals the start of the melee. The clamor of blunted steel on blunted steel rings through the fairgrounds. You and Jon fight back-to-back, just as you did against those trolls several years ago. You two are not the only ones fighting on teams. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the Weasel brothers and Mad Moose McDoogle charge The Rabid Fox.
The Rabid Fox looses ground as the trio attempt to surround him. He isn't dodging. He's parrying. He's done for. The Rabid Fox's and one of the Weasel brother's swords shatter on impact. Mad Moose McDoogle peels off the attack and rounds on the Weasel brothers, catching them unaware. He knocks them both down and out just before The Rabid Fox charges him in turn.
A sword slashes inches from your cheek, and you regain your focus. Dodge, slash, dodge, dodge, slash, dodge, trip, kick. Another one bites the dust.
The fighting continues until there is just you, Jon, The Rabid Fox, who has not only obtained a new sword but a horse as well, and Bucktooth Barry left.
Maybe you should turn on Jon now?
> You turn on Jon.
Fuck this shit. You're in it to win it. You whirl around and knock Jon out cold. Poor bastard never saw it coming.
Bucktooth Barry gestures toward The Rabid Fox and the pair of you charge the mounted knight. You pull up at the last moment and watch The Rabid Fox clobber Bucktooth Barry aside the helmet. Seizing the opportunity, you bolt in, grab the reins and yank. The horse bucks, but The Rabid Fox manages to cling in the saddle.
With no other options, you hack at the horse's legs. The beat cries out in pain as The Rabid Fox topples from the dying beast. You thrust your sword, sticking the point an inch from The Rabid Fox's throat.
"Yield."
The Rabid Fox coughs blood. "You have no honor. You're no… hero."
"Hero's win. I won. Now yield."
Blood gushes down your leg, and you scream in pain as you collapse to your knees. What happened? What the bloody fucking hell!? The dying horse lying beside you twists its neck, reaches up and bites you in the throat. Warm blood trickles down your body. You cannot breath.
You fall into a pool of blood.
The Rabid Fox staggers to his feet, shaking his head.
You hear Jon's voice. "A heroic knight fights with honor at all times." Those are the last words you hear as the world fades to black.
Well that was disappointing. Killed by a horse. Apparently, you were not the hero I thought you were. He must be somewhere else. Enjoy death. |
Without a moment's hesitation, you turn and rush the bandits. You are the fledgling hero of this story after all, and the hero always wins. The bandits either agree or are too shocked by your blazen stupidity and gawk at you as you close the gap.
By the time one of them gathers his wits, three of them are dead at your feet. A bolt grazes your cheek as you cut the fourth man down. The fifth man, who fired the bolt, turns to flee back into the forest. He does not make it. Jon skewers him from behind.
"That's going to be quite the scar," says Jon. "It's not so much a deforming scar as a handsome, charismatic scar. All great heroes get them. Chicks dig it."
"I don't have one," whines Samwellington.
Jon rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I wonder why."
The three of you hobble back to the hamlet. You have one of the priests help draft a report of the incident and send a runner to deliver it to the baron. Some unimportant nobodies go clean up the mess while you kick back and relax. Not bad for a (k)night's work.
"Good work today kid, but don't get ahead of yourself kid," says Jon. "You still have a long way to go to be a true knight. It takes hard work to bang a princess and ride off into the sunset. Oh, and remember."
"Dodge," you say in unison.
The baron is pleased with what he reads in the report. You become Bowie's replacement in the hamlet guard and undertake some other minor missions with Jon and Samwellington. Soon you become a bit of a celebrity and inspiration, and your fame goes countywide. Priests take time out of their day to tutor you in your letters, and the baron invites you and Jon to take place in the next tournament he's hosting. The king will even be there; it is supposed to be quite the shindig. Things are looking up. All you have to decide now is what event you are going to compete.
> You compete in the melee.
It is best to stick with your strong suits. You have combat training and can dodge with the best of them in the melee. From what you understand, dodging is frowned upon in jousting. Besides, you would have to borrow a horse from someone, and you do not have the money to ransom the horse if you lose. Debtors do not make good heroes.
Jon decides to enter the melee as well.
The morning of the tournament dawns crisp and cool with a slight breeze, just enough to give the ladies' skirts a nice billowing. You feel a familiar stirring in your loins, and it is driving you insane. As a fledgling hero, you have been saving yourself for your future princess bride, but dear God has it left you on edge, not that you have not had offers. Jon was right; your scar is a chick magnet. You practically have to beat them off.
A gaggle of girls giggle as you walk past them. Bitches.
Whoa, where did that come from? That is not very heroic. The proper term is 'wenches.' Remember that next time, fledgling hero.
With your minor slip into villainy over, you prepare for the melee and take your place in the fighting field. There appear to be fifty or so participants as you try to pick out some of the people the Baron told you about. You see Mad Moose McDoogle in his clumsy antlered helmet, Sir Richard Lionsmane with his shaggy locks, Sir Henry Williams a.k.a. The Rabid Fox, the Weasel brothers in their matching silver gilded armor, and Bucktooth Barry among others.
"Save your energy," says Jon. "Let the others wear themselves down. They'll make a mistake eventually. Then you can strike when they're weak and out of position. And stay by me. We might both be able to get knighthoods out of this."
"Don't worry. I got your back Jon."
A blast from the bugle signals the start of the melee. The clamor of blunted steel on blunted steel rings through the fairgrounds. You and Jon fight back-to-back, just as you did against those trolls several years ago. You two are not the only ones fighting on teams. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the Weasel brothers and Mad Moose McDoogle charge The Rabid Fox.
The Rabid Fox looses ground as the trio attempt to surround him. He isn't dodging. He's parrying. He's done for. The Rabid Fox's and one of the Weasel brother's swords shatter on impact. Mad Moose McDoogle peels off the attack and rounds on the Weasel brothers, catching them unaware. He knocks them both down and out just before The Rabid Fox charges him in turn.
A sword slashes inches from your cheek, and you regain your focus. Dodge, slash, dodge, dodge, slash, dodge, trip, kick. Another one bites the dust.
The fighting continues until there is just you, Jon, The Rabid Fox, who has not only obtained a new sword but a horse as well, and Bucktooth Barry left.
Maybe you should turn on Jon now? |
All of Jon's training really pays off. Using your sixth sense, you see the attack coming leagues away. With all the grace of youth, you jump to the side as a horse leg soars past your ear. Quite unfortunate for Bowie, who takes the hoof straight in the face. You do not even look. The crack and thump tells you all you need to know.
Dodging more chunks of horse and human, you maneuver your way to Jon and the trolls. Master and apprentice stand back-to-back as you fend off the fearsome beasts. Dodge, parry, dodge, dodge, strike, dodge, parry, dodge, dodge, dodge, strike. And so the battle goes. Troll blood drenches you as you hack away. Surprisingly, it smells like apples.
"Jon," you say, while dodging another troll fist, "they keep regenerating when I dodge them. It's a troll blood bath, but they aren't going down."
"DODGE!" Jon shouts. "Always DODGE!"
"Then RAM," screams Samwellington, bulling into the fray. By the sound of the collision, you think Samwellington just tackled Jon's troll. What an awful, squishy sound.
"Where the fuck have you been?" you ask.
"Cowering."
Your troll swings its long hairy arms wide and claps them together, aiming for your head. You dodge and slide along the blood slicked ground, slashing the beast's legs as you slip between them. Hopping to your feet, you deliver the finishing blow as the beast drops to its knees before splashing face first into a puddle of its own blood.
Jon's troll has met the same fate. Jon appears unwounded, though breathing heavily, leaning on his sword.
"Oh, dear god! Samwellington!"
Samwellington lies on the ground with a grisly gash on his robust gut that looks inches deep. "Oh don't worry," he says. "They just cut into the fat. I always knew eating all that pork lard would pay off one day."
Jon smirks. "See, I told you. Dodge."
"I won't question you again Jon. Too bad about Bowie though."
"Meh, he was a fucking dick anyway."
Sam struggles to sit up. "I don't think those trolls were the reason those people went disappearing."
You nod. "Because all this blood and gore would have been pretty hard to miss."
"No. Because there are five guys with loaded crossbows behind you."
"Shit."
> You surrender.
Sometimes the odds are just stacked too highly against you. It is not that you are a coward or anything. It is just that you know a lost cause when you see one. If the situation had been different… Oh well, what is the worst that can happen? They will probably just steal your valuables and leave you on your merry way. Thankfully, none of you are women.
"I yield," you say, unbuckling your sword belt.
"Some knight you are," Jon scoffs as he rushes the bandits. Five bolts tear into his body, ripping his flesh to ribbons like a ragdoll.
Samwellington squeals incomprehensible gibberish.
"He never even had a chance to dodge." A lone tear trickles down your cheek. "Poor bastard."
Jon's eyes snap open. He glares at you as he struggles to his feet, using his sword as a crutch. "Cunt." He takes a step toward you. Five more bolts drive into him, and he collapses in a heap.
Samwellington squeals more incomprehensible gibberish.
"What the-?"
…
Your head is throbbing and you taste dirt and blood. Bindings dig into your wrists and ankles. The bandits are dragging you through the undergrowth: rather unkindly as your head bangs into root and trunk alike.
Oh dear God, I hope I don't have a concussion. Mom always told me to wear a helmet.
How long had you been unconscious? Surely, it could not have been more than a minute or two. The road should still be close. If you could only somehow manage to escape, you could gather reinforcements.
You thrash in an attempt to break free, but your efforts are rewarded with nothing but a series of swift kicks to the ribs. You slip into your happy place for the remainder of the journey, day dreaming of sweet, succulent, juicy bacon and princess bosom.
…
A fist drills into your gut, wrenching you out of your blissful imagination. The bandit leader towers over you, looking buff and pissed. You know he is the leader because he is wearing a cape and is the only black dude in this story.
"Alright, punk, you've got two choices."
"Naturally."
"I'm always looking for good men to join my crew, and since you surrendered like a good little bitch, you get the first crack at signing up. All you have to do is kill your friends to prove your loyalty."
"Did you have to hit me?"
"Yes, it illustrates my tough guy, no bullshit attitude."
"Oh, I see. Kind of like how Dark Lords sacrifice random minions to show how evil they are."
"Exactly. You get the picture. I knew I liked you. Now go kill your friends and maybe one day you can earn the right to wed my ebony bandit princess daughter."
"Is she tight and curvy?"
"What part of bandit princess don't you get?"
"Sweet."
> You accept the offer
"I love princess bosom! And bacon."
"Of course you do. Underlings, untie him and give him his sword. He has friends to murder."
The bandit underlings do as commanded and direct you to the tent where Jon and Samwellington are being kept on the opposite side of the camp. The entire place is a mess of mud and slop: nothing like a rainstorm to turn a perfectly planned camp into a pile of crap. As you make your way to take care of business, you spy what can only be the ebony bandit princess. The bandit leader did not do the lass justice. She is nothing less than a dark chocolate goddess sent from the heavens themselves.
She notices you staring and rubs her nipples. "Like what you see?"
"Yes, Mam."
"Me too." She winks and blows a kiss. "Think your cute?"
"You can bet your scantily clad ass and bosom I do. I'm a generic hero after all. Being cute is in the job description."
"Ooooooo, a generic hero turned renegade! That really turns me on. I'm so wet."
"Yeah, all this rain is getting me soaked too."
"Cute and funny! We're going to have a lot of fun tonight."
"I try to have fun every night. I love games. Do you like games?"
"I think I just orgasmed. See that tent? Five minutes. Be there."
The ebony bandit princess saunters off, leaving you alone to complete your dark deed. Looking forward to countless nights of games and fun, you duck into the tent to kill Jon and Samwellington. They are blindfolded, bound, and gagged. They won't even know you betrayed them!
You raise your sword to do the deed, but before you can deliver the stroke, all the wonderful memories you had training under Jon stream through your mind. You remember the first time he taught you to dodge, the first time he had a random ragamuffin kid in the hamlet throw piles of shit at you, the time he told you what a clitoris is, and the time he first taught you that survival sometimes means kicking the enemy in the balls.
Shit I dunno if I can do this.
Perfectly understandable, but I assure you the ebony bandit princess is the only ebony chick in this universe. Is your friendship worth giving that up? She is unique, one-of-a-kind, like a special edition Poke'mon.
> You ebony bandit princess, you choose you!
How positively villainous, betraying your best friend and teacher. You kill Jon with a discreet thrust to the heart. Samwellington takes a little more work since you have to cut through all the fat, but in the end, the deed is done. I hope you are proud of yourself.
With a minute to spare, you enter the tent the ebony bandit princess demanded. You play games together all night long, every night for years to come. Eventually, you take over and become the new bandit leader, earning a fortune in the bacon smuggling trade. Life couldn't be better for a bandit king.
For awhile you feared the ghosts of Jon and Samwellington would return to the living world and haunt you for your atrocious crimes, but thankfully you are left in peace.
One night you die of a heart attack while playing your nightly game with your ebony bandit princess turned queen. The absurd amount of bacon consumption probably had something to do with that. Before you were forced to enter your happy place all those years ago, you had been able to suppress your bacon cravings. Since then you could never resist the urge. Alas, life treated you well all the same.
The afterlife does not. You go to the innermost circle of hell and burn in eternal hellfire for murdering your friends in cold blood, asshole. |
"I love princess bosom! And bacon."
"Of course you do. Underlings, untie him and give him his sword. He has friends to murder."
The bandit underlings do as commanded and direct you to the tent where Jon and Samwellington are being kept on the opposite side of the camp. The entire place is a mess of mud and slop: nothing like a rainstorm to turn a perfectly planned camp into a pile of crap. As you make your way to take care of business, you spy what can only be the ebony bandit princess. The bandit leader did not do the lass justice. She is nothing less than a dark chocolate goddess sent from the heavens themselves.
She notices you staring and rubs her nipples. "Like what you see?"
"Yes, Mam."
"Me too." She winks and blows a kiss. "Think your cute?"
"You can bet your scantily clad ass and bosom I do. I'm a generic hero after all. Being cute is in the job description."
"Ooooooo, a generic hero turned renegade! That really turns me on. I'm so wet."
"Yeah, all this rain is getting me soaked too."
"Cute and funny! We're going to have a lot of fun tonight."
"I try to have fun every night. I love games. Do you like games?"
"I think I just orgasmed. See that tent? Five minutes. Be there."
The ebony bandit princess saunters off, leaving you alone to complete your dark deed. Looking forward to countless nights of games and fun, you duck into the tent to kill Jon and Samwellington. They are blindfolded, bound, and gagged. They won't even know you betrayed them!
You raise your sword to do the deed, but before you can deliver the stroke, all the wonderful memories you had training under Jon stream through your mind. You remember the first time he taught you to dodge, the first time he had a random ragamuffin kid in the hamlet throw piles of shit at you, the time he told you what a clitoris is, and the time he first taught you that survival sometimes means kicking the enemy in the balls.
Shit I dunno if I can do this.
Perfectly understandable, but I assure you the ebony bandit princess is the only ebony chick in this universe. Is your friendship worth giving that up? She is unique, one-of-a-kind, like a special edition Poke'mon.
> You free Jon and Samwellington
No, you just cannot bring yourself to betray your friends like this. You are a hero goddamn it, and being a hero sometimes means letting the legendary Poke'mon roam free. For whatever reason, the bandits just assumed you would kill your friends and did not even bother maintaining a guard on you until you actually did the dastardly deed, which makes freeing Jon and Samwellington astonishingly droll.
Samwellington maintains the status quo by squealing incomprehensible gibberish. The fellow is nothing if not consistent.
Freed from his bindings, Jon decks you in the jaw and kicks you in the groin once you hit the ground. "Never. Call. Me. A. Fucking. Bastard." He kicks you once again for good measure.
You curl into a ball and wheeze. "Understood."
With that out in the air, Jon reverts to all smiles and rainbows and helps you back to your feet. "Good. Thanks for cutting us loose. Ready to settle the score on these pricks?"
"Yeah, just give me a minute. Still in pain here."
"Right, right."
After you recover from the assault on your genitals, you, Jon, and the squealing Samwellington launch a surprise assault on the bandit camp. They prove as unprepared and hapless as they have so far demonstrated. Stab, dodge, slash, hack, dodge, dodge, slash, dodge, stab. Soon enough only the bandit leader and the ebony bandit princess remain.
"Look at what you've done!" he shouts. "Do you think I'll just stand for this?"
"I thought you just stood around and scratched your nuts all day," you say. "This is a pretty piss poor operation."
"You piss pot! You threw away the opportunity of a lifetime. You could have had an ebony bandit princess. I was going to look at you as a son! Now you'll never find true love or happiness."
"My uncle always said, 'Every piss pot has its lid.' I'll find mine some day."
The bandit leader draws his scimitar and discards his cape. Oh snap, he means business now. "You son of a peasant! I'll kill you!" The bandit leader darts forward with the speed of a black mamba.
You dodge the attack like a pro. The bandit leader moves to strike again, but his own daughter stabs him in the back.
The ebony bandit princess points to the same tent she did earlier. "You. Me. Tent. Now."
"Yay, I love games!" you cheer as you follow her into the tent.
Well, well, well nice going hero. You have your cake and you get to eat it out too. Life goes on and you and Jon eventually receive knighthoods for your valiant efforts in your ongoing adventures. Samwellington continues to provide… company if nothing else.
Ever since you entered your happy place, you have had difficulty resisting the succulent allure of bacon. Thankfully, with Samwellington around the bacon never lasts long, probably saving you from a heart attack.
You marry the former ebony bandit princess and enjoy your specialty games every night. Yay games! |
Sometimes the odds are just stacked too highly against you. It is not that you are a coward or anything. It is just that you know a lost cause when you see one. If the situation had been different… Oh well, what is the worst that can happen? They will probably just steal your valuables and leave you on your merry way. Thankfully, none of you are women.
"I yield," you say, unbuckling your sword belt.
"Some knight you are," Jon scoffs as he rushes the bandits. Five bolts tear into his body, ripping his flesh to ribbons like a ragdoll.
Samwellington squeals incomprehensible gibberish.
"He never even had a chance to dodge." A lone tear trickles down your cheek. "Poor bastard."
Jon's eyes snap open. He glares at you as he struggles to his feet, using his sword as a crutch. "Cunt." He takes a step toward you. Five more bolts drive into him, and he collapses in a heap.
Samwellington squeals more incomprehensible gibberish.
"What the-?"
…
Your head is throbbing and you taste dirt and blood. Bindings dig into your wrists and ankles. The bandits are dragging you through the undergrowth: rather unkindly as your head bangs into root and trunk alike.
Oh dear God, I hope I don't have a concussion. Mom always told me to wear a helmet.
How long had you been unconscious? Surely, it could not have been more than a minute or two. The road should still be close. If you could only somehow manage to escape, you could gather reinforcements.
You thrash in an attempt to break free, but your efforts are rewarded with nothing but a series of swift kicks to the ribs. You slip into your happy place for the remainder of the journey, day dreaming of sweet, succulent, juicy bacon and princess bosom.
…
A fist drills into your gut, wrenching you out of your blissful imagination. The bandit leader towers over you, looking buff and pissed. You know he is the leader because he is wearing a cape and is the only black dude in this story.
"Alright, punk, you've got two choices."
"Naturally."
"I'm always looking for good men to join my crew, and since you surrendered like a good little bitch, you get the first crack at signing up. All you have to do is kill your friends to prove your loyalty."
"Did you have to hit me?"
"Yes, it illustrates my tough guy, no bullshit attitude."
"Oh, I see. Kind of like how Dark Lords sacrifice random minions to show how evil they are."
"Exactly. You get the picture. I knew I liked you. Now go kill your friends and maybe one day you can earn the right to wed my ebony bandit princess daughter."
"Is she tight and curvy?"
"What part of bandit princess don't you get?"
"Sweet."
> You refuse the offer
There is no way you can betray your friends like that, even if it means certain death. They would never betray you. That manner of treachery is the stuff villains are made of, and that is a long dark road you want no part of. Villains never get princess bosom! You're also not too sure about their bacon situation.
"I'll never join you!"
"Really? What a pity. I suppose I'll have to waste you now." The bandit leader draws his scimitar. "Ebony, get in here!"
A slick dark chocolate goddess enters the tent: scantily clad in bosom emphasizing furs. "Yes, father?"
"I wanted this chump to see what he was missing out on. Flash him a little more skin… no not that much! Put your top back on!"
"Wait a second," you say. "You named your daughter Ebony? Isn't that crass?"
"I'm not very creative, alright. I don't even have a fucking name of my own."
"I'm just going to call you Sinbad. Because you sin and you're bad. Get it?"
"Oh mother-fucking merciful God!"
The bandit leader, now known as Sinbad hacks your body to bloody bits with his scimitar while Ebony rubs her nipples in the background. Something tells me she has daddy issues. Anyway, you're dead, so you won't get to explore them. |
You are a local swineherd in the village of Jacquescrappe and your two best friends in the whole world are your two favorite pigs "Oinky" and "Snout". You have recently finished your daily chores when you hear a terrifying scream. Your village is known for suffering frequent hit and run attacks from the creatures in the mountainside and those that get taken never come back. By the time you get there, it is already too late. And to make matters worse, it was your little sister that was taken this time. You've been dealing with this shit your whole life, but this is the last straw. Somebody has to take care of those foul beasts!
You pick up a pitchfork only to be stopped by the gentle hand on your shoulder. You turn and see Brandolf the Bray gazing down at you from behind a beard that is quickly encompassing his whole face. He tells you that to stop the monsters you must focus on assassinating the Craxil, for without their leader the rest will likely vacate the area (or at least fall into disunity making them easier for the local militia to handle individually).
Many other villagers have arrived on the scene and they obviously share the same sentiments as you. Seeing the looks in their eyes, Brandolf decides he's going to have to organize a council meeting to discuss the matter before anyone gets it in their mind to do anything stupid.
> You to The Council Meeting Then
Brandolf the Bray manages to convince the townspeople to stow their torches and pitchforks and agree to a council meeting but it is clear from everyone's faces that they would not accept any outcome that did not involve taking immediate action. Brandolf's magic may be formidible, but against a numerous and organized foe he would not get far. The townspeople (yourself included) are but farmers and peasants and would be hardpressed to slay a hackneyed donkey, let alone a monster.
Most of the creatures that come out of the mountains are lumbering, humanoid creatures that stand about 10 feet tall and are covered by brown fur from head to toe. They have a hunch in their backs, and the villagers have taken to calling them humunculi. While these creatures are certainly new to you, you are warned that there are even more dangerous creatures lurking in the depths of the mountainside. Now you begin to look at the towering rockface with a mixture of curiosity and dread.
"We need to deal with this Craxil thing NOW" an angry voice shouts. "How long must be culled before the royal military arrives to aid us?"
Of course, the royal military they speak of is from the kingdom of Mihtana, which is a considerable distance away.
"The royal military has never been willing to send any military force out to our village, why should this be any different?"
This comment is true, you think. The village of Jacquescrappe is a considerable distance away from civilization and the kingdom of Mihtana sees it as being of no strategic value. Even if it was under direct threat of annihiliation, you doubt anyone would go through the trouble of committing a significant military force out to such a far away place. In fact, Brandolf is the only outsider that has bothered to help the village in a long time.
The rest of the townspeople immediately begin arguing over whether they should stay and defend the land of their ancestors or simply leave. Others put forth ideas on how to trap the Craxil that are quickly dismissed by Brandolf as stupid. Suddenly, Brandolf makes an announcement.
"I have a poison, aquired from an alchemist in Lima, that can kill the Craxil. Even trace amounts of this deadly substance can kill even the largest of creatures".
> You listen Intently to Brandolf's Plan
"The trouble is that this poison must be ingested or applied to a blade, simply splashing your opponent with it will not suffice."
"But how will anyone even get that far? Without royal aid, how can anyone even hope to reach the Craxil?"
At this point, many in the council are reminded of your exploits at last year's "capture the flag" contests. In fact, at every annual festival you manage to outfox your opponents, evade their numbers, and sneak up on their flag. Your success record was almost unrealistic. Suddenly, the council gets it in their minds to send you in with the poison. In fact, you're alarmed by how quickly they're all agreeing to this idea despite the fact you haven't yet. Then again, you've always sensed that as a swineherd you've never really been well liked or considered "valuable" by the townsfolk so this response isn't entirely unexpected.
Nonetheless, you aren't going to go anywhere or do anything that you haven't agreed to do first. Unlike the others in the room, Brandolf has the decency to walk up and ask your opinion on the matter. He is usually dismissive of stupid ideas, but he seems to think this one might actually work. You take a moment to decide how to respond.
> You accept The Offer And Begin Your Quest
You resent that the rest of the village is so quick to agree to such an idea without bothering to consult you first, but these creatures carried off your sister and they are going to have to pay for that. Besides, this shit has to stop. You inform Brandolf that you agree and he smiles warmly.
"Thank you young one, you are certainly bold to undertake such a suicidal mission."
"Well, what choice do I have right?"
He hands you the vial of poison, a short sword, a longbow, and a quiver of basic iron arrows. For once, some of the people of the village actually look at you with respect but then you realize that they are commenting on how stupid you must be under their breath. The ingrates! Still, you need to focus on the task at hand. Brandolf reminds you that the Craxil will be larger that the other creatures and that you should seek to evade rather than engage its underlings. At this point, you realize you have a problem...
You stink! The stench of swine manure spreads forth like body odor of a sweaty fat girl and you realize you are going to have to do something about this if you expect to succeed in your quest. The council members may be used to it as this is a farming community, but the creatures almost certainly will not be. You are going to have to consider how you are going to go about dealing with this issue.
> You try The Fancy Cologne
You know that a friend of yours has recently returned from his trip to the city and brought some cologne with him. You've heard that it does wonders for a man's scent and promptly apply some from a bottle labeled "Musque". Coincidentally, it does seem rather musky. Confident in your newfound manly scent you head into the mountains and prepare to meet destiny. The wind changes direction and your enemy is aware of your position before you even reach the first plateau on the trail. It isn't long before the humunculi are upon you, ripping you from limb to limb. You tried to defend yourself with your short sword but hey... these are monsters and you've got the upper body strength of an anorexic girl. They find you to be an unsatisfying meal.
THE END |
You resent that the rest of the village is so quick to agree to such an idea without bothering to consult you first, but these creatures carried off your sister and they are going to have to pay for that. Besides, this shit has to stop. You inform Brandolf that you agree and he smiles warmly.
"Thank you young one, you are certainly bold to undertake such a suicidal mission."
"Well, what choice do I have right?"
He hands you the vial of poison, a short sword, a longbow, and a quiver of basic iron arrows. For once, some of the people of the village actually look at you with respect but then you realize that they are commenting on how stupid you must be under their breath. The ingrates! Still, you need to focus on the task at hand. Brandolf reminds you that the Craxil will be larger that the other creatures and that you should seek to evade rather than engage its underlings. At this point, you realize you have a problem...
You stink! The stench of swine manure spreads forth like body odor of a sweaty fat girl and you realize you are going to have to do something about this if you expect to succeed in your quest. The council members may be used to it as this is a farming community, but the creatures almost certainly will not be. You are going to have to consider how you are going to go about dealing with this issue.
> You roll Around In Mud And Grass So You Smell More "Earthy"... Like The Monsters Do
You reason that many of the monsters that come down from the mountainside smell a bit "earthy" so you try rolling around in the mud and grass to try and acheive that same smell for yourself. Unfortunately, it doesn't mask the stench of the hog manure that still stains your pants and boots. It isn't long before the humunculi are aware of your presence. The villagers got to see their hero pounced on and torn apart before he even got out of sight range. Too bad.
THE END |
You resent that the rest of the village is so quick to agree to such an idea without bothering to consult you first, but these creatures carried off your sister and they are going to have to pay for that. Besides, this shit has to stop. You inform Brandolf that you agree and he smiles warmly.
"Thank you young one, you are certainly bold to undertake such a suicidal mission."
"Well, what choice do I have right?"
He hands you the vial of poison, a short sword, a longbow, and a quiver of basic iron arrows. For once, some of the people of the village actually look at you with respect but then you realize that they are commenting on how stupid you must be under their breath. The ingrates! Still, you need to focus on the task at hand. Brandolf reminds you that the Craxil will be larger that the other creatures and that you should seek to evade rather than engage its underlings. At this point, you realize you have a problem...
You stink! The stench of swine manure spreads forth like body odor of a sweaty fat girl and you realize you are going to have to do something about this if you expect to succeed in your quest. The council members may be used to it as this is a farming community, but the creatures almost certainly will not be. You are going to have to consider how you are going to go about dealing with this issue.
> You just Take A Bath
This is a no brainer. If you want to shed the stench of pig crap then take a bath and get a change of clothes! You head down to the bathouse and a tall, dark haired girl prepares your bath. The bath is relaxing and you take special care to dawn an all tan outfit as you suspect it may help you blend in with the rockface better than your usual swineherding outfits will. When you are done, you realize you haven't any scent at all and gather up the equipment you were given at the council. It is time to go.
The villagers are gathered at the base of the mountainside cheering you on as you walk forth. Despite their cheering you know they don't really give a shit about you and you question why you are still taking this kind of risk, but you move forward with it anyway. You continue up the path and reach the first plateau that overlooks the village. There are two caves that go down deeper into the rockface. You remember seeing humunculi emerge from these caves so you reason that this would be a good place to being your search.
All that's left to decide is which cave you wish to enter.
> The Left Cave
You are quickly beginning to wish Brandolf had given you a torch, but given the nature of your quest he probably figured you didn't need to draw attention to yourself. Still, you can barely see more than a few feet in front of your face and it is only getting darker as you continue further inward. You run your hand along the right wall and move carefully, scouting each step with your foot to avoid a fall. Your heart is racing and you know that at any moment, something might come out and attack.
Eventually, the cave leads into a small inner chamber with a campfire in the middle. Three humunculi are sitting around the campfire, roasting human limbs on a stick as if they were marshmellows. Fortunately, they are not aware of your presence and the campfire enables you to see there are several tunnels leading out from this chamber. On the other side of the chamber is a tunnel that goes deeper in, but you won't be able to go down this way undetected as long as the humunculi are here. There are also nondescript passsageways to the left and the right (large and small respectively) that you can reach as long as you stay in the shadows.
> You sneak Down The Large Passageway
You press your body firmly against the back wall of the chamber and slowly make your way over to the entrance of the large passageway on the left. Occasionally the campfire will flicker light in your general direction giving you pause, but the humunculi are totally unaware of your presence. Eventually, you manage to make it to the passageway and it doesn't take long before you reach another chamber. You are greatly disheartened by what you see up ahead.
A larger than normal humunculus stands in the center of the fairly well lit chamber and judging from his tribal decor you figure he must be someone of rank. The passageway continues at the other end of the chamber, but this creature blocks your path. At the moment, he is looking off to the side and does not notice your presence. You weigh your options.
> You charge Him With Your Sword Drawn. Only One Of Him After All.
You may be weaker than a Japanese schoolgirl but there is only one enemy to face here and you have the element of surprise! Perhaps if this were just an ordinary humunculus this would have worked, but it becomes apparent that this well decorated character is something altogether different. His reaction time is excellent and he whirls around to back hand you before you can get within range to strike. This sends you sprawling across the floor and knocks the sword out of your hand and beyond your reach. Before you can get up, he leaps over and grasps your neck. As he squeezes the life out of you, the three from the other room come down and you quickly realize all hope is lost. There is no point in fighting now, it is simply...
THE END |
You press your body firmly against the back wall of the chamber and slowly make your way over to the entrance of the large passageway on the left. Occasionally the campfire will flicker light in your general direction giving you pause, but the humunculi are totally unaware of your presence. Eventually, you manage to make it to the passageway and it doesn't take long before you reach another chamber. You are greatly disheartened by what you see up ahead.
A larger than normal humunculus stands in the center of the fairly well lit chamber and judging from his tribal decor you figure he must be someone of rank. The passageway continues at the other end of the chamber, but this creature blocks your path. At the moment, he is looking off to the side and does not notice your presence. You weigh your options.
> You draw Your Bow And Try To Kill Him From A Distance Before He Realizes You're Here.
The room is too well lit to try and sneak past him and lunging forth at a superior foe with a short sword doesn't strike your fancy either. You decide to get creative and pull out the bow that Brandolf gave you in the council before you left. You ran a few practice shots before departing on this journey and you know you can at least hit a general target, though you'd be pretty hard pressed to achieve any kind of real accuracy.
The first shot whizzes past the creatures head and into a nearby pillar of rock. His eyes go wide as he looks at the arrow then turns to look directly at you. You immediately pull back another arrow and take aim knowing this shot is going to make or break destiny. You aim for his chest as that is the broadest target available and the iron arrowhead may even reach his heart. As he lunges forth you close your eyes and release...
You half expected you'd be dead by now but when you open your eyes you discover your arrow went through the creatures neck. He is now on his knees bleeding profusely and clutching his throat. Wasting no time, you finish him with your short sword, then dive into the darkest corner. The three humunculi heard the ruckus and have come down from their campfire to see what the commotion was. When they discover their fallen comrade, they go into a rage and start to look around. You dig into the corner as much as you can and clutch your sword. Two of the creatures move towards the unexplored passageway on the other side of the chamber while the third seems to be gravitating closer to your position. You begin to wonder if you should strike him by surprise while you still can or hope you can try to remain undiscovered.
> You strike Now While You Have The Chance!
Instinctively, you know you are going to be discovered if he gets any closer. You aren't sure how you are going to go about escaping the other two, but you are gonna have to kill this one before it gets any closer. Without warning you lunge forth and put your short sword through the creature's belly. You were actually aiming for the heart and the creature moved so I guess that says something about your swordsman skill. Nonetheless, it proved effective at killing the creature. You waste no time at all in bolting back up to the original chamber with the campsite and the other two will round the corner any second. You need to make a decision FAST!
The large pathway (on the right wall as you enter) is now inexplicably barred but you can still run back outside the cave or down the passageway that was previously inaccessable due to their presence. The adrenaline floods your body and your survival instincts take over. You immediately decide to...
> You run Down The Previously Inaccessable Passageway
You run down the passageway that you were previously unable to get to while the three humunculi were at the campfire. Unfortunately, the humunculi have chosen the same path. You aren't sure if it is because they saw you or because of bad luck, but they are not far behind you now. You reach another chamber and find a large, demonic looking creature blocking your path. Before you can even think about how to describe this thing you feel the humunculi grab you from behind and pull you to the ground. They are about to stomp you to death when the demonic looking creature disintigrates them on the spot.
"Nobody takes my prey in my domain. Tell me little thing, what are you here to do?"
This thing looks like a large floating eye with multiple smaller eyes attached atop its head. You realize this thing is a beholder and soon you find yourself paralyzed in its gaze. That's what you get for staring into its eye I guess.
"Answer me puny one, why are you here in my domain?"
You are too terrified to answer, but this creature appears to grow irritated by your silence so you muster all the courage you've got and speak up
"I'm here to slay the Craxil" you proclaim, terrified of how this creature will respond to such a bold statement.
"HA! Amusing little one, someone of your strength doesn't have what it takes but it would entertain me to see how you die in the Craxil's mountains. Answer this riddle correctly, and I will permit you to continue through to the other side of my domain. Answer incorrectly, and you will share the same fate as your pursuers. Are you ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be" you squeak.
"Very well!" it bellows, clearly enjoying every bit of this. "I am a vast canyon that spans beyond sight. I am without end and have been a part of every man whenever there is trouble. What am I?"
> You boundless Hope
"Indeed" the creature states. "You are clearly in trouble right now as you are helpless in my domain, yet like the rest of your kind you retain hope of survival somehow. I guess this means I'll have to let you through to the other side, but hear this: once you reach the other side, I'll not permit you back in so this is a one way deal. Get going."
You wanted to protest as you can't guarantee you won't need to come back here later in search of the Craxil but let's face it... you aren't willing to argue with this thing either. Just stay focused on the goal and avoid unnecessary conflict with anything other than the Craxil. You cross to the other side and a gate closes behind you. The beholder gives you a look as if to say "good-bye", then turns and moves the other way. You have no choice but to move foward from here.
> You time To Move Forward
You are standing on a narrow plateau in the rugged mountainous region beyond your village. Unlike the brownish/tan rockface you see near your village, the rocks in this region are more redish and vibrant looking. You see a path leading forward and you decide to follow it. On the plus side, you haven't encountered any hostile creatures so far. You walk for at least a few miles and it appears to extend beyond your sight. You curse at your luck and begin to slump into depression when you realize you don't even know where to fnd this Craxil thing in the first place. You decide to build a campfire for the night, think things over, and gather some rest. As you are doing so, a strange man lumbers out from behind a large rock and begins to beg you for help.
"Please, it won't take long. My caravan was beset upon by foul creatures and I fear for my families safety. You must help me!"
You pause. It seems odd that a human would be up here in such a hostile region, let alone a caravan. But this is definitely the face of a human and he shows no signs of hostility.
"Why are you up here anyway"? you ask. "The Craxil and his followers will kill anyone that wanders into their mountainous territory."
"We got lost trying to find our way to Jacquescrappe village, perhaps you've heard of it"?
"Yeah... I just came from there... but I don't think you want to go back that way, you won't get far."
"Look, I don't wish to be rude, but my family is in danger and I need your help NOW!"
At this point, the man turns and runs down the path. You call out to him to stop but he keeps going. You aren't sure if you would be of much help to him in battle, but you aren't sure how you would feel about abandoning him like that either. Time to decide...
> You ignore The Man, There Is Something Fishy About That Fellow
You decide to just ignore the man as he runs on ahead. Part of you feels like an absolute dickhead for doing this, but you sense there is something strange about how a human caravan is operating this far into the Craxil's lands in the first place. And even if it is true, the man is physically stronger than you are so what kind of help do you honestly think you can provide in a situation that has him scared? Most importantly of all... your gut tells you there is something fishy about that fellow and you think it best to let him run on ahead.
You wait until he is out of sight, then wait a while longer and continue your jouney.
As you continue on your journey you wonder if you made the right choice. I mean, what if the man's family really was in danger and you could have made a difference? Did you make the right call? You console yourself by reminding yourself of the importance of your own mission and how you cannot afford to take unnecessary chances. Just as you are having these thoughts, you discover the man who approached you earlier as well as four others standing in the middle of the beaten path with their heads down. It looks like you aren't done with them after all...
> You what Do They Want?
The man you just dismissed earlier is standing at the front of the pack. You knew there was something off about that earlier request and seeing this display only reaffirms that you were right to avoid them in the first place. They are all looking down at the ground but now he is looking up directly at you with a creepy smile on his face.
"So, you saw through our little ambush scheme did you?" he sneers.
"What is it you want?"
"Quite simply we're aware of your quest to reach the Craxil and we are not prepared to allow it."
At this point their heads begin to twist and contort and their skulls appear to come out of their mouths. It is almost as though they were never human at all but part of some kind of disguise. In fact, it is now readily apparent that this is the case. You are now looking at five maniacal looking skeletons armed with an assortment of swords and hand axes. They seem like they are eager to get things started and in fact, they are all rushing down the beaten path towards you. You turn the other way until you can decide what to do and despite what you've been told about the undead, you discover they are perfectly capable of keeping pace with you.
You know you aren't going to be able to take on five of these guys and they seem intent on sticking together during the pursuit. To your left is another cave you've chosen to pass up on your journey, figuring it was just another humunculus den. Perhaps, if you are lucky, you can lose your pursuers in there. Alternatively, you could always try climbing the steep rockface off to your right. You've had plenty of climbing experience as a kid and somehow you hope these skeletons won't be able to follow you. You could also turn around and start unloading arrows into your enemies. They may be keeping pace with you, but you still have a heck of a head start and you'd wager you could release quite a few before they catch up to you. It's up to you...
> You try To Lose Them In The Cave
The cave is dark, and dark is good given your need for evasion. You dart forth into the cave hoping not to alert any inhabitants present inside. You know you have a good headstart on your pursuers so you take the time to quietly move in and survey your surroundings. Just inside the cave is a half eaten corpse (one of the villagers that was taken from the village a few weeks ago in fact). The stench is overpowering but you persist down the next passageway and into a large chamber with a multitude of standing rocks. Another passage off the left wall goes deeper in, but you choose instead to find a hiding place behind one of the standing rocks here.
For quite a while you wait, thinking the skeletal warriors that chased you are not going to be coming. Just as you are about to stand up and leave you see them coming down the corridor. They fan out and are now scoping out all the possible hiding spots in this room so it won't be long before they find yours. You look back at the passageway on the left and notice that although they are not up, there are bars in the floor that can be raised to block the passage. You can only hope that the lever on the wall controls this mechanism. In a flash you jump up and run towards this passage. You throw up the lever and step back. The bars raise in time to stop the other four from getting in, but the lead one who tried to fool you earlier managed to get in before the bars raised and now brandishes his sword at you.
In self defense you draw your own sword and prepare to thwart his advance. He is fast and it takes all your concentration just to block his attacks from hitting you. Given you are in a close range battle in a part of the cave that may or may not have other inhabitants, you don't really see much use in running. You figure you are going to have to continue this fight with your sword but another item catches your eye. Off to the side is a good size rock that would fit easily in the palm of your hand. Given the opportunity you could try and bash the skeleton in the face with it.
> You sword Fight
There is no time to try newfangled plans, you just need to survive. You parry his most of its attacks but take several slashes. Nothing major, but damn if it doesn't hurt and you are losing blood. You manage to land a blow against his shoulder and it goes halfway through the bone, but that doesn't stop the skeleton from fighting. In fact, before you can get your sword back out he lands a blow against your shoulder and it deals a lot more damage. You struggle to keep up with your opponent but you are losing a lot of blood now and this monster is picking up the pace. In desperation you suddenly drop any pretense of defense and lunge forth at your opponent. You bring your sword down through several ribs but this does little to phase him and now you are wide open for the final blow.
Perhaps this would have gone better if you remembered that bladed weapons are only effective against enemies with flesh and blood.
THE END |
The cave is dark, and dark is good given your need for evasion. You dart forth into the cave hoping not to alert any inhabitants present inside. You know you have a good headstart on your pursuers so you take the time to quietly move in and survey your surroundings. Just inside the cave is a half eaten corpse (one of the villagers that was taken from the village a few weeks ago in fact). The stench is overpowering but you persist down the next passageway and into a large chamber with a multitude of standing rocks. Another passage off the left wall goes deeper in, but you choose instead to find a hiding place behind one of the standing rocks here.
For quite a while you wait, thinking the skeletal warriors that chased you are not going to be coming. Just as you are about to stand up and leave you see them coming down the corridor. They fan out and are now scoping out all the possible hiding spots in this room so it won't be long before they find yours. You look back at the passageway on the left and notice that although they are not up, there are bars in the floor that can be raised to block the passage. You can only hope that the lever on the wall controls this mechanism. In a flash you jump up and run towards this passage. You throw up the lever and step back. The bars raise in time to stop the other four from getting in, but the lead one who tried to fool you earlier managed to get in before the bars raised and now brandishes his sword at you.
In self defense you draw your own sword and prepare to thwart his advance. He is fast and it takes all your concentration just to block his attacks from hitting you. Given you are in a close range battle in a part of the cave that may or may not have other inhabitants, you don't really see much use in running. You figure you are going to have to continue this fight with your sword but another item catches your eye. Off to the side is a good size rock that would fit easily in the palm of your hand. Given the opportunity you could try and bash the skeleton in the face with it.
> You bash Skeleton With Rock
You grab the rock you noticed earlier almost immediately, then go back to blocking your opponents attacks. The enemy is attacking fast and furious and it takes all your concentration to block. Even so, you only manage to block most of its attacks and take a few slashes. Nothing major, but you are losing blood. Eventually you see your opening and you ram the rock into the creature's skull with the full force of your adrenaline infused arm. You hear a satisfying crack as the front of the skull crumbles and the creature stumbles back. Realizing how brittle this thing must be, you grab its wrist before it can regain composure and bring the rock down again, taking off its sword arm at the elbow. Another crack at the spine for good measure and you are confident the creature is dead. The other four look on angrily and scream but the bars prevent them from doing anything about it, so you decide to move on deeper into the cave in hopes of finding another way out of here.
The cave only gets darker and darker as you go in deeper and you find it odd that there are no other inhabitants in this region... until you see a pair of large white eyes staring back at you from the darkness in the next cavern. It doesn't appear willing to leave the chamber in pursuit of you, but you cannot return the way you came as the skeletons are still banging on the bars you left behind. Studying the creatures behavior a little more, you begin to suspect it is a grue.
You've heard stories of grues from nearly every adventurer you've ever met. These things are the leading cause of death amongst those in the adventuring profession. Even higher than dragons, vampires, and Lindsay Lohan. In fact, while grues are believed to be organic and corporeal, no adventurer has ever actually killed one before. You struggle to remember what the adventurers told you when dealing with a grue. It has a certain weakness, but for the life of you you simply cannot remember what that is... You're going to have to guess.
> A Grue's Weakness Is Garlic, you apply It To Myself
Of course! Garlic! You still have some garlic powder in your pack that you use to flavor your pork rines. You douse yourself with it and make a mental note to bathe later so the other monsters don't notice your scent. You confidently walk into the dark chamber ahead, certain that the grue will flee your garlic stench. As you confidently strut through the creatures chamber you think to yourself,
"Why can't all my challenges be this...."
You don't get enough time to finish that thought.
You were eaten by a grue.
THE END |
You grab the rock you noticed earlier almost immediately, then go back to blocking your opponents attacks. The enemy is attacking fast and furious and it takes all your concentration to block. Even so, you only manage to block most of its attacks and take a few slashes. Nothing major, but you are losing blood. Eventually you see your opening and you ram the rock into the creature's skull with the full force of your adrenaline infused arm. You hear a satisfying crack as the front of the skull crumbles and the creature stumbles back. Realizing how brittle this thing must be, you grab its wrist before it can regain composure and bring the rock down again, taking off its sword arm at the elbow. Another crack at the spine for good measure and you are confident the creature is dead. The other four look on angrily and scream but the bars prevent them from doing anything about it, so you decide to move on deeper into the cave in hopes of finding another way out of here.
The cave only gets darker and darker as you go in deeper and you find it odd that there are no other inhabitants in this region... until you see a pair of large white eyes staring back at you from the darkness in the next cavern. It doesn't appear willing to leave the chamber in pursuit of you, but you cannot return the way you came as the skeletons are still banging on the bars you left behind. Studying the creatures behavior a little more, you begin to suspect it is a grue.
You've heard stories of grues from nearly every adventurer you've ever met. These things are the leading cause of death amongst those in the adventuring profession. Even higher than dragons, vampires, and Lindsay Lohan. In fact, while grues are believed to be organic and corporeal, no adventurer has ever actually killed one before. You struggle to remember what the adventurers told you when dealing with a grue. It has a certain weakness, but for the life of you you simply cannot remember what that is... You're going to have to guess.
> A Grue's Weakness Is Noise, you Shout Loudly As you Enter
Of course! Many creatures are frightened by loud noises, grues must be too! You march into the chamber singing "FRIDAY FRIDAY" as well as "MY MILKSHAKE BRINGS ALL THE BOYS TO THE YARD..." certain that this will scare the creature. Sadly, despite your frightening choice in music, the creature does not appear to be phased.
You were eaten by a grue.
THE END |
You grab the rock you noticed earlier almost immediately, then go back to blocking your opponents attacks. The enemy is attacking fast and furious and it takes all your concentration to block. Even so, you only manage to block most of its attacks and take a few slashes. Nothing major, but you are losing blood. Eventually you see your opening and you ram the rock into the creature's skull with the full force of your adrenaline infused arm. You hear a satisfying crack as the front of the skull crumbles and the creature stumbles back. Realizing how brittle this thing must be, you grab its wrist before it can regain composure and bring the rock down again, taking off its sword arm at the elbow. Another crack at the spine for good measure and you are confident the creature is dead. The other four look on angrily and scream but the bars prevent them from doing anything about it, so you decide to move on deeper into the cave in hopes of finding another way out of here.
The cave only gets darker and darker as you go in deeper and you find it odd that there are no other inhabitants in this region... until you see a pair of large white eyes staring back at you from the darkness in the next cavern. It doesn't appear willing to leave the chamber in pursuit of you, but you cannot return the way you came as the skeletons are still banging on the bars you left behind. Studying the creatures behavior a little more, you begin to suspect it is a grue.
You've heard stories of grues from nearly every adventurer you've ever met. These things are the leading cause of death amongst those in the adventuring profession. Even higher than dragons, vampires, and Lindsay Lohan. In fact, while grues are believed to be organic and corporeal, no adventurer has ever actually killed one before. You struggle to remember what the adventurers told you when dealing with a grue. It has a certain weakness, but for the life of you you simply cannot remember what that is... You're going to have to guess.
> A Grue's Weakness Is It's Reflection, you Hold Up A Reflective Surface As you Enter
Upon reflection you decide that a mirror would be your best bet against this creature. Grues are afraid of their reflection right? You go back and find an old iron shield half buried under dirt. It is mostly caked with crud and rust, but still operable as a ghetto-esque mirror. You hold the mirror in the direction of the grue and move along the wall looking for the next passage. Suddenly you realize the stupidity of your mistake. It's pitch black down here, how is this thing even gonna see its reflection in the first place?!? Sadly, you learn all to late that your new concerns are well founded.
You were eaten by a grue.
THE END |
You grab the rock you noticed earlier almost immediately, then go back to blocking your opponents attacks. The enemy is attacking fast and furious and it takes all your concentration to block. Even so, you only manage to block most of its attacks and take a few slashes. Nothing major, but you are losing blood. Eventually you see your opening and you ram the rock into the creature's skull with the full force of your adrenaline infused arm. You hear a satisfying crack as the front of the skull crumbles and the creature stumbles back. Realizing how brittle this thing must be, you grab its wrist before it can regain composure and bring the rock down again, taking off its sword arm at the elbow. Another crack at the spine for good measure and you are confident the creature is dead. The other four look on angrily and scream but the bars prevent them from doing anything about it, so you decide to move on deeper into the cave in hopes of finding another way out of here.
The cave only gets darker and darker as you go in deeper and you find it odd that there are no other inhabitants in this region... until you see a pair of large white eyes staring back at you from the darkness in the next cavern. It doesn't appear willing to leave the chamber in pursuit of you, but you cannot return the way you came as the skeletons are still banging on the bars you left behind. Studying the creatures behavior a little more, you begin to suspect it is a grue.
You've heard stories of grues from nearly every adventurer you've ever met. These things are the leading cause of death amongst those in the adventuring profession. Even higher than dragons, vampires, and Lindsay Lohan. In fact, while grues are believed to be organic and corporeal, no adventurer has ever actually killed one before. You struggle to remember what the adventurers told you when dealing with a grue. It has a certain weakness, but for the life of you you simply cannot remember what that is... You're going to have to guess.
> A Grue's Weakness Is Light, you Make A Fire With Some Wood And Tinder
Grues are afraid of light! This is why it won't leave its pitch black chamber to pursue me. Fortunately, you still have some flint and tinder. You originally brought it with the intention of building a campfire along the journey but things change I guess. You light a piece of wood and wrap a piece of torn clothing (soaked in cave water) around the middle to help prevent the flames from going to far down near your hands. You need to move fast as this is not going to last for long and you don't want to be stuck down there without light.
As anticipated, the grue backs away in a feverish effort to avoid the light your flame is generating. You are pleased to see that the passageway at the end of this chamber has a faint light source at the end (although it is very far away). Hauling ass as fast as you can, you head down the tunnel towards the light source as your makeshift torch is already beginning to burn itself to completion. By the time it does, you've already made it close enough to the nearby light source that the grue wouldn't dare follow.
It seems the light is being generated by a series of torches that line a set of tracks. It is then that you realize this cave is not really a cave at all but a mine occupied by numerous kobolds. You were always raised to believe that kobolds had beards and wore candles on their heads, but seeing them now you realize how ridiculous that claim actually is. Who came up with that anyway? In reality, they are like miniture lizard folk and very scrawny too (even by your scrawny standards). Staying at the edge of the light source, you decide to observe these creatures for a little while before planning a move. You are reasonably certain you could handle one or possibly even two in a fight but you most certainly can't charge in or you will be overwhelmed in an instant.
Of particular notice is the kobold on the high ledge that is sporting a purple overcoat and barking orders at the laboring kobolds in whatever the hell language these things are speaking. It occurs to you that these kobolds may very well be working for the Craxil, in which case you would very much like to get your hands on that one in the purple & green coat. You tire of wandering the mountainside aimlessly, narrowly evading one death after another all the while having no idea where this Craxil actually is. Perhaps you could find some way of getting to him quietly and making him talk.
There are a few problems with this plan. For starters, the torches provide plenty of illumination in this region and there are countless kobold laborers that would detect your presence and tear you to shreds if you just went in as things are now. You entertain the idea of making them chase you back to the grue, but you don't really have enough wood for another makeshift torch. Even if you were to sneak along the wall on either side, there is still enough light in there to give away your location. This is going to be tough.
You observe them more and try to formulate some kind of cogent strategy when you notice a kobold has to emerge from a nearby storage chamber to bring wood to the torches. The storage chamber isn't illuminated and you didn't even notice it was there in the beginning. That gives you a couple of ideas. For one, you could hide in the storage chamber until the next kobold comes in to keep the torches going, then kill him quickly. Once the torches go out, you can head to the head kobold in charge. Alternatively, you can set the entire room on fire, which would undoubtedly create a diversion. This plan is risky given that the fire would undoubtedly light the place up quite a bit, but it would also eliminate the tinder they need to light any torches later.
> You hide In The Storage Room And Kill The Kobold
You sneak into the storage room and wait for almost 2 hours before the next kobold comes in. As soon as he does you plunge your sword into his back and try to silence him by holding his mouth shut with your arm. He let's out several whining and whimpering noises but nothing that seems to attact alarm. A few minutes later another kobold walks in, obviously waiting for that tinder and you manage to surprise attack that one as well.
Unfortunately this plan isn't working out as well as you had planned. The torches are still going strong and now a group of three kobolds is heading towards the stock room. You hide behind the door and manage to kill the first one but the other two draw their weapons and start shouting. Soon, all the kobolds in the mine are aware of your presence and it isn't long after that that you begin to find yourself overwhelmed. You have the unique displeasure of being killed an eaten by a large number of creatures that are even weaker than you are.
THE END |
Grues are afraid of light! This is why it won't leave its pitch black chamber to pursue me. Fortunately, you still have some flint and tinder. You originally brought it with the intention of building a campfire along the journey but things change I guess. You light a piece of wood and wrap a piece of torn clothing (soaked in cave water) around the middle to help prevent the flames from going to far down near your hands. You need to move fast as this is not going to last for long and you don't want to be stuck down there without light.
As anticipated, the grue backs away in a feverish effort to avoid the light your flame is generating. You are pleased to see that the passageway at the end of this chamber has a faint light source at the end (although it is very far away). Hauling ass as fast as you can, you head down the tunnel towards the light source as your makeshift torch is already beginning to burn itself to completion. By the time it does, you've already made it close enough to the nearby light source that the grue wouldn't dare follow.
It seems the light is being generated by a series of torches that line a set of tracks. It is then that you realize this cave is not really a cave at all but a mine occupied by numerous kobolds. You were always raised to believe that kobolds had beards and wore candles on their heads, but seeing them now you realize how ridiculous that claim actually is. Who came up with that anyway? In reality, they are like miniture lizard folk and very scrawny too (even by your scrawny standards). Staying at the edge of the light source, you decide to observe these creatures for a little while before planning a move. You are reasonably certain you could handle one or possibly even two in a fight but you most certainly can't charge in or you will be overwhelmed in an instant.
Of particular notice is the kobold on the high ledge that is sporting a purple overcoat and barking orders at the laboring kobolds in whatever the hell language these things are speaking. It occurs to you that these kobolds may very well be working for the Craxil, in which case you would very much like to get your hands on that one in the purple & green coat. You tire of wandering the mountainside aimlessly, narrowly evading one death after another all the while having no idea where this Craxil actually is. Perhaps you could find some way of getting to him quietly and making him talk.
There are a few problems with this plan. For starters, the torches provide plenty of illumination in this region and there are countless kobold laborers that would detect your presence and tear you to shreds if you just went in as things are now. You entertain the idea of making them chase you back to the grue, but you don't really have enough wood for another makeshift torch. Even if you were to sneak along the wall on either side, there is still enough light in there to give away your location. This is going to be tough.
You observe them more and try to formulate some kind of cogent strategy when you notice a kobold has to emerge from a nearby storage chamber to bring wood to the torches. The storage chamber isn't illuminated and you didn't even notice it was there in the beginning. That gives you a couple of ideas. For one, you could hide in the storage chamber until the next kobold comes in to keep the torches going, then kill him quickly. Once the torches go out, you can head to the head kobold in charge. Alternatively, you can set the entire room on fire, which would undoubtedly create a diversion. This plan is risky given that the fire would undoubtedly light the place up quite a bit, but it would also eliminate the tinder they need to light any torches later.
> You sneak Into Storage Room And Set Fire To Their Supply Of Tinder
There is no point in hiding in the storage room as they may very well send more kobolds in to retrieve the tinder. Instead, you are going to set it all ablaze. Even if the distraction doesn't work well enough for you, it will only be a matter of time before the quell the fire and run out of tinder for their torch basins. You sneak in start a fire using their own flint and tinder. Soon this fire spreads to the rest of the tinder in the room (with your help of course) and you quickly find your way out of there and out of sight before the kobolds are aware of what has transpired.
It isn't long before they take notice and flock over to their storage room. The taskmaster kobold keeps jumping around shouting "yip yip" or whatever the hell these things say and the other kobolds are struggling to stop the fire. You manage to slip around the corner and evade the bulk of them and you think you've found the passageway leading up towards the taskmaster kobold. In fact, you have. There's just one small problem. There are two kobolds guarding the taskmaster and you would be foolish to assume the taskmaster is unarmed so that makes three. At present, the taskmaster is clearly focused on the fire, to the point of ignoring all else, but the two guardian kobolds are still vigilant. You're going to need another plan.
You consider using your bow again. You are actually pretty close to the bodyguard kobolds yet still veiled in darkness so you would not likely miss from this range. Of course, with one dead you would have to immediately focus on the other and subdue the taskmaster all in quick succession lest the entire colony become aware of your attack. Another, possibly crazier idea is to just run past the guards before they mentally register your presence, grab the taskmaster, jump from the ledge, and just run. The fall may be considerable for a kobold, but you are sure that as a human you can handle it.
> You use Your Bow To Take Out The Guardians Quickly, Then Subdue The Taskmaster
You are going to take advantage of the short range and the distraction you created to shoot down your target's guardians and then grabbing the target himself. You don't want to just grab him and run as you have no secluded place in mind in which to take him and you certainly don't want to alert the rest of the colony. It is decided then, you are going to have to use the element of surprise once again and make a risky move.
You draw your bow and notch an arrow in the drawstring. The nearest kobold is so very close. You aim at his head and for the first time in your life the arrow actually goes where it is supposed to. The other bodyguard is so in shock at the sight of this that by the time it registers what is going on you already have another arrow drawn back and ready to go. He turns to run towards his taskmaster and you put one between his shoulderblades. Its only at this time that the taskmaster turns around and sees what has transpired. He starts shouting more of his "yip yip" nonsense but given that he had been doing that already since the fire started the other kobolds don't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary.
You grab him and pull him back into the passage before the ledge, tear the purple cloth that makes his coat, bind his wrists, and search him thoroughly for any weapons. The creature looks at you in complete fear and for the first time you are truly taken back by the kind of things you are capable of. After all, you've just been an underappreciated swineherd your whole life. And a scrawny one to boot (ok, so you're still scrawny, but that's beside the point). I guess survival and stress can make people do some pretty crazy things huh?
You draw your sword and let the kobold know that if he makes any unnecessary noise he'd quickly regret it. Like most leaders, he's bold in words and all coward at heart. You decide its time to begin.
"Tell me what you know about the Craxil" you demand. You're clearly not used to being in such a position of dominance or control but damn if you're gonna let the kobold know that.
"Yip, ok. The Craxil is the organizer, the one that unifed the scattered beastmen thoughout this region of the barren mountain range."
"Why did the Craxil do this? What does it hope to accomplish?"
"eee. The Craxil wants to provide for the beastmen it does! No likes hoominz that take all nice land and push us back into barren lands yip. Craxil wants some good lands too yip. Takes them from hoominz he will. You'll see"
You shove your sword under his neck as if to somehow counter his claim. "What manner of creature is this Craxil you demand."
"Yip. Nobody knows, least not us kobolds anyway. We's gets our orderss from the riders we does"
"Riders?"
"Yip, humans that serve the Craxil. Well, at least they used to be human. Now... not anymore"
"The Craxil raised them as undead?!?"
"Yip noes, the Craxil does not perform such foul practices. The Craxil is noble to us beasties he is. No, the Craxil spends days performing the ritual to break their mind and make them thralls."
This last part terrifies you. You know mindflayers are capable of turning humans into thralls, but they can do so instantly. They don't require days and a ritual to do so. Clearly, this Craxil is indeed a creature unlike any other. You can hear the sound of kobold laborers gradually getting closer so you take the last bit of time you have to ask the most important question.
"Where can I find the Craxil?"
"Yip! He resides in an underground cavern accessed from the bottom of a vast canyon up north yip. Best way is Redridge Pass. Rocks will be red they wills and cactii too. Use mine shaft at end of mine that way, it takes you close. Now let's me go yip!"
The voices are drawing closer and you don't have time for any further answers. You decide to execute your prisoner and stash the body so you can sneak out to the passageway without alerting the rest of the kobold colony.
> You continue Sneaking To The Yours Shaft
The kobolds are not alerted to your presence yet; and with most of them trying to contain the fire you started, there aren't very many standing between you and the mine shaft. You continue down along the tracks in the passageway. There are multiple passages and mining spots on both sides and even some ladders leading deeper into the ground but you follow the tracks straight as told until you reach the end of the passage. A single ladder leads up, very far up in fact. You are beginning to develop a fear of heights just looking at how high you are gonna have to climb and given that kobolds built this place you have serious reservations about how well the ladder is gonna support your weight.
But what choice do you have? The skeletons and grue you left behind will certainly make it difficult to leave this place the way you came and it won't be long before the kobolds discover the bodies. You set about climbing the ladder and waste no more time thinking about it. You just do it. The ladder reaches higher and higher and higher and looking down you are soon aware of just how extensive these mining tunnels are. Still, your curiosity about kobold mining practices will have to wait. You've got a Craxil to kill and a village to save. Finally, you reach the top and fling open the hatch.
> You move On With The Quest
You are glad to have put that unplesant ordeal behind you and now head forth in search of the Redridge Pass. You are finally beginning to see cactii, which pleases you greatly, and the dirt/rocks are still red. You get the sense that you must be close so this Redridge Pass is going to have to be somewhere nearby or up ahead. You shudder when you realize there are rarely ever any formal signs in beastmen controlled territories so how will you know this pass when you get to it?
As you ponder these thoughts you notice a small hut up ahead, along your path. Smoke rising from a brick chimney tells you someone is home though you cannot imagine what civilized being could possibly live so deep within the Craxil's territory. How would such a person get supplies? How would such a person survive out here with all the hostile creatures roaming about? Perhaps this person isn't a person at all but a hostile creature himself that for whatever reason favors the abode of humans?
Despite the fact that it is still daytime, you decide to creep up and look in the window to see who is inside. All you see is a homely old man with a beard eating plumpdinberry pie in his rocking chair. An illusion you question? Or perhaps your time out here in the Craxil's territory has made you jaded. After some internal debate, you decide to go in. You've been awake for two and a half days now and eaten nothing but the pork rines you brought with you (which you are nearly depleted on). At this rate, you won't be able to put up much of a fight at all, even if you do get to the Craxil. Besides, he might know something about the Craxil or the Redrange Pass and you can't afford to be wandering around aimlessly throughout the Craxil's domain.
You go back around to the front door and before you even knock the door opens...
> You dun Dun Duuuuuuunnnnnnnnn!!!!!!!!!
The door opens and the old man is standing there, looking at you expectantly. He is at least two feet taller than you but looks frail in his old age. He invites you in and you go in, though cautiously. The inside of his home looks pretty much like you would expect for a man of his age. A tad messy, but plenty of paintings of his family and the all too familiar old people smell. He beckons you to join him for dinner and nervously you do so.
The food is tremendous though in all fairness, its been quite a while since you have had anything but the pork rines you brought with you. He fills your pack with fruits and breads and now you are starting to feel guilty about it all. This guy seems genuinely nice and you feel your guard beginning to drop, but still...you have to ask...
"Why do you live out here sir? This is deep within the Craxil's territory and extraordinarily dangerous."
"I've lived her since before the Craxil established itself. I'm pretty out of the way for their usual operations so they don't usually pay me much mind. Besides, I'm old. If they find me and its my time then so be it."
You're taken back by this strange answer but you accept it and ask further...
"If you've been here all this time, that must make you something of a hermit. Still, you ought know something about the Craxil right?"
"Yes, I suppose I am something of a hermit, but only because the visions I have make people suspect I'm crazy. Still, I've sensed the Craxil in my dreams and I know it is capable of having such visions as well. That is how it is aware of you and your plans."
"WHAT?!" you exclaim. You've always relied upon stealth and the element of surprise to make up for the drastic difference in power between you and your adversaries. If the Craxil is aware of you and your plans, how are you going to pull this off?
"Indeed, the Craxil knows what you hope to do. But don't dispair yet, as I've seen a good deal of cleverness in you and even if it knows your coming it doesn't know when.
Somehow that last statement doesn't offer you much consolation but after coming as far as you have you don't really see that you have any other choice than to stay the course. After a filling dinner you lie down on a mat and get the best sleep you've had in a long time. During this nap, you are visited by a strange dream...
> You strange Dream
You saw a soft mist of white and purple against a pitch black surrounding. You could sense there was something or someone in the room with you but you could not see who it was. You could not sense whether or not it was good or evil, kind or malevolent, all you could sense was its presence. It hits you that this presence is the Craxil, and it is watching you intently as you stumble around in the darkness.
You sense one more presence, one which you are very familiar. It's your sister! You see her only breifly before her likeness disappears back into the darkness. You sense fear followed by supplication coming from her. You are now moving faster through the darness, stumbling over rocks and nearly twisting your ankles on rivets in the ground. But no matter how quickly you move you cannot get a visual on either your sister or the Craxil, you only sense their presence.
You wake up sweating feverishly. "That was quite a dream you had young man" the old man starts. "You were shouting so loud I thought you were losing it. And here people thought I was crazy..."
You aren't really sure what to make of this dream. Was it a vision or just a nightmare? Was the Craxil really watching you the whole time? And what of your sister? You last saw her being drug off by humunculi so you assumed she was dead. Could she still be alive somehow? She looked a lot different in that dream too. Not the shy, reserved younger sister you knew but rather a fierce looking warrior in battle garb. The hell is that about? Your dream seemed so vivid you can't help wondering if it was a vision, but your logical mind tells you that the power of suggestion is at work here and its all bullocks.
Feeling full, refreshed, and well stocked on supplies you thank the old hermit for everything and really appreciate what he's done for you. He tells you that the Redrange Pass is just over the peak to the northwest of his hut and you immediately see what he's talking about. Its still a long way from the pass to the canyon, but you have a very clear idea of where you are going now. Once you get to the Redrange Pass you just follow it northwest of your current position and it will EVENTUALLY lead you straight to the canyon, which you're told is hard to miss.
"Good luck young man, I'm rooting for you".
"Thank you sir, and again I appreciate it."
Nice guy. He's the first to address you as something other than "pencil arms", "scrawny one", "bone boy", or the like. You head out towards the peak and begin the lengthy climb upwards.
> Up The Peak
You climb the peak and though it takes a considerable amount of time to get to the top, it isn't nearly as tiring as you expected it would be. You are now standing on an even higher plateau on the mountainside and the Redridge Pass is precisely where you expected it to be. You are thrilled to have finally found the pass, which is really more of a trail than a pass, but you still have a lot further to go. As you move forward you suddenly get wind of a foul stench and hear a lot of loud, obnoxious grunting noises up ahead.
You immediately get off the beaten path and find a good hiding spot. It is midday now so there isn't a lot of darkness to aid you. Still, you manage to crawl forward unseen until you see a small group of orcs. This is VERY not good you think you yourself. Orcs are exceptionally strong. Even one on one you stand no real chance of defeating one. There are about five blocking the path forward so you are going to simply have to sneak around them and continue on your journey. You've interrogated lesser creatures, but if the Craxil is commanding these creatures then just how strong is the thing? No, don't dwell on such thoughts. You need to focus. You've come this far and you're sure as hell not gonna let yourself be intimidated now.
Returning to the task at hand you see a couple of different options. There is a river that runs down the middle of the orc group's position and some hollow reeds close to you. You remember one time during capture the flag where you moved through the river underwater and breathed through reeds very similar to these. That was an epic maneuver worth remembering, perhaps it will serve you again here? The orc camp and you are at the same elevation; but there is a ditch that runs from your current position, along the side of the camp, and out the other side. Presumably, if you hug the side of the ditch closest to the orcs and move along quietly they shouldn't be able to see you. Alternatively, you still have plenty of poison. Even if you applied it to all your remaining arrows, you wouldn't even have used half the bottle. Orcs are large and there are only five of them...
Time for a decision. What's your plan of action?
> You breathe Through Reeds And Move Slowly Underwater To The Other Side
Of course! The reeds will enable you to breath from underwater. The river water is opaque so you will not be seen and because orcs have an exceptional sense of smell, this is probably the safest way to get past them without being seen. You quietly slip into the river water from a point that can't be seen by the orcs, get one of the hollow reeds to act as a snorkel, and slowly begin moving through the water. You intend to move slowly, so that if any of the orcs do notice the moving reed it will look like it is just drifting downriver.
The idea is working. You can hardly see where you are going, but you got a very good look at where the river goes and the approximate distances before you got in so you have a pretty good estimate of where you are. Soon, you can hear the orcs talking and you know you must be in the middle of them now. As fate would have it, a snapping turtle decides to be a pain in the ass (literally) but despite the pain this hissing bastard is inflicting you manage to keep your cool and continue moving slowly through the river. Eventually you, make it to the other side and emerge out of the orc's view. You pat yourself on the back for that one, this maneuver is definitely one of your favorites.
Just then the hissing bastard that bit your ass makes it known that he's still attached by tighting his bite and inflicting more pain. You put a drop of the poison in his mouth and within moments he's off of you and squirming on the ground. Looks like this stuff Brandolf gave you is legit after all. You massage your sore bottom and try to walk it off. There is a welt on your right butt cheek that still stings but you figure you will eventually get over it.
> You get Over It And Get On With The Quest
You rejoin the Redridge Pass and continue northwest towards the canyon you hope to find. You hear a shuffling noise and you could have sworn that the vines stemming from that rather bizarre looking cactus just moved. Nah, just a vine on the ground... from a cactus... on a mostly dry and rocky mountainside... makes perfect sense. You continue to rationalize this in your head as you walk along only to notice a similar movement from another cactii vine up ahead of you. Suddenly you feel one of these vines wrap itself around your left ankle and sting you.
You pull and draw your sword but other vines have taken up the call as well and you are getting grabbed and stung all over. You still have limited movement with your limbs, but you are out of balance. The stingers must have injected you with something because you are feeling nausious. You need to focus and get out of this mess before you black out or you might not wake up. You look over at the cactii these vines are coming from and they have inexplicably moved closer to your position. Very close in fact. The needles jutting out from them seem to have perked up and gotten longer. Whatever these things are, they've got you and you aren't about to become their prey.
You are still able to reach your sword, but with vines slowing your arm and your lack of balance you aren't sure you will be able to sever the thick vines that are holding you in place. You could always apply some poison to it first, but just reaching the poison is going to be a challenge as you've stored that in your backpack. You still have flint in your front pocket and a few pieces of tinder left, perhaps if you can get a small fire going you can push them back. Whatever you do though, it has to be quick. You can feel the venom from the many stingers affecting your mind and it is taking all your discipline to maintain your focus right now.
> You just Draw Your Sword And Try To Cut Through The Vines
It would take too much time and energy just to reach the backpack and rumage through it for the venom right now, and you need all the time and energy you have to try and free yourself from this trap you seem to have landed in. You are able to reach your shortsword within a short while and begin raising it against the vine holding your left arm. You bring it down as hard as you can, but with the vine holding your right arm and the others keeping you off balance, you don't cause nearly as much damage as you would like to. The same happens when you try again.
You decide to start using your sword like a saw instead, running the edge of the blade back and forth against a singular point on the vine holding your left arm. It takes a while but you are about halfway through the vine when it suddenly responds. The vine recoils abit so that the part you were working on is now out of your reach. You are greatly disheartened by this, but set to work on it again in a new spot. The creature's vine responds the same way again and by now the venom has clouded your mind so much you are barely able to maintain your conciousness. You realize now that it is over. You have no idea what they did after you blacked out, because you never woke up again.
THE END |
You rejoin the Redridge Pass and continue northwest towards the canyon you hope to find. You hear a shuffling noise and you could have sworn that the vines stemming from that rather bizarre looking cactus just moved. Nah, just a vine on the ground... from a cactus... on a mostly dry and rocky mountainside... makes perfect sense. You continue to rationalize this in your head as you walk along only to notice a similar movement from another cactii vine up ahead of you. Suddenly you feel one of these vines wrap itself around your left ankle and sting you.
You pull and draw your sword but other vines have taken up the call as well and you are getting grabbed and stung all over. You still have limited movement with your limbs, but you are out of balance. The stingers must have injected you with something because you are feeling nausious. You need to focus and get out of this mess before you black out or you might not wake up. You look over at the cactii these vines are coming from and they have inexplicably moved closer to your position. Very close in fact. The needles jutting out from them seem to have perked up and gotten longer. Whatever these things are, they've got you and you aren't about to become their prey.
You are still able to reach your sword, but with vines slowing your arm and your lack of balance you aren't sure you will be able to sever the thick vines that are holding you in place. You could always apply some poison to it first, but just reaching the poison is going to be a challenge as you've stored that in your backpack. You still have flint in your front pocket and a few pieces of tinder left, perhaps if you can get a small fire going you can push them back. Whatever you do though, it has to be quick. You can feel the venom from the many stingers affecting your mind and it is taking all your discipline to maintain your focus right now.
> You apply The Poison First, Then Cut At The Vines
You aren't sure if you will be able to completely sever the vines that hold you, but if you can at least cut into them, the poison should do the rest. Unfortunately, it is stored in your pack which is a little difficult to reach right now, but that isn't going to stop you from trying now is it? You pull your right hand back and the vine that holds it pulls back. Somehow, you think it might realize you are trying to get something and it seeks to keep your arm out front. You continue to pull against it with all your might but you reach a stalemate with the vine just getting your arm to your side.
The venom is starting to really kick in now. In addition to being nausious you are now dizzying as well. The only thing keeping you going is your sheer determination to live. You bite and claw at the vine, you squirm, you fight, and eventually you get your arm back to your pack. You are feeling light headed and you know you don't have much time. You manage to get the vile of venom out of your backpack but in your situation that struggle took too much time and energy. You no longer have the energy and wherewithall to apply it. You black out and the vile falls uselessly to the ground. You don't know what they did after that, because you never woke up again.
THE END |
You rejoin the Redridge Pass and continue northwest towards the canyon you hope to find. You hear a shuffling noise and you could have sworn that the vines stemming from that rather bizarre looking cactus just moved. Nah, just a vine on the ground... from a cactus... on a mostly dry and rocky mountainside... makes perfect sense. You continue to rationalize this in your head as you walk along only to notice a similar movement from another cactii vine up ahead of you. Suddenly you feel one of these vines wrap itself around your left ankle and sting you.
You pull and draw your sword but other vines have taken up the call as well and you are getting grabbed and stung all over. You still have limited movement with your limbs, but you are out of balance. The stingers must have injected you with something because you are feeling nausious. You need to focus and get out of this mess before you black out or you might not wake up. You look over at the cactii these vines are coming from and they have inexplicably moved closer to your position. Very close in fact. The needles jutting out from them seem to have perked up and gotten longer. Whatever these things are, they've got you and you aren't about to become their prey.
You are still able to reach your sword, but with vines slowing your arm and your lack of balance you aren't sure you will be able to sever the thick vines that are holding you in place. You could always apply some poison to it first, but just reaching the poison is going to be a challenge as you've stored that in your backpack. You still have flint in your front pocket and a few pieces of tinder left, perhaps if you can get a small fire going you can push them back. Whatever you do though, it has to be quick. You can feel the venom from the many stingers affecting your mind and it is taking all your discipline to maintain your focus right now.
> You light A Piece Of Tinder And Wield The Flame As A Weapon
You need to get out of this mess as quickly as you can. The vines are thick, you are off balance, your arms are partially restrained, and you don't have much time. You reason that in this situation your best bet is to start a fire and try to use it against the vines. You lean forward and allow the flint and tinder to fall from you and onto the ground. After a short struggle, you manage to get your hands on them and work feverishly to start a fire. You worry that lighting the tinder on fire will make it difficult to hold against your enemies without burning yourself but you do it anyway and wrap a thick piece of cloth torn from your shirt around your hand before doing so for rudimentary protection.
It hurts, but not to the point of burning you thanks to the cloth material and you are far more concerned about survival. You hold the fire up close to the vine holding your left arm and it releases and recoils almost immediately. The others follow suit pretty quick, which is good as this tinder won't last much longer before it is burned to completion. You hold out what's left of it to keep these cactii away and rush away.
You've managed to get away, but the venom in your system is already screwing with your head and you don't think you will get much further before blacking out. You go to the nearest area you can find without any cactii around and collapse on a large rock. You don't awaken again until nightfall, but at least you have your mind and focus back, and you are glad you weren't attacked while you were out. However, it isn't long after you awaken that you get a sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach.
> You uh-Oh, What Is This?
The bad feeling in the pit of your stomach returns and you realize that eating all those pork rines and only pork rines for several days until seeing the old man did not do your digestive system any good. You spring into action, find a secluded corner, and relieve the mess that was building up inside you. Unfortunately, it is not until after this messy endeaver that you remember you neglected to pack bottom tissue when you left on this quest. You've braved many dangers and survived several impossible situations but now you are going to have to make a decision. A decision that is more frightening than any you have made before.
To your left are large, round, orange leaves. They aren't brittle and look as though they might work. To your right are a bunch of ferns sporting three fingered leaves. These are green with red spots. It's time to make an all important decision.
> You wipe With The Large, Round, Orange Leaves
You choose to wipe with the large, round, orange leaves and you find them quite well suited for the task. With your keister sanitized you have now averted another dangerous situation and decide to continue on with your quest.
The next three days of travel down the Redridge Pass are surprisingly uneventful. You sneak past the occasional orc patrol and wild animal but nothing particularly difficult. You half expect something to come jumping out at you from the darkness or to find some large camp around the corner but to your plesant surprise the way seems more or less clear. Part of you wonders if it is a trap given the Craxil knows you are coming but then ... what choice do you have?
As you come up a steep incline you look down and with great satisfaction you find what you've been searching for all this time. A colossal chasm, the canyon you've been searching for! The old man said you would know it when you see it and damn if he wasn't right about that! Still, this canyon is freaking huge. It will take probably half a day just to get down to the bottom safely and once down there, there is a LOT to explore. You know the underground cavern that houses the Craxil is accessed somewhere down there, so I guess you don't have much choice than to go down there and investigate huh?
You are about to cautiously decend when you hear the sound of hoofprints behind you...
> You turn Around
You turn around to confront the source of the hoofprint noise and you see two humans on horseback. Their eyes appear to be in a glaze and they are looking right at you. Thing is, you recognize these two. They were farmhands that were captured a few weeks back. Everyone assumed they were eaten like most of the people who are taken. For some reason the Craxil must have decided to make them thralls and this is abundantly clear in their appearance. These must be some of the "riders" you've heard about.
They both hop down from their horses and draw swords. Given you were already standing at the edge of the canyon when they showed up, you don't have a lot of room to maneuver. You know that before they became thralls they didn't really possess much fighting skill, but you have no idea now. You don't have much time to decide what to do here.
There is a small gap between the two of them and they are widening it in an attempt to come at you from both sides. Perhaps you should bolt between them and try to get away. Alternatively, there is a branch sticking out of the wall of the canyon not far below you. You could jump down to it and try to climb down the wall of the canyon to a safer ledge. Either way, you need to get away from these two.
> You run Between Them
You make a break for it and dash between them. You catch an unpleasant slash across the right hip and it is bleeding but you are still alive and running and that's what counts. You contine down the Redridge Pass, determined to lose them and double back somehow. Its only when you hear the hoofprints getting closer that you realize the tactical error you've just made. The horseback riders quickly catch up to you and one of them puts his sword into the back of your head as he rides by.
THE END |
You turn around to confront the source of the hoofprint noise and you see two humans on horseback. Their eyes appear to be in a glaze and they are looking right at you. Thing is, you recognize these two. They were farmhands that were captured a few weeks back. Everyone assumed they were eaten like most of the people who are taken. For some reason the Craxil must have decided to make them thralls and this is abundantly clear in their appearance. These must be some of the "riders" you've heard about.
They both hop down from their horses and draw swords. Given you were already standing at the edge of the canyon when they showed up, you don't have a lot of room to maneuver. You know that before they became thralls they didn't really possess much fighting skill, but you have no idea now. You don't have much time to decide what to do here.
There is a small gap between the two of them and they are widening it in an attempt to come at you from both sides. Perhaps you should bolt between them and try to get away. Alternatively, there is a branch sticking out of the wall of the canyon not far below you. You could jump down to it and try to climb down the wall of the canyon to a safer ledge. Either way, you need to get away from these two.
> You jump To Branch And Climb Down
You aren't going to be able to outrun them if they have horses so you take the only option you got and jump. You are scared out of your mind but you successfully grapple the hanging branch and the two riders can do nothing but glare down at you and growl. The tricky part is getting down from here. You have never really been afraid of heights but you are REALLY high up. The nearest ledge is almost halfway down the canyon and the rockface isn't easily climbable. Still, you don't have much of a choice so you try anyway.
You make it most of the way down until one of the groves you were holding onto comes out and you fall. Thankfully, you land on the ledge and you were already most of the way there so aside from knocking the wind out of you and hurting like hell you are pretty much alright. Its possible you might have a broken rib but you have no way of knowing and it isn't precluding you from going on even if it is broken. After taking time to recover a bit and catch your breath, you look around a bit and find a clear way to climb down to the bottom of the canyon and downward you go. Fortunately, you make it to the bottom of the canyon without further incident.
You have now reached the bottom of the canyon and you know the entrance to the Craxil's chasm must be around here somewhere, but it is a massive canyon to explore. You spent almost 7 hours down there until you come across three bizarre looking doors. One is red and bears the emblem of a bear. The next is green and bears the emblem of a spider. The last is blue and bears the emblem of a wolf. This whole ritual gets even more bizarre when you notice a rabbit approach and stand beside the red door as if to beckon you in that way. A squirrel approaches the green
door and stands atop the frame as if to endorse that one, and an owl flies down to a rock near the blue door. Its times like these you wish you were a druid so you could better understand what the hell these critters are trying to tell you. Still, you have a decision to make and your instincts (whatever they are worth) are telling you that you only get one shot at this.
~Hint: Depending upon the path you took to get here, you may or may not have seen one or both of the creatures on the correct door already. If not, you are just going to have to guess.~
> You enter The Red Door With Bear Emblem, Endorsed By The Bunny
Who can resist a cute widdle fluffy wuffy bunny hmm? You open the red door with the bear emblem and as soon as you enter, the door slams shut and locks behind you. It looks like you really don't have much of a choice but to continue down this passageway. At the end is a large, circular chamber with numerous torches illuminating the entire chamber. You are trying to decide which of two passageways to proceed down until you notice two bears, one coming out of each passage. They lock eyes on you and give chase almost immediately. You turn and run back to the door you entered from but it won't budge. It seems you've made the wrong decision, and now the bears are eviscorating your midsection.
THE END |
You aren't going to be able to outrun them if they have horses so you take the only option you got and jump. You are scared out of your mind but you successfully grapple the hanging branch and the two riders can do nothing but glare down at you and growl. The tricky part is getting down from here. You have never really been afraid of heights but you are REALLY high up. The nearest ledge is almost halfway down the canyon and the rockface isn't easily climbable. Still, you don't have much of a choice so you try anyway.
You make it most of the way down until one of the groves you were holding onto comes out and you fall. Thankfully, you land on the ledge and you were already most of the way there so aside from knocking the wind out of you and hurting like hell you are pretty much alright. Its possible you might have a broken rib but you have no way of knowing and it isn't precluding you from going on even if it is broken. After taking time to recover a bit and catch your breath, you look around a bit and find a clear way to climb down to the bottom of the canyon and downward you go. Fortunately, you make it to the bottom of the canyon without further incident.
You have now reached the bottom of the canyon and you know the entrance to the Craxil's chasm must be around here somewhere, but it is a massive canyon to explore. You spent almost 7 hours down there until you come across three bizarre looking doors. One is red and bears the emblem of a bear. The next is green and bears the emblem of a spider. The last is blue and bears the emblem of a wolf. This whole ritual gets even more bizarre when you notice a rabbit approach and stand beside the red door as if to beckon you in that way. A squirrel approaches the green
door and stands atop the frame as if to endorse that one, and an owl flies down to a rock near the blue door. Its times like these you wish you were a druid so you could better understand what the hell these critters are trying to tell you. Still, you have a decision to make and your instincts (whatever they are worth) are telling you that you only get one shot at this.
~Hint: Depending upon the path you took to get here, you may or may not have seen one or both of the creatures on the correct door already. If not, you are just going to have to guess.~
> You enter The Green Door With Spider Emblem, Endorsed By The Squirrel
You choose the green door with the spider emblem, endorsed by the squirrel. After all, what is more trustworthy than a cute little squirrel? You enter and immediately thereafter the door slams shut behind you and locks in place. It seems you haven't much of a choice but to move forward down the passageway. It is exceptionally dark down here, but given that you are a sneak that is actually a good thing. You suddenly find yourself stuck and after fidgeting around for a while you come to the sudden realization what it is that has trapped you and why the door has a spider emblem on it. It seems you aren't the only one that enjoys sneaking around in the dark...
THE END |
You aren't going to be able to outrun them if they have horses so you take the only option you got and jump. You are scared out of your mind but you successfully grapple the hanging branch and the two riders can do nothing but glare down at you and growl. The tricky part is getting down from here. You have never really been afraid of heights but you are REALLY high up. The nearest ledge is almost halfway down the canyon and the rockface isn't easily climbable. Still, you don't have much of a choice so you try anyway.
You make it most of the way down until one of the groves you were holding onto comes out and you fall. Thankfully, you land on the ledge and you were already most of the way there so aside from knocking the wind out of you and hurting like hell you are pretty much alright. Its possible you might have a broken rib but you have no way of knowing and it isn't precluding you from going on even if it is broken. After taking time to recover a bit and catch your breath, you look around a bit and find a clear way to climb down to the bottom of the canyon and downward you go. Fortunately, you make it to the bottom of the canyon without further incident.
You have now reached the bottom of the canyon and you know the entrance to the Craxil's chasm must be around here somewhere, but it is a massive canyon to explore. You spent almost 7 hours down there until you come across three bizarre looking doors. One is red and bears the emblem of a bear. The next is green and bears the emblem of a spider. The last is blue and bears the emblem of a wolf. This whole ritual gets even more bizarre when you notice a rabbit approach and stand beside the red door as if to beckon you in that way. A squirrel approaches the green
door and stands atop the frame as if to endorse that one, and an owl flies down to a rock near the blue door. Its times like these you wish you were a druid so you could better understand what the hell these critters are trying to tell you. Still, you have a decision to make and your instincts (whatever they are worth) are telling you that you only get one shot at this.
~Hint: Depending upon the path you took to get here, you may or may not have seen one or both of the creatures on the correct door already. If not, you are just going to have to guess.~
> You enter The Blue Door With Wolf Emblem, Endorsed By The Owl
After careful consideration, you trust the owl and enter the door with the wolf emblem. The door shuts and locks behind you and you see no choice but to move forward. An eery glow beckons you forward down a passageway that is leading you deeper and deeper underground. You can't tell if that is a good thing or a bad thing but you follow it anyway. When you reach the bottom you see a large room decorated to look like the antechamber of a church. You aren't sure what to make of all this, but you feel like you must be getting close to the Craxil now.
The next chamber is substantially different than the one you just entered from. Instead of being all decorated and kept, you see half eaten farm animals in a pen and three large lizardfolk guarding a doorway. They bear polearms and plate mail and you don't think you would be able to take even one of them in combat. The blue door has shut behind you and you don't really see any reliable means of setting a trap. You have dealt with these types of situations before though. You just have to keep your cool and figure a way to deal with this.
For one, you could start a fire in the antichamber to distract the lizardfolk from the door, then slink in. The antichamber is big, but a fire large enough to attract their attention might also illuminate most of the room, making it hard for you to operate unseen. Another possibility is their food source. You surmise the half eaten farm animals are what they've been feeding on during their meal breaks. You could try using some of the poison Brandolf gave you on some of the meat of the freshest looking animal and wait until they feed again. Of course, there is no telling how long you will have to wait for them to feed again. Your call adventurer.
> You start A Fire To Distract The Lizard Folk
You don't have any tinder left after that incident with the cactii, but you do have some flint. You look around the large antichamber-like room for anything wooden and you find a few things that look like they might be combustable. You set about lighting them with the flint, then quickly cast them in the direction of a large wooden table in the center of the room and run to the corner just before the room with the lizardfolk. As you had hoped, two of the lizard folk eventually come out and because you are hiding in their blindspot, they don't see you. The creatures rush over to quell the fire as best they can but there is a problem.
Only two of the lizardfolk emerged to deal with this threat. The third one still stands guard at the door. Lizardfolk are known for their fierce dedication to their duty and unfortunately it seems they are also smarter than the majority of your adversaries as well. After quelling the fire the two begin searching the room, leaving no stone unturned so-to-speak. They must suspect that it was caused by someone. You move around from one dark hiding spot to another, hoping to evade their search until they retire back to the door but you step down on the charred remains of the table and an audible crunch is heard.
To your credit, you kept them searching for a long time due to your skill at evasion but given that you just removed any and all doubt about your presence, it was only a matter of time before they found you.
THE END |
After careful consideration, you trust the owl and enter the door with the wolf emblem. The door shuts and locks behind you and you see no choice but to move forward. An eery glow beckons you forward down a passageway that is leading you deeper and deeper underground. You can't tell if that is a good thing or a bad thing but you follow it anyway. When you reach the bottom you see a large room decorated to look like the antechamber of a church. You aren't sure what to make of all this, but you feel like you must be getting close to the Craxil now.
The next chamber is substantially different than the one you just entered from. Instead of being all decorated and kept, you see half eaten farm animals in a pen and three large lizardfolk guarding a doorway. They bear polearms and plate mail and you don't think you would be able to take even one of them in combat. The blue door has shut behind you and you don't really see any reliable means of setting a trap. You have dealt with these types of situations before though. You just have to keep your cool and figure a way to deal with this.
For one, you could start a fire in the antichamber to distract the lizardfolk from the door, then slink in. The antichamber is big, but a fire large enough to attract their attention might also illuminate most of the room, making it hard for you to operate unseen. Another possibility is their food source. You surmise the half eaten farm animals are what they've been feeding on during their meal breaks. You could try using some of the poison Brandolf gave you on some of the meat of the freshest looking animal and wait until they feed again. Of course, there is no telling how long you will have to wait for them to feed again. Your call adventurer.
> You poison Their Food Supply And Wait For Them To Feed Again
Brandolf gave you more than enough poison to kill the Craxil. It takes only trace amounts to kill even the largest of creatures so why would you need to save the entire vial? You carefully creep up and apply poison to various parts of the bovine flesh, particularly the meaty parts, and take care to poison all the carcasses in the pen so you don't have to try and guess which ones they will feed off next. You then back away to the antichamber-like room and begin waiting the long wait.
It is almost 7 hours later and only now do the lizardfolk appear to be conversing with each other and gravitating towards the food pen. "About damn time" you think to yourself, eagerly waiting for them to begin eating as you watch them from a dark corner in the next room. You struggle to contain your glee as the first one sinks his teeth into the freshest cow and another picks up a smaller animal you also poisoned. Before long, they are all dry heaving and you are doing a silent victory dance in the darkness. For some reason it took a while for one of them to finally die, but when he did the way to the door was clear.
Crossing through the doorway and into the underground chasm, you come to realize the Craxil is NOTHING like what you had expected...
> The Craxil
The Craxil is nothing like what you were expecting. You are standing in a massive underground cavern that extends as far as the eye can see in all directions (except the one you came from). Running across it is an underwater stream and floating above it is a beautiful woman bathed in pure white light. It almost appears to leave an after image of itself behind as it moves. You aren't really sure if you would categorize this as a ghost or spirit or what, but you remember that it is a supposed to be a creature unlike anything since discovered.
Almost as if reading your mind the Craxil remarks "Indeed... I am not like any other creature your kind has ever seen before, but then I believe I have already told you that haven't I?"
To your shock and horror she transforms into the likeness of Brandolf the Bray, the mage who visited you in the village of Jacquescrappe, then into the old man who watched over you as you slept. Was it really the Craxil all along?!? Is this why you had that dream that it was watching you the entire time?!? What does this mean for your sister, is she still alive? And what of the poison? Surely she wouldn't give you something that would actually work on her.
Sensing the millions of questions that flurry through your mind, the Craxil begins to laugh and float about you in circles. The door once guarded by lizardfolk now slams shut and locks on its own. With this door shut, there is no longer any light and the Craxil itself is the only thing left that you can actually see.
"I can take whatever form I please swineherd, and I have been watching you in various forms throughout the entirety of your journey. You fancy yourself the king of sneak yet you were clearly unaware that you were being watched the moment you entered my territory."
Your face grows pale and you have no idea how you are going to deal with this being. She knows all your secrets. She knows your plan. You haven't any element of surprise whatsoever. Hell, you aren't even sure if your weapons are going to work and you're sure as hell certain the poison isn't going to be effective given that it was her that gave it to you. Your mind races to discern a proper course of action as she continues to toy with you. However, your concentration is broken when another figure enters your view...
> The Other Figure
You turn to find your sister, dressed in one of the war garbs you saw in your dream, walk out towards you from the shadows. She doesn't look as glossy-eyed as the other riders you encountered (in fact she looks perfectly normal) but from her demeanor and obvious reverence to the Craxil you know she is in fact a thrall. How can this be? This is the same war garb from the dream! But your sister has never been like that.
"We have big plans for her" the Craxil coes. "She is the carrier of a great plague, a slower acting yet more contagious version of what you carry in that vial I gave you. As a carrier she will be immune to its effects, but she will spread them among the humans whereever she goes."
"Why?!? Why would you do something like that you sick bitch?!?"
The Craxil only laughs at your insult and seems to take delight in your obvious fear and frustration at this moment.
"With the surrounding kingdoms of Mihtana and Lima buckling from the plague, there will be little resistance when we move out of the mountain range and into their lands. As you may have noticed on the way here, I have many humunculi, goblins, grippli, kobolds, and even a handful of orcs all gathered here in these mountains."
"So you really are planning an invasion then?"
"I believe that poor servant you so ruthlessly interrogated several days ago already explained that much to you."
You struggle not to be blinded by your anger at this point, but there is nothing you can do to stop her.
"The humans are a truly repugnant race. They have no respect for those that labor, those that produce, those that sacrifice for the good of others. Whenever they want something (be it money, power, or respect) they simply take it for themselves, and only those who do are respected. This is why the beastfolk I serve have been pushed deep into this barren mountainside."
To your astonishment, you actually find yourself identifying with the Craxil. Even when you agreed to stick your neck out on their behalf they snickered comments about your intelligence under their breath. Even now, after all the dangers you've faced, you're sure they have probably already assumed you're dead and are likely redistributing your property as we speak.
"The beastfolk here are loyal to me and to themselves, they have honor. And they certainly deserve the lands of their ancestors, taken from them by the humans."
"And you think slaughtering humans is the answer?"
"Since when has diplomacy not ended with a beastman's head on a human's table? Since when did the humans ever sit down to negotiate with my brethren? The humans understand only the simplicity of death and destruction so that is what we will bring to them."
You know this is morally reprehensible, but from a purely stoic and logical standpoint you can understand the rationale behind the Craxil's argument. You wonder if peace between humans and the beastmen really is possible. Since the beginning of time, beastmen have always preyed on humans and humans have always responded with military force on their camps. Perhaps there really is no better way to advance their position right now but you cannot stomach the loss of life that would come with it.
"My beast brothers have every right to be happy, and so they shall. They humans will be brought to the breaking point with this plague and the forces I gathered will retake the lands they deserve. But I am not without understanding. I can see you have an open mind and have considered my position. You were wondering if peace between human and beast is possible. It is a noble but impractical thing. If you were to join us, I could make you powerful..."
You think to yourself "damn, does this Craxil thing read my mind too?" Still, it is a tempting offer. You have always toiled as a swineherd, providing the ever popular hams and bacon that are so popular at festivals and weddings and even fed those without homes, yet you've always been looked down upon as a swineherd by those who have probably never worked a day in their lives. You've seen girls you had feelings for go for men who were of "higher social standing" than yourself. You've always wanted respect, maybe even a little money or even power. You think about what the Craxil said, about how only those who TAKE it can ever HAVE it, and upon reflection you must admit it makes sense. But the Craxil's plan would involve massive loss of life and you are unsure if you want that on your hands.
"Your sister did not understand the situation as well as you and I, so I had to make her a thrall. When the acquisition is finished, I will return her to you... but only if you join me and help spread this plague throughout the human lands."
The Craxil, now clearly curious about all the thoughts running through your head, moves closer until her face is less than a foot away from your own. "Well human, how do you respond?"
> You Will Join You, And Seize The Respect And Power you Deserve
The humans of Mihtana refused to send aid to the villagers of Jacquescrappe (even when people were dying) because it didn't suit their political or military interests. The villagers practically elected you for this quest without even asking you if you wanted to, then mocked your intelligence when you accepted on their behalf. You're sick of being looked down upon as a low class swineherd despite all the hard work you've done to provide for your community. All of that is about to change.
You proclaim your allegiance to the Craxil and to your astonishment she is actually overjoyed. Seems she needs as many people as possible to help spread the plague and your sister is the only thrall that doesn't look like an obvious thrall. Your voluntary support to the Craxil's plan is well recognized. You and your sister are made to be carriers of the great plague. When you return to the village of Jacquescrappe, you misinform the people that the Craxil is dead and deliver a liquid dose of the plague into the town's wine supply and shaking hands with everyone who comes to congratulate you. Shortly thereafter, you make sure to thoroughly infest all your pork before the next big wedding in Lima. Meanwhile, your sister gets a position as a laysister at a cathedral in the kingdom of Mihtana. By poisoning the holy water, she manages to infect everyone who comes in for a blessing.
Between the two of you, and the increased contagiousness of this version of the plague, you are able to infect a massive segment of the population. You work to continue spreading the disease, but the damage is already done. Quarantines are set up in Mihtana and Lima in a desperate attempt to quell the spread of the plague. Those who are uninfected (or who believe themselves uninfected) revolt against the guards in a desperate bid for self preservation. Others lock themselves in their homes and arm themselves in hopes of outliving the vile plague. Criminals take full advantage of the choas to operate unchecked and before long both kingdoms (and their militaries) are completely at their knees.
When the beastmen move forth to retake human lands, there is nothing to stop them. As you and your sister have become the Craxil's right and left hands so-to-speak, you are now recognized as a person of power and all respond with fear and respect when in your presence.
"The Craxil was right" you think to yourself. "If you want respect, you have to take it. If you want power, you have to take it. Nobody else is going to recognize your merit and deliver these things to you. To have anything worth having in life, you simply have to take it."
Unfortunately, it wasn't quite what you imagined. You enjoy your newfound respect and power, but the fear felt by everyone else only makes you feel more alienated and alone. By choosing this path, you have seized what you've always wanted, but what good is respect if it comes with the kind of fear that pushes people away? What good is power if there is no one to share it with.
When the time comes, the Craxil honors its agreement to release your sister and as you feared, she is appauled by what the two of you have wrought. You recieve word the next week that she was found in a clearing in the woods. She hung herself in the field where she used to play as a child. You try to establish some sort of peace between humans and beastfolk, but given what you have done the humans want nothing to do with you. They only respect you out of fear because of the beastmen you now command. Realizing you are now completely alone, you go to meet your sister in the clearing and follow her to whatever lies beyond.
CONGRATULATIONS!
This is official ending #1 of 2 |
You turn to find your sister, dressed in one of the war garbs you saw in your dream, walk out towards you from the shadows. She doesn't look as glossy-eyed as the other riders you encountered (in fact she looks perfectly normal) but from her demeanor and obvious reverence to the Craxil you know she is in fact a thrall. How can this be? This is the same war garb from the dream! But your sister has never been like that.
"We have big plans for her" the Craxil coes. "She is the carrier of a great plague, a slower acting yet more contagious version of what you carry in that vial I gave you. As a carrier she will be immune to its effects, but she will spread them among the humans whereever she goes."
"Why?!? Why would you do something like that you sick bitch?!?"
The Craxil only laughs at your insult and seems to take delight in your obvious fear and frustration at this moment.
"With the surrounding kingdoms of Mihtana and Lima buckling from the plague, there will be little resistance when we move out of the mountain range and into their lands. As you may have noticed on the way here, I have many humunculi, goblins, grippli, kobolds, and even a handful of orcs all gathered here in these mountains."
"So you really are planning an invasion then?"
"I believe that poor servant you so ruthlessly interrogated several days ago already explained that much to you."
You struggle not to be blinded by your anger at this point, but there is nothing you can do to stop her.
"The humans are a truly repugnant race. They have no respect for those that labor, those that produce, those that sacrifice for the good of others. Whenever they want something (be it money, power, or respect) they simply take it for themselves, and only those who do are respected. This is why the beastfolk I serve have been pushed deep into this barren mountainside."
To your astonishment, you actually find yourself identifying with the Craxil. Even when you agreed to stick your neck out on their behalf they snickered comments about your intelligence under their breath. Even now, after all the dangers you've faced, you're sure they have probably already assumed you're dead and are likely redistributing your property as we speak.
"The beastfolk here are loyal to me and to themselves, they have honor. And they certainly deserve the lands of their ancestors, taken from them by the humans."
"And you think slaughtering humans is the answer?"
"Since when has diplomacy not ended with a beastman's head on a human's table? Since when did the humans ever sit down to negotiate with my brethren? The humans understand only the simplicity of death and destruction so that is what we will bring to them."
You know this is morally reprehensible, but from a purely stoic and logical standpoint you can understand the rationale behind the Craxil's argument. You wonder if peace between humans and the beastmen really is possible. Since the beginning of time, beastmen have always preyed on humans and humans have always responded with military force on their camps. Perhaps there really is no better way to advance their position right now but you cannot stomach the loss of life that would come with it.
"My beast brothers have every right to be happy, and so they shall. They humans will be brought to the breaking point with this plague and the forces I gathered will retake the lands they deserve. But I am not without understanding. I can see you have an open mind and have considered my position. You were wondering if peace between human and beast is possible. It is a noble but impractical thing. If you were to join us, I could make you powerful..."
You think to yourself "damn, does this Craxil thing read my mind too?" Still, it is a tempting offer. You have always toiled as a swineherd, providing the ever popular hams and bacon that are so popular at festivals and weddings and even fed those without homes, yet you've always been looked down upon as a swineherd by those who have probably never worked a day in their lives. You've seen girls you had feelings for go for men who were of "higher social standing" than yourself. You've always wanted respect, maybe even a little money or even power. You think about what the Craxil said, about how only those who TAKE it can ever HAVE it, and upon reflection you must admit it makes sense. But the Craxil's plan would involve massive loss of life and you are unsure if you want that on your hands.
"Your sister did not understand the situation as well as you and I, so I had to make her a thrall. When the acquisition is finished, I will return her to you... but only if you join me and help spread this plague throughout the human lands."
The Craxil, now clearly curious about all the thoughts running through your head, moves closer until her face is less than a foot away from your own. "Well human, how do you respond?"
> You Cannot Abide The Senseless Slaughter You're Scheming, you Would Rather Die
Humanity may not be perfect, but it certainly doesn't deserve the kind of death and destruction the Craxil has in mind. You announce to her that you would rather die than support her in this plan. You were terrified that this being might become infuriated and attack, but instead she calmly and slowly backs away... then looks to your sister. Your sister looks back at the Craxil and you realize the Craxil has just given her a nonverbal order. By now your sister's blade is unsheathed and she is coming at you.
She fights with a furocity and intent that is completely out of character for your shy and reserved little sister, but her physical strength is the same. There is nothing special about her swordplay technique either and you are pleased to see that you can block and parry her attacks. Still, this is your sister, and you don't want to kill her if you don't have to. The Craxil is obviously enjoying this and you can't help but think that if you could just find some way of killing her then perhaps your sister can be saved.
The Craxil is currently in her noncorporeal true form, but she has taken corporeal forms before when she was watching you. You wonder if striking her while she's in one of these corporeal forms might actually damage her. Alternatively, you wonder why a shapeshifting being with noncorporeal capability would even need others to spread the plague in the first place. Perhaps she isn't immune like you once thought or perhaps she felt secure from it in her noncorporeal form. Would you still need to get her into corporeal form for that first or could you try and give it to her while she's in her noncorporeal state. Or perhaps there is some other way of getting your sister back to normal. Unlike you, she knows some very basic magic. Perhaps she will have something that will damage the Craxil in its noncorporeal state.
While your mind wonders to ponder these things, your sister manages to get a shallow cut across your right shoulder and you respond by kicking her onto the ground and stopping down on her sword hand. You remove your sister's weapon and the Craxil moves in as if to protect its vassal. You quickly begin to go over your previous ideas in your head knowing you will need to try something and soon lest the Craxil decides to attack first.
> You call Out To Your Sister And Try To Free Her From Her Servitude
You call out to your sister and try to reach her as her brother. You remind her of the grove you two played in when you were young. You recall times when you organized a surprise gathering for her birthday. You remind her how much she cares about the well being of others and beg her to come to her senses. Unfortunately, whatever magicks control her mind apparently override any logical or emotional argument you put forth and she instantly follows whatever order the Craxil gives her.
You have her weapon, but she still has her basic spell casting abilities. She puts a magic missile into your leg and you are unable to stand. From here, the Craxil decides to turn you into another one of her mindless thralls. You spend your days serving her whims, spreading the plague, and standing guard against intruders until one day many monthes later a real hero lops your head off while fighting the Craxil's minions.
THE END |
Humanity may not be perfect, but it certainly doesn't deserve the kind of death and destruction the Craxil has in mind. You announce to her that you would rather die than support her in this plan. You were terrified that this being might become infuriated and attack, but instead she calmly and slowly backs away... then looks to your sister. Your sister looks back at the Craxil and you realize the Craxil has just given her a nonverbal order. By now your sister's blade is unsheathed and she is coming at you.
She fights with a furocity and intent that is completely out of character for your shy and reserved little sister, but her physical strength is the same. There is nothing special about her swordplay technique either and you are pleased to see that you can block and parry her attacks. Still, this is your sister, and you don't want to kill her if you don't have to. The Craxil is obviously enjoying this and you can't help but think that if you could just find some way of killing her then perhaps your sister can be saved.
The Craxil is currently in her noncorporeal true form, but she has taken corporeal forms before when she was watching you. You wonder if striking her while she's in one of these corporeal forms might actually damage her. Alternatively, you wonder why a shapeshifting being with noncorporeal capability would even need others to spread the plague in the first place. Perhaps she isn't immune like you once thought or perhaps she felt secure from it in her noncorporeal form. Would you still need to get her into corporeal form for that first or could you try and give it to her while she's in her noncorporeal state. Or perhaps there is some other way of getting your sister back to normal. Unlike you, she knows some very basic magic. Perhaps she will have something that will damage the Craxil in its noncorporeal state.
While your mind wonders to ponder these things, your sister manages to get a shallow cut across your right shoulder and you respond by kicking her onto the ground and stopping down on her sword hand. You remove your sister's weapon and the Craxil moves in as if to protect its vassal. You quickly begin to go over your previous ideas in your head knowing you will need to try something and soon lest the Craxil decides to attack first.
> You fire A Poison Coated Arrow Into the Noncorporeal Form Of The Craxil
You draw a poison coated arrow from your pack and immediately notch it into your bow. You realize you don't have a lot of time so you draw it back, aim, and fire immediately. The Craxil does not move. Instead, she allows the arrow to pass directly through her noncorporeal state and land somewhere in the dark distance. You realize she only felt secure enough to give you the poison in the first place because she existed in this noncorporeal form whenever she wasn't spying. You attempt to quickly consider your other options but it seems she doesn't much care for you any longer. She stretches forth her hand and it feels as though you are being lifted into the air by your own skeleton. You scream as you feel what feels like a brain aneurysm. You continue to suffer the pain until it kills you.
THE END |
Humanity may not be perfect, but it certainly doesn't deserve the kind of death and destruction the Craxil has in mind. You announce to her that you would rather die than support her in this plan. You were terrified that this being might become infuriated and attack, but instead she calmly and slowly backs away... then looks to your sister. Your sister looks back at the Craxil and you realize the Craxil has just given her a nonverbal order. By now your sister's blade is unsheathed and she is coming at you.
She fights with a furocity and intent that is completely out of character for your shy and reserved little sister, but her physical strength is the same. There is nothing special about her swordplay technique either and you are pleased to see that you can block and parry her attacks. Still, this is your sister, and you don't want to kill her if you don't have to. The Craxil is obviously enjoying this and you can't help but think that if you could just find some way of killing her then perhaps your sister can be saved.
The Craxil is currently in her noncorporeal true form, but she has taken corporeal forms before when she was watching you. You wonder if striking her while she's in one of these corporeal forms might actually damage her. Alternatively, you wonder why a shapeshifting being with noncorporeal capability would even need others to spread the plague in the first place. Perhaps she isn't immune like you once thought or perhaps she felt secure from it in her noncorporeal form. Would you still need to get her into corporeal form for that first or could you try and give it to her while she's in her noncorporeal state. Or perhaps there is some other way of getting your sister back to normal. Unlike you, she knows some very basic magic. Perhaps she will have something that will damage the Craxil in its noncorporeal state.
While your mind wonders to ponder these things, your sister manages to get a shallow cut across your right shoulder and you respond by kicking her onto the ground and stopping down on her sword hand. You remove your sister's weapon and the Craxil moves in as if to protect its vassal. You quickly begin to go over your previous ideas in your head knowing you will need to try something and soon lest the Craxil decides to attack first.
> You challenge The Craxil To Take On Other Corporeal Forms, Then Infect Her With The Poison
"It is clear that I have neither the means nor the ability to complete my quest, so as a dead man I ask that you grant one dying wish" you proclaim.
"Throwing in the towel already?" she scowls, obviously disappointed that you didn't have some clever trick in mind. "From your past exploits in my territory I thought you'd at least think of something to try. What do you want?"
"I want to know how you were able to keep tabs on me during the journey. What other forms did you take besides Brandolf and the old man?"
"I took many forms. From birds, to rocks, to the very water you swam through to get past the orcs."
"Show me" you demand, "I want to more fully understand how I was bested before this ends. Let me die with that peace."
As she's talking, she starts by taking the corporeal form of Brandolf the Bray and you seize upon the opportunity. As rapidly as you can you grab a poison coated arrow, notch it in your bow, drawback the drawstring, aim, and release. The poison arrow lands in her forearm and she promptly removes it and tosses it aside. You fear she was unaffected by this arrow and she begins to laugh.
"It seems I misjudged you, you haven't surrendered at all have you? Attacking me in my corporeal state... that does sound like you. But I have the ability to reform my corporeal state just as easily as I formed it in the first place. This is a simple matter of..."
She stops midsentence as if she somehow came to the realization of what you've done.
"That arrow..."
"The same stuff you gave me on day 1. It looks like I managed to complete this quest after all"
The Craxil bursts with laughter as if somehow impressed with your creativity or perhaps the irony of the situation. She doesn't stop laughing even when the nausea and vomitting come. You can tell her power is waning because you sister suddenly regains control of her facilties and runs to your side. The Craxil laments that the beastmen will no longer maintain unity after her death and expresses genuine concern about their well-being. You aren't sure why, but you promise to try and convince the human leaders in Mihtana and Lima to recognize the importance and advantages of peace and even integration of beastmen into civilization. She smiles and then the light that made up her corporeal being goes out.
> You continue The Story
Unfortunately, this story takes a tragic end for your sister, who remains a carrier for the plague even after the Craxil's death. You explain to her what the Craxil was and what it planned to do. She backs away from you immediately as if not wanting to infect you. In fact, it dawns on both of you that she will never again get to experience the physical touch of another person in any way ever again without killing them. In a deep state of sadness, she decides to remain in the wilds as a hermit, embarking on a quest to find a cure for this condition. You want to stop her but in all honesty, you cannot possibly think of anything better for her right now and bringing her to civilization would be a bad idea right now. You wish you could hug her or comfort her somehow, but you both understand why you can't. Instead, you wish her the best of luck and hope she one day finds what she's needs. From this point on, there is not a single night that goes by for the rest of your life that you don't pray for her.
With the death of the Craxil, the doors that sealed behind you are no longer fixed. The infighting amongst the now disunified beastmen makes it easy for you to get through unnoticed on your way back to the village. Along the way you see grippli attacking goblins, kobolds fighting amongst themselves, and the orc patrols seem to have raided numerous humunculi settlements. The large, unified force they once represented is now thinned out considerably, and although the journey is long and your rations are low, you eventually make it back to the village.
The villagers are shocked to hear that the Craxil is dead and you tell them all about it. Some believe you are full of it and think the Craxil still lives. Others admit they bet good money you would die. You were right to assume they'd have redistributed your property under this very assumption and it takes some doing getting it all restored. Unfortunately, they decided to slay your friends Oinky and Snout for ham while you were away and for the first time in your life you chose not to take it lying down anymore. If this journey taught you anything, its that you are going to have to demand respect if you hope to get it.
However, this journey has taught you a lot more than that. As promised, you travel to meet with leaders in both Mihtana and Lima so that you can try to convince them why peace between the humans and the beastfolk might actually be beneficial. You explain how the Craxil was able to rally them together and organize them and how some of them demonstrated a higher level of intelligence than you originally thought them capable of (i.e. - the kobolds extensive mining techniques and the goblin's tinkering). Unfortunately, despite your best efforts, the world is just not ready to view them as anything other than dangerous savages to be on guard against and you realize that this is how it is going to stay.
Eventually you return to your farm and begin shoveling out all the pig dung that had been piling up in your absence. As you are working, a girl you took notice of at the local tavern looks over to you. You smile with confidence and she smiles back and suddenly you think... this might not be so bad after all.
CONGRATULATIONS!
You've found real ending #2 of 2. |
Humanity may not be perfect, but it certainly doesn't deserve the kind of death and destruction the Craxil has in mind. You announce to her that you would rather die than support her in this plan. You were terrified that this being might become infuriated and attack, but instead she calmly and slowly backs away... then looks to your sister. Your sister looks back at the Craxil and you realize the Craxil has just given her a nonverbal order. By now your sister's blade is unsheathed and she is coming at you.
She fights with a furocity and intent that is completely out of character for your shy and reserved little sister, but her physical strength is the same. There is nothing special about her swordplay technique either and you are pleased to see that you can block and parry her attacks. Still, this is your sister, and you don't want to kill her if you don't have to. The Craxil is obviously enjoying this and you can't help but think that if you could just find some way of killing her then perhaps your sister can be saved.
The Craxil is currently in her noncorporeal true form, but she has taken corporeal forms before when she was watching you. You wonder if striking her while she's in one of these corporeal forms might actually damage her. Alternatively, you wonder why a shapeshifting being with noncorporeal capability would even need others to spread the plague in the first place. Perhaps she isn't immune like you once thought or perhaps she felt secure from it in her noncorporeal form. Would you still need to get her into corporeal form for that first or could you try and give it to her while she's in her noncorporeal state. Or perhaps there is some other way of getting your sister back to normal. Unlike you, she knows some very basic magic. Perhaps she will have something that will damage the Craxil in its noncorporeal state.
While your mind wonders to ponder these things, your sister manages to get a shallow cut across your right shoulder and you respond by kicking her onto the ground and stopping down on her sword hand. You remove your sister's weapon and the Craxil moves in as if to protect its vassal. You quickly begin to go over your previous ideas in your head knowing you will need to try something and soon lest the Craxil decides to attack first.
> You challenge The Craxil To Take On Other Corporeal Forms, Then Strike Her Down With Your Sword
"It is clear that I have neither the means nor the ability to complete my quest, so as a dead man I ask that you grant one dying wish" you proclaim.
"Throwing in the towel already?" she scowls, obviously disappointed that you didn't have some clever trick in mind. "From your past exploits in my territory I thought you'd at least think of something to try. What do you want?"
"I want to know how you were able to keep tabs on me during the journey. What other forms did you take besides Brandolf and the old man?"
"I took many forms. From birds, to rocks, to the very water you swam through to get past the orcs."
"Show me" you demand, "I want to more fully understand how I was bested before this ends. Let me die with that peace."
The Craxil takes the form of Brandolf the Bray first and you seize upon you opportunity. Walking forth with feigned curiosity you unsheath your sword and charge at her with a firm sense of purpose. You bring the blade down through her collar bone and into her chest while she's still in the Brandolf form. She looks surprised, and the look of disappointment is replaced with a smile and a laugh.
"So that's it eh? Not bad. But you see, I can reconstitute my form." You withdraw your blade and watch as her flesh comes back together and restores itself anew.
"It was not a bad idea, it really wasn't. The kind of thing a guy like you would probably try. But this is where it is going to have to end.
While your attention is focused upon the Craxil, your sister springs forth and grabs your arm. The significance of this move is lost on you until you realize she's the carrier of the new plague. You shirk her off and back away but it is too late. The Craxil and your sister then leave, discussing various ideas for disseminating the plague, leaving you to spend the last few hours of your life in complete darkness.
THE END |
The bad feeling in the pit of your stomach returns and you realize that eating all those pork rines and only pork rines for several days until seeing the old man did not do your digestive system any good. You spring into action, find a secluded corner, and relieve the mess that was building up inside you. Unfortunately, it is not until after this messy endeaver that you remember you neglected to pack bottom tissue when you left on this quest. You've braved many dangers and survived several impossible situations but now you are going to have to make a decision. A decision that is more frightening than any you have made before.
To your left are large, round, orange leaves. They aren't brittle and look as though they might work. To your right are a bunch of ferns sporting three fingered leaves. These are green with red spots. It's time to make an all important decision.
> You wipe With The Three Fingered Green Leaves With Red Spots
You choose the three fingered green leaves with red spots and it is not long after your sanitation ritual that you realize what a mistake that was. Whatever manner of herbs those were you have a burning rash all along and in your backside. Between that and the turtle bite, you are finding it difficult to walk without pain. You really hope this journey ends soon, you really do.
The next three days of travel down the Redridge Pass are surprisingly uneventful. You sneak past the occasional orc patrol and wild animal but nothing particularly difficult. You half expect something to come jumping out at you from the darkness or to find some large camp around the corner but to your plesant surprise the way seems more or less clear. Part of you wonders if it is a trap given the Craxil knows you are coming but then ... what choice do you have?
As you come up a steep incline you look down and with great satisfaction you find what you've been searching for all this time. A colossal chasm, the canyon you've been searching for! The old man said you would know it when you see it and damn if he wasn't right about that! Still, this canyon is freaking huge. It will take probably half a day just to get down to the bottom safely and once down there, there is a LOT to explore. You know the underground cavern that houses the Craxil is accessed somewhere down there, so I guess you don't have much choice than to go down there and investigate huh?
You are about to cautiously decend when you hear the sound of hoofprints behind you... |
The bad feeling in the pit of your stomach returns and you realize that eating all those pork rines and only pork rines for several days until seeing the old man did not do your digestive system any good. You spring into action, find a secluded corner, and relieve the mess that was building up inside you. Unfortunately, it is not until after this messy endeaver that you remember you neglected to pack bottom tissue when you left on this quest. You've braved many dangers and survived several impossible situations but now you are going to have to make a decision. A decision that is more frightening than any you have made before.
To your left are large, round, orange leaves. They aren't brittle and look as though they might work. To your right are a bunch of ferns sporting three fingered leaves. These are green with red spots. It's time to make an all important decision.
> You don't Wipe At All You Filthy Mongrel
Real men don't wipe, so why should you? LOL, ok.. so that was stupid. But you don't feel like wiping with leaves so you just pull up your pants and keep going. Sure you've got a pretty nasty case of mudbutt going on and you are not looking forward to returning these pants to the girl who loaned them to you (don't even ask why you chose to wear girls pants...). Hopefully this journey will end soon.
The next three days of travel down the Redridge Pass are surprisingly uneventful. You sneak past the occasional orc patrol and wild animal but nothing particularly difficult. You half expect something to come jumping out at you from the darkness or to find some large camp around the corner but to your plesant surprise the way seems more or less clear. Part of you wonders if it is a trap given the Craxil knows you are coming but then ... what choice do you have?
As you come up a steep incline you look down and with great satisfaction you find what you've been searching for all this time. A colossal chasm, the canyon you've been searching for! The old man said you would know it when you see it and damn if he wasn't right about that! Still, this canyon is freaking huge. It will take probably half a day just to get down to the bottom safely and once down there, there is a LOT to explore. You know the underground cavern that houses the Craxil is accessed somewhere down there, so I guess you don't have much choice than to go down there and investigate huh?
You are about to cautiously decend when you hear the sound of hoofprints behind you... |
You climb the peak and though it takes a considerable amount of time to get to the top, it isn't nearly as tiring as you expected it would be. You are now standing on an even higher plateau on the mountainside and the Redridge Pass is precisely where you expected it to be. You are thrilled to have finally found the pass, which is really more of a trail than a pass, but you still have a lot further to go. As you move forward you suddenly get wind of a foul stench and hear a lot of loud, obnoxious grunting noises up ahead.
You immediately get off the beaten path and find a good hiding spot. It is midday now so there isn't a lot of darkness to aid you. Still, you manage to crawl forward unseen until you see a small group of orcs. This is VERY not good you think you yourself. Orcs are exceptionally strong. Even one on one you stand no real chance of defeating one. There are about five blocking the path forward so you are going to simply have to sneak around them and continue on your journey. You've interrogated lesser creatures, but if the Craxil is commanding these creatures then just how strong is the thing? No, don't dwell on such thoughts. You need to focus. You've come this far and you're sure as hell not gonna let yourself be intimidated now.
Returning to the task at hand you see a couple of different options. There is a river that runs down the middle of the orc group's position and some hollow reeds close to you. You remember one time during capture the flag where you moved through the river underwater and breathed through reeds very similar to these. That was an epic maneuver worth remembering, perhaps it will serve you again here? The orc camp and you are at the same elevation; but there is a ditch that runs from your current position, along the side of the camp, and out the other side. Presumably, if you hug the side of the ditch closest to the orcs and move along quietly they shouldn't be able to see you. Alternatively, you still have plenty of poison. Even if you applied it to all your remaining arrows, you wouldn't even have used half the bottle. Orcs are large and there are only five of them...
Time for a decision. What's your plan of action?
> You move Through The Ditch To The Other Side
The orcs might notice a moving reed and get suspicious and attacking a superior number of superior enemies is just inviting death. You decide the best bet is to move through the ditch and move through while tightly hugging the wall closest to them, thus minimizing your chances of being seen. You hop in and start moving. A tiny little stream trickles through and much of the ground here is mud. The stench of orc shit is strong in here and you begin to realize this is where they've been dumping it (no pun intended). Still, you brave on knowing this is a life or death situation and no time to be getting squeamish.
You are now so very close to the orcs but they haven't yet seen you. You move even slower than before but you are confident you will make it. That is, until one of them lifts his nose and sniffs the air. It seems you forgot to take into account the fact that orcs have an exceptionally keen sense of smell. Despite the fact that you are clean, and the fact that the orc manure should be overpowering their senses right now, it seems they've identified your scent. They move over and it isn't long before you are seen. You try to run, but you stumble in the mud that has taken your shoe. You try to run without it but you don't get very far. The orcs were put there on the path to stop you from reaching the Craxil and they've succeeded.
THE END |
You climb the peak and though it takes a considerable amount of time to get to the top, it isn't nearly as tiring as you expected it would be. You are now standing on an even higher plateau on the mountainside and the Redridge Pass is precisely where you expected it to be. You are thrilled to have finally found the pass, which is really more of a trail than a pass, but you still have a lot further to go. As you move forward you suddenly get wind of a foul stench and hear a lot of loud, obnoxious grunting noises up ahead.
You immediately get off the beaten path and find a good hiding spot. It is midday now so there isn't a lot of darkness to aid you. Still, you manage to crawl forward unseen until you see a small group of orcs. This is VERY not good you think you yourself. Orcs are exceptionally strong. Even one on one you stand no real chance of defeating one. There are about five blocking the path forward so you are going to simply have to sneak around them and continue on your journey. You've interrogated lesser creatures, but if the Craxil is commanding these creatures then just how strong is the thing? No, don't dwell on such thoughts. You need to focus. You've come this far and you're sure as hell not gonna let yourself be intimidated now.
Returning to the task at hand you see a couple of different options. There is a river that runs down the middle of the orc group's position and some hollow reeds close to you. You remember one time during capture the flag where you moved through the river underwater and breathed through reeds very similar to these. That was an epic maneuver worth remembering, perhaps it will serve you again here? The orc camp and you are at the same elevation; but there is a ditch that runs from your current position, along the side of the camp, and out the other side. Presumably, if you hug the side of the ditch closest to the orcs and move along quietly they shouldn't be able to see you. Alternatively, you still have plenty of poison. Even if you applied it to all your remaining arrows, you wouldn't even have used half the bottle. Orcs are large and there are only five of them...
Time for a decision. What's your plan of action?
> You attack With Poison Tipped Arrows
You have way more poison than you need to kill the Craxil so why not use it to help you get there as well? If Brandolf was right about this stuff, it should kill anything that ingests it or is stabbed by it. The orcs are very large creatures too, so you hope you will be able to hit them. You apply the poison to about a dozen of your arrows and take your stance. You pull out the first poison arrow, notch it in your bow, pull back the drawstring as far as you possibly can, and release.
The first shot is a success. One of the closest orcs takes it in the shoulder and it isn't long before the poison takes effect. He is laying on the ground vomiting and though he isn't dead yet, you know it won't be much longer for he has the look of death upon him. The other four are now charging at you. The two in front have their shields out, as if to block any subsequent shots. You quickly let fly another arrow. It goes precisely where you aimed but one of the front orcs anticipated it and blocked it with his shield. You manage to get one of the ones in back in the leg with your next shot, bringing your enemy's total to three but they are nearly upon you now. You only have enough time for another two shots and the forward orcs manage to block them with their shields. They've certainly developed a clever counterstrategy to your strategy haven't they?
Now they are upon you, hacking you to pieces and bellowing insults like "stupid morra". You don't live long enough to hear him finish his next line.
THE END |
There is no point in hiding in the storage room as they may very well send more kobolds in to retrieve the tinder. Instead, you are going to set it all ablaze. Even if the distraction doesn't work well enough for you, it will only be a matter of time before the quell the fire and run out of tinder for their torch basins. You sneak in start a fire using their own flint and tinder. Soon this fire spreads to the rest of the tinder in the room (with your help of course) and you quickly find your way out of there and out of sight before the kobolds are aware of what has transpired.
It isn't long before they take notice and flock over to their storage room. The taskmaster kobold keeps jumping around shouting "yip yip" or whatever the hell these things say and the other kobolds are struggling to stop the fire. You manage to slip around the corner and evade the bulk of them and you think you've found the passageway leading up towards the taskmaster kobold. In fact, you have. There's just one small problem. There are two kobolds guarding the taskmaster and you would be foolish to assume the taskmaster is unarmed so that makes three. At present, the taskmaster is clearly focused on the fire, to the point of ignoring all else, but the two guardian kobolds are still vigilant. You're going to need another plan.
You consider using your bow again. You are actually pretty close to the bodyguard kobolds yet still veiled in darkness so you would not likely miss from this range. Of course, with one dead you would have to immediately focus on the other and subdue the taskmaster all in quick succession lest the entire colony become aware of your attack. Another, possibly crazier idea is to just run past the guards before they mentally register your presence, grab the taskmaster, jump from the ledge, and just run. The fall may be considerable for a kobold, but you are sure that as a human you can handle it.
> You run Past The Guardians, Grab The Taskmaster, Jump From The Ledge, And Run
You may be in close range, but you doubt if your skills with a bow would enable you to kill in quick succession like that. Instead, you choose the more daring approach. After all, the crazier the plan the less likely they are to see it coming. You gather your nerve, fixate upon your target, and bolt. The kobold guards jump back like they've just seen a screamer or something and you sail past them and onto the ledge. The taskmaster, still focused on the fire, is completely surprised when you grab him and jump off the ledge. By now, every kobold in the colony is aware of what you've done so you just blindly run down the back passage and deeper into the mines.
You haven't any idea where you are going and there are numerous kobolds chasing you from behind. Thankfully, their legs just aren't long enough to keep pace with you, though they certainly push themselves trying. You focus all your attention on trying to avoid the kobolds that are deeper in these mines while simultaneously trying to find a secluded place to stop and interrogate your new prisoner. Unfortunately, you're so focused on this task that you don't see the dagger your kobold prisoner pulls out of his sleeve and plunges into your chest. Seems the flaw with your plan was that you didn't have any time to properly restrain your prisoner and now you are dead.
THE END |
The man you just dismissed earlier is standing at the front of the pack. You knew there was something off about that earlier request and seeing this display only reaffirms that you were right to avoid them in the first place. They are all looking down at the ground but now he is looking up directly at you with a creepy smile on his face.
"So, you saw through our little ambush scheme did you?" he sneers.
"What is it you want?"
"Quite simply we're aware of your quest to reach the Craxil and we are not prepared to allow it."
At this point their heads begin to twist and contort and their skulls appear to come out of their mouths. It is almost as though they were never human at all but part of some kind of disguise. In fact, it is now readily apparent that this is the case. You are now looking at five maniacal looking skeletons armed with an assortment of swords and hand axes. They seem like they are eager to get things started and in fact, they are all rushing down the beaten path towards you. You turn the other way until you can decide what to do and despite what you've been told about the undead, you discover they are perfectly capable of keeping pace with you.
You know you aren't going to be able to take on five of these guys and they seem intent on sticking together during the pursuit. To your left is another cave you've chosen to pass up on your journey, figuring it was just another humunculus den. Perhaps, if you are lucky, you can lose your pursuers in there. Alternatively, you could always try climbing the steep rockface off to your right. You've had plenty of climbing experience as a kid and somehow you hope these skeletons won't be able to follow you. You could also turn around and start unloading arrows into your enemies. They may be keeping pace with you, but you still have a heck of a head start and you'd wager you could release quite a few before they catch up to you. It's up to you...
> You climb The Rockface To Get Beyond Their Reach
The skeletal undead aren't exactly known for their climbing skills so you promptly head over to the steep rockface and set about climbing to a point beyond their reach. You are almost at the top when the skeletons reach the base. The attempt to climb but as you had hoped, they are substantially less successful than you. One of them responds to the situation by tossing his hand axe at you and you move your hand just in time to avoid it. You make sure it stays stuck in the rockface so it doesn't get to try again, then pull yourself up and over the top.
You are glad to be away from those damn things and now that you are at a slightly higher elevation along the mountainside, there's a good chance you won't be seeing them again. Just got to keep your cool and remember to be stealthy. You continue your journey in the same general direction but keep to this elevation for fear of encountering those undead creatures a second time. After a while, you begin to smell a rather curious smell up ahead. As you approach you discover a camp situated in what is probably the only forested ledge on this entire mountain range. You don't initially see anyone there, but you keep your distance and eventually see something hop down rather quickly from one of the trees and go behind another. You didn't get a good look at whatever it was and you are hoping they haven't seen you.
Nightfall comes and now the occupants of the camp are coming into view. You never believed that at any time in your entire life you'd ever lay eyes on the creatures you are seeing. The grippli, a race of humanoid tree frogs standing at 2 feet tall, have organized this camp. There aren't more than a dozen tops, but grippli are known to be considerable fighters when they need to be and there is no way of knowing if there are more of them in the trees.
They often prefer to fight with poison darts, nets, and bows as they would prefer to keep their enemy at a distance but a few bear swords. You see one of them adorned in considerably nicer garb than the others and commands quite a presence from them so you surmise it must be their leader.
Suddenly it occurs to you. These creatures are in Craxil territory so odds are they work for the Craxil. That means that instead of wandering the mountain range aimlessly you ought try and extract information regarding the Craxil's whereabouts from the grippli. Ideally, you could get your hands on their leader but that is going to be easier said than done. There may not be many grippli present, but each one is a challenge in his own right and you have no way of knowing how many may be in the trees to see what you do.
Eventually, the captain retires to his tent as do many others. Three grippli remain near the campfire out front and again, you have no way of knowing what is still in the trees. The captain's tent is near the back. You surmise you could go around, giving the camp a wide berth, and sneak into the captain's tent. However, you feel like you should at least do SOMETHING about the three on watch or you may be the one getting captured instead. This is quite a dilly of a pickle indeed.
> You sneak Around Back And Enter The Captain's Tent Quietly
You don't foresee any way to take down a group of three grippli given each one would probably pose a challenge. As well, they are tasked with being nightwatchmen so you doubt they'd abandon their posts so easily no matter what you do. You are going to just have to take a risk and sneak into the captain's tent without attracting any attention. You give the camp a wide berth as planned and SLOWLY work your way along the far edge of the treeline until you are in a position to sneak in towards the captains tent without being seen by the grippli at the campfire.
Your approach is successful. You slowly creep in, staying low to the ground. You can't help but look up at the treetops everyone in a while out of fear that darts, arrows, or nets may come raining down upon you but so far nothing has happened. Perhaps there is nobody there or perhaps they just don't see you. Either way, you've made it to the captain's tent. Cautiously, you open the canopy and enter the tent. As you had hoped, the captain is asleep and you take care to knock him unconcious with a block shaped wooden figurine from his tent. Now all that's left is to carry him away from the camp, someplace safe where you can interrogate him for information regarding the Craxil.
You exit the tent with the grippli captain slung over your shoulder. At only 2 feet tall the little fella is surprisingly light. Unfortunately, as you exit you hear a rather startling noise. It sounded like a cross between a ribbit and a scream. Whatever the hell it was, it came from one of the grippli over by the campfire. Almost immediately, the whole camp is on alert. Grippli are dropping down from the trees and coming out of their tents. You take off and run, your only real option left. Unfortunately, the grippli have amazing speed and agility. You drop the captain behind in hopes of getting away but before long you've taken a few darts in the back. As the poison sinks in, you realize it no longer matters if you outrun your pursuers... this stuff will kill you anyway.
THE END |
The skeletal undead aren't exactly known for their climbing skills so you promptly head over to the steep rockface and set about climbing to a point beyond their reach. You are almost at the top when the skeletons reach the base. The attempt to climb but as you had hoped, they are substantially less successful than you. One of them responds to the situation by tossing his hand axe at you and you move your hand just in time to avoid it. You make sure it stays stuck in the rockface so it doesn't get to try again, then pull yourself up and over the top.
You are glad to be away from those damn things and now that you are at a slightly higher elevation along the mountainside, there's a good chance you won't be seeing them again. Just got to keep your cool and remember to be stealthy. You continue your journey in the same general direction but keep to this elevation for fear of encountering those undead creatures a second time. After a while, you begin to smell a rather curious smell up ahead. As you approach you discover a camp situated in what is probably the only forested ledge on this entire mountain range. You don't initially see anyone there, but you keep your distance and eventually see something hop down rather quickly from one of the trees and go behind another. You didn't get a good look at whatever it was and you are hoping they haven't seen you.
Nightfall comes and now the occupants of the camp are coming into view. You never believed that at any time in your entire life you'd ever lay eyes on the creatures you are seeing. The grippli, a race of humanoid tree frogs standing at 2 feet tall, have organized this camp. There aren't more than a dozen tops, but grippli are known to be considerable fighters when they need to be and there is no way of knowing if there are more of them in the trees.
They often prefer to fight with poison darts, nets, and bows as they would prefer to keep their enemy at a distance but a few bear swords. You see one of them adorned in considerably nicer garb than the others and commands quite a presence from them so you surmise it must be their leader.
Suddenly it occurs to you. These creatures are in Craxil territory so odds are they work for the Craxil. That means that instead of wandering the mountain range aimlessly you ought try and extract information regarding the Craxil's whereabouts from the grippli. Ideally, you could get your hands on their leader but that is going to be easier said than done. There may not be many grippli present, but each one is a challenge in his own right and you have no way of knowing how many may be in the trees to see what you do.
Eventually, the captain retires to his tent as do many others. Three grippli remain near the campfire out front and again, you have no way of knowing what is still in the trees. The captain's tent is near the back. You surmise you could go around, giving the camp a wide berth, and sneak into the captain's tent. However, you feel like you should at least do SOMETHING about the three on watch or you may be the one getting captured instead. This is quite a dilly of a pickle indeed.
> You construct A Pit Trap And Lure The Three Out Towards You
You need to dispatch with the three grippli keeping watch but you cannot do that in the camp or you will almost certainly get attention. Therefore, your only real option is to lure them out and eliminate them somehow while they're away from camp. Even if you do lure them away from their camp though, three grippli are more than a match for you so you are going to have to construct a trap of some sort. You remember seeing a small drop off in the middle of the path you just came down and that gives you an idea.
You take about a dozen of your arrows and plant them firmly in the ground (arrowhead up) at the bottom of the hole you encountered along the path. You only lightly cover it with what little large leaves and vines you can find, then cover this foliage completely with sand and small rocks (enough to cover the vegetation but not enough to make it fall into the hole). Your hope is that you will be able to lure your three grippli out here away from the camp and then fall in on top of your arrows. The only thing left to do is figure out how you are going to lure them away from the camp without them alerting the camp as well.
You decide to mimic the sounds of the small prairie dog like creatures out here and toss small pebbles around the corner where they would see them. You seem to have their attention as they are too bored to really entertain themselves with anything else. Unfortunately, the prairie dog gag isn't enough to make them come so next you imitate the sound of a ewe while making loud pawing noises at the ground. For whatever reason, this one gets their attention and they start approaching quietly with their weapons drawn.
You continue making animals noises but move back slowly at the same time. At point for them is a hunter brandishing a bow. The other two apparently believe in the sword. Maybe that's not as atypical for a grippli as you thought. You are careful to remain unseen but back up slowly and continue leading them forth with animal noises. Eventually the game is up as the hunter seems to get suspicous and notices you are there. You turn and run using the indentations in the rockwall to your right to help protect you from arrow fire. You take your position behind a rock on the other side of the trap and to your glee they are running straight for it.
YES! The sound of your cover giving way under their weight is music to your ears, as are the ribbits of pain emitted shortly thereafter. You surmise they are dead until one of them jumps out of the pit with only a leg wound. He pulls out his sword and glares at you. You feel like facing him like this, it would be an even match. Still, you would much prefer some kind of advantage whereever you can get it. You draw your sword and begin to think carefully about how this is going to go down.
> You rush The Creature And Try To Push Him Back Into The Pit
You realize that if the pit was good enough to kill the other two then knocking him in again ought do the trick pretty quick. Plus, he's still standing only a few feet from the edge. You charge in at him and strike your sword vertically at his face. He parries as you knew he would, and now you prepare to push his 2 foot little keister back into the pit.
The problem with this strategy is that it is predictable. The grippli knew what you were doing as soon as you began the charge. It hopes well out of the way and launches a charge of his own. He cannot match your strength (which is saying a lot coming from you) but he is so damn fast that you can't react to his moves in time to avoid getting stabbed. This persists for a while until finally you drop to the ground looking like one of Freddie Kruger's victims. With a sense of pride, the 2 foot little froggie bastard walks off back to camp no doubt to brag to his friends what he just accomplished.
THE END |
You need to dispatch with the three grippli keeping watch but you cannot do that in the camp or you will almost certainly get attention. Therefore, your only real option is to lure them out and eliminate them somehow while they're away from camp. Even if you do lure them away from their camp though, three grippli are more than a match for you so you are going to have to construct a trap of some sort. You remember seeing a small drop off in the middle of the path you just came down and that gives you an idea.
You take about a dozen of your arrows and plant them firmly in the ground (arrowhead up) at the bottom of the hole you encountered along the path. You only lightly cover it with what little large leaves and vines you can find, then cover this foliage completely with sand and small rocks (enough to cover the vegetation but not enough to make it fall into the hole). Your hope is that you will be able to lure your three grippli out here away from the camp and then fall in on top of your arrows. The only thing left to do is figure out how you are going to lure them away from the camp without them alerting the camp as well.
You decide to mimic the sounds of the small prairie dog like creatures out here and toss small pebbles around the corner where they would see them. You seem to have their attention as they are too bored to really entertain themselves with anything else. Unfortunately, the prairie dog gag isn't enough to make them come so next you imitate the sound of a ewe while making loud pawing noises at the ground. For whatever reason, this one gets their attention and they start approaching quietly with their weapons drawn.
You continue making animals noises but move back slowly at the same time. At point for them is a hunter brandishing a bow. The other two apparently believe in the sword. Maybe that's not as atypical for a grippli as you thought. You are careful to remain unseen but back up slowly and continue leading them forth with animal noises. Eventually the game is up as the hunter seems to get suspicous and notices you are there. You turn and run using the indentations in the rockwall to your right to help protect you from arrow fire. You take your position behind a rock on the other side of the trap and to your glee they are running straight for it.
YES! The sound of your cover giving way under their weight is music to your ears, as are the ribbits of pain emitted shortly thereafter. You surmise they are dead until one of them jumps out of the pit with only a leg wound. He pulls out his sword and glares at you. You feel like facing him like this, it would be an even match. Still, you would much prefer some kind of advantage whereever you can get it. You draw your sword and begin to think carefully about how this is going to go down.
> You toss Dirt In His Eyes, Then Attack
There is no shortage of dry dirt and rock all around you and as an amphibian you reason he's probably not to terribly accostomed to that type of thing. Given his 2 foot stature, you wait for him to make a move then kick dirt in his face. You reasoned correctly. The frog's large eyes close down firmly and he is clearly unable to handle himself. You almost feel sorry for employing such a cheap trick on the little guy. Almost.
With him unable to see and barely able to compose himself, the battle ends pretty quickly. You return to the edge of the pit and shoot a couple more arrows into your punctured prey for good measure as you don't want any more unexpected surprises to arise when you go in for the capture. You inch your way back to camp under the midnight moon and make sure to scope the place out anew before making your move. As you had hoped, the nightwatchmen didn't rouse anyone before they left. You still don't know about the treetops, but the coast is as clear as its gonna get.
You creep through camp where it is darkest and make your way to the captain's tent. You carefully open the canopy and move inside. As you had hoped, the captain is still asleep. You take care to knock him out over the head with a block shaped wooden figurine you find in his tent, then carry him over your shoulder and out of the camp. Without the three nightwatchmen, it is easy to carry the unconcious 2 ft. lightweight out of camp and out to a safe location. It takes several hours before he awakes, but when he does you already have his froggie hands and feet bound with cloth torn from his own outfit.
> You time To Talk To The Froggie
To be honest, you aren't entirely sure which one of you two is more afraid... him or you. The grippli struggles in his bindings and begins to make noise which you are quick to silence. You raise your sword in warning and he begins to quiet down. Quite frankly, you are amazed that you are actually doing this. You've never been in a position like this before, doing something like this. You've always been an underappreciated swineherd your whole life. You are definitely not used to this sort of thing but you sure as hell don't want your prisoner to realize that.
"The Craxil isn't something you can easily kill. It has united the beastmen in this region of the mountains and aims to provide for its people" the captain starts.
"And what exactly is that suppose to mean" you demand.
"The humans have driven us beastmen into the barren land of the mountainrange and taken the fertile, soft ground for themselves. The Craxil wants for us to have good ground. Human ground. The Craxil has been organizing us for quite some time now and it is going to help us take what we deserve."
"What manner of creature is this Craxil anyway?" you ask, knowing you'll have to face him eventually.
"We don't know, none of us do. We never see the Craxil, its sends its orders with the riders."
"The riders?"
"Yes. They used to be humans but... well... not anymore really."
"You mean he's raising them as undead?!?"
"No, no, the Craxil would never resort to such deplorable practices. The Craxil breaks their minds with a ritual that takes days. When the Craxil finishes, they become thralls."
You are truly frightened by this last comment. It is common knowledge that mind flayers can dominate the minds of others, but they are able to do so instantly. They don't require a ritual that takes several days to accomplish. Brandolf did say the Craxil was a completely different creature than anyone has encountered before.
"Where can I find the Craxil?" you demand.
"The Craxil resides in an underground cavern, accessed from the base of a large canyon up north. The most direct route is Redridge Pass though I doubt you'll even get there alive. You'll know you are getting close when all the rocks and dirt are red and the cactii become more numerous."
You wanted to ask him more questions, but it seems that his comrades have already noticed his absence and begun looking for him. You don't see any other choice than to kill him, hide the body, and head north. But hey, at least you got some valuable information including some general directions.
> You moving North
You ponder what the grippli captain said as you continue on your northward journey. You haven't seen any cactii yet so you surmise you still have a long way to go. But what other dangers await you? So far you've encountered humunculi, undead, grippli, and even a beholder. More amazing is that your sorry swineherding ass has survived this far. Still, you have to wonder just how many different types of creatures there are under the Craxil's command and what this Craxil even looks like.
Your musings are cut short when your path is suddenly blocked by a very large wolf. Its eyes glow red and it snarls with both anger and malice evident. This wolf is no ordinary wolf. It is huge and it looks like its possessed or something. You draw your sword preparing to defend yourself but it doesn't attack, it simply stands there staring at you. You attempt to move to the side and it follows as if to block your path. You move to the other side and it follows again. You take a step back and it follows with a step forward. You aren't sure you even want to know what it will do if you take a step forward, and for once you aren't crazy enough to find out.
Suddenly, the creature does something you did not expect. It speaks.
"Tell me human, do you serve the Craxil?".
You are tempted to lie and say yes but then how do you know that is the answer it wants to hear? Maybe it serves the Craxil or maybe it is its enemy. Either way, it looks like its going to kill you if you don't share its loyalties so you are going to have to decide what to say.
> Yes
You decide to lie and tell the large creature that you are in fact a rider for the Craxil in hopes that it will calm it down a bit. Quite the opposite. It seems this wolf is infuriated by the Craxil and the recent beastmen influence in the region. You try to go back on your word and tell it the truth but its too late. The massive wolf jumps on you, knocking you on the ground. It goes immediately for your throat. You spend the last moments of your life in a state of sheer terror.
THE END |
You ponder what the grippli captain said as you continue on your northward journey. You haven't seen any cactii yet so you surmise you still have a long way to go. But what other dangers await you? So far you've encountered humunculi, undead, grippli, and even a beholder. More amazing is that your sorry swineherding ass has survived this far. Still, you have to wonder just how many different types of creatures there are under the Craxil's command and what this Craxil even looks like.
Your musings are cut short when your path is suddenly blocked by a very large wolf. Its eyes glow red and it snarls with both anger and malice evident. This wolf is no ordinary wolf. It is huge and it looks like its possessed or something. You draw your sword preparing to defend yourself but it doesn't attack, it simply stands there staring at you. You attempt to move to the side and it follows as if to block your path. You move to the other side and it follows again. You take a step back and it follows with a step forward. You aren't sure you even want to know what it will do if you take a step forward, and for once you aren't crazy enough to find out.
Suddenly, the creature does something you did not expect. It speaks.
"Tell me human, do you serve the Craxil?".
You are tempted to lie and say yes but then how do you know that is the answer it wants to hear? Maybe it serves the Craxil or maybe it is its enemy. Either way, it looks like its going to kill you if you don't share its loyalties so you are going to have to decide what to say.
> No
Honesty always was the best policy. You tell the wolf you are on a quest to kill the Craxil then raise your sword defensively expecting him to attack. Instead, the creature looks you over and accuses you of dishonesty.
"You honestly expect me to believe a scrawny kid like you was chosen to slay a being like the Craxil?"
"I made it this far didn't I?"
The wolf looks taken back by this comment and you tell him all about the plan to use poison, how you outmaneuvered the humunculi, the beholder's riddle... everything. The creature takes a few steps closer to you and his bright red eyes are bearing deeply into your own. You've never been more scared in your life than you are right now, but it seems the wolf has decided you are telling the truth.
"There is truth in your eyes, a certainty I haven't seen in quite some time. Lots of fear though. Odds are you are going to fail but hey, its your life to waste right?"
"Well thank you for trusting my allegiance then. Why don't you tell me what the heck you are, starting with how the hell you can talk."
The wolf turns back around, front legs spread in an aggressive position. "I never said I trusted you, you are going to have to prove yourself."
"But..."
"You claim you came from the village. What is this village called?"
> You jacqueshit
WRONG!
The massive wolf knocks you to the ground and rips your throat out with its teeth. A terrible way to die to be sure.
THE END |
Honesty always was the best policy. You tell the wolf you are on a quest to kill the Craxil then raise your sword defensively expecting him to attack. Instead, the creature looks you over and accuses you of dishonesty.
"You honestly expect me to believe a scrawny kid like you was chosen to slay a being like the Craxil?"
"I made it this far didn't I?"
The wolf looks taken back by this comment and you tell him all about the plan to use poison, how you outmaneuvered the humunculi, the beholder's riddle... everything. The creature takes a few steps closer to you and his bright red eyes are bearing deeply into your own. You've never been more scared in your life than you are right now, but it seems the wolf has decided you are telling the truth.
"There is truth in your eyes, a certainty I haven't seen in quite some time. Lots of fear though. Odds are you are going to fail but hey, its your life to waste right?"
"Well thank you for trusting my allegiance then. Why don't you tell me what the heck you are, starting with how the hell you can talk."
The wolf turns back around, front legs spread in an aggressive position. "I never said I trusted you, you are going to have to prove yourself."
"But..."
"You claim you came from the village. What is this village called?"
> You jackcrappe
WRONG!
The giant wolf leaps upon you and tears your throat out with its teeth. A horrible way to die to be sure.
THE END |
Honesty always was the best policy. You tell the wolf you are on a quest to kill the Craxil then raise your sword defensively expecting him to attack. Instead, the creature looks you over and accuses you of dishonesty.
"You honestly expect me to believe a scrawny kid like you was chosen to slay a being like the Craxil?"
"I made it this far didn't I?"
The wolf looks taken back by this comment and you tell him all about the plan to use poison, how you outmaneuvered the humunculi, the beholder's riddle... everything. The creature takes a few steps closer to you and his bright red eyes are bearing deeply into your own. You've never been more scared in your life than you are right now, but it seems the wolf has decided you are telling the truth.
"There is truth in your eyes, a certainty I haven't seen in quite some time. Lots of fear though. Odds are you are going to fail but hey, its your life to waste right?"
"Well thank you for trusting my allegiance then. Why don't you tell me what the heck you are, starting with how the hell you can talk."
The wolf turns back around, front legs spread in an aggressive position. "I never said I trusted you, you are going to have to prove yourself."
"But..."
"You claim you came from the village. What is this village called?"
> You jacquescrappe
"Correct" the wolf admits, "but even the Craxil and the surrounding beastmen know that much. It doesn't prove anything."
"Then ask me something else" you demand.
"Fine then, I shall!"
"What is the name of the wizard that came to Jacquescrappe?" |
Honesty always was the best policy. You tell the wolf you are on a quest to kill the Craxil then raise your sword defensively expecting him to attack. Instead, the creature looks you over and accuses you of dishonesty.
"You honestly expect me to believe a scrawny kid like you was chosen to slay a being like the Craxil?"
"I made it this far didn't I?"
The wolf looks taken back by this comment and you tell him all about the plan to use poison, how you outmaneuvered the humunculi, the beholder's riddle... everything. The creature takes a few steps closer to you and his bright red eyes are bearing deeply into your own. You've never been more scared in your life than you are right now, but it seems the wolf has decided you are telling the truth.
"There is truth in your eyes, a certainty I haven't seen in quite some time. Lots of fear though. Odds are you are going to fail but hey, its your life to waste right?"
"Well thank you for trusting my allegiance then. Why don't you tell me what the heck you are, starting with how the hell you can talk."
The wolf turns back around, front legs spread in an aggressive position. "I never said I trusted you, you are going to have to prove yourself."
"But..."
"You claim you came from the village. What is this village called?"
> You jaquescrappe
WRONG!
The wolf jumps on you and tears your throat out with his teeth. A horrible way to die to be sure.
THE END |
You ponder what the grippli captain said as you continue on your northward journey. You haven't seen any cactii yet so you surmise you still have a long way to go. But what other dangers await you? So far you've encountered humunculi, undead, grippli, and even a beholder. More amazing is that your sorry swineherding ass has survived this far. Still, you have to wonder just how many different types of creatures there are under the Craxil's command and what this Craxil even looks like.
Your musings are cut short when your path is suddenly blocked by a very large wolf. Its eyes glow red and it snarls with both anger and malice evident. This wolf is no ordinary wolf. It is huge and it looks like its possessed or something. You draw your sword preparing to defend yourself but it doesn't attack, it simply stands there staring at you. You attempt to move to the side and it follows as if to block your path. You move to the other side and it follows again. You take a step back and it follows with a step forward. You aren't sure you even want to know what it will do if you take a step forward, and for once you aren't crazy enough to find out.
Suddenly, the creature does something you did not expect. It speaks.
"Tell me human, do you serve the Craxil?".
You are tempted to lie and say yes but then how do you know that is the answer it wants to hear? Maybe it serves the Craxil or maybe it is its enemy. Either way, it looks like its going to kill you if you don't share its loyalties so you are going to have to decide what to say.
> You what Is A Craxil? Is That A New Brand Of Butter Cracker?
You attempt to lie to the giant wolf creature but despite your skill as sneakery you've always been a horrible liar. The dishonesty is not taken well and before you know it, the massive canine has you on the ground and is sinking his jaw into your throat. You spend the last moments of your life in sheer terror.
THE END |
You need to dispatch with the three grippli keeping watch but you cannot do that in the camp or you will almost certainly get attention. Therefore, your only real option is to lure them out and eliminate them somehow while they're away from camp. Even if you do lure them away from their camp though, three grippli are more than a match for you so you are going to have to construct a trap of some sort. You remember seeing a small drop off in the middle of the path you just came down and that gives you an idea.
You take about a dozen of your arrows and plant them firmly in the ground (arrowhead up) at the bottom of the hole you encountered along the path. You only lightly cover it with what little large leaves and vines you can find, then cover this foliage completely with sand and small rocks (enough to cover the vegetation but not enough to make it fall into the hole). Your hope is that you will be able to lure your three grippli out here away from the camp and then fall in on top of your arrows. The only thing left to do is figure out how you are going to lure them away from the camp without them alerting the camp as well.
You decide to mimic the sounds of the small prairie dog like creatures out here and toss small pebbles around the corner where they would see them. You seem to have their attention as they are too bored to really entertain themselves with anything else. Unfortunately, the prairie dog gag isn't enough to make them come so next you imitate the sound of a ewe while making loud pawing noises at the ground. For whatever reason, this one gets their attention and they start approaching quietly with their weapons drawn.
You continue making animals noises but move back slowly at the same time. At point for them is a hunter brandishing a bow. The other two apparently believe in the sword. Maybe that's not as atypical for a grippli as you thought. You are careful to remain unseen but back up slowly and continue leading them forth with animal noises. Eventually the game is up as the hunter seems to get suspicous and notices you are there. You turn and run using the indentations in the rockwall to your right to help protect you from arrow fire. You take your position behind a rock on the other side of the trap and to your glee they are running straight for it.
YES! The sound of your cover giving way under their weight is music to your ears, as are the ribbits of pain emitted shortly thereafter. You surmise they are dead until one of them jumps out of the pit with only a leg wound. He pulls out his sword and glares at you. You feel like facing him like this, it would be an even match. Still, you would much prefer some kind of advantage whereever you can get it. You draw your sword and begin to think carefully about how this is going to go down.
> You don't Waste Time With Elaborate Trickery, Just Fight The Thing
There is no longer any element of surprise so the time for elaborate tricks is over. You are simply going to have to face this thing one on one. At first things seem to go well. His 2 foot tall stature is no match for your strength (which is saying a lot coming from you) but he is fast as hell. Given that he's part frog he's hopping around behing you, above you, between your legs, all with the speed and reflexes of a frog. You've always wondered what made people consider these things to be so dangerous.
In the end, you've taken on more stab wounds than you can possibly handle and drop to the ground looking like one of Freddie Krougar's victims. The 2 foot little froggie bastard develops a new air of pride and marches back to camp, no doubt to brag to his friends about his new victory. But for you it is simply...
THE END |
The skeletal undead aren't exactly known for their climbing skills so you promptly head over to the steep rockface and set about climbing to a point beyond their reach. You are almost at the top when the skeletons reach the base. The attempt to climb but as you had hoped, they are substantially less successful than you. One of them responds to the situation by tossing his hand axe at you and you move your hand just in time to avoid it. You make sure it stays stuck in the rockface so it doesn't get to try again, then pull yourself up and over the top.
You are glad to be away from those damn things and now that you are at a slightly higher elevation along the mountainside, there's a good chance you won't be seeing them again. Just got to keep your cool and remember to be stealthy. You continue your journey in the same general direction but keep to this elevation for fear of encountering those undead creatures a second time. After a while, you begin to smell a rather curious smell up ahead. As you approach you discover a camp situated in what is probably the only forested ledge on this entire mountain range. You don't initially see anyone there, but you keep your distance and eventually see something hop down rather quickly from one of the trees and go behind another. You didn't get a good look at whatever it was and you are hoping they haven't seen you.
Nightfall comes and now the occupants of the camp are coming into view. You never believed that at any time in your entire life you'd ever lay eyes on the creatures you are seeing. The grippli, a race of humanoid tree frogs standing at 2 feet tall, have organized this camp. There aren't more than a dozen tops, but grippli are known to be considerable fighters when they need to be and there is no way of knowing if there are more of them in the trees.
They often prefer to fight with poison darts, nets, and bows as they would prefer to keep their enemy at a distance but a few bear swords. You see one of them adorned in considerably nicer garb than the others and commands quite a presence from them so you surmise it must be their leader.
Suddenly it occurs to you. These creatures are in Craxil territory so odds are they work for the Craxil. That means that instead of wandering the mountain range aimlessly you ought try and extract information regarding the Craxil's whereabouts from the grippli. Ideally, you could get your hands on their leader but that is going to be easier said than done. There may not be many grippli present, but each one is a challenge in his own right and you have no way of knowing how many may be in the trees to see what you do.
Eventually, the captain retires to his tent as do many others. Three grippli remain near the campfire out front and again, you have no way of knowing what is still in the trees. The captain's tent is near the back. You surmise you could go around, giving the camp a wide berth, and sneak into the captain's tent. However, you feel like you should at least do SOMETHING about the three on watch or you may be the one getting captured instead. This is quite a dilly of a pickle indeed.
> You try To Sneak Up On The Grippli Near The Campfire And Cut Them All Down Before They Can React
The way you see it, you don't really have a choice. You can't risk going after the captain while these three grippli are here standing guard like this. You'll be caught. You have your doubts about whether you'd be able to lure the nightwatchmen away from their posts so you are going to just have to be direct about it. There may be three of them, but once again you have the element of surprise and you don't intend to give them any time whatsoever to react to the onslaught you intend to bring. You creep around into the center of the camp and approach the nightwatchmen from behind.
As you approach, the light from the campfire makes your shadow apparent and the other grippli take notice. After all your years of capture the flag success you'd think you'd know by know that it is much easier to creep up on someone in the dark than near a campfire. Rookie mistake. The grippli nightwatchmen rouse from their posts and draw their weapons. As the three leap forth to attack you, grippli in the trees fire poison darts into your back and others are roused from their tents. I don't think I need to tell you that this is...
THE END |
The man you just dismissed earlier is standing at the front of the pack. You knew there was something off about that earlier request and seeing this display only reaffirms that you were right to avoid them in the first place. They are all looking down at the ground but now he is looking up directly at you with a creepy smile on his face.
"So, you saw through our little ambush scheme did you?" he sneers.
"What is it you want?"
"Quite simply we're aware of your quest to reach the Craxil and we are not prepared to allow it."
At this point their heads begin to twist and contort and their skulls appear to come out of their mouths. It is almost as though they were never human at all but part of some kind of disguise. In fact, it is now readily apparent that this is the case. You are now looking at five maniacal looking skeletons armed with an assortment of swords and hand axes. They seem like they are eager to get things started and in fact, they are all rushing down the beaten path towards you. You turn the other way until you can decide what to do and despite what you've been told about the undead, you discover they are perfectly capable of keeping pace with you.
You know you aren't going to be able to take on five of these guys and they seem intent on sticking together during the pursuit. To your left is another cave you've chosen to pass up on your journey, figuring it was just another humunculus den. Perhaps, if you are lucky, you can lose your pursuers in there. Alternatively, you could always try climbing the steep rockface off to your right. You've had plenty of climbing experience as a kid and somehow you hope these skeletons won't be able to follow you. You could also turn around and start unloading arrows into your enemies. They may be keeping pace with you, but you still have a heck of a head start and you'd wager you could release quite a few before they catch up to you. It's up to you...
> You rain Arrows Upon Them
Why run when you can fight? The arrows worked for you before and you believe you can get off quite a few shots before they start catching up to you. To wait until you reach the top of a local hill then spin around and draw your bow. The five skeleton creatures are still running towards you in a tight grouping. You let fly the first arrow and it hits the collarbone of one of the back skeletons. You release another and it hits the leg of another skeleton. In fact you score a lot of hits, even putting one through the skull of the lead skeleton. There's just one problem... they aren't slowing down!
Maybe you've forgotten, but arrows and bladed weapons are only effective against enemies that still have flesh and blood to let. These skeletons are not slowing down or taking much damage as a result of your arrows. In fact, it would require a more blunt weapon to kill. As they start drawing in close you turn and continue running. You've pretty much lost your head start and now they are hot on your heels. This continues for a while until one of your skeletal pursuers gets it in his mind to throw its hand axe into your back. It only goes downhill from there for you.
THE END |
You are standing on a narrow plateau in the rugged mountainous region beyond your village. Unlike the brownish/tan rockface you see near your village, the rocks in this region are more redish and vibrant looking. You see a path leading forward and you decide to follow it. On the plus side, you haven't encountered any hostile creatures so far. You walk for at least a few miles and it appears to extend beyond your sight. You curse at your luck and begin to slump into depression when you realize you don't even know where to fnd this Craxil thing in the first place. You decide to build a campfire for the night, think things over, and gather some rest. As you are doing so, a strange man lumbers out from behind a large rock and begins to beg you for help.
"Please, it won't take long. My caravan was beset upon by foul creatures and I fear for my families safety. You must help me!"
You pause. It seems odd that a human would be up here in such a hostile region, let alone a caravan. But this is definitely the face of a human and he shows no signs of hostility.
"Why are you up here anyway"? you ask. "The Craxil and his followers will kill anyone that wanders into their mountainous territory."
"We got lost trying to find our way to Jacquescrappe village, perhaps you've heard of it"?
"Yeah... I just came from there... but I don't think you want to go back that way, you won't get far."
"Look, I don't wish to be rude, but my family is in danger and I need your help NOW!"
At this point, the man turns and runs down the path. You call out to him to stop but he keeps going. You aren't sure if you would be of much help to him in battle, but you aren't sure how you would feel about abandoning him like that either. Time to decide...
> You help Him, What Kind Of Adventurer Are You?
You decide to help the man. What kind of adventurer would you be to deny a father the aid he needs to save his family from the Craxil's minions? The royal military may have abandoned Jacquescrappe because it was remote and of no strategic value but dammit if you are going to end up just like them. However, something about this is starting to feel weird. Why would there be a human caravan up here in the Craxil's lands and why do you have this strange feeling in the pit of your stomach.
Just as you are having these thoughts, an owl looks at you from atop a dead tree and just looks at you with intent. You've never been able to communicate to animals like the druids do, but somehow you just know this thing is telling you to turn back. You stop for a minute, then strike yourself and shake it off. Since when did you become a druid and take advice from animals? Aside from your pigs "Oinky" and "Snout" you've never really connected with any animals anyway. Besides, your gut hasn't helped you win any gambling tournaments so why should you trust it now? You're probably just afraid and subconciously looking for a way to avoid a potentially dangerous situation. Helping the man is the right thing to do, you're sure of it...
Right?
> You indeed, What Kind Of Hero Abandons His Fellow Man When His Family Is At Stake?
You arrive in a clearing and the man who pleaded with you earlier has just stopped in his tracks.
"So where's the caravan?" you inquire, expecting some sort of explanation for this sudden drop in urgency.
Silence
..............
At this point you are quickly surrounded by other men who are equally silent. The feeling in the pit of your stomach has just gotten worse and you realize that you've been had.
"There is no caravan is there."
.....
At this point the man who led you here turns to face you. The head suddenly begins to twitch and distort and the head of a skeleton emerges from the mouth as if pushing through a mask. You back up and realize the four other men around you are doing the same. They rush you from all sides and you are quickly overwhelmed. You made a grave mistake in not trusting your instincts earlier, they exist in us for a reason.
THE END |
You decide to help the man. What kind of adventurer would you be to deny a father the aid he needs to save his family from the Craxil's minions? The royal military may have abandoned Jacquescrappe because it was remote and of no strategic value but dammit if you are going to end up just like them. However, something about this is starting to feel weird. Why would there be a human caravan up here in the Craxil's lands and why do you have this strange feeling in the pit of your stomach.
Just as you are having these thoughts, an owl looks at you from atop a dead tree and just looks at you with intent. You've never been able to communicate to animals like the druids do, but somehow you just know this thing is telling you to turn back. You stop for a minute, then strike yourself and shake it off. Since when did you become a druid and take advice from animals? Aside from your pigs "Oinky" and "Snout" you've never really connected with any animals anyway. Besides, your gut hasn't helped you win any gambling tournaments so why should you trust it now? You're probably just afraid and subconciously looking for a way to avoid a potentially dangerous situation. Helping the man is the right thing to do, you're sure of it...
Right?
> You no, Something About This Whole Situation Is Fishy. You're Turning Back.
You don't like any part of where this is going and decide that the best thing to do is to turn back. After all, no humans from Jacquescrappe have ever made it this far into the Craxil's territory so why should you believe there is a human caravan out this far? None of this makes any sense and you think to yourself that these beastmen are not above using your compassion against you as a weakness. It is low, but well within the bounds of what these things might do.
You come to a stop, and look up at the owl. He gives you a warm, approving look then flies away. "What a strange creature" you think to yourself. You wait for the man to disappear from view, then wait a while longer for good measure, then continue forward on foot as you had originally planned. Frankly, you're just glad to be away from the suspicious man.
As you continue on your journey you wonder if you made the right choice. I mean, what if the man's family really was in danger and you could have made a difference? Did you make the right call? You console yourself by reminding yourself of the importance of your own mission and how you cannot afford to take unnecessary chances. Just as you are having these thoughts, you discover the man who approached you earlier as well as four others standing in the middle of the beaten path with their heads down. It looks like you aren't done with them after all... |
You run down the passageway that you were previously unable to get to while the three humunculi were at the campfire. Unfortunately, the humunculi have chosen the same path. You aren't sure if it is because they saw you or because of bad luck, but they are not far behind you now. You reach another chamber and find a large, demonic looking creature blocking your path. Before you can even think about how to describe this thing you feel the humunculi grab you from behind and pull you to the ground. They are about to stomp you to death when the demonic looking creature disintigrates them on the spot.
"Nobody takes my prey in my domain. Tell me little thing, what are you here to do?"
This thing looks like a large floating eye with multiple smaller eyes attached atop its head. You realize this thing is a beholder and soon you find yourself paralyzed in its gaze. That's what you get for staring into its eye I guess.
"Answer me puny one, why are you here in my domain?"
You are too terrified to answer, but this creature appears to grow irritated by your silence so you muster all the courage you've got and speak up
"I'm here to slay the Craxil" you proclaim, terrified of how this creature will respond to such a bold statement.
"HA! Amusing little one, someone of your strength doesn't have what it takes but it would entertain me to see how you die in the Craxil's mountains. Answer this riddle correctly, and I will permit you to continue through to the other side of my domain. Answer incorrectly, and you will share the same fate as your pursuers. Are you ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be" you squeak.
"Very well!" it bellows, clearly enjoying every bit of this. "I am a vast canyon that spans beyond sight. I am without end and have been a part of every man whenever there is trouble. What am I?"
> The Thirst For Knowledge
"Wrong" it proclaims. "While the thirst for knowledge may be limitless in your kind, it is not your primary concern in times of trouble now is it?"
"Well... erm..."
You don't have time to retort. It fires a beam of negative energy into your chest and you disintigrate on the spot, bringing your quest to an abrupt end.
THE END |
You run down the passageway that you were previously unable to get to while the three humunculi were at the campfire. Unfortunately, the humunculi have chosen the same path. You aren't sure if it is because they saw you or because of bad luck, but they are not far behind you now. You reach another chamber and find a large, demonic looking creature blocking your path. Before you can even think about how to describe this thing you feel the humunculi grab you from behind and pull you to the ground. They are about to stomp you to death when the demonic looking creature disintigrates them on the spot.
"Nobody takes my prey in my domain. Tell me little thing, what are you here to do?"
This thing looks like a large floating eye with multiple smaller eyes attached atop its head. You realize this thing is a beholder and soon you find yourself paralyzed in its gaze. That's what you get for staring into its eye I guess.
"Answer me puny one, why are you here in my domain?"
You are too terrified to answer, but this creature appears to grow irritated by your silence so you muster all the courage you've got and speak up
"I'm here to slay the Craxil" you proclaim, terrified of how this creature will respond to such a bold statement.
"HA! Amusing little one, someone of your strength doesn't have what it takes but it would entertain me to see how you die in the Craxil's mountains. Answer this riddle correctly, and I will permit you to continue through to the other side of my domain. Answer incorrectly, and you will share the same fate as your pursuers. Are you ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be" you squeak.
"Very well!" it bellows, clearly enjoying every bit of this. "I am a vast canyon that spans beyond sight. I am without end and have been a part of every man whenever there is trouble. What am I?"
> The Limitless Potential Of Mankind
"Wrong" it bellows, laughing under its breath. "Your kind's potential is not as limitless as you like to think it is. And besides, your limitless potential isn't exactly showing through in this time of trouble now is it little one?"
"Well... erm... "
You wanted to say something about how desperate situations propel human potential to new heights but the blast of negative energy he shoots at you doesn't give you a chance.
THE END |
You run down the passageway that you were previously unable to get to while the three humunculi were at the campfire. Unfortunately, the humunculi have chosen the same path. You aren't sure if it is because they saw you or because of bad luck, but they are not far behind you now. You reach another chamber and find a large, demonic looking creature blocking your path. Before you can even think about how to describe this thing you feel the humunculi grab you from behind and pull you to the ground. They are about to stomp you to death when the demonic looking creature disintigrates them on the spot.
"Nobody takes my prey in my domain. Tell me little thing, what are you here to do?"
This thing looks like a large floating eye with multiple smaller eyes attached atop its head. You realize this thing is a beholder and soon you find yourself paralyzed in its gaze. That's what you get for staring into its eye I guess.
"Answer me puny one, why are you here in my domain?"
You are too terrified to answer, but this creature appears to grow irritated by your silence so you muster all the courage you've got and speak up
"I'm here to slay the Craxil" you proclaim, terrified of how this creature will respond to such a bold statement.
"HA! Amusing little one, someone of your strength doesn't have what it takes but it would entertain me to see how you die in the Craxil's mountains. Answer this riddle correctly, and I will permit you to continue through to the other side of my domain. Answer incorrectly, and you will share the same fate as your pursuers. Are you ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be" you squeak.
"Very well!" it bellows, clearly enjoying every bit of this. "I am a vast canyon that spans beyond sight. I am without end and have been a part of every man whenever there is trouble. What am I?"
> A Bar Wench?
The creature and you both get a hearty laugh out of this response but you know that you are wrong and you know you are going to die soon. Indeed, the creature hits you with the same negative energy it used on the humunculi and you disapate into the air.
THE END |
Instinctively, you know you are going to be discovered if he gets any closer. You aren't sure how you are going to go about escaping the other two, but you are gonna have to kill this one before it gets any closer. Without warning you lunge forth and put your short sword through the creature's belly. You were actually aiming for the heart and the creature moved so I guess that says something about your swordsman skill. Nonetheless, it proved effective at killing the creature. You waste no time at all in bolting back up to the original chamber with the campsite and the other two will round the corner any second. You need to make a decision FAST!
The large pathway (on the right wall as you enter) is now inexplicably barred but you can still run back outside the cave or down the passageway that was previously inaccessable due to their presence. The adrenaline floods your body and your survival instincts take over. You immediately decide to...
> You run Outside The Cave
You run outside the cave and around the corner. You are back on the plateau overlooking the village. Your heart is beating fast as hell and you are clutching your sword so tightly you will probably have blisters. Fortunately for you, the humunculi have chosen to run down the path behind their campsite. You wait outside the cave for a few hours and still they haven't returned from the passageway. Perhaps they have chosen to travel further in to pursue you?
You return to the cave's interior and are standing at the campfire. The large passageway on the right side of the chamber is still blocked. You peer down the passageway in front of you, the one the humunculi chose to go down and you wonder what lies beyond its depths. However, as you look left you remember there is still an as yet unexplored passageway down in the cavern where the humunculi nearly overwhelmed you. You aren't going to find the Craxil by standing around here so you are going to have to decide where you want to go from here.
> You follow The Path Behind The Campfire, Where The Two Humunculi Went
You chose to take the passageway behind the campfire. If these creatures are protecting the Craxil, or at least serving him in some sense, it would makes sense they would head in this direction. You get the strong scent of burning animals or something like that and what you see next is COMPLETELY unexpected. Instead of seeing the two humunculi that ran down this passageway earlier, you are standing directly in front of some kind of hovering demon whose gaze is fixed directly upon you!
This thing looks like a large floating eye with multiple smaller eyes attached atop its head. You realize this thing is a beholder and soon you find yourself paralyzed in its gaze. That's what you get for staring into its eye I guess.
"Answer me puny one, why are you here in my domain?"
You are too terrified to answer, but this creature appears to grow irritated by your silence so you muster all the courage you've got and speak up
"I'm here to slay the Craxil" you proclaim, terrified of how this creature will respond to such a bold statement.
"HA! Amusing little one, someone of your strength doesn't have what it takes but it would entertain me to see how you die in the Craxil's mountains. Answer this riddle correctly, and I will permit you to continue through to the other side of my domain. Answer incorrectly, and you will share the same fate as your former pursuers. Are you ready?"
"Did he kill the humunculi?" you think to yourself...
"As ready as I'll ever be" you squeak.
"Very well!" it bellows, clearly enjoying every bit of this. "I am a vast canyon that spans beyond sight. I am without end and have been a part of every man whenever there is trouble. What am I?" |
You run outside the cave and around the corner. You are back on the plateau overlooking the village. Your heart is beating fast as hell and you are clutching your sword so tightly you will probably have blisters. Fortunately for you, the humunculi have chosen to run down the path behind their campsite. You wait outside the cave for a few hours and still they haven't returned from the passageway. Perhaps they have chosen to travel further in to pursue you?
You return to the cave's interior and are standing at the campfire. The large passageway on the right side of the chamber is still blocked. You peer down the passageway in front of you, the one the humunculi chose to go down and you wonder what lies beyond its depths. However, as you look left you remember there is still an as yet unexplored passageway down in the cavern where the humunculi nearly overwhelmed you. You aren't going to find the Craxil by standing around here so you are going to have to decide where you want to go from here.
> You go Down To The Cavern Where You First Used Your Bow And Try That Passageway
Naturally, you are not going to go down the passageway that your pursuers went down, that's just stupid. You want to avoid unnecessary conflict after allso you can increase your chances of reaching the Craxil. This passageway leads you out to a large plateau. To the right, you can see another several clusters of cave networks populated by humunculi. To the left you see a step drop off that would land you in the forest the hunters of your village like to use. In front of you, and in the distance, is a curious looking camp. You see a couple different campfires and at least two dozen tee-pee style tents down over there. You can't make out who the inhabitants are though, at least not from here. Odds are they aren't friendly though. This is Craxil territory after all. Of course, the humunculi in the multiple cave clusters over there aren't friendly either so what does it matter? You still have no leads as to where to find the Craxil but you need to make a decision as to where to go.
> You investigate The Camp
You cannot contain your curiosity about this camp but you know you should keep your distance and be careful. They are likely hostile after all. You remember that you are out in the open now so the sun will remove any advantage that the shadows had given you in the caves. You decide to wait until nightfall, then slink in closer to the camp. There is minimal rock cover but you manage to find a decent place from which to observe their camp. They are goblins, armed with schimitars and polearms which you assume must be the work of the Craxil.
Even outside the Craxil's domain, goblins are known for their hostility towards humans so approaching them would be stupid. However, unlike the powerful humunculi you've had to deal with so far, goblins are a weaker enemy you feel confident you could stand against (provided you don't get yourself overwhelmed). There are about 30 of the foul creatures wandering about the camp, but the one that catches your interest is the shaman. Decked out in fancy garb and occupying a large tent in the center of the camp, it is clear this one is the leader. It occurs to you that if they are working for the Craxil then this one might be able to provide you with some much needed leads as to where you can find him.
You are confident in your ability to handle a single goblin or perhaps even two if your life depended on it but certainly not the entire camp. You're just a sneaky swineherd after all. You wait until midnight, when most of the goblins have retired to sleep. There are still a handful of night watchmen goblins though, and they will need to be dealt with before you can hope to reach the shaman's tent. You also shudder at the thought of the shaman unleashing horrid magicks upon you. Once again, you will have to use the element of surprise to make up for your lack of fighting experience but then... as a sneaky bastard that is your specialty.
The first concern is the single goblin standing at the closest entrance to the camp. He is holding a polearm and needs to be removed before you can get into the camp. As stated before, you are confident you can take him, but you need to be careful not to wake the rest of the camp in the process. One idea is to sneak up on him and stab him through the back with your sword before he can react. Another idea is to try and hit him with an arrow from a distance, then move on to the next target. Either way, he needs to be removed.
> You sneak Up And Stab Him
You might be able to hit the broadside of a barn, but your aim is not sufficient for anything more than a general area. You don't want to alert the goblin to your presence so you are just going to have to deal with him the old fashioned way. Under cover of midnight you slink around to the edge of the camp and work your way along the side until you are close. Despite your apparent lack of skill in fighting and archery you are an absolute master at sneakery. But enough of such destracting thoughts. As the goblin turns away you leap forth, cup his mouth with your left hand, and stab him through the back. You pull the body away from the camp so none of the other goblins will see it.
Fortunately for you, none of the goblins seem stirred in the least. You removed that problem without attracting attention. Even better, another one of the nightwatchmen goblins has come back to the same post trying to figure out why his comrade is no longer at his post. This affords you the opportunity to repeat the procedure and return once again. The way to the central tent still has a few more problems in store for you. Single goblins patrol the area and there is always at least one patrol goblin within sight range of that tent. Also, the tent itself has its own nightwatchman who is evidently dedicated to the shaman. At the very least, you need to kill one of the patrolling goblins to create an opening and the sentry guarding the tent. With this done, you have a chance at abducting and interrogating the shaman for some much needed information on the Craxil.
You have some ideas on the patrolling goblin. You could attempt to construct a simple foothold trap out of vine and add some barbs from the camp to dig into his foot. Alternatively, you could wait until he rounds his usual tree and cut him down before the next patrolling goblin comes along.
> You construct A Barbed Foothold Trap And Place It In The Patrol's Path
You can't get caught if you aren't around when he trips the trap right? Well, I suppose you could be, but whatever. You spend a half hour or so of your time outside the camp constructing this trap. The knot will tighten the loop around the goblins leg when I pull on the vine so I just need to get back into position and lay the trap. As predicted, the goblin came back around with his usual path but this time he was a little bit to far to the right. You pull the loop a bit closer and wait until the next one comes, but he is a bit too far to the left. After some frustrating trial and error, a patrolling goblin finally steps foot in your loop and you tighten it abruptly around his foot. At the same time, you quickly drag him towards your hiding spot so you can silence him. Goblins are particularly light, especially when they are not wearing armor, so you are able to do it fairly easily. The barbs dug into his foot so deep they nearly too it off. You silence him with your hand then break his neck. For a moment, you are amazed at what you have learned to do given you're just a swine herd, but then again... survival makes us capable of many things doesn't it.
The next patrolling goblin discovers the sword the last patrolling goblin dropped when you got him. You are concerned that he's about to raise the alarm but he just mutters "Akt Khazzat nighmam noriet maln" or something along those lines and walks off. You have no idea what he said, but from his tone of voice, you think he thinks the other watchman is skipping out on his duties. Shit, does that mean the shaman will be able to speak English? Surely he will, he's a shaman after all. He better dammit.
You wait for the opening to come again, then quickly maneuver into position to stab the tent's sentry before the next patrol goblin comes around. You peek inside to see the shaman sleeping (lucky you) and drag the sentry's body inside where it won't be detected. You've reached the shaman, and he's still asleep, but you can't very well interrogate him here. You pick up a candlestick from the nearby table and as he's coming to you clock him over the head with it. You check for a pulse to see if he's dead or unconcious and thankfully, he's just knocked out. You gag him and bind his arms behind his back because he won't be able to cast spells without his tounge and hand movements. You use the same patrol opening to escape the camp and return to a spot distant from the camp. You rouse the shaman to wake up and realize you are probably more scared than he will be.
> You time For An Interrogation
Fortunately for you, he does know English as is readily apparent by the curses he chooses to expel regarding your parents. You glare at him and ask him about the Craxil but he just squeals with laughter as if finding it difficult to take you seriously. You ask him again and remove the gag so he can answer but then quickly put it back in when he starts trying to chant a spell of some sort. You punch him and because you're such a wimp it ends up hurting your wrist more than it hurt his face, which only adds to his laughter. You realize this isn't working as planned so you take him to where you stashed the bodies of the two nightwatchmen you killed at the entrance and draw your sword. This seems to make a bigger impression upon him. You take him back further away from the camp and inquire again. This time he seems more receptive.
"The Craxil isn't something you can reason with or just strike down, he's an inspiration to the beastmen of this region. A unifying force."
The shaman goes on to explain that the Craxil has been gathering his strength here for longer than the villagers realized and that the weekly raids for food were little compared to what is being organized.
"The Craxil isn't content to leave his children here in the mountains while the humans enjoy the soft lands." The shaman explains. "He isn't after world domination or anything, but he wants to take a few choice pieces of territory from the humans down below."
"What manner of creature is he?" you demand, keeping your sword out as a reminder of your unspoken threat.
"None of us goblins really knows for sure. The riders deliver his orders to us and they are the only ones who have ever seen him."
"The riders?"
"Yes, they were once human but umm... not anymore."
"You mean they were raised as undead!?!?!"
"Heavens no, the Craxil doesn't resort to such disgusting practices. Rather, they become his thralls after a lengthy, mind breaking ritual. They do his bidding now."
You pause at that comment. You've heard of mind flayers dominating people's minds like this but they've always been able to do so instantly, without the need for such rituals and practices. Moreover, Brandolf insisted that the Craxil is a being unlike any that has been seen in this world so far. You decide to change the topic to discuss the Craxil's location.
"Where is the Craxil located?" you ask.
"Pff. Do you even know where YOU are located right now" the shaman says with a chuckle. "A bit far from home and looking a little lost out here aren't we?"
You shove your sword closer to his throat and he ceases to taunt you.
"The Craxil resides in an underground cavern that is accessed from a canyon north of here. When the rocks cease to be this familiar brown and start looking red then you are getting closer. Even closer still when you begin to see the cactii. The most direct route is the Redrange pass, though that has some dangers of its own."
You are about to inquire further about what else lies in store for you, but you hear the sounds of goblins in the distance and you are worried the shaman may start making noise for them. You can't afford to be swarmed by goblins right now so you cut his throat and retreat a little until they return to camp. Fortunately, the path he spoke of can be reached by simply going around the goblin camp from a safe distance and continuing in that direction. You still have about a full days journey before you get to this "Redrange Pass" and even then you are only at the start of the shaman's directions. But hey, at least you know where you are going now and have the knowledge that you've been going the right way all this time. You just really hope that little shit isn't lying to you.
> Onward
You've gotten past the bulk of the humunculi and the goblins were refreshingly easy, but as you continue forward you shudder to think at what else may lie in store for you up ahead. This nondescript plateau had dredged on for quite a while and still no sign of Redridge pass. Suddently you reach a tunnel and you are dismayed to see a large troll blocking access. Trolls are even stronger than humunculi so you won't be fighting this one anytime soon. The tunnel represents the only way through to the other side as an inclimbable rockface extends in both directions along the plateau. You're gonna have to get through that tunnel one way or another.
You remember that the shaman said that the Craxil uses riders to send its orders out to its minions and that these riders are basically human thralls. Perhaps you could fake it to get past him. Another option is your bow. Trolls are very large creatures and therefore pretty hard to miss, even for you. A final option is to try and distract it somehow. You reason that you could cause a lot of commotion in the half-dead vegetation nearby to draw him away from the tunnel, then circle around and make a run for it.
> You try To Trick The Troll Into Believing You Are A Thrall
You dawn your poker face and approach the troll expectantly. You reason that you cannot hope to match a troll's strength but rather take advantage of their lack of intelligence. As you approach, the troll glares at you and is clearly readying his club for a strike.
"I must report back to the Craxil" you announce.
"And who are you to see the Craxil" the troll questions.
"I am a rider and have no time for your nonsense. This report is very important."
There is a pause as the troll is thinking over your response. Clearly, he isn't sure what to say or do in this situation. It looks like this might actually work. But then...
"Where is your steed?" the troll asks.
Shit. Of course, they're called riders for a reason and you haven't got any ride now do you? Of all the rotten luck.
"He is ill, suffers the ick" you manage, doubtful as to whether or not this will be taken.
At this point the troll isn't buying it. You wish you had considered this before you attempted to lie. Hard to take, being outsmarted by a troll. Even harder to take is the club that has now crushed every bone in your body and left you a mangled mess.
THE END |
You've gotten past the bulk of the humunculi and the goblins were refreshingly easy, but as you continue forward you shudder to think at what else may lie in store for you up ahead. This nondescript plateau had dredged on for quite a while and still no sign of Redridge pass. Suddently you reach a tunnel and you are dismayed to see a large troll blocking access. Trolls are even stronger than humunculi so you won't be fighting this one anytime soon. The tunnel represents the only way through to the other side as an inclimbable rockface extends in both directions along the plateau. You're gonna have to get through that tunnel one way or another.
You remember that the shaman said that the Craxil uses riders to send its orders out to its minions and that these riders are basically human thralls. Perhaps you could fake it to get past him. Another option is your bow. Trolls are very large creatures and therefore pretty hard to miss, even for you. A final option is to try and distract it somehow. You reason that you could cause a lot of commotion in the half-dead vegetation nearby to draw him away from the tunnel, then circle around and make a run for it.
> You draw Your Bow And Fire Upon The Troll
You may only be able to hit a general area, but a troll is a very large and broad target so you have practically no chance of missing here. You position yourself behind a large rock, just out of the trolls sight and ready your bow. The troll is still completely unaware of your presence and just stands there looking bored out of his mind. You pull out an arrow and draw it back in the string. You take aim and release.
The first shot hits the troll in the navel but seems to deal minimal damage. You draw back again and fire one into him, this time just below his chest. He looks confused but now lumbers in your direction. As you pull another one back he detects your presence and is now moving faster. You put another one into his midsection but again this deals minimal damage. You prepare to draw back another but he is upon you now.
It's too bad you forgot that trolls have exceptional regenerative capabilities. It takes more than a few arrows to bring these things down. Unfortunately, this is a lesson that has cost you your life.
THE END |
You've gotten past the bulk of the humunculi and the goblins were refreshingly easy, but as you continue forward you shudder to think at what else may lie in store for you up ahead. This nondescript plateau had dredged on for quite a while and still no sign of Redridge pass. Suddently you reach a tunnel and you are dismayed to see a large troll blocking access. Trolls are even stronger than humunculi so you won't be fighting this one anytime soon. The tunnel represents the only way through to the other side as an inclimbable rockface extends in both directions along the plateau. You're gonna have to get through that tunnel one way or another.
You remember that the shaman said that the Craxil uses riders to send its orders out to its minions and that these riders are basically human thralls. Perhaps you could fake it to get past him. Another option is your bow. Trolls are very large creatures and therefore pretty hard to miss, even for you. A final option is to try and distract it somehow. You reason that you could cause a lot of commotion in the half-dead vegetation nearby to draw him away from the tunnel, then circle around and make a run for it.
> You create A Diversion To Lure Him Away, Then Run For It
The troll may be large, but something tells you it would take more than a few arrows to bring this thing down and you have no intention of getting up close to it for a bluff. It takes time, but after making enough noise from cover you manage to get the troll's attention and lure him away from the tunnel entrance. The creature lumbers slowly and cautiously towards the source of the noise and you are already working your way around from the other side. Eventually you see your opportunity and make a break for it. By the time the troll realizes you are there, you are already behind him and nearing the entrance to the tunnel. He tries to stop you, but you are already inside and despite his best efforts to stop you, you are already beyond his reach. He lets out a series of angry grunts and you continue onward through the tunnel. Clearly all those years of playing capture the flag have served you well.
As you emerge from the other side, you begin to see the rocks getting more red and you take it as a sign that you are on the right path. There was never much foliage in this mountainside but the area you are in now is especially rocky and devoid of vegetation. You hope you will find the Redrange Pass soon so you can deal with the Craxil and be done with this quest.
You've been traveling a long time without sleep and dawn is starting to crack. Somehow, the warm beams of sunlight raising up over the distant rocks make you feel sleepy. As you continnue forward along the rugged expanse of jagged red rocks and dirt you discover the remains of an unused campsite. The inhabitants are long gone, but the camp is still here. A cozy warm campfire, soft, cottony sleeping mat, warm blanket, the works. There are no enemies as far as the eye can see in any direction and you think you would probably be able to think better if you had some rest. The warmth and coziness of this campsite is calling to you and since you haven't slept in almost 40 hours now, you begin to consider.
> You curl Up And Sleep, You May Not Get The Chance To Later
You are going to need to stay awake if you want to keep your mind sharp, and you can't do that if you are sleep deprived. It only makes sense that you would need to take a break in your journey and catch some much needed sleep. Besides, the blanket is so warm, the mat is so cottony soft and the sun beams over your face are just wonderful. You feel as though you could just curl up and hibernate like a bear and continue your sneaky journey at night.
Kind of lucky that you just happened upon such a nice, uninhabited camp huh. I mean, what are the odds right? Well... they aren't very high actually. Actually, its pretty damn convinent isn't it. It's at this point you start to get suspicious but by now it is too late. The entire camp site dissipates into a thick black smoke and you feel as though you've just aged by 50 years. You manage to stand but you can barely move. This is when you notice all the skeletons on the ground that were not here before. How could you not see them before?!? They definitely weren't here before. No way!
The billowy smoke takes form and suddenly it all makes sense in a terrible way. The campsite was just a tempting illusion generated by a wraith. Its terrifying to think that its intelligent enough to lure you in like this, and now that it has already sapped so much of your strength and lifeforce you know in your heart you are completely fucked. Fear gives way to anger, which then gives way to desperation followed by pathetic pleading. The wraith ignores it all and soon you are but a husk of a man and within a few weeks of decay you become just another skeleton adorning his trap.
THE END |
The troll may be large, but something tells you it would take more than a few arrows to bring this thing down and you have no intention of getting up close to it for a bluff. It takes time, but after making enough noise from cover you manage to get the troll's attention and lure him away from the tunnel entrance. The creature lumbers slowly and cautiously towards the source of the noise and you are already working your way around from the other side. Eventually you see your opportunity and make a break for it. By the time the troll realizes you are there, you are already behind him and nearing the entrance to the tunnel. He tries to stop you, but you are already inside and despite his best efforts to stop you, you are already beyond his reach. He lets out a series of angry grunts and you continue onward through the tunnel. Clearly all those years of playing capture the flag have served you well.
As you emerge from the other side, you begin to see the rocks getting more red and you take it as a sign that you are on the right path. There was never much foliage in this mountainside but the area you are in now is especially rocky and devoid of vegetation. You hope you will find the Redrange Pass soon so you can deal with the Craxil and be done with this quest.
You've been traveling a long time without sleep and dawn is starting to crack. Somehow, the warm beams of sunlight raising up over the distant rocks make you feel sleepy. As you continnue forward along the rugged expanse of jagged red rocks and dirt you discover the remains of an unused campsite. The inhabitants are long gone, but the camp is still here. A cozy warm campfire, soft, cottony sleeping mat, warm blanket, the works. There are no enemies as far as the eye can see in any direction and you think you would probably be able to think better if you had some rest. The warmth and coziness of this campsite is calling to you and since you haven't slept in almost 40 hours now, you begin to consider.
> You focus & Discipline, You Need To Keep Moving
You decide that there will be time to sleep when your journey is over. Sleeping now would only make you vulnerable within Craxil territory and given the myriad of possible fates that may befall you we simply cannot take that chance now can we. Then again, you have gone almost 40 hours without sleep so far and you aren't even sure if you are halfway there yet. If you continue pushing yourself forth at this pace you may very well collapse. Perhaps finding a safe place to rest isn't such a bad idea after all.
As you try to walk away you get the distinct smell of bacon. You look back and see a skillet over the campfire. It smells fantastic. Strange that you didn't notice this earlier though. The campsite seems to be calling to you, but of course that idea is completely absurd. Your beginning to feel like that halfling Brodo Faggins, who traveled relentlessly on his journey without supplies or rest. You suppose that given you've been an underappreciated swineherd your whole life, such an idea is a fun one to ponder.
You catch yourself stopping in your tracks, and starring at the food over the campfire and the mat on the ground. "How convinent" you think, "to have all that food within reach of the soft cotton mat. You shake your head and try to shake it off but the temptation is grabbing at your attention. |
You might be able to hit the broadside of a barn, but your aim is not sufficient for anything more than a general area. You don't want to alert the goblin to your presence so you are just going to have to deal with him the old fashioned way. Under cover of midnight you slink around to the edge of the camp and work your way along the side until you are close. Despite your apparent lack of skill in fighting and archery you are an absolute master at sneakery. But enough of such destracting thoughts. As the goblin turns away you leap forth, cup his mouth with your left hand, and stab him through the back. You pull the body away from the camp so none of the other goblins will see it.
Fortunately for you, none of the goblins seem stirred in the least. You removed that problem without attracting attention. Even better, another one of the nightwatchmen goblins has come back to the same post trying to figure out why his comrade is no longer at his post. This affords you the opportunity to repeat the procedure and return once again. The way to the central tent still has a few more problems in store for you. Single goblins patrol the area and there is always at least one patrol goblin within sight range of that tent. Also, the tent itself has its own nightwatchman who is evidently dedicated to the shaman. At the very least, you need to kill one of the patrolling goblins to create an opening and the sentry guarding the tent. With this done, you have a chance at abducting and interrogating the shaman for some much needed information on the Craxil.
You have some ideas on the patrolling goblin. You could attempt to construct a simple foothold trap out of vine and add some barbs from the camp to dig into his foot. Alternatively, you could wait until he rounds his usual tree and cut him down before the next patrolling goblin comes along.
> You wait Behind The Tree And Cut Him Down As He Comes Along
You prefer to keep things simple and avoid the convoluted. Besides, a barbed trap would likely make him scream out before you kill him would it not? You hide behind a tree and wait for the next goblin to make his usual round. As he comes about you plunge your sword into his chest and immediately grab him so you can hide the body before the next patrol arrives.
You wait for the opening to come again, then quickly maneuver into position to stab the tent's sentry before the next patrol goblin comes around. You peek inside to see the shaman sleeping (lucky you) and drag the sentry's body inside where it won't be detected. You've reached the shaman, and he's still asleep, but you can't very well interrogate him here. You pick up a candlestick from the nearby table and as he's coming to you clock him over the head with it. You check for a pulse to see if he's dead or unconcious and thankfully, he's just knocked out. You gag him and bind his arms behind his back because he won't be able to cast spells without his tounge and hand movements. You use the same patrol opening to escape the camp and return to a spot distant from the camp. You rouse the shaman to wake up and realize you are probably more scared than he will be. |
You cannot contain your curiosity about this camp but you know you should keep your distance and be careful. They are likely hostile after all. You remember that you are out in the open now so the sun will remove any advantage that the shadows had given you in the caves. You decide to wait until nightfall, then slink in closer to the camp. There is minimal rock cover but you manage to find a decent place from which to observe their camp. They are goblins, armed with schimitars and polearms which you assume must be the work of the Craxil.
Even outside the Craxil's domain, goblins are known for their hostility towards humans so approaching them would be stupid. However, unlike the powerful humunculi you've had to deal with so far, goblins are a weaker enemy you feel confident you could stand against (provided you don't get yourself overwhelmed). There are about 30 of the foul creatures wandering about the camp, but the one that catches your interest is the shaman. Decked out in fancy garb and occupying a large tent in the center of the camp, it is clear this one is the leader. It occurs to you that if they are working for the Craxil then this one might be able to provide you with some much needed leads as to where you can find him.
You are confident in your ability to handle a single goblin or perhaps even two if your life depended on it but certainly not the entire camp. You're just a sneaky swineherd after all. You wait until midnight, when most of the goblins have retired to sleep. There are still a handful of night watchmen goblins though, and they will need to be dealt with before you can hope to reach the shaman's tent. You also shudder at the thought of the shaman unleashing horrid magicks upon you. Once again, you will have to use the element of surprise to make up for your lack of fighting experience but then... as a sneaky bastard that is your specialty.
The first concern is the single goblin standing at the closest entrance to the camp. He is holding a polearm and needs to be removed before you can get into the camp. As stated before, you are confident you can take him, but you need to be careful not to wake the rest of the camp in the process. One idea is to sneak up on him and stab him through the back with your sword before he can react. Another idea is to try and hit him with an arrow from a distance, then move on to the next target. Either way, he needs to be removed.
> You put An Arrow In Him
You are concerned that if you were to get to close to him or the camp before he is taken out then you will be detected so it is best to deal with the problem from afar. You pull an arrow back in your bow and wait until the goblin stops fidgeting around. You were successful with this thing the last time you used it against that one humunculus, but you know that was just luck. Besides, you aren't going to get a second chance this time.
You carefully aim at the goblins chest because that is the broadest target on his body and an arrow that lands there is likely to still prove fatal. You wait for the wind to die down, pull the drawstring as far back as you possibly can, perfect your aim, and....................RELEASE!
The arrow sails through the air but fails to hit its target. Actually, you overshot and the arrow tore through one of the peripheral tents. You ready another arrow, but the goblin guard is aware now and so is the inhabitant of that tent you shot. You manage to blow out the guards knee with the second shot (despite still aiming for the chest) but its no use as the camp is now stirring and the goblins are now being roused. You pull back towards the humunculus caves you emerged from, hoping to find someplace to hide before they get their shit together. You duck behind a large rock just outside the passageway you exitted from when you first arrived on this plateau. The goblins have explored the area between you and the camp and they are drawing closer.
The shaman leads them into the passageway you came from and for a moment you think you're going to be safe...until one of the footsolder goblins detects your presence. He lifts his spear above his head leaving you no choice but to thrust your sword through his abdomin. Of course, now the other goblins are aware of your presence. Reasoning your longer legs should enable you to outrun the goblins you take off and it looks like you might get away. At least, that's what you thought until the shaman lands a fireball against you.
THE END |
Naturally, you are not going to go down the passageway that your pursuers went down, that's just stupid. You want to avoid unnecessary conflict after allso you can increase your chances of reaching the Craxil. This passageway leads you out to a large plateau. To the right, you can see another several clusters of cave networks populated by humunculi. To the left you see a step drop off that would land you in the forest the hunters of your village like to use. In front of you, and in the distance, is a curious looking camp. You see a couple different campfires and at least two dozen tee-pee style tents down over there. You can't make out who the inhabitants are though, at least not from here. Odds are they aren't friendly though. This is Craxil territory after all. Of course, the humunculi in the multiple cave clusters over there aren't friendly either so what does it matter? You still have no leads as to where to find the Craxil but you need to make a decision as to where to go.
> You explore The Humunculi Clusters
Perhaps it is wise to stick with the enemy you know right? Anyway, the creatures that have been attacking your village have been humunculi and while they are not the only creatures under the Craxil's command (according to Brandolf) they are the ones he seems to call on the most. Perhaps you'll find clues to his whereabouts somewhere about in their dwellings.
The task of sneaking over to these cave clusters unseen is a challenging one. You are out in the open now, so the sun is taking away any advantage that the darkness would otherwise have given you. Also, a couple humunculi are standing outside in the open, in the front of the cave clusters you seek to gain entry to. Realizing the impossibility of this situation, you fall back a bit and wait until nightfall to make your move.
Eventually the sun sets and the humunculi retire to their caves. You slink over to their position using what little rock cover and shrubbery you have to conceal your approach. Just as you reach the next rock for cover you feel something strike you from above and you lose conciousness. Seems one of the humunculi noticed your approach and got you with a rock from a high vantage point. You're surprised you survived such a blow but you soon wish you hadn't. Your arms and legs are restrained with thick vines and it is clear you are about to become the meal for a handful of humunculi.
THE END |
The room is too well lit to try and sneak past him and lunging forth at a superior foe with a short sword doesn't strike your fancy either. You decide to get creative and pull out the bow that Brandolf gave you in the council before you left. You ran a few practice shots before departing on this journey and you know you can at least hit a general target, though you'd be pretty hard pressed to achieve any kind of real accuracy.
The first shot whizzes past the creatures head and into a nearby pillar of rock. His eyes go wide as he looks at the arrow then turns to look directly at you. You immediately pull back another arrow and take aim knowing this shot is going to make or break destiny. You aim for his chest as that is the broadest target available and the iron arrowhead may even reach his heart. As he lunges forth you close your eyes and release...
You half expected you'd be dead by now but when you open your eyes you discover your arrow went through the creatures neck. He is now on his knees bleeding profusely and clutching his throat. Wasting no time, you finish him with your short sword, then dive into the darkest corner. The three humunculi heard the ruckus and have come down from their campfire to see what the commotion was. When they discover their fallen comrade, they go into a rage and start to look around. You dig into the corner as much as you can and clutch your sword. Two of the creatures move towards the unexplored passageway on the other side of the chamber while the third seems to be gravitating closer to your position. You begin to wonder if you should strike him by surprise while you still can or hope you can try to remain undiscovered.
> You remain In The Corner And Hope To Be Undiscovered
Even if you succeeded in sneak attacking this one, what about the other two? You cannot possibly hope to defeat two humunculi, especially without the element of surprise on your side. Their monsters and let's face it, elementary school girls still best you at arm wrestling. Your best bet is to remain in the corner and pray. You sit there, hold your breath, and close your eyes. This is probably for the best, because its all over before you realize what's happening. The humunculus discovered you and struck you upside the head with such force that you suffered a fatal concussion. On the plus side, you didn't feel a thing.
THE END |
You press your body firmly against the back wall of the chamber and slowly make your way over to the entrance of the large passageway on the left. Occasionally the campfire will flicker light in your general direction giving you pause, but the humunculi are totally unaware of your presence. Eventually, you manage to make it to the passageway and it doesn't take long before you reach another chamber. You are greatly disheartened by what you see up ahead.
A larger than normal humunculus stands in the center of the fairly well lit chamber and judging from his tribal decor you figure he must be someone of rank. The passageway continues at the other end of the chamber, but this creature blocks your path. At the moment, he is looking off to the side and does not notice your presence. You weigh your options.
> You go Back The Way You Came
You are quickly beginning to wish Brandolf had given you a torch, but given the nature of your quest he probably figured you didn't need to draw attention to yourself. Still, you can barely see more than a few feet in front of your face and it is only getting darker as you continue further inward. You run your hand along the right wall and move carefully, scouting each step with your foot to avoid a fall. Your heart is racing and you know that at any moment, something might come out and attack.
Eventually, the cave leads into a small inner chamber with a campfire in the middle. Three humunculi are sitting around the campfire, roasting human limbs on a stick as if they were marshmellows. Fortunately, they are not aware of your presence and the campfire enables you to see there are several tunnels leading out from this chamber. On the other side of the chamber is a tunnel that goes deeper in, but you won't be able to go down this way undetected as long as the humunculi are here. There are also nondescript passsageways to the left and the right (large and small respectively) that you can reach as long as you stay in the shadows. |
You are quickly beginning to wish Brandolf had given you a torch, but given the nature of your quest he probably figured you didn't need to draw attention to yourself. Still, you can barely see more than a few feet in front of your face and it is only getting darker as you continue further inward. You run your hand along the right wall and move carefully, scouting each step with your foot to avoid a fall. Your heart is racing and you know that at any moment, something might come out and attack.
Eventually, the cave leads into a small inner chamber with a campfire in the middle. Three humunculi are sitting around the campfire, roasting human limbs on a stick as if they were marshmellows. Fortunately, they are not aware of your presence and the campfire enables you to see there are several tunnels leading out from this chamber. On the other side of the chamber is a tunnel that goes deeper in, but you won't be able to go down this way undetected as long as the humunculi are here. There are also nondescript passsageways to the left and the right (large and small respectively) that you can reach as long as you stay in the shadows.
> You attack The Humunculi With Your Sword While They Are Relaxed
These humunculi are blocking a passage that may lead to the Craxil; and the fewer of them there are, the less difficult it will be for you to have to sneak around. You draw your sword and lung forth plunging it into the back of the nearest unsuspecting humunculi. You swell with pride realizing that you have just killed your first monster, and a humunculi too! Unfortunately, you have difficulty removing the sword from the humunculi's body and the others have immediately taken notice of you. You attempt to run back out of the cave from whence you came, but the creatures are faster than you are. They beat you savagely before bringing you back to their campfire for desert.
THE END |
"The trouble is that this poison must be ingested or applied to a blade, simply splashing your opponent with it will not suffice."
"But how will anyone even get that far? Without royal aid, how can anyone even hope to reach the Craxil?"
At this point, many in the council are reminded of your exploits at last year's "capture the flag" contests. In fact, at every annual festival you manage to outfox your opponents, evade their numbers, and sneak up on their flag. Your success record was almost unrealistic. Suddenly, the council gets it in their minds to send you in with the poison. In fact, you're alarmed by how quickly they're all agreeing to this idea despite the fact you haven't yet. Then again, you've always sensed that as a swineherd you've never really been well liked or considered "valuable" by the townsfolk so this response isn't entirely unexpected.
Nonetheless, you aren't going to go anywhere or do anything that you haven't agreed to do first. Unlike the others in the room, Brandolf has the decency to walk up and ask your opinion on the matter. He is usually dismissive of stupid ideas, but he seems to think this one might actually work. You take a moment to decide how to respond.
> You refuse The Offer And Tell The Assholes In Your Community Where They Can Shove Their New Idea
The people of Jacquescrappe have never really treated you with respect and you never really liked them either. Moreover, you are offended by how many of them just agreed to send you in without even bothering to ask you how YOU felt about the idea. You decide to return to your swineherding responsibilities and let the rest of the townspeople try to figure this out for themselves. "Fuck 'em" you think as you leave the council chambers and return to the fields.
In the weeks that followed, several intrepid individuals attempted to reach the Craxil and never returned. Many townspeople gathered together all the gold they had in hopes of putting together a reward for a worthy adventurer who might succeed in this task. Many others were sent to the royal palace, begging desperately and fruitlessly for military assistance in their remote and low value settlement. In the end, all these events failed and soon, the raids returned.
If the townspeople didn't like you before, they certainly hated you now. While before you would sometimes get dirty looks or the occasional one word answer, they now ignore you completely wherever you go. You insist that you had every right to refuse such a foolish plan, but most just dismiss you as being a selfish bastard. You return to the fields to talk to "oinky" and "snout", the only friends that haven't turned their backs on you yet.
In the monthes that followed, numerous people are dragged off into the mountainside, never to be heard from again. You smile as the fat hog of a woman with a barbed tounge that pissed you off the most is seen screaming while in the grasp of one of these creatures. However, one night while you are cleaning up the digested remains of oinky's chili burritos you are surprised by two humunculi. You may have enjoyed it when others you didn't like so much got carried off, but this time it is you. You are never heard from again.
THE END |
Your world is rot. Your nostrils fill with the smell of excrement and decay that tends to fill your home. Still, it's all you have. You scurry among the scattered ruins, climbing atop a massive section of castle wreckage, sniffing the air.
A rusted, blood-stained sword sits in one hand, a leather pouch hanging from your shoulder. Your whiskers tingle with excitement as you smell the scent of burning meat. Campfires are near, and where there's campfire, there's a caravan. Where there's a caravan, there's food.
> You head towards it
You scurry towards it, as do the others. Dozens of brown and black bodies scurry up from among the rubble and out of the ancient sewers underneath where your camps lie. You're one of the first on the sign, climbing atop a crushed tower as you see it. Three wagons circled around a campfire, basking in its light. The moonlight shines on your brown, shit-matted fur and catches on your blade as you run forward towards the camps. The man on guard, a young, cleanly shaven guard with armor that's too small for him yell as he sees you approach,. He readies his spear, looking ready to plunge it into you. You dance at the edge of the spear point, waiting for your chance.
> You grab at the spear
You step forward, grabbing the spear's shaft and yanking the guard forward. You swing your sword, slashing him in the massive gap between his helmet and shoulder pads, biting into his neck. He screams, collapsing to the ground as blood spurts forth.
You yell with glee, at other Ratlings begin arriving to take care of the other guards. The merchants and passengers of the caravan either flee back inside the caravans or procur weapons and get ready to fight, but this isn't a unified raid where the scraps will be given out later. You take what you can get. You run towards the camp fire, grabbing the stew cooking there, jabbing your snout into it and beginning to gulp down the delicious mixture. You manage to finish half before a much bigger rat grabs the pot from you, and you know you can't fight him. You turn to one of the caravans, where rats have killed the guards and are dealing with the merchants. The merchants are surrounded, looking terrified, as all those willing to fight have been cut down.
Although the majority of them are to be enslaved and sold to the Lizards or the Eastern Tribes, while the women will be taken back to the burrows for a less than kind fate, one unfortunate soul has made his presence known by trying to negotiate.
"Please, taken the cargo! It's yours! Keep the men as well, we'll fetch a heavy ransom! But leave the women and the child go, won't you?" the merchant leader says.
Bad choice. The boys have taken note of him now, and he's a fat one. His weight, the fact that he has so much food he can grow weak and fat, only angers you all thanks to the fact that you're all constantly hungry and eating scraps. One of the ratlings slashes his axe, cutting open the man's belly in a superficial wound. Another ratling jabs him with a spear, as the boys begin to jab and slash at the man as he yelps in pain as he's slowly cut and hacked apart.
The torture has drawn the others attention away from the actual carriages. You stare at them, contemplating sneaking away and grabbing yourself some more food.
> You join the torture
You laugh gleefully as you dash forward, punching the man in the side of the head and knocking him backward as he grunts in pain, knocking into the blow of a sword blade. You slash at his ankle as he collapses to a knee, before one of the ratlings decks him a blow from the butt of his spear. He tries to stand, blood down streaming down his face.
"Please, I'm sorry. I didn't...!" he cries, looking genuinely petrified, before one of the rats takes it too far and stabs him in the throat with his sword, killing him.
He slumps to the ground, before lying still.
"Bah! Could've played with him for hours!" you complain.
The largest rat, a big brute who's taken charge of the raid named Pak, strides forward. Not too many ratlings have joined the raid, a fact Pak is clearly enjoying as it means he gets to take charge, and since you all get a bigger part of the profit, all the better.
"You, you and you!" he shouts, selecting three rats from the group. "Start moving the prisoners back."
"Yes, yes," they snarl, as they begin to shout and whip the prisoners into movement.
"You!" he shouts, pointing a long finger at you. "Kill the horses."
You nod, walking over to the horses. They seem terrified and scarred, and look at you as if begging for mercy. You wonder if it's best just to untie them and scare them off.
> You kill the horses
You slash your sword, cutting open one of the horse's throats. You jab your sword through its skull to finish it off, before slashing another's throat. You kill the few horses, before returning to Pak, who's already ordering the others to carve up the horses and bring the meat and hides back to the home. Suddenly, you see two ratlings dragging a teenage girl out of a caravan, whose crying and screaming has gathered the rest of your attention.
"Please! Please! Let me go!" the girl sobs.
The ratlings toss her in front of Pak, who grins eagerly.
"Perfect! I'll have some fun with her!" he says.
He glances at you, noticing you're finished with the horses.
"Bring the girl back to the burrow. I'll have my fun with her later. Let the others have some fun, too."
You nod, walking over to the girl, grabbing her by the hang and beginning to drag her towards the burrow.
> You lead the girl back to the burrows
You drag the girl along the path to the burrow, as she cries.
"Please, you have to help me get out of here. We can run, just run into the wilderness."
"Can't do it. Too many bad things there. They'd kill on site a ratling. No, no," you say.
"Please! I don't want to die..." she whimpers. "Can... can you tell me what's going to happen to me?"
> You walk in silence
You keep walking, as the girl falls silent, becoming quiet. Soon, you walk down into the burrows through the caved in portion of sewer and into the top layer of the many layered burrows. The weakest and most feeble rats are forced to live here, away from the safety that waits lower down. They look gleefully at the girl, talking and chattering among themselves. They grab at her, groping at her breasts and bosom and tearing pieces of fabric off her dress. You raise your sword to threaten them off, and they easily follow orders. You're weak for a Ratling, but you could easily kill the crippled and the the meek who surround you. You find a corner of the room, shoving the girl into it and raising your sword, waiting for Pak to arrive and take his prey.
"I'm scared," the girl says.
"I'd be, if I were you," you admit.
"What's your name?" she asks.
"Ritz," you say.
"I'm Julianne," she says. "I don't want to die here."
You don't say another word, as she begins to chant.
"I have the soul of the dragon. Dragons to not break. Dragons do not die. Dragons do not show fear. Dragons survive the flames. I have the soul of the dragon..." she continues to chant.
You turn, staring at her. You notice a long, silver necklace hanging around her, and grab it.
"This is pretty," you say, admiring the silver.
"You can have it. If you help me get out of here, it's all yours. It was a gift from my father."
You stare at the necklace, knowing there's not a chance she's getting out of here alive, even if you tried to save her.
> You snatch it off her
You grab the necklace, snatching it off her neck and clutching it in her hands.
"Hey!" she cries, grabbing at it before you snarl, scarring her away.
She whimpers, shuffling away from you. You stare at her, wrapping it around the hilt of your sword and clutching it tightly. You wait patiently for Pak to arrive.
After a few minutes, the massive, black-furred rat clambers into the burrow, grinning as he sees her prey. He stomps forward, grabbing her by the hand.
"Come on, darling. Let's take you down to the lower levels. I have a few of the others I want pulled over to my side, and I'm sure your sweet ass will do a great deal in getting them there."
The huge brute begins dragging the girl away, leaving you standing there. Suddenly, he stops, turning around.
"What's your name?"
"Ritz," you say.
"You did a good job protecting her from the cripples and in the raid, and I'm feeling generous. Care to join in the fun?"
> You join in
You allow your bestial nature to take over, nodding vigorously. You follow him as he drags the weeping girl along with him. Soon, you venture down the twisted staircases and pathways down to the lower layers. Eventually, you enter the chamber filled with whatever Ratlings Pak wants to impress.
You watch in a mixture of fear and lust as the Ratlings appear, more than willing to be entertained by the new flesh that's entered their homes. They quickly undress her and begin to have their fun despite her horrified, screaming protests which soon turn to pained screams and begging. The Ratlings have their fun with her, and eventually you have your turn. You focus on the physical sensations rather than the pitiful weeping, and soon embrace the pure pleasure of the act. You achieve release, almost collapsing back as your body fulfills one of its prime functions. A ratling pulls you back to take your place with the hostage, and you're tossed gently aside.
You crawl back towards your home, curling up in a bed of animal hides and quickly letting sleep take you. The life of a ratling is a pleasurable one if you're smart enough to take advantage of it, you have to admit.
> You awaken
You awaken to a knife pressed against your throat. You reach for your sword in the darkness, but a hand catches yours.
"Scream for help or try anything and I cut you open," a harsh voice growls.
You try to nod, but the knife is pressed so tightly any movement would slice open your throat.
"A prisoner was taken into the burrows. Where is she?"
> You claim ignorance
"I don't know anything," you say.
The man grabs your throat, strangling it as he impales your hand. You try to scream, but you can't even get out a breath.
"Quiet," the man says, pulling out the knife and releasing your throat as you whimper, clutching at your wound.
"Do you think I picked you out by chance? You have her necklace. I tracked it here. Now, answer me."
> You plead ignorance
"I swear to everything I don't know!" you say.
"Filthy lying vermin," the man hisses. "Perhaps the next rat will be more trustworhy."
The man slices open your throat, and you collapse against the ground, quickly dying. |
"I don't know anything," you say.
The man grabs your throat, strangling it as he impales your hand. You try to scream, but you can't even get out a breath.
"Quiet," the man says, pulling out the knife and releasing your throat as you whimper, clutching at your wound.
"Do you think I picked you out by chance? You have her necklace. I tracked it here. Now, answer me."
> You lie
"She was taken off to be ransomed off by one of the travelling ratlings."
You see the runes of the blade glowing, as the man snarls.
"Filthy lying vermin," the man hisses. "Perhaps the next rat will be more trustworthy."
The man slices open your throat, and you collapse against the ground, quickly dying. |
"I don't know anything," you say.
The man grabs your throat, strangling it as he impales your hand. You try to scream, but you can't even get out a breath.
"Quiet," the man says, pulling out the knife and releasing your throat as you whimper, clutching at your wound.
"Do you think I picked you out by chance? You have her necklace. I tracked it here. Now, answer me."
> You tell the truth
"She's been taken down to the fifth layer. You... you won't want to find her. She's dead by now, and her body won't be in the best condition."
The man doesn't respond for some time, before snarling.
"No, she's alive. I can feel it. You, however, are no better than the rest of your lying kind. Death's for you."
The man slices open your throat, and you collapse against the ground, quickly dying. |
You awaken to a knife pressed against your throat. You reach for your sword in the darkness, but a hand catches yours.
"Scream for help or try anything and I cut you open," a harsh voice growls.
You try to nod, but the knife is pressed so tightly any movement would slice open your throat.
"A prisoner was taken into the burrows. Where is she?"
> You lie
"She was taken off to be ransomed off by one of the travelling ratlings."
You see the runes of the blade glowing, as the man snarls.
"Liar. The knife speaks to your honesty. The truth, now, or you die." |
You awaken to a knife pressed against your throat. You reach for your sword in the darkness, but a hand catches yours.
"Scream for help or try anything and I cut you open," a harsh voice growls.
You try to nod, but the knife is pressed so tightly any movement would slice open your throat.
"A prisoner was taken into the burrows. Where is she?"
> You tell the truth
"She's been taken down to the fifth layer. You... you won't want to find her. She's dead by now, and her body won't be in the best condition."
The man doesn't respond for some time, before snarling.
"No, she's alive. I can feel it. Your fate, however, is less certain."
The man's blade illuminates, casting golden light on the both of you. You stare at his grizzled face with a thick beard growing. However, he gets a clear view of you, seeing your blood, sweat and semen-encrusted fur. He stares at you, realizing what you've done.
"You had her way with her... you disgusting vermin!" he near shouts, hopefully waking some of the other Ratlings to come to your side.
The man slices open your throat, and you collapse against the ground. He rams his knife into your chest repeatedly as you try to scream in pain, but blood quickly fills your throat. Your life is quickly drained from you, and you lie there as death takes you. |
You grab the necklace, snatching it off her neck and clutching it in her hands.
"Hey!" she cries, grabbing at it before you snarl, scarring her away.
She whimpers, shuffling away from you. You stare at her, wrapping it around the hilt of your sword and clutching it tightly. You wait patiently for Pak to arrive.
After a few minutes, the massive, black-furred rat clambers into the burrow, grinning as he sees her prey. He stomps forward, grabbing her by the hand.
"Come on, darling. Let's take you down to the lower levels. I have a few of the others I want pulled over to my side, and I'm sure your sweet ass will do a great deal in getting them there."
The huge brute begins dragging the girl away, leaving you standing there. Suddenly, he stops, turning around.
"What's your name?"
"Ritz," you say.
"You did a good job protecting her from the cripples and in the raid, and I'm feeling generous. Care to join in the fun?"
> You refuse
You shake your head sadly, just staring at the rat. He lets out a grunt of disgust, before dragging the girl away despite her crying protests.
You head to your chamber, curling up in a bed of animal hides and lying there. You hear the girl's crying and screaming for help in the distance of the caverns, but know you can do nothing. You push your furs against your floppy ears to drown out the sound, trying to find sleep. Eventually, you manage to do so. |
Subsets and Splits