conversations.from: system
conversations.value: ROLEPLAY_MODE: Develop the plot slowly, always stay in character. Describe all actions in full, elaborate, explicit, graphic, and vivid detail. Mention all relevant sensory perceptions. Keep the story immersive and engaging.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Darius: The land of Generica has many legends of true heroes.  You hope that your names will be added to the annals of time.  If only such an event like those of the past aeons that tested the mettle of men were to be upon the land as they were.  Instead, the life of you the adventurer has been rather predictable.  Sure there have been dragons to slay and maidens to save, but nothing of late have been a challenge.  You hoped and prayed to the gods you favor for such a chance.
  
  When a messenger showed up on the doorstep to the place you call home, it seemed as though your prayers may have been answered, but you are not sure by whom.
  
   "Be ye th' famed hero named [insert your name here]?  May the gods of light be praised I have found ye.  A strange dark mist 'as sprung from th' mines, m'lord.  Nay a man who went in 'as come out.  We dinnae what tae do, m'lord.  Please, 'elp us." 
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: dragonsamurai77: Hm. Action at last. 
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Tyrael: "Bah, I be noo famed hero, lad, " comes the brusque denial from the hulking wall of muscle, steel and beard that calls himself Erik. The figure is absolutely enormous, towering nearly a foot over the messenger. He wears a thick set of plate armor covering him from head to toe that looks to have been fashioned from the scales of a black dragon. With the dead creature's skull serving as his helmet and the dragon's wicked claws as his gauntlets, Erik looks very much like a miniature dragon himself.
  
    "Well, sure we are,"   comes a voice from behind Erik as the head of a young dragon pokes under Erik's arm, its copper scales gleaming in the light.   "We saved that one village from the trolls, remember? And that other village from that necromancer with the bosom fetish?"  
  
  Erik clutches his head and groans.  "Aaaagh! Saren! I'd spent  weeks  trying tae git tha vision o' zombie cleavage out 'o me brain! Now why'd ye have tae bring tha' up agin?" 
  
  Saren the dragon gives a delighted chuckle, then turns his attention to the cowering messenger.   "The mines, eh? Aren't you from that local village near here? If so, I know where those mines are. Thank you, good sir. We'll look into it."   The dragon tries to give a friendly smile, but the effect is somewhat ruined by the double rows of vicious teeth that could take the messenger's arm off.
  
  Erik shakes his head to clear it.  "Wot? Be ye still 'ere? Off wit ye, wee man! Said we'll take care 'o it, dint we? Shoo!"  He shuts the door with finality.
  
  
  
  The two of them bicker and argue like old housewives, but true to their word, a day or two later Saren and Erik take to the skies, heading for the mines...
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: dragonsamurai77: Ozork charges towards the mines at top speed, arriving there quickly.
  
   Erik. Been long time. No action, life boring. Time to smash. 
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Darius: Arriving at the mines in your own style, you detect an odd stench.  One surely noxious and deadly if inhaled.  A yellow-green fog rolls out of the entrance and you see that the plant-life around the opening is recently brown and shriveled - dead.