Night. As the sun settled itself within the nestled mountains to the east a chill wind came from just that direction, as though the sun had stirred the winds as it bedded itself for the night.
My water pack is a comical sack of ice strapped to my back, frozen solid by the biting wind. The cold intends to freeze the marrow within my bones as well, but although I feel the chill, I show no ill signs of it. I only wish that I had worn a better coat, rather than this damnable armor. I know not how I managed to survive the many years of my life with such a head upon my shoulders, but so be it.
The blanket of night wraps itself tighter around me, but provides not the slightest respite from the wind. The saltscape is illuminated by moonlight filtering down from a sky so clear and beautiful it steals what breath I still have within me. The stars conduct bold counsel with their patron on this night as the heavenly court opens itself to this mortal's eyes. To the west I see the highest peak of this spine of rock, marking what is as close to halfway on my journey as I dare hope.
My teeth begin to clatter, and my hands start to shake as the night continunes. My only hope for warmth is to keep moving, huddling my equipment around me pathetically as the wind howls with laughter at my puny form. I only now realize that I have been able to feel my ears and nose not at all for some time, and I curse myself for not wearing better clothing. How I could forget to adequately wrap the most important part of my body, I have no idea.
But I suspect that if my head were to freeze itself off of my shoulders, it would be no great loss. I am obviously not using it overmuch.
I take out one of the smaller skins filled with hard drink (I laugh at the thought that the water within my pack is significantly harder than any liquor I carry) and take a sip, hoping that it will at least dull the chill's edge and allow me to put it out of my mind.
As I put the skin back, I hear another moaning accompanying the wind. Looking up, I see a shape making its way towards me through the mountain night. It is a great, shaggy beast, and a great plume of steam rises into the air with its every breath. I have heard legends of these mountain-men, the sasquatches, but I did not believe them fully until now.
As the beast bears down on me and I ready my sword, I feel slightly comforted. Although this fiend means me harm, it is an indication that I have traveled farther into the northlands. It also provides me with reason to swing my sword, which will provide at least some amount of warmth.
The creature lies dead at me feet, steam rising from the warm blood I have taken from it. I mourn that I was never trained as a hunter, for this creature's luxuriant coat would serve me quite well, if I but knew how to retrieve it. Sadly, I must go on without it, leaving the corpse for whatever scavengers dare live in these mountains.
The moon makes its way across the night sky, trailing its courtiers in her great velvet cloak of darkness. She retreats from the starry court as the sun begins to rise from his slumber and take back the kingdom of the sky.
As the first rays of sunlight set fire to the edges of the moon's velvet cloak, I feel the first pangs of hunger. Hopefully, the warmth-giving rays will thaw some of this meat I've been carrying around...
_____/\^/\_____
Yep, he froze to death. Wanna know why? I sold his somethingsomething-leather cap in order to wear a better one, but I never got around to buying the new one. He's been running around with just the iron helmet. His throat froze itself out at around the same time his brain crystallized. He bled to death.
Luckily, he recovered quickly.
Other than his head, not a single bodypart took damage. I have to remember to bring hats for the return trip...
I'm starting to get curious as to how big my reader base is... Just when it starts to look like I've only got the three repeat customers, someone completely random will pop in and make a comment.
In the meantime, while we wait for good sir Arkur to meet his untimely end, we might as well discuss what the next goon is going to be. I'm going to have to streamline the process a bit, as excessively "out there" characters only lead to trouble... Oh, speaking of which, playing as a hostile kobold inside a town is tons of fun, but somewhat difficult to write. Just give kobolds the [FLIER] tag to emulate climbing, and go sneaking around town looking for bone scraps to eat. When the night comes (or day, depending on your preference), hop on top of a roof and snooze for a bit. You can live quite easily provided you're a good enough sneak to maneuver around guards in good time.
Anyways, here's the process: Pick any sentient race (includes Dwarves, Elves, Humans, Goblins and Kobolds), and then pick any standard weapon that the preferred race has access to (in other words, no dwarven lashers or hammerelves). Please do not suggest quirks unless they are very mild... Excessive quirkiness will start rattling the DnG code again. And since unorthodox weaponry ( a disturbingly common quirk) uses no weapon skill, it is very hard to effectively fight with such a character. I have no problem with multiple standard weapons, however. Just remember that dual-wielding is utterly ineffective.
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Topic: Death and Glory! (Read 58238 times)