Codex Real Heroes Hyriul¶
Aoden! Hero!
The day, 27th of Invex 289 Year of the Republic.
The place, outside of the bustling woodsie haven of Blackvine, a place that typically is full to the brim with animal herding, lusts, and bloated governor's pets.
And what arose from the distance, a horde. An army of the most vile kind: stinky animal lusting woods people. The stink was smelt from the road. The scene, one of pure terror. The only thing worse than Bloated Santum's gloating, was this sight.
I was frozen. Posca in hand. I just purchased it, I didn't want it to spill! I had to call for help. Someone. We needed it. I didn't want to put down my posca! A hero!
And with that, across the grass rose a staggering giant of a man. A very tall stalwart man, obsidian piercing eyes that drove terror into the wool covered fingers of these woodsie sheep husbands. His large nose took in their stench, and his thin lips gave nothing away from the cool pose he was assuming. Stave in hand, Blackvine's hero, Blackvine's truth; The real savior we needed, Aoden was on the scene. Purple supple leather gloves gripped his quarterstave tightly as he rushed in blindly. One man against an army. The stinky oak boar chasers should have brought more back up. It was a blood bath. It was... a reckoning. Death! Maim! Destruction! Aoden, a blur of anger and pure animalistic fury. He bested the largest of the foe before I could even take my second sip. I stood, a mere pace away, awe struck by his grace as he went to work.
Ill-fitting clothes, possibly tailored by the likes of Astyr [gross] were covered in the life blood of each man slain at the hands of Aoden. Such raw power, I was taken aback. My hands, trembling so violently that I nearly spilled my second ale. I had been blessed, given the opportunity to bear witness to such great power.
As of late, we've been victimized by oppressive bragging in this town. Santum's bloated cheeks, and gawdy BBTC words has brought nothing but Cineran war lords, oak forest denizens [boar herders], and pirates to this sleepy little town. And just when hope was lost, Aoden restored faith.
Darthus and Koppe showed up too, but I mean come on. I watched the entire fight. Aoden was the star. They were just glory thieves. THIEVES! The lady legionary showed up towards the end, probably to just show face and gaze at Aoden's glory. I don't blame her [She's got a nice butt, I might add].
This day. Remember always, the strength of the glory, the man.
AODEN!, Savior of Blackvine!
{you see a few splotches of posca covering the bottom of the page.}
p.s. I split my beer. This day is tragic.
Glory be to Aoden!
The day, 31st of Invex. Location? The same place as before. I had awoken to the sounds and smells of the city. Too many boar herders. I sensed their awful presence. Knew of their
stench. I had to see for myself.
I arrive, quickly to spot a group of 30 men. Angry and festering in their discontent for our ways! I called, a hail storm of words in attempts to rouse our hero. Our hero!
AODEN!
He arrived. Quickly with his trusty sidekick Darthus. The pair, moving like mystical figures, were able to place back to back and fight off the hordes. Blood, guts, sheep butter, everything! Tossing fatigue to the wind, these men were able to slaughter the usurpers! Victory!
I boosted their praise. Sung songs of their glory! I even met the Assisstant Governor, who paid our hero handsomely but NOT enough posca was given to really bring his praise. I hope he is able to muster together a proper feast, to include wine, cheese, and women. After singing the merry tune of AODEN! I went to inspect the road once more, and by the light of Ereal, MORE arrived! These boar herders, likely sent by that grumpy old woman Eva something or other, as a ploy to disrrupt the praise of Aoden. I called, Herken to our hero and begged for his triumpht return! Come! Witness his glory! Without a moment's hesitation, the man, the myth, the legend that is Aoden flew by me. Glistening in the light of Sun, I saw his mighty stave raise up and strike down! DOWN! Down at the heart and groin of our enemy.
To be honest, it was a bit painful for me to watch. A man getting struck in the groin with a quarterstave is no joking matter. But I digress. These aren't people! They are vermin! Vermin! So My shuddering aside, I called out when reinforements arrived.
Darthus! DARTHUS! Your savior needs his back covered!
Like the smell of a loud fart in a small room, Darthus ran ablaze past me and into the frey! Back to back, steady gaze upon all, our tandum of AODEN! and also Darthus took the fight to the new comers! Sword swipes and staff slaps, broken bones and mashed lips, These men went to work!
10s.. no 20s.. no scores.. no a thousand!
Okay, not a thousand. But more than I could count! I witnessed them all. When the largest of the foe were slain, our fearless Aoden allowed his mighty band to clean up the finishing touches. Above all else, I want to take this moment to speak about a matter that is highly disturbing in this city.
Woodsmen who bed with boars. One such lady, Eva something, continually assaulted the glory and honor of Aoden. Such a display cannot be allowed and I wish the Cult would step in and cure this simpleton!
TO HIS HONOR!
AODEN!
[Written in smaller letters:
And Also Darthus and now Obelius.]
Trapped in the Calvisio
A walk through the grass, feeling safer than a babe in mother's breast; I never felt so comfortable. The evening was pure, rich with winds and moonlight while I navigated around the gawdy Legio Fort. I heard a call, neh a cry! "Help. I fell in a hole."
Thinking that maybe someone might have found the void that is Evagrius' fat boar eating mouth, I quickly yelled for the Hero AODEN! to save the day. But Aoden was busy sleeping after a long day of adventuring, and this poor lost soul was screaming about help in the swamp. The swamp. I have been in that place many times in my youth, seeking fame and fortune and free bottles of posca! Those gator wranglers have some of the best posca bottle with honesty. I had to help. I was willed by the glory I had witnessed over the course of the past week!
I had to try!
I went to HERO!
Quickly running down the stairs, avoiding all of the flying rats, I made my way to the cells. A simpleton woman [whom I expected fully to be that nasty Evagrius] was taunting our trapped hero of this tale in his jailcell! Like a slithering snake, I slipped in and popped the hatch, freeing Calvisio from his inprisonment! He rushed out, glistening white clad soldier. His shiney trident taking to action and STAB! Right in her big fat mouth. She swept me! I spilled my ale!
THE ALE! OH GOD NOT THE ALE!
Red. Pure red anger took over my body and I leap forward, knife in hand!
She was slain, as I panted heavily. One evil swampy dead. I took Calvisio by the hand and we RAN! RAN! RAN! Exiting the swamp [drunk stumbling into a few pits of quick sand],
we were able to pass the ford to safety!
White Soldier Calvisio! Free to fight another day!
HAZAH!
Kered! Hero!
The Hero we never knew we needed. The Hero we never knew we had. The man of grumpy silence. The man who saved my life. My Personal Savior. The man that kept me alive enough to write this piece.
KERED!
bio:Kered, of the TM, saved my life. He apparently carried me back from the depth of Cineran raiders! I will tell you how it happened! I was out, MINDING MY OWN BUSINESS, when suddenly, whistling folk kept me awake! They whistled like the dock workers to the prossies during the late calls of the evening. They whistled like the sound that passes through Evagrius' lips when he talks. They whistled like a tailor finding another mark to bleed dry for colors that do not match [POSCA IS RED, ANKARA!].
I was walking, thinking that maybe those whistles were Aralax taunts. I was trying to return back to the safety of the protected Blackvine when I saw the slender-so called hero Felisin. He was standing guard of the glory to the Governor earlier, and I saw him move. I went to give warning about the whistles when a cry! A yelp!
HELP!
Felisin, this slender tiny man, was in trouble! TROUBLE! Where was Aoden!? Where is our savior?!
I had to be brave, just like Obelius would be, so I rushed to help! Of course, I finished my ale. No point in wasting good ale. Writing is hard work! Chasing for fallen would-be heros requires strength of Ale!
As I ran through, I found Syden! A white warrior of the light! He could use to eat a few pieces of mutton. Kinda tiny for a hero, but his glistening white clad armor made him at least a good reflector of light in the dark. As we moved paces upon paces, we found Jalaeus. He was unremarkable and nor did I even glance at his person. Who cares?
We found the Cinerans! A small camp near the road. A large Marine carrying tiny Felisin, who was craddle against his chest like a new born babe in mother's breast. It actually looked peaceful and cute, minus the lollying tongue from the unconscious Felisin. [There was this one time that I was drinking posca for posca with a card dealer in Pego's. He was winning so I 'accidently' slammed his head against the bar. That dealer's unconscious sleep looked a lot like Felisin's face and it was adorable. Love is real.]
So I gave chase! After nearly 30 paces, I stumbled over a pile of fox bones, which proves woodsies are messy people and possibly Treasonous. Probably actively trying to harm the real Townfolk. So anyways, I lost the scent, and doubled back to Syden and now an unconscious Rusonious or some other irrelavent name was sleeping in the woods! I, being the upstanding aspiring Hero in the making that I am, decided to try and drag his large butt back to the safety of Aoden's city. Passing the piles of berries, trash and other undesirables, I saw a large group of Kered types marching across the woods. I shouted, "Hey Get over here!" and when they arrived, their scent of camp fire and fish brought forth a massive
mob of Cinerans! I had to run!
Keeping the hero mantra, I drug Rus a few more paces away. I was considering burying him in some leaves for safe keeping, due to my exhaustion and lack of drink when he opened eyes! I was saved from the pressures of manual labor! Hazah!
Back to the grind. I heard some noisey legionaries chatting about ocean views and other crap. I decided to check the grey sands. [There was this one time that I went to the Grey Sands because this huntress told me there was a literal ship wreck of posca. She lied] I reconnected with the Fish lord and his people, and walked around aimlessly for a bit. I was called Fodder! I took offense! But we stumbled upon a terrible sight.
DARTHUS! UNCONSCIOUS! Why oh Ereal, WHY?!
He was bandaged, stitched, and taken in arm to Blackvine. I was able to fill in the Governor, who wisely hid behind the old wrinkled clerk in the bank. I mean really, if some angry Cinerans showed up, I would push that old milk breath in front of them, and beat feet to the hills!
Some loud lady took lead of the group and disappeared without me!
RUDE!
So I went off on my own. I ventured here, I ventured there. I was hoping to find the White clad Skinny guy Syden, but HARK! He was too far away. So I walked some more and some more and heard that Navigationally challenged MIONNE scream, "Help! Help! North of the Bend!"
I mean she was -kinda- good to look at. I mean I wouldn't kick her out of bed for eating stale biscuits. So I figured, "Here you go, Hyriul. THIS IS YOUR MOMENT! Be a HERO!" And I walked. And I walked. And I stumbled, and I fell. Some guy Vaiyeti or something was also having trouble following her Absolutely HORRID sense of direction.
I was loosing hope and Just as I was about to give up: I felt a firm strike at the back of my knees by a Cineran Officer! They didn't speak. They just saw blood lust. I thought I was a goner for good. I tried to crawl away when a sweaty hand gripped my throat and the world went black.
Visions of Aralax, Cinerans drinking wine, and Glory Thieves pass through my head. I felt nothing but the stinging pain of not having drink for years. I felt like I was swimming in the darkness and lizard. I didn't think this nightmare fever dream would ever end. Suddenly, I heard a grunting yell. My eyes snapped open and I grasped at my throat. As the room came into focus, I saw one man.
My savior.
My Hero.
Kered.
ALL HAIL KERED!
The savior of parchment. The bringer of Fish and wine. The crazy guy in the woods that seems to be the Hero Iridine Needs!
Groundhog Horde!
Evil.. Biting.. Angry.. The real threat to the City. People continually scream at the dangers of Cinerans, the plague of aralax, the uprising of Boar herders. But NEY, Wonderful Readers! There is a real threat. An actual terrifying menace that has shown its face for what it is worth.
The Rise of the Ground Hog Horde!
Commanded by the beady eyes of the angry wood chuck, I was hunted for sport! Hunted like a simpleton with a droopy eye. Hunted like Evagrius for someone on his lawn. Hunted like Astyr and attention! I was used for game! I was attacked for sport! And No one cares! I was leaving the capital. Too many people were too all consumed by the simple ramblings of spiders and an angry black cat. I decided to return to my humble place in Blackvine. A place of understanding. I turned a corner, moving north towards the oaks when they arrived.
Like the icy touch of death on a cold night, they touched me.
I felt their nibbles.
Oh Ereal, the Nibbles!
Before I could even consider what was happening, they pounced on my flesh. Sinking their teeth into my skin. Their hisses and clicks, coordinating their assault as they move up from bite to bite. I couldn't handle it. I tried to escape. I yelled for help! But none came. No hero Arose!
The cold touch of darkness encapsulated my sight. I went unconscious. Was this the end?
I woke what felt like days later, my ale spilled. My ankles torn to shreds.
Be wary travelers! The real threat is coming.
Hairy Knuckle Connie!
Conspiracy! Threats! Violence! Silence!
All of these things live under the surface of this city. All of the miserable angry, sloppy rage that can consume a person without ever once thinking about the consequences! So hairy are the knuckles of justice that it makes good people
like me fearful of what might happen to critics!
I will not be silenced!
Here is the story:
So, I was walking around the quiet town of Vetallun, when a large fat man, who frequents the Perry kept screaming about his wife. I don't know this man's wife. I don't know this man aside from his constant whining about his stupid wife! Buddy, if she's cheating on you constantly, just LEAVE. GOD!
So I made a comment, referring to this barrel chested man and NICASIA in her ever terrible wisdom, continues to rain her insults and threats on my life! She demand that I be harmed, or worse, drown in the Invex! Such terrible words to a RESPECTABLE member of scholarly state! The shame!
Nicasia was mad because I ignored the random whining of Astyr's so called spider involvement after I had been knocked UNCONSICOUS by the ground hog hit squad on the Blackvine road. I was trying to alert the city to the threat, actual violent beasts on the road and Astyr kept continually shrieking about spiders that were just -standing there-. I told Astyr to shut her mouth about spiders, because there was a real possible danger to the city! No one cares about your damn spiders!
Nicasia came to Astyr's defense, defending her stupid spider fears and calling me all sorts of names. When I told her to listen to my story, she threatened to slap me. She threatened to assault me and kept asking constables how far out of the city is she safe to assault me! I told her to keep her lips closed much like her gross legs should stay. Apparently this was 'rude'.
Yes, IM RUDE when IM THREATENED. Such foolishness from Gadaene sympathizers! How dare you come up to a complete stranger, yell threats in their face about knocking them unconscious then call me RUDE when I use harsh language in return! Where did you go to tutor lesson, NICASIA? Definitely not a woman of worth and honor!
So I decided to head into town, away from the grumpy man at the Perry. During the entire walk back to the city, I was continually berated by harsh words and threats of violence from Nicasia. I referred to her as a cow, and Koppe said he
was going to harm me for 'threatening his friend.' A good friend would tell their so called pal to not be so mean to strangers. Not stick up for their rudeness with even more rudeness! Koppe said I slandered him! I merely stated once that it looked like he was showing up to steal Aoden's GLORY! but I didn't name names! He did that himself with those thoughts! Such venom! Such Trickery! Maybe my initial thought was right!
I was on my way back to the city at this point, attempting to check on my posters for the Slate Blue Crew because SOMEONE keeps silencing my work! I marched across the road, avoiding more assault and violence from the local riff raff and stomped my way to the bank to get more coin. And what do I encounter? The so called Aggressive Cow Nicasia!
Truth be told, she's not a cow. She's a tall slender woman who reeks of daddy issues and self loathing. But she's not a cow. When I misrepresent someone with a fact that isn't true, I do like a good man of intent and admit to a mistake! I even said so to her gross face! The color blind tailor Ankara was in there as well, mismatching fabrics and being just unsavory in her accusations of my character! For shame! But, my faithful readers. I kept my calm. I gave my reason for
disagreement. And I threatened no one. That's when it happened.
Clad in Slate blue and hair, a creature arrived at the scene that could only be described as a nightmare from beyond the veil! A beast, covered in gawdy clothing of the men she's slain without regard. A MONSTER worse than any ground hog
or chipmunk overlord. A creature whose sole purpose is to drive fear and distain into the hearts of the seekers of truth. The hairy knuckled Ogre!
ELODIE!
She stomped her feet, which are disporportionally large for her otherwise unsightly body, came mouth breathing her way into the bank. Without even a word in my direction as to my side of the tale, she slobbery stated to me, "You could go jail for harassment. Shut mouth. Ugho drippy sound Ugh!" A panic and fear ran down my back that has only been observed during the times of the great posca famine of 279! I sipped my ale, with shakey hands and mustered something to resemble courage. I yelled in the face of this beast, "You are mean and a horrible investigator, creature!" and I RAN.
I ran all the way back to Blackvine, the safest city in the Republic from hairy knuckled, furry upper lipped lady beasts! She demanded I return for words, but she only speaks in threats and I was not buying. NOT TODAY MONSTER! I fear that my life will be at risk now! Years of posca and seeking of truth at stake!
I WILL NOT BE SILENCED!
Beware travelers and readers alike! Beware of the hairy knuckled monster of the Blue Crew! For she will eat your face!
Also, Koppe is mean.
[Below you see an extremely crude drawing of a slender woman with extremely large feet wielding a club in her overly hairy knuckles. The face of this creature has been given a thick pool of slobber running down her chin. ]
Slate Blue Crew!
*Constable Recruitment!*
Do you want to chase thieves?
Do you wish to rid the city of GLORY THIEVES?!
Do you want to uphold the standards and stations of the Twelve Tables [plus a few extra rules that pertain to being a HERO?!]?
Does the cry of tailors in spider fright concern you?
Are you a large man and/OR woman who wishes to find the skinny armed bandits?!
Are you a Hero?
We [meaning the slate blue crew] are looking for applicants who ARE looking to join the Iridine Constables at Station I [the I means hero-I-c] in upholding the laws of -the- TWELVE TABLES! (there was this one time that I was standing in the ale shop and this guy walked in. He stumbled on an upright floor board and a CONSTABLE walked in, wielding his Iridine Mace and hammered the floor board back in place. Can you believe such a HEROIC act?! He also left a few denars on the table and walked out to the docks, which I then used to buy myself a sweet RED [Suck it Ankara!] posca! Hazah!)
ANY who wish to apply or ask questions should seek out one of the Officers or leave their written applications, on VELLUM, the superior writing home [ignore the fact that our posters are in parchment because we can be cheap. More coin for Posca and Glory!], in the polished box located inside the station, located just west of the library. Or alternatively, find your nearest constable and strike up a conversation. "Oh hey, nice slate blue sagum. How do I get one? Do you want some posca while we talk about how awesome we look in our fashionable slate?!"
Applications should include:
1) Your name! [Points if it's HEROIC!]
2) Your Nationality! [As long as it's not Safelander. Boar Herders]
3) Employment History! [Bonus points if its from Blackvine]
4) Relevant skills! [Such as drinking 10 posca without vomit]
5) Reasons for Joining! [Aside from Hero status and fashion sense]
Regards,
Iridine's most awesome Station: Slate Blue Crew Station I! (Beware of the Ground hogs and chipmunk overlords; Also Hyriul is amazing)
(PS. Elodie is a jerk)
Coward! B and B!
A calm peaceful day in Allinius, possibly the 13th. Who is to really know... A vile act of cowardice, so grave, and so telling of the type of men these are. I have witnessed the uprising of angry children, who seem so unappealing in their ability to take it when they dish out the hatred, it is uncanny.
I arrived after a hunt, the normal type of scouting for me as I walk the lengths of the Blackvine Road. I was in search, looking for a possible clue as to where these vile vermin linger. A familiar face was outside of the Perry. The face of a man that I have seen roaming the Blackvine area, almost always after the arrival of Cinerans and Red hand. This telling thought will actually bear some fruit with soonness.
Brogenex as he is called. A tall muscular man, with eyes that pool like spoiled floor grease at Septima's bar. A large, nearly bulbous promient nose over those gastly thin lips. His chin, which probably took too many shots from bullies when he was a child, is receeded and weak. His long, flat face bears the complexion of limited outside work. He wears unassuming garb and an alanti faceplate.
As I have never had quarrel with him in past, I greeted him with kindness!
"Tall man! I remember your face! Be Safe! There.." I was going to warn him of the upcoming ground hog hordes but he cut my words short with his own. "A word", so maybe two.
I was perplexed and paused. "A word?" And I followed this man, who aside from his brutish appearence, I've not heard nor seen any reason to feel threat.
He spoke, in a gruff, uneducated tone "I'd advise you to go apologize to Banic."
Banic, the man who has been constantly demanding that I kill myself and perform lewd sex acts to vile boar herders. I spoke up and called him a sad old man once and this is the greetings I get in turn? Can a man not take minor verbal abuse after he continually spats at in other's direction? He is worse than ASTYR with his shameful lack of spine and lack of will to tussle with word!
I was taken a back, as I have not seen this BANIC in person. "The man who was rude to me?" I asked. Brogenex, phlem in his throat replied "Perhaps I can help."
I gave him a look of curiousness and demanded one simple question be answered. "Answer me this question, good sir, and I shall do as you need." His throaty reply, "If you are polite."
I continued, "How come.. Everyone can be overly mean, threatening grumpy, angry, yelling at -me- and the moment I talk back, I get threatened with jail and pain?"
Brogenex offered to talk him down then said "let's go" after a shrug. I take it, this man is not the thinking type and cannot answer my question regarding the faint feelings of the Iridine Populace.
I followed this man from Vetallun towards the city. As we walked there was a man in front of us. Arymis. He kept pace and seemed to be scouting ahead of us. We arrived at a portion south of the Traevant when Brogenex noticed a golden necklace on the road. He began to wield his shield and mace and asked me if I was ready. I inquired him "Oh what?" and he replied "An Ambush."
FORESHADOWING!
FORESHADOWING!
At least he was honest.
I nodded my head, saying that I am not a fighter but I will stand here and defend if required. He pulled the necklace, springing trap of Red hand! I approached the largest of the red hand, and BROGENEX stopped his guard of me and rushed
at me! Within moments, he began to assault me along side the vile treasonous villians of the woods! Was he working with the red hand to assault Kered's mentee for the Trout Throw? Or was he just too afraid to best me alone, in the face, man to man? A little of column A, a little of B.
I shouted, thought out for assistence that I was being attacked by Brogenex on the road! And his heavy club crashed my hands my knees, and my face. I felt the stab of Red hand bandits, and before it all went black, saw the scout enter, Arymis observing Brogenex's work against my wiry frame. I noticed, not a single red hand attempted to find attack against this man, and they worked as a unit to maim and beat me into submission.
I awoke, covered in sweat and missing several mugs of ale placed upon the pyre near the Eastern Phoenix guards. A few embers were lit below me, in an attempt to BURN ME ALIVE! Such cowardice! My foot, broken and maimed. My writing hand, covered in bruises and hurt. I will write on!
I will have my honor!
REVENGE!
Epic Samthia
The EPIC story of the young blue crew and the case of the mysterious crate abduction!
It's a windy day, here in wonderful Iridine. Blue Crew member Samthia, who has been known to be passed over by all of the other blue crew members in their annual game of kick the bottle or run run bandit boy run. (Her tiny little legs and lack of stamina keep her from ever winning). She had such a rough day that morning. Boss Blue ordered her to do an inventory of the Station's food source. Samthia attempted to walk into the little field farm and was suddenly approached by a lone black chicken.
GODS!
A single black chicken stared at her with its beady little eyes and lack of personal class. Feathers and dow flew past her face. Little Sammy was scaredy scared.
She ignored her chore for the day, unable to overcome her unrational fear of feathered beasts. The chicken clucked.. CLUCKED once and she yelped like a chubby boy carrying a plate of meat and being chased by a wolf (That just happened in the Perry Inn as I write this amazing tale. I am so great, ain't I?).
So for punishment for her failure to produce anything of grand in the Blue crew club house, Samthia was walking the beats near the carcass buyer. She was down on her luck, pouty lipped and unable to really feel like she was truly accepted by her peers. Something had to help her. Something had to finally allow her to relax after such a stressful day. She decided to sing.
So she pursed her soft lips, stained red from her cheap quartez heights beauty shop (Obviously she always has a faint tint of red on her teeth. Why doesn't anyone ever tell her?), duel colored eyes glistening as they fight back tears. And she lets out a few notes of an old Altene song. To most, it would sound beautiful, but on this day, a certain person found it horrid. That person, a grumpy old Gadaene trader.
"HEY. Woman! I need help! Aren't you a constable?"
Sammy pants, blinking quickly to keep her tears hidden glares at the brightly dressed trader. She straightens her shoulders and says in her best professional big girl voice, "What the hell do you want?" The trader, yellow in the belly (He literally was wearing a yellow tunic but he was ALSO a coward, so...-character trait!), huffed once before stating in a booming voice, "My wagon has been disabled by the river. I am nursing a broken leg and I need someone to save my
cargo before it falls into the Invex!"
Finally! Action! Adventure! Something to actually do to prove her worth! Samthia leaps forward, jumping up and landing with one arm pointed to the sky, holding two fingers up. Samthia feels powerful. She feels STRONG. She....hasn't moved yet.. The trader glares at her and says, "MOVE YOUR ASS!"
Breaking the sudden statue moment, Samthia races down to the invex. Just as the trader said, a large cargo wagon has axles stuck in the mud and the water is rising quickly. Samthia, in a blind panic, rushes to the back of the wagon and pulls back the doors. Uncaring about her heeled black leather boots embedded with tiny diamonds are going to get so much river mud on them. She was ready! The doors whip open in a single pull and she.. stands.. fronze.
Chickens, 20 chickens. All staring with their death eyes at Samthia as she looks frozen in place. Why did it have to be chickens. Icy fear, which match her one eye (I mean who really has two colored eyes, really?) sends a shiver down her kinda toned back (She ain't -that- bad looking after 2 poscas). Sweat collects on her upper lip and she feels the coward in her starting to pull her away from the wagon. Just as her fingers start to lift from the handle, she hears the WISE words of BOSS BLUE in her head. "Don't be such a damn coward. Be brave!"
Nerwintok's voice echoes as Samthia suddenly musters other worldly courage, almost as if it was built by EREAL HIM SELF. Like a flash, Samthia, snatches up all 20 chickens by their feet, ten per hand, and she bounds, neh, LEAPS from the wagon JUST as a HUGE wave hits the side of the wagon, causing it to disappear suddenly into the river, never to be seen again.
OH EREAL! The sight! This tiny blue crew sprints all the way to the trader, chickens clutched in hand. He looks up, eyes seeing a whirl wind of feathers and tiny body before she slams down the birds at his feet.
"What else can as HERO like me, do for you today, Trader boy?"
Samthia is awesome.
Millions-Shuk'luk Review
On the EVENING of the 10th day of Aera, 291st Year of our Republic, I was awaken by the smell of fresh spoiled fish. I do not recommend sleeping beside the Invex. Too many bandits pee in it. Also, I once heard that Torgeir bathed in it. Yuck.
Anyways, I heard Centus shouting about an auction. Thinking myself a grand person of extreme importance, I delightfully told Centus that I would be attending his auction in order to review his process. Upon my arrival, I saw only one VIP. The Grandest of HEROS AODEN! The Champion of Blackvine! The gold standard is Heroism. He's quite the looker, folks. Ladies, stola's up.
ANYWAYS, I was initially annoyed. There wasn't any special place set up for me to enjoy the views or the wares. There wasn't any wine. There weren't any women. There wasn't a fool for me to throw things at in the auction house. WHO DOES THAT? But after I said, "Hey, this Auction is a farce! Where is my wine!" An entire tray of wine appeared at my feet. Go figure. Make a bit of noise, and suddenly my tastes are satisfied. It's not posca, but it'll work.
Centus decides to add in a last minute alanti helmet, which he initially mistook for boison [idiot], and he had the disrespect to even remotely offer a response to my question regarding pre-auction entertainment. NO dancers! No fights! NOTHING! Amateur hour! Suddenly, a tall lean man with a gross face decided to come to my viewing nook. He strumed his scabbard suggestively and licked his lips. I think he thought -I- was his entertainment. HARDLY. I flexed a single muscle, pointed with my cup, and he ran off. Stupid Leolupus.
Centus toasted the crowd, and Lingkius just looked silly with his toothy dumb face. Both of these people just sipped wine. SIPPED in front of the crowd! You need to guzzle man! It's an artful form! Just give us the show we deserve! GOD!
In a shameful moment of vanity, Centus produced a handheld mirror with a caon frame. He decided to fix his hair and stare into the image that met him. Spoiler alert: You are still ugly, tiny man. The auction goes off in it's normal boring tone. No dances. No banter. Just tiny and stupid face holding things up and staring off into the crowd. Centus decides to say something wonderful about "No, no two rabbits at the same time." because apparently he can't bid out two of the same hats at once. Because counting is hard. Dumb face just smiles crooked like he does.
Centus then produces a stuffed beaver and doesn't have the HONOR to even NAME the damn thing before he just offers her up like a rookie at Septima's. The shameless of this little man is just unbelievable. Therisifuss pulls a veteran move, waiting for the LAST closing second of a goatskin water vassle to be available before he casts his bid, STEALING it from some person who's name I do not remember nor care to remember. A tasteless yet effective move. He got a tip of the wine glass from me. I LIKE IT!
Centus still says the most.. uninspiring things to attempt to be funny. "In a shocking turn of events, this red sack is ALSO full of red armors!" I mean really, hire a freaking writer to at least cause the room to chuckle. As the auction continues, the more I just feel that Centus is the, and I fully mean -THE- Worst. Terrible. I attempted to take another sip of my wine, feeling that maybe my walking through the grasslands with the toothless archer who dances. My mood was soured and I needed to regain a bit of my happiness in order to give this auction a fair shot. But Of course, THE Worst Centus decides to take -that- moment, then one where I was going to try and be unbias to just how awful he is as a person, to MEOW at LINGKIUS. He MEOWS then taps a cat. What the hell? When do you hear a grown ass, whole man MEOW LIKE A CHILD!
Disgusted, I threw my empty [obviously] cup at the stage and booed from my seat. This man is literally the worst.
We interrupt this story to put out this public service announcement.
TORGEIR IS AFRAID OF KENITI AND IS A SISSY BOY!
Thank you.
After I finished nearly 5 glasses of crap wine, I couldn't take the entire point of Centus any longer. His stupid face, lack of humor or wit in his words. And the ogre just standing there with his toothy grin of toothyness. It was too much. I marched off victorious and decided to write down my thoughts on this parchment for you to enjoy.
Millions-Skuk'luk Auction Co.
Rating: 2 out of 10.
Wine: 8 out of 10
Entertainment: -55 out of 10 [Centus is the worst]
Items offered: 5 out of 10. A unique mix that isn't the normal
faceplate and fancy cloth left and right. Not too bad.
Crowd: 2 out of 10. Crowd was slim and grumpy. Again, Blame Centus.
Centus Rating: -55 out of 10.
It was a night to forget, especially that MEOW. GROSS.