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[001] Back to basics
So, I still feel like utter garbage, my sinuses having decided to join in the fun, and I anticipate tomorrow will be even worse, since I'm off to work! My boss is on my ass to get a doctor's note to take sick days, which, yeah, I'm totally going to go to a doctor so he can confirm that yes, I have a cough, good job. If I have to be taking the bus in the stupid cold, further jacking up my throat, and spend a day jumping through hoops, I think I'd rather take the option where I DON'T lose money for doing it. Ugh. I can't even breathe. Everything is terrible.
But hey, at least I managed to watch a season each of Adventure Time and Archer, that's what really matters in this work-a-day world.
You are an adventurer, a sword for hire, and have been roaming the northern borderlands of your kingdom. Having always spurned the dullness of village life, you now wander the lands in search of wealth and danger. Despite the long walks and rough outdoor life you are content with your unknown destiny. The world holds no fears for you as you are a skilful warrior, well practised in the art of slaying evil men and beasts with your trusty sword. Not once during the last ten days since entering the northern borderlands have you set eyes upon another person. This does not worry you at all, as you are happy with your own company and enjoy the slow, sunny days hunting, eating and sleeping.
It is evening, and having feasted on a dinner of rabbit, spit-roasted on an open fire, you settle down to sleep beneath your sheepskin blanket. There's a full moon, and the light sparkles on the blade of your broadsword skewered into the ground by your side. You gaze at it, wondering when you will next have to wipe the blood of some vile creature from its sharp edge. These are strange lands, inhabited by weird and loathsome beasts - goblins, trolls and even dragons.
As the flame of your camp fire gently dies, you begin to drift asleep, and images of screaming, green-faced trolls flicker through your mind. Suddenly, in the bushes to your left, you hear the loud crack of a twig breaking under a clumsy foot. You leap up and grab your sword from the ground. You stand motionless but alert, ready to pounce on your unseen adversary. Then you hear a groan, followed by the dull thud of a body falling to the ground. Is it a trap? Slowly you walk over to the bush where the noise is coming from and carefully pull back the branches. You look down to see a little old man with a great bushy beard, his face contorted with pain. You crouch down to remove the iron helmet covering his balding head and notice two crossbow bolts protruding from the stomach of his plump, chainmail-clad torso. Picking him up, you carry him over to the fire and stir the dying embers into life. After covering him with the sheepskin blanket, you manage to get the old man to drink a little water. He coughs and moans. He sits up rigid, eyes staring fixedly ahead, and start to shout.
'I'll get them! I'll get them! Don't you fear, Gillibran, Bigleg is coming to bring you the hammer! Oh yes, indeed I am. Oh yes...'
The dwarf, whose name you presume to be Bigleg, is obviously delirious from the poison-tipped bolts lodged in his stomach. You watch as he slumps down again to the ground, then whisper his name in his ear. His eyes stare unblinkingly at you, as he again starts to shout.
'Ambush! Look out! Ambush! Aagh! The hammer! Take the hammer to Gillibran! Save the dwarfs!'
His eyes half close and the pain seems to ease a little, and as the delirium subsides, he speaks to you again in a low whisper.
'Help us, friend... take the hammer to Gillibran... only the hammer will unite our people against the trolls... We were on our way to Darkwood in search of the hammer... ambushed by the littler people... others killed... the map in my pouch will take you to the home of Yaztromo, the master mage of these parts... he has great magics for sale to protect you against the creatures of Darkwood... take my gold... I beg you to find the hammer and take it to Gillibran, my Lord of Stonebridge... you will be well rewarded...'
Bigleg opens his mouth to start another sentence, but nothing comes out except his last dying breath. You sit down and ponder Bigleg's words. Who is Gillibran? Who is Yaztromo? What is all the fuss about the dwarfish hammer? You reach over to the still body of Bigleg and remove the pouch from the leather belt around his waist. Inside you find 30 Gold Pieces and a map.
Jingling the coins in your hand you think of the possible rewards which may await you just for returning a hammer to a village of dwarfs. You decide to try to find the hammer in Darkwood Forest; it's been a few weeks since your last good battle, and, what is more, you are likely to be well paid for this one.
With your mind made up, you settle down to sleep, having taken back the sheepskin blanket from poor Bigleg. In the morning you bury the old dwarf and gather up your possessions. You examine the map, look up to the sun, and find your bearings. Whistling merrily, you head off south at a good pace, eager to meet this man Yaztromo and see what he has to offer.
Your walk to Yaztromo's takes a little over half a day, and you arrive at his stone tower home dirty and hungry. As the tower is set back on the edges of Darkwood some fifty metres away from the path you have been following, it is difficult to find. Finally you walk up to the huge oak door, somewhat relieved to find that it does exist and that Bigleg had not been speaking wildly in his delirium. A large brass bell and gong hang from the stone archway. As you ring the bell, a shiver runs down your spine and you realize that the loud 'bong' invades a deep silence, which you had not noticed before. There are no sounds of birds or animals to be heard. You wait anxiously at the door and hear slow footsteps descending stairs from the tower above. A small wooden slot in the door slides open, and two eyes appear and examine you.
'Well, who are you?' demands a grumpy voice through the hole.
You answer that you are an adventurer in search of the master mage Yaztromo, intending to purchase magical items from him to combat the creatures of Darkwood Forest.
'Oh! Well in that case, if you are interested in buying some of my merchandise, you had better come up. I am Yaztromo.'
He then turns and slowly climbs the stone stairs.
But hey, at least I managed to watch a season each of Adventure Time and Archer, that's what really matters in this work-a-day world.
You are an adventurer, a sword for hire, and have been roaming the northern borderlands of your kingdom. Having always spurned the dullness of village life, you now wander the lands in search of wealth and danger. Despite the long walks and rough outdoor life you are content with your unknown destiny. The world holds no fears for you as you are a skilful warrior, well practised in the art of slaying evil men and beasts with your trusty sword. Not once during the last ten days since entering the northern borderlands have you set eyes upon another person. This does not worry you at all, as you are happy with your own company and enjoy the slow, sunny days hunting, eating and sleeping.
It is evening, and having feasted on a dinner of rabbit, spit-roasted on an open fire, you settle down to sleep beneath your sheepskin blanket. There's a full moon, and the light sparkles on the blade of your broadsword skewered into the ground by your side. You gaze at it, wondering when you will next have to wipe the blood of some vile creature from its sharp edge. These are strange lands, inhabited by weird and loathsome beasts - goblins, trolls and even dragons.
As the flame of your camp fire gently dies, you begin to drift asleep, and images of screaming, green-faced trolls flicker through your mind. Suddenly, in the bushes to your left, you hear the loud crack of a twig breaking under a clumsy foot. You leap up and grab your sword from the ground. You stand motionless but alert, ready to pounce on your unseen adversary. Then you hear a groan, followed by the dull thud of a body falling to the ground. Is it a trap? Slowly you walk over to the bush where the noise is coming from and carefully pull back the branches. You look down to see a little old man with a great bushy beard, his face contorted with pain. You crouch down to remove the iron helmet covering his balding head and notice two crossbow bolts protruding from the stomach of his plump, chainmail-clad torso. Picking him up, you carry him over to the fire and stir the dying embers into life. After covering him with the sheepskin blanket, you manage to get the old man to drink a little water. He coughs and moans. He sits up rigid, eyes staring fixedly ahead, and start to shout.
'I'll get them! I'll get them! Don't you fear, Gillibran, Bigleg is coming to bring you the hammer! Oh yes, indeed I am. Oh yes...'
The dwarf, whose name you presume to be Bigleg, is obviously delirious from the poison-tipped bolts lodged in his stomach. You watch as he slumps down again to the ground, then whisper his name in his ear. His eyes stare unblinkingly at you, as he again starts to shout.
'Ambush! Look out! Ambush! Aagh! The hammer! Take the hammer to Gillibran! Save the dwarfs!'
His eyes half close and the pain seems to ease a little, and as the delirium subsides, he speaks to you again in a low whisper.
'Help us, friend... take the hammer to Gillibran... only the hammer will unite our people against the trolls... We were on our way to Darkwood in search of the hammer... ambushed by the littler people... others killed... the map in my pouch will take you to the home of Yaztromo, the master mage of these parts... he has great magics for sale to protect you against the creatures of Darkwood... take my gold... I beg you to find the hammer and take it to Gillibran, my Lord of Stonebridge... you will be well rewarded...'
Bigleg opens his mouth to start another sentence, but nothing comes out except his last dying breath. You sit down and ponder Bigleg's words. Who is Gillibran? Who is Yaztromo? What is all the fuss about the dwarfish hammer? You reach over to the still body of Bigleg and remove the pouch from the leather belt around his waist. Inside you find 30 Gold Pieces and a map.
Jingling the coins in your hand you think of the possible rewards which may await you just for returning a hammer to a village of dwarfs. You decide to try to find the hammer in Darkwood Forest; it's been a few weeks since your last good battle, and, what is more, you are likely to be well paid for this one.
With your mind made up, you settle down to sleep, having taken back the sheepskin blanket from poor Bigleg. In the morning you bury the old dwarf and gather up your possessions. You examine the map, look up to the sun, and find your bearings. Whistling merrily, you head off south at a good pace, eager to meet this man Yaztromo and see what he has to offer.
Your walk to Yaztromo's takes a little over half a day, and you arrive at his stone tower home dirty and hungry. As the tower is set back on the edges of Darkwood some fifty metres away from the path you have been following, it is difficult to find. Finally you walk up to the huge oak door, somewhat relieved to find that it does exist and that Bigleg had not been speaking wildly in his delirium. A large brass bell and gong hang from the stone archway. As you ring the bell, a shiver runs down your spine and you realize that the loud 'bong' invades a deep silence, which you had not noticed before. There are no sounds of birds or animals to be heard. You wait anxiously at the door and hear slow footsteps descending stairs from the tower above. A small wooden slot in the door slides open, and two eyes appear and examine you.
'Well, who are you?' demands a grumpy voice through the hole.
You answer that you are an adventurer in search of the master mage Yaztromo, intending to purchase magical items from him to combat the creatures of Darkwood Forest.
'Oh! Well in that case, if you are interested in buying some of my merchandise, you had better come up. I am Yaztromo.'
He then turns and slowly climbs the stone stairs.
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Now what?
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>_>