Episode ongoing, part 3.
The dwarves fame for steelmongery is vividly on display. Almost all the equipment is too small to be of use. On the way out, I trade up my supply of cheap-shot with a set of +steel bolts [25]+.
Jonic: Trade is the life-blood of a thriving society.
You:

No. Finders keepers. Get your own bling fling, vampie.
You have discovered a lair.
Oh. From my many travels I know unexpected lairs are nothing to be suspicious of. Not this time. I'm feeling some leftover spook from the abandoned fortress. Also, I know a dragon calls this region home. I don't know exactly where, and there are not many lairs around here that I know of. I've never met a dragon, so ...
My vague plan: add another monstrous companion to the mix, from a very special place. My lovable Jonic's a prickly ball of cotton. He's been holding his own, he can keep up with me, but I need something else to work as a distraction when I go all out murdilize. After we've found a likely candidate, we'll return my vicey vice to the tower. With this journey we can work out the team's kinks, or work some kink in, and prepare. Prepare for what? A dragon hunt!
So, I don't want to fight the dragon right now. We should, at least, take a look around and see if he's here. Or see what's here. I have a feeling. A big feeling! I run through my to do checklist.
You read the +andesite-bound codex+.
Away from the tower, plain books are dreadfully scarce. I've been holding onto this one since forever.
You drink the river spirits [3].
I'm prepping for the hard part. I never know how he's gonna react.
Jonic: I can appreciate the right turn of phrase.
You: Pause to consider. There is a time for artful speech, and a time for blunt speech as well.
Jonic: I have improved my persuasion. That was not satisfying.
Jonic: I don't want to argue.
You: There must be something else to discuss.
Jonic: I got into an argument with Itvid Taperedmeads the Trustworthy Siege of Packing. I am very satisfied.
Harumph. I'm not, but this is all about getting focused. Final item: chat up The Big Guy.
You: Greetings. My name is Itvid Taperedmeads the Trustworthy Siege of Packing. Praise be to The Poisoned Glimmer.
You: There's nothing like a good brawl.
The Poisoned Glimmer, Deity: Ack! Four oh four to the floor. Thrrip!
We ready.
There's a method to optimize your character's focus requirements at creation. I blew past all that and paid the price. Luckily, I can gain focused status without cheating. It's a pain in the ass though. The trickiest part is picking a fight with my companions, always dicey. Also, books are way too scarce on this continent for my comfort.
Eating a fine meal would really simplify this process. As the wiki she say, no wai, never, can't be done. Maybe. I keep my eyes open for an opportunity.
Finding the lair entrance in a tree and cliff packed wilderness is a little tricky. You have to keep your eye out for the first thing that pops up at you. There! I try to carefully move underground from the spot, once. Twice.
Jonic: Why do you hop around these gold coins?
You: Oh. I ... never mind.
Jonic: Would silver coins be more suitable? Perhaps, be it time for a more visionary prayer of repair?
You: Very funny.
What kind of lair is this? There's a trail of treasure to the southwest. I follow the trail. A silver coin pile. Then gold coins. More gold coins. A book? And then I discover that which left its three toed imprint of a foot for alligators to play in.
Jonic: That's no dragon. It's a roc!
A bird of prey so large and ferocious it dwarfs many dragons. All beneth its mighty wings should fear the sky. Her feathers are white. Her skin is black. Her eyes are black.
The wind whips up a brassy brazen tune to an ominous preamble, as if. I consider airing the state of my feeling. Good? Bad? Or?
You: DINNER!
The roc holds the same opinion as I. She's happy enough to let me sprint right up to her. And so.
The roc misses you!
You punch the roc in the upper body with your right hand, bruising the muscle and bruising the gizzard!
Focused as I am, I still couldn't find a place to lash. The head is just beyond my reach. I'm fighting a two legged pillow of down! The roc razors away with her talons and pecks. She's way too slow to connect. I snap-foof at her feathery armor in return. Plan B is still closing the distance with his spear. Should I drop the whip and try stabbing away with an arrow? The roc appears frustrated as well, making a mistake by overextending a peck and exposing her neck.
You lash the roc in the neck with your silver whip, bruising the muscle and tearing the upper spine's nervous tissue!
The roc falls over.
That's it? I step back and switch to my little silver hammer. Jonic goes headhunting. The ferocious roc meets this new threat by changing fighting style, from kinda-dangerous-kwon-do to ... chicken with its head cut off derp-oh. The bird flops around without striking back. Jonic fillets it. The bird passes out. I just stand there with my arms crossed, leaning on my hammer.
Jonic stabs the roc in the head with the bronze spear and the injured part is cloven asunder!
An artery has been opened by the attack!
A tendon in the skull has been torn!
The roc has been struck down.
You: You look like a mighty warrior indeed.
Jonic: I am lady. I was a fishery worker for two of the years of my life.
You: My hero!
My idea for an extra crispy fine meal falls flat. Laid out on the ground, this thing looks more like a seagull than a free range chicken. Bleah. I dig a +kaolinite-bound codex+ out of the dirt as some light reading material in recompense. We move on, heading north. Another lair? This whole area is becoming grand central lair!
Fat cyclops: Is this an attack? What's going on?!
We chat for a while. He's amiable. He's happy. He's just another idiotic unarmed nudist. Whatever else he is, Thranlenge Uzoener is no threat to anyone. I'm going to hold onto my energy for the trek through the frozen north.
You: Have a nice life, one eye. Bai!
Jonic: But ... cyclops?
You: You killed a roc, Jonic. Aim higher.
He's been going on about cyclopes from the beginning. Too bad. Now he takes to grumbling and map reading.
Jonic: Hrumph. You are as correct as you are transparent in your aims.
You: Thank you. Huh?
Jonic: You seek a special place to recruit from. Why must we journey so far for your goal? Would not this be special enough?
As we push along into the unknown, I expect nothing more than an occasional town or lair. Jonic points to a freshly uncovered symbol of naught on the map north of us. Just the kind of naughty special I need.
You: A tomb? Whoot! GO GO GO GO!
Jonic expects me to bash my way in, but I pick the lock instead by ingenious methodology. I turn the handle and push the door open. We clamber past the inconveniently placed front desk and step into a corridor.
Jonic: You have done this before, you said?
You: Back home, sure! I mean, I only visited the front lobby. I dropped off a zombie kitty cat of mine there and took off. I needed to visit the town next door without causing a fuss. After that I visited the elves, way up north. They don't like zombie kitties either. After that--
Jonic: And you know what it is for which you seek?
You: Sure! A zarcought ... uh ... a coffin.
Jonic: A sarcophagus. Which we passed.
You: Huh?
The muscular human ranger mummy stands up.
The muscular human ranger mummy straps the silver slicing knife to his Upper body.
You: OH COME ON! HOW IS THAT EVEN FAIR?
Fair or foul, it turns out to be not much of anything. The mummy stands on the front desk waiting on us. I implore him to speak the whole time, but he never says a single word. He escorts us throughout the tomb tour. Jonic entertains himself with party gags, tripping every one of them. Finally, the mummy sees us off and out the front door. Without a word, or a tip.
Jonic: A veritable fun-house of traps. Most enjoyable, in spite of the service staff. Satisfied?
You: Dammit.
Yes, I thought a pile of gold coins was the lair entrance. That roc surprised the hell out of me. If you've not figured it out by now, a lot of the weirdness of my story is self inflicted. The thread title may as well be renamed Adventures in Dyslexic Myopia Quest.
Yeah. There goes the whole plan. I wanted to recruit a mummy. I failed.
I'm open to suggestions? Also, any suggestions for an imagehosting service?