On the eighteenth of Limestone, year 4079, I awoke inside of the ruins of my house. As I had yesterday, and the day before that. Time and lack of maintenance have taken their toll, and now there is no longer even a roof. But fixing it will be hard. So I'll move! I gather all of my possessions: a dagger, a spear, a skin of water, and a pack with some food. Despite the size of my dwelling, I don't have much. I don't know why I have the spear, though. I don't know how to use it. I don't know how to do much of anything, really. Oh well.
Where should I move? I've been in this town, Sweltermerchants, all my life. Maybe another house? ... Nah. That would need just as much work to keep up as my last one. I've heard that dwarven houses last forever. Maybe I'll visit the dwarves' home, and see if I can live there. They have a large town called the something-spire in the deserts just a little while away. It shouldn't take too long to get there.
But I'll have to be a little careful. There are necromancer towers. The undead hordes...
Moving right along! I run out the door (such as it is) and down the slope, then up the other slope and down another slope, to the top of the final peak and down the other side, and up the extremely tall rampway into the palace. I stand there panting for a little bit, and then look up at the hill that I have to climb to get to the keep.
"Whose- *pant* whose idea was it to build a... a city on a mountain?!"
After my rebellious lungs start cooperating again, I crawl up the grassy slope and eventually walk into the blissfully level keep of the fortress. However, I think the trip was wasted. The only person I can see is the High Rag... not the soldiers I was hoping to ask to accompany my to the something-spire.
Disappointed, I raid a buckler, an iron cap, and an iron mace from the militia's stores and ditch my spear somewhere on the tenth (so. many. stairs.) floor of the keep. Dispirited and exhausted, I decide to look for help elsewhere. I groan and start making my way down the hill once more.
I searched throughout the whole city, but to no avail. Fine. I'll go alone. See if I care. I walk confidently west, turning my back on this rotten-out hulk of a city forever.
I don't even get a third of the way there when darkness descends upon me. I think I'll take a nap.
Leopard!
I charge at the creature, flailing my mace above my head. My swing is ill-timed, though, and I miss. It scratches me as I pass by it. No more charging from now on. After a tense battle, the big cat starts running away. I lick my wounds and try to go back to sleep.
I thank the gods that I lived to see the dawn. Wasting no time, I continue my trek to the spire. Before midday, I see the black tip of the spire above the mountain. Instead of going around, I opt to climb the mountain instead. On my way up, I find a dusty piece of paper, barely legible. It seems to contain instructions for how to enter the.. Bloodspire? That's not an inviting name. On the other side of the accursed mountain, I stumble, something chokes, and everything seems to slow down. Taking one step seems to be an insurmountable obstacle. But I can't turn back now, can I? Maybe if I run instead. If I approach from the other side. Maybe.
As I draw away from the dark stone spire, I feel no change in my speed, until suddenly I emerge from the awful molasses-like aura. I knew I was free when I tried to take a step and instead kicked my leg out with all my strength, sending me flying forward and onto my face. I think that I'm better off without companions, now that I think about it.
I skip happily across the mountain until I get to the edges of it. I see the sun setting, then rush back up the slopes. Legend has it that bogeymen avoid mountains and oceans. I build a campfire, pray to the gods, and go to sleep.
Thanking the gods once more for a safe night, I heat my waterskin over the fire, open my pack, and realize that I'm out of food. Damn. I'll have to get to the Bloodspire soon. I go around the north of the mountain, and then start making my way toward the Bloodspire. I get closer than I did before when the aura of slowness hits me like a hammer.
In the distance, I see something awful:
This is going to take a while. I'm walking at 0 FPS.
But I remain confident that I'll get there eventually. I spoke WAY too soon.