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[WillowLuman]

--Enclosed below are the consequences of giving Humans guns, setting their language to actual english, and setting off in adventure. The story shall continue until the inevitable (or maybe not) grisly end--

Gather round pardner, and let me tell you the tale of Griffon,

Like the best of heroes, our story begins with the humblest of persons. There wasn't much to say about him in the beginning. Griffon Smithworth was a human, born in the year 97. He was of unknown parentage. In 120 Griffon began wandering the wilds.

Now, Griffon was a simple country boy, living in a rural village in the Present Hills, the heartland of the mighty Unions of Right. The boy was as sharp a shot with any gun you please, able to take down a fluffy wambler at 100 yards. One day his friends told him, "Griff'n, what with your sharp shootin', why don't you set out to make a name for yourself?"
So Griffon said, "Why the hell not?" Thus, with nothing but an old gun, a hunting knife, and the sheep wool dress around his waist, Griffon Smithworth set off to find his destiny.