After becoming tired of the standard die-in-the-nearest dungeon routine, I decided to take the evil path with one of my adventurers. Evil being codeword for convenient. I had in mind to make an unstoppable, indefatigable, inexorable, rampaging murder machine, and that's pretty much exactly what I did. I raided a leather shop, equipped myself with some 15 or so different layers of this and that, than proceeded to sneak up on its owner. Using my trusty axe (which I was proficient with), I delivered a debilitating blow to his something or other. Long story short, I spent the next 10 minutes breaking his bones, gauging his eyes, and generally grabbing and ungrabbing him in ways that I'm sure were about as unpleasant as the number of other cruelties I inflicted on him. After becoming a legendary fighter/wrestler, I left the shop.
... Whereupon I was assaulted by some 150 domesticated animals. They knew that I had killed one of their own, and every fur faced feline and stray pheasant with a chip on his shoulder within 3000 yard was upon me. I thought for sure that I was dead, but was delightfully surprised to find that my 16 layers of lamprey leather cloaks provided ample defense against the barrage of various claws, beaks, and fangs directed at me by this feral hoard. After much dodging, charging, and peta-infuriating minutes later, I stood before a interminable graveyard of once pets and general nuisances. My kill count exceeded 150, and somewhere along the line I had become a legendary shield user. Excellent.
I set out into the world to commit general mayhem. I wanted to find a dragon or a titan, and see if I could break its legs than beat it do death with its teeth or something. I picked off a few bandit camps, if for no other reason than to further exemplify my strength, and was quite certain that I had reached a state of true invulnerability. Attacks never did more than bruise me, and with how much I dodged, it seemed likely that my death could only be brought through means of !!fun!!, or silly cliff-dodging. Oh, how wrong I was.
Hungry, I decided to trek the local lands without fast travel. This was an excellent way for me to train my ambusher skill, and would allow me to find some food to sate my mighty belly. I spotted a horse, and, wanting a challenge, I disengaged my sneak. As expected, I caught up with it easily. One swing of my meaty fist felled the creature- punching its brain out its ear drum, or something equally violent. I reveled momentarily in my victory.
That was when I noticed that my speed had dropped considerably. I checked my health status, and, sure enough, I was missing my left foot. How the hell did that happen? I checked my action log, and noticed that, just before I felled the horse, it had bitten my foot, and shook me around until it fell off. I was... surprised, but not entirely disheartened. I've had many adventurers that survived lost feet. I went to butcher the horse, and noticed, rather tragically, that I had thrown my only cutting implement long ago, and that I could not even claim the meat I lost my foot acquiring. Disgruntled, I took my leave. I was making my way to a nearby fortress; either to raid it, as I had one or two before, or to make friends with its denizens, and hopefully find a few quest worthy of my stature. I was instead intercepted on the way by a couple of lowly bandits. I thought, of course, that killing them would be a simple task; once again, I was wrong.
For some reason, I was entirely unable to hit the bandits. They danced around me and beat me with their maces, and I was entirely helpless to stop them. Their leader eventually delivered the killing blow, and my adventurer went in the way of so many before him; kicked in the head, with a shatter skull jammed through his brain.
Aww. Damn.
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Topic: What's going on in your adventure? (Read 2136272 times)