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Old April 12, 2011, 02:05   #1
buzzkill
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DAJ Inspired Tales of Semi-Anonymous Ill-Equipped Ironman Tourists.

Tale One: The Tale of Hilmass the Charismatic, High-Elf Tourist.

The first of what will no doubt a long line of short lived slack jawed tourists, Hilmass entered the pits of Angband armed with only his ordinary daily provisions in search of easy fortune. That is to say, he didn't bother to go shopping and has virtually no knowledge of the horrors that await him below.

Hilmass was no fool. He knew his first priority was to find a suitable weapon, as his walking stick's damage probabilities were absurdly low. Before he accomplished even such a seemingly simple task, he encountered a lone white mouse, apparently asleep, whom he approached gingerly. As he drew nearer he spotted a flask of oil just, lying on the ground, very near the napping mouse. He tried his hardest to sneak past it, but the rodent awoke as he neared. He attacked with all his might and fury, which is to say he whacked it heartily with his walking stick. It responded by spawning a twin. The mice fled in opposite directions. He quickly grabbed the oil from the floor and flung it down the darkened corridor to the west. A report of flames and a shrill squeal gained him some satisfaction and his very first kill. He then spent a few minutes chasing after and killing the rest, beating them to death with his stick. Four in total had spawned and all lie dead by the time he finished. Hilmass was still alive, only moderately injured, and quite proud of himself. "This is easy", he thought.

For the time being, he avoided the sleeping town drunk near to where he had entered the dungeon at, and also a white worm mass just to the west. He'd be back for them once his wounds had healed, he thought. As plans so often do, this one went awry. The passage he was following twisted and turned and led him almost directly back to the white worm mass he sought to avoid just minutes earlier. It had awoke and and already spawned by the time of his return. Although they moved slowly, there were multiple worm masses and they all looked alike to the novice elf, and so he had a hard time keeping track of which was which. Even though he killed one of them, one of the masses also managed to poison and thus, in time, nearly kill him. In desperation he read his unknown scroll of blessing that he had found near the stairs upon first descending. His first brush with death, survived, narrowly.

Recovering, but still weak from the poison, he fled the remaining worm masses looking for a place to rest and easier prey to, well, prey upon. His scroll bought blessing wore off quickly and he soon after discovered a longish room containing a large green frog, but was still too weak to risk any type of a fight. Hilmass tried to head south, but what he thought was a corridor was only an alcove. The next southern passage he tried was mostly blocked by yet another white worm mass, asleep, yet still fearsome in his eyes. He crossed the room and tried a door in the north wall, but it was locked. It was then that the frog awoke. Hilmass, hurried now, headed east, then north but again what appeared to be a corridor was but an alcove. Now he was surrounded. The worm masses he had previously fled from were to the east, the frog was to the west, and a sleeping worm mass mostly blocking the only southern exit. He had to take decisive action while some time still remained to do so. He decided to try to beat the frog to the guarded southern passage and then sneak by the worm mass, but he had taken no more than a step, when he realized that the worm mass had awoke and had spilled out into the room.

Having no choice, he headed back to the east, toward the worms that nearly killed him earlier. Luckily, the worms must not have spread because none seemed to be about. He turned south and found himself in a dead end. "Surely there must be a door here", he thought, but searching revealed nothing, and he hadn't the spare time to search frivolously. In desperation he read his one and only scroll of magic mapping. It revealed that he was indeed and truly in a dead end. There was not but more granite on the opposite side of the wall. He retraced he steps further back to the east, back to where he entered the dungeon at, sneaking past the still sleeping drunkard, and then proceeded even further. His magical map showed him an intersection where he knew that there must surely be a secret door, but despite his conviction, it still took him several minutes to find it. Eventually he opened the passage and moved south, now with purpose, as he discovered that the map had also shown the stairs to the next level deeper. He passed through another obvious, yet secretive door, and entered a room where he picked up a broken sword from the ground. Though the sword was likely more dangerous to others than his stick, he knew that wielding a cursed weapon would surely lead to his death. He placed the sword in his pack for later consideration.

In the very same room he spied an unknown scroll lying next to a grey mushroom patch. He feared the mushrooms, not knowing their secrets, but greed got the better of him and he ventured forth and grabbed the scroll. Before he could escape, the mushroom patch released some spores, confusing him. He tried to back away, but he was confused and unable to control his movements. After a panicked, dizzying minute he found himself out of harms way, out out the reach of the stationary mushrooms. He had once again nearly died. This was his second brush with death. "This isn't as easy as I first thought", he whispered to himself.

It was a minute or two before his head cleared and he proceeded, still weak, toward the stairs. He was surprised to find a staircase much closer than he expected. As it turns out, he had ventured into uncharted territory, and stumbled upon an unmapped staircase. He was however, not ready to descend yet. "I must grow stronger", he proclaimed aloud. He proceeded west, toward the already mapped staircase and was soon in it's presence. Through his torch light, he clearly saw that the stairs were closely guarded by a floating eye. Hilmass may not have been the brightest high-elf, but he had heard tales of fearsome eye-monsters and knew enough to get away, and fast. As he turned to run he stumbled over some debris and fell to the floor right next to the menacing eye. It gazed upon him and he was paralyzed. He felt his life drain away as it stared deep into his soul. Hilmass would never be seen or heard from again.

The Eulogy... The epic descent of Hilmass the High-Elf lasted for less than one hour. Hilmass was very much doomed. The broken sword he had found was indeed cursed. The scroll he nearly died for was of summon monster. The decision that cost him his life was nothing more than an errant key stroke by I, his creator. Thus ends the tale of Hilmass the Charismatic.

Praise, criticism and comments are welcome.
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Last edited by buzzkill; April 12, 2011 at 04:18.
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