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While scattering books around the mines and restocking my fun boxes, I spot a very serious (and not funny) trespasser, trespassing again.
(And this time he's brought me one of the best rings I've ever seen.)
But you can only kill a person so many times before it gets tasteless and classless. The trick is not in the body count.
It's all about style.
So you've killed the same guy ten times? Pfft. Anyone can do that.
And besides, body counts without style won't get you the ladies. Heavens no. That would be too simple.
--And as with everything I do, I do it for the ladies.
Westleys' already died from a fun box with a bow tied on top. He's already donated me armor after losing to the Barter Town guards.
I wanted to have some fun with him, so I continue gathering my disguise.
Luna gets my business today as I go on my shopping spree.
I return to the scene of the crime.
--And I spot an intruder of a different name.
Westley is busy playing with himself as Ramirez trots over the bridge -- crossing over from Minoc into Barter Town.
Ramirez takes out his pick axe, finds a ripe ore vein, and begins hacking away -- like he owns the place. Little did he know, he just signed his own death warrant. Little I could do, but enforce the laws that govern these lands. And little effort is expunged when I throw a shuriken in his back, take my kryss to this throat, and urinate on his thief-hating remains!
Ah, it was a grand battle, one of the ages! Later that night, the others gather round the fire as I re-tell the tale (in screenshot form!) and don't hold back when exaggurating the adversity and imposing my manhood. With much fresh bread, roated pig, and strong ale, the fire roared with excitement that night -- it was a grand tale indeed!
--Or at least, it would have been if Ramirez didn't take out a Jester's Hat and proudly put it on before he took his first swing!
I strike up a conversation and compliment him on his fashion sense.
(Oh, don't mind him. He's already died twice before.)
Westley's pseudo laughter and unearned posturing is more satisfying (and more telling) than any amount of tears he could have ever provided.
(But enough about the dead man, back to Ramirez.)
Ah, a model citizen of Barter Town. If he maintains a high work ethic and keeps up with the latest fashion trends he's going to make it big one day. I can feel it. He'll be rolling around in the fortune that he'll accumulate through his many jester's-hat-wearing endeavors. Houses, weapons, artifacts -- you name it. His wealth will only be limited by his imagination. The only future monetary dilemma he'll face will be deciding how much of his massive wealth he'll choose to spread to those around him.
(Now where was I?)
Oh yes, my public profile:
All the cool miners use this same message in their own profiles.
(Or so I've been told.)
I put on my snazzy, new outfit and put together a gift package (from me to you, with love).
(I knew miner loot would come in handy one day.)
Iron ingots, shadow ingots, copper ingots, bronze ingots, some ore, a few pickaxes, and a "box full of regs."
Westley runs up and down, working the upper mines so I begin working the lower end. Up and down he goes, smelting ore from atop an ethereal steed. I give him a few rounds before I make my introduction and give him a warning.
"Yeah, the jester hat thing..."
(So, you're familiar with our dress code...?)
*takes out gift bag*
(The trap is set.)
(Trapped boxed? Whatever do you mean?)
(Yeah, I remember.)
(Flattery will get you no where, buddy.)
(He speaks from experience.)
To the untrained eye, it would seem that all was lost. We say our farewells and go about our business. I observe him make another trip up and down the mountain, continuing the pillage of our great land. To the untrained eye, it would be time to pack up and leave.
But if I know Westley (and I think I do) he won't be able to help himself. It would only be a matter of time.
I leave the gift bag on the ground and stay back a fair distance away.
Not once, but twice he inspects the bag closely. Not once, but twice he's tempted to help himself to a few free ingots. And that's how it starts. First some iron ingots and then the rest. First one pickaxe and then the others. Eventually all that will be left is a red box full of regs.
--And Calaman Barre ruins my fun.
He trashes my gift bag in the nearest garbage bin.
I hang around, but it's over.
(He didn't even have anything worth stealing.)
--Wait, he attacked Westley...?
(It was not a good day for Westley.)
But what about the ring!
Ah, safe and sound.
Sweeney soon comes and he takes the ring by force.
(What do you want? Some intricate plan?)
In the wake of recent events, we decide a permanent set of town criers and vendors are in order to support our local jester's-hat-wearing miner population. Here in Barter Town you can find the finest of GM tinkered pickaxes, the highest quality hats you've ever seen, and books of law that will keep you safe.
(...with Westley's old verite armor as a center piece.)
We consider our local miner population a precious commodity. Nothing in this world do we take more seriously than the protection that we provide.
(We're not cold hearted. We're just mis-understood.)
All is well in Barter Town.
'Til next time!
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