“…. And I am sure you will understand, that’s why I have not washed my codepiece in fifteen years,” Ramjugs dropped the last of the faction in a single echo with a flourish. a drunk? He will not say that, no. It was very much liked by consuming alcohol at all times and was designed to renounce a series of basic requirements and nuances to achieve it. You can’t blame him, really. After seeing Terry escaping in the last battle, we were all a little shaken, although Rick Nipples had a constant splash on his permanently disintegrated face, keeping the boys in a relatively good cheer.
As was the promise of our first solid payday in a good time. We will avenge Bodo against Brigade, forgot who Bodo was or why he was, and now he was going back to gather Koboneven in the West. Back across the marshes, where the crows flew overheads like the sky vultures. Back through the forests, where the branches were again looking at themselves, like the fingers of arthritis, the blood and dirt and the smell of the sour porridge which was hanging on us. Back to the fields, where Jason of Stagingham found a staring match with a curious cow for three hours, which was honestly quite early as these things usually go.
Nevertheless, an uneven journey, everyone told. When we returned, Hawkon wasted some time to congratulate us with a sack in each hand and mumbled about how we would stop ambush on local trade routes. Hopefully it means that we can get some good hats. The boys had one thing for a good hat and I was not going to argue.
What we could not do was some fresh meat for the band. Local heeling was looking for some enthusiasm to all the sons of all the cockeser boxes, each reduced their personal utility, and also cleaned us by hiring one of them. Instead, we paid to the local priest to bless Terry’s broken nose, then bought some dry fruits and a few rounds for the company. I also decided that Rick Nipples had acquired a weapon to survive themselves, and also returned with a mamed leg and a crushed windpipe. I bought him a throwing spear. When he earns it, he can have a permanent weapon, and he can earn it by dying.
It was the time of the past when we got some more work, and before we know this, we were looking for a nearby palace called ‘Necroswant’. Dodi Naam, Dodi Job, we thought. But what can you do, Eh? Took us a day to wander in a completely wrong direction – despite very clear basic instructions – before we got something before. Or someone, I should say: a hooded stranger out of the fog, who knew what we were seeing in any way. We gave him 30 crowns, what he asked for, he barks some directions, and disappeared. Certainly, we found a place. We argued on going in, but Wolfgang Silkavarm spoke about a large -scale structures such as the morgue, which is an external “bad luck” with a huge skull, so we left it. Coward.
Some more pints in Kobmanhawen, and it was closed to track a reproductive statue that someone stole from the councilor. On the way out, we slipped a handful of coin, which for a local child to fill the number called raner. He had his own club, and we heard that he was a loyal type. What they were, our standards did not extend it much further. We followed the previous tracks, and soon found the gang responsible for stealing fertility idol.
There were seven of the bastards, so we had beaten them, although not by a number, which fit in any kind of dramatic statement, which was deeply disturbed. We threw ourselves into the field. Jason was the first to spread real blood, breaking his nose with his club. The new boy, Rainer also received a decent hit, and Rumjugs shocked themselves by a flal wilder. Terry got the first hit as usual, in this process, Jason took the same man down and urinated, whose nose was broken. Among all, all, a reasonable lucky start that we all are sure that there will be a quick scrap.
And then this happens. To register anyone a conscious manner very quickly, gradually it is enough that the excellent log farewell scream reaches the entire company, before it falls on the floor. The Thilman then joins him, barely to roast about how he will never be fooled by such a clear fint. We do it for two bastards, but there is no satisfaction in it, even when Terry put a crossbow bolt directly with hand, killing the Thilman. Poetry justice can feel like a gift from luck until you do not remember that this can only happen when something terrible to take revenge in the first place. What is less stock in these playful gods in mortal life! Rainer also nonsense, but, you know, whatever it is.
We entered the fight as ten men. We leave as six. Thilman is still alive for some reason that reduces the story to this point, but it looked real in the moment. Did I misunderstand a toolip in the heat of the fight? Are the gods playing tricks on me? Am I going to write that paragraph again to match the apparent reality of the situation based on my screenshot? No, Quill and ink are incredibly expensive. Nevertheless, we lost a lot of lads. We can leave along the reproductive statue, but the morning is air … is pregnant with the tragedy. shut up. I am leaving it. In addition, we can boot rick nipples back into a stream on the way. It seems that there is some ugly cosmic joke that he survived again.
