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Episode 080: Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire




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Hail friends,

They promised me jewels! They promised me riches!

(They promised.)


*sigh*

This adventure began one week ago to this very day... and these old scars still burn.

The weather was good, my reflexes were sharp, and my eye on the lookout for innevitable disaster. Stick around to see if there would be any surprises (and any visitors), but they never come. I mark a rune and add this destination to my daily rounds.

With keep-sized treasure on the brain, I return the next day.

Things were progressing nicely, the fortress was continuing to decay, but something catches my eye and troubles my troubled soul...

...A hatchet and a ship key lay on the grass!

Evidence that others have seen what I've seen. "Kal Ort Por!" I say, intent on stabbing their very curious eyes out until a heavy dose amnessia or a light dose of death sets in. (Whichever comes first.)

...

I grab my amnesia inducing dagger, do a whirlwind trip around the lands of the lost, and find what I seek.

The boat!

...

Victorious without victory. This wasn't the treasure I was promised! I return the next day. And again, the day after that.

"This structure is greatly worn!"

I check again and again. And finally... there it was... right before my eyes!

--A REFRESHED KEEP!

...

OH, THE FOOL I'VE BECOME! THE LIES! THE LIES THAT THEY SPIT AT ME, AND I ATE IT UP! Mmmmm MMmmmm! MORE SPIT PLEASE!

I visit day after day, sometimes catching them huddled inside, laying on their very fine furs, telling their anti-chad stories, and sharing their anti-chad songs. Wanting to catch them in the act, I return, but they never come out to play. Over and over I play out in my mind how I'm going to murder them so. We play together, we cry together, they die together, and I laugh alone.

'Tis a sad story.

In the meantime, I entertain myself and venture out to the great unknow of their backyard, which happens to be... the Forest of Sacrifice. I take a hard left and find the most poetic of sights. It takes me my surprise.

The ghost of a mighty beast in its most embarassing of moments. And it flies directly north west. I crack my knuckles, my heart doesn't skip a beat, follow my hunch, and head directly south east.

And there it was:

The dead wyrm. (It's dead master getting a rez directly north west of where I stand and as I speak, no doubt).

The dragon heard it's master's call, and she was on the return journey. I didn't have much time.

I loot the bag of sending, the gold, the mystery trammelian rune, and a 9 item mystery bag tucked away to the side. I send the gold back to my bank with her own bag of sending. I leave the bandages and I leave the shoes as to not interrupt her while she farmed my scrolls. (You'd be uncomfortable without shoes too.)

Content with my loot, I step to the side and watch the hi-jinx ensue. But it wasn't going to be easy. (It never is.)

Angel and her mighty wyrm battle furociously. I stay close, keeping a watchful eye on her pack...

...but tonight was not a good night to be a wyrm.

Not once, not twice, but three more times it falters.

I sneek up slowly, wait 'til she's particularly busy with her beast, grab her ass, give her a little stab with the tip of my blade, and wait for the amnesia to work its magic.

::excellent::

I approach again, and this time go at full sprint! I grab the map on the run, leave her in a state of confusion, thank her for her map & her time, settle for 2nd place, and leave her with the rest of the contents of her pack!

--Of course, that's what I would have done if the spawn didn't get the best of her before I did!

This time I take it all: her gold, my treasure map, some regs, and her comfortable shoes. (She wasn't putting them to good use anyway.) And this time I don't stick around. She wasn't going to get a alacritic scroll. Not today.

She couldn't.

Could she...?

...

I take my leave.

And thus, I leave the struggling tamer with her keep owning sycophants friends and their very fine furs. Their voices carry as they tell the story about the time chad thought he had an IDOC keep all to himself. ('Tis a sad story.)

They laugh, they cry, the ale flows freely, then the obligatory, chad-defaming orgy ensues.

(Bastards.)

And yet... there was one mystery I must solve. I pull out my mystery rune, shout out "Kal Ort Por!", and off I go! (What'll it be this time? A fallen house perhaps? A secret location ready for exploitation? Or perhaps just a death rune?)

So many possibilities... but I should have known.

The trammelian version of the same dreaded forest! (I guess their spawn ran out and are now forced to come to ours.^^)

I return to Luna and who else do I find...?

...

...

Angel!

And from a distance, I take a sucker punch to my belly as I hear her spout out those dreaded words:

But far be it for me to be shy. I turn to confront my new found oppressor while wearing her own comfortable shoes.

"Did you just get that scroll?" I inquire.

"No, I've had it for a while." she responds.

"Just wondering if they're still spawning." I lie with a grin on my face.



(The best lies are always half truths.)


'Til next time!


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