You make a mental note to thank the dragon for providing you with the recipe for his death at his funeral as you yank the first magic sword you find from the mountain of plunder. The sword shines a brilliant blue-gold and has a queer hourglass shape carved into the blade: yep, definitely magic. Though, something feels awful familiar about this. Oh well, you can worry about that later. You have a dragon to kill.

“Your day of reckoning has come, dragon!”

“No, you fool,” the dragon rasps. “Put that down. Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to meddle with magic you don’t know how to use?”

“Nope.”

The dragon breathes fire at you, but you knock it away with a swing of the sword. The resulting fireball explodes in the treasure hoard. Molten gold and silver splatter everywhere. Droplets burn into your arms and chest, but you struggle through the pain and raise the magic sword for the killing blow.

“You’ll doom us all,” the dragon pleads.

Not that it’s my place, but I think you should listen to the dragon.

What do you expect me to do, negotiate a treaty?

I would endorse that.
> You you're killing him.
“You’ll doom us all,” the dragon pleads again.

“No, just you.” And you hammer the sword into the dragon.
> You deja vu
“You’ll doom us all,” the dragon pleads again.

“No, just you.” And you hammer the sword into the dragon.


There is only one way this story can unfold, and that is with you finally surpassing your master and claiming the princess as your own. For princess bosom! You charge.

Jon dodges your blow. You swing again. He dodges and counters with an upward thrust. No time to dodge, you catch his sword with your shield. The wood splinters, and you snap your wrist, catching his sword in the shield. Déjà vu?

Not quite. A knee slams you in the groin, and you crumple to the ground. Fight through the pain hero! You lash you with your legs, catching Jon in the chest. Both of you regain your feet and slam into each other. Over and over you roll, grappling on the ground. Dust swirls around your heads. You throw blind punches. The crowd cheers.

You fight the good fight, but Jon wins in the end, catching you in a stellar headlock. The king congratulates you both and the crowd gives a standing ovation.

“Best melee in years. I think the both of you earned a knighthood for such a fine display of chivalrous combat,” says the king. “Tonight there will be a feast for the ages... on the Baron’s tab of course.”

You are bummed you will not be getting princess bosom, but you feel proud of how you fought. Even heroes take their lumps from time to time.

As expected, Jon names the princess Lady Fair of the tournament. You see him whisper something in her ear and point in your direction. She is walking toward you! What the hell did he say?

“Princess Anne.” You bow. “It is my pleasure.”

“And mine. Would you care to walk with me in the gardens?”

You readily agree and spend much of the remainder of your time getting to know Princess Anne. She is everything you could hope for in a princess, blonde, blue eyed, fair skinned, sweet, charming, big bosomed, and all the works.

“What did you say to her?” you ask Jon one evening.

He shrugs. “I love princesses as much as the next guy, but really, I’m in to redheads.” He smirks. “I think the farmboy turned knight getting the princess makes the better story. I’m nailing the Baron’s daughter. Wildfire hair on her.” He winks. “Just the way I like it.”

Months pass and you perform several fantastic heroic feats. Jon marries the Baron’s daughter and you become engaged to the princess. Some days it all seems so unreal, like just the other day you were selling turnips and mucking shit. Now you are a hero.
> You time to retire.
Did you seriously just turn down the opportunity to kill a dragon? You may be a hero, but you aren’t the cliché’ hero you were destined to be. You could have done more. Oh well, what is done is done.

You marry Princess Anne and have a beautiful wedding ceremony. All the dukes, earls, barons, and other lords in the kingdom attend. Jon serves as your best man and leads the wedding toast. Samwellington gets drunk and passes out in one of the massive strawberry cakes while receiving a blowjob from one of the maids, not quite sure how that happened.

Sir Henry Williams, your old friend The Rabid Fox, regales the guests with tales from the tournament and other ventures you undertook together in the aftermath. “Would you believe,” he says, “we saw a unicorn fart in a glade a few months back? Mark of a hero’s birth is what that is.” Hmm, so much for that once every thousand years bullshit. You lame ass heroes are becoming a dime a dozen.

Too bad ma and pa could not be around to see this, but heroes almost never have parents survive long enough to see them achieve success. You know their watching over you from somewhere above though.

Later that night, you finally get to relief all that pent up tension that has been building up in your loins for all of these years. You are glad you saved yourself because it was something special. All thirty seconds of it. But you get better with time, and Princess Anne plops out several little you’s, one of which grows up to be king someday.

Still. You could have killed a dragon.


Heroes fight with honor at all times. There is no way in hell you are going to betray Jon. How could you ever look him in the eyes again? Besides, he is pretty fucking awesome. If you are going to win this thing, you are going to do it the right way and beat him with pride, honor, dignity, and all the other bullshit that goes with being a hero.

“I’ll distract him. You knock him off the horse,” says Jon.

“What about Bucktooth Barry?”

“Dodge.”

Jon darts off to run interference while you attempt to flank. The Rabid Fox is on to your plan though and outmaneuvers you while Bucktooth Barry hedges his position. This might go on for a while. What would a hero do?

You glance up at the spectators and catch sight of the princess. A blonde haired blue eyed bombshell with a bosom to die for. She flashes you a smile of perfect pearly whites. Did you expect anything else? Take a moment to picture all the ways you would love to chivalrously plow her into next Sunday. Just try not to ejaculate prematurely in your armor. That is not heroic. No, go ahead. I can wait.

Got all that out of your system? Good. With the princess’s bosom in your mind to inspire you, you charge the mounted knight. He reels the horse around and barrels toward you, eager for the challenge. As you are about to collide, you dodge. The Rabid Fox brings the horse around for another pass. You feel the blood pumping through your veins. The air tastes sweet. Colors are brighter. The world slows down. This is what being a hero is all about.

You and The Rabid Fox rush each other once more. As you are about to collide, not only do you dodge, but you grab the reins as well and yank. Your arm feels like it is going to pop out of its socket, but you grit it out. The Rabid Fox flies through the air and thuds into the dirt. He stumbles to his feet and grabs a greatsword off the ground. Man, this motherfucker just does not give up.

He has the reach advantage, but he is hurt. Pretty bad, judging by the fact he just fell off a galloping horse decked out in mail while brandishing a sword. He should probably be dead: or at least broken. He uses his reach to keep you at a distance, but you bide your time. He will make a mistake. Dodge, backstep, yawn, dodge. A quick glance up at the princess’s bosom. With princess bosom lighting your fire, you see an opening and dive in and drive The Rabid Fox to the ground.

“Well fought, friend. I yield,” says The Rabid Fox as you hold your sword tip over him.

Jon has finished off Bucktooth Barry. It is down to the two of you.
> You actually, you was going to name one of the other girls Lady Fair of the Tournament.
You have to be kidding me. Don’t you know anything about the antics of cliché knightly heroes? The gallant knight always marries the blue eyed blonde haired princess and enjoys blissful princess bosom until the end of his days. And you want to throw all of that away for some lowly baron’s daughter or common wench? You disgust me.

Fighting for an unworthy cause, you race forward to meet Jon in good old-fashioned master-student combat. The clamor of steel on steel fills the field as you and Jon clash and slash. Sweat stings your eyes as Jon attacks with relentless vigor. You dodge, parry, and counterstrike as best you can, but you are fighting against the man who taught you everything you know. How can you possibly hope to win? You don’t even have the righteous thirst for princess bosom riling your untapped potential.

For gritty lowborn buxom wenches!

Well, I must admit they do have their own special brand of flavor. It just doesn’t have the same ring to it though.

Drunk on visions of buxom wenches you dodge blow after blow after blow. You resist the urge to strike and continue to dodge; your heart will tell you when it is time to attack.

“I taught you well,” Jon pants. “You’re dodging like a true champion.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Time for another lesson.” Jon backs off and takes a defensive position. “You can’t dodge if I don’t attack.”

“You son of a bitch.”

Jon smirks. “Trumped.”

A crazy idea crosses your mind. You don’t know if it’ll work – or if it even makes any sense – but it just might be stupid enough to work. With nothing to lose and everything to gain, you begin the attack. Just as expected Jon dodges. Then you dodge his dodge, catching Jon completely by surprise. Taking a page out of Samwellington’s incredibly short book of useful combat skills you follow up with a dodge ram attack, circling Jon and barreling him into the ground. The maneuver hurts like hell, but like a true hero you ignore the pain and leap to your feet.

You hold your blade over Jon’s throat. “Yield.”

Jon chuckles. “Nice moves. You win.”

You help Jon to his feet as the crowd erupts into a chorus of cheers and shouts.

“What skill! What daring! What a fight!” The king bids you and Jon both kneel and knights the pair of you right there in the field. “They’ll be talking about this tourney for ages. I don’t even know what that was you did there Sir, but it was fantastic.”

All that is left is for you to name the Lady Fair of the tournament. I still don’t approve of your anti princess antics, but you showed mettle in the melee and that is something to take pride in.

Two buxom wenches who have caught your eyes on since the tourney started: the ginger haired Baron’s daughter, Ginger, and a lowly servant woman, Abbey, with rather typical and mundane features. What the servant woman lacks in grandeur she makes up for with a charming smile and pleasant cuteness all her own. Of course, naming a servant woman Lady Fair could cause some very serious problems by offending the nobles.

Not that it is my place to intrude young knight, but Jon has been ogling the gingersnap all day. Take that as you will. The choice is yours after all; you earned it.
> You name Ginger Lady Fair
It takes a very special and talented person to handle a fire-crotched wildfire gingersnap, and quite frankly I don’t think you have what it takes.

You name Ginger Lady Fair and marry her shortly after. Jon turns down your request to be your best man, saying something about a dragon he needs to kill in Irelandshire. You’re bummed, but you understand. A hero’s work is never done until the end of the story. Ginger is a freak in bed, and just as I warned, it takes all of your energy to feed her wicked sexual appetite.

Life goes on and you undertake a series of adventures with your new friend The Rabid Fox. Sadly, as the years pass you and Jon grow further and further apart. Years go by without seeing or hearing from him at all.

…

It has been ten years since the fateful tournament, and you have a small brood of gingersnap children to go with your gingersnap wife. You doubt any of them have it in them to be heroes. There isn’t even a strawberry blonde one in the bunch.

After several weeks of adventuring with The Rabid Fox, you wave farewell to him at the fork in the road and head to your respective castles. On the way, you find your lands burnt and salted. The villages are nothing but smoldering ruins and the peasants have completely vanished. Massive piles of dung litter the landscape. Urging your trusty steed, Hot Biscuit Slim, to a full gallop you arrive at your castle to find it lying in ruins. Oh, and there’s a dragon sitting on top of the pile of rubble. Jon is there too.

You are starting to think Jon may be jealous about you marrying Ginger. He does have an unhealthy fixation for fire-crotched gingersnaps.

“Where the hell is my family?” You draw your sword, waving it menacingly.

“In my belly.” The dragon guffaws, releasing a blast of deadly dragon fire. “Thank you so much Sir Jon for raping the woman first. I love my food when it’s properly terrorized and ravaged.”

“Jon! How could you?” You fall to your knees in sorrow. “You were my friend!”

“Don’t listen to the dragon! She’s lying. I’ve been tracking her for weeks. She’s the mate of the dragon I killed in Irelandshire years ago. To avenge her lover, she’s trying to turn you against me by creating this incredibly unnecessary scenario to frame me for the rape, murder, and plunder of all you know and love.”

“That seems excessive, Jon. Excuse me if I don’t buy that.”

“It’s true! She wants to set us against each other so she can kill us both while we’re at one another’s throats.”

“For what greater purpose?”

“Elaborate revenge and kingdom domination.”

“Hmmm, we are pretty badass. I doubt she could kill either of us one on one. And that does sound like something a dragon would do.”

The dragon roars and flaps her massive wings. “I never lie about properly terrorized and ravaged food. Rape and betrayal are the perfect seasonings.”

Well now, this is an unfortunate situation. Who is telling the truth?
> You kill the dragon
“I trust you, Jon. Let’s make this scaly freak go the way of the dinosaurs. Extinct.”

“Leave the witty one-liners to me and you’ve got a deal.”

Together you and Jon dispatch the dragon after a long and grueling battle. You don’t remember any of the details because your heart is too choked with grief. The important thing is the dragon is dead and you’re not. Exhausted and suffering from severe burns you and Jon slump against the ruins of your castle.

“Well, so much for a heroes ending,” you say, emptying your canteen. “I guess this is what I get for breaking the cliché.”

“I have a confession to make,” says Jon.

“Oh, God, don’t tell me the dragon was telling the truth.”

“It’s a dragon, man. They always tell half-truths. Everything I said was true. I really was tracking the dragon to kill it.”

“But…”

“But I got here before the dragon and raped your wife. I’m sorry, man, I have a sickness for fire-crotch. In the meantime, the dragon wasted your livelihood then came and ate Ginger out from under me.”


It takes a very special and talented person to handle a fire-crotched wildfire gingersnap, and quite frankly I don’t think you have what it takes.

You name Ginger Lady Fair and marry her shortly after. Jon turns down your request to be your best man, saying something about a dragon he needs to kill in Irelandshire. You’re bummed, but you understand. A hero’s work is never done until the end of the story. Ginger is a freak in bed, and just as I warned, it takes all of your energy to feed her wicked sexual appetite.

Life goes on and you undertake a series of adventures with your new friend The Rabid Fox. Sadly, as the years pass you and Jon grow further and further apart. Years go by without seeing or hearing from him at all.

…

It has been ten years since the fateful tournament, and you have a small brood of gingersnap children to go with your gingersnap wife. You doubt any of them have it in them to be heroes. There isn’t even a strawberry blonde one in the bunch.

After several weeks of adventuring with The Rabid Fox, you wave farewell to him at the fork in the road and head to your respective castles. On the way, you find your lands burnt and salted. The villages are nothing but smoldering ruins and the peasants have completely vanished. Massive piles of dung litter the landscape. Urging your trusty steed, Hot Biscuit Slim, to a full gallop you arrive at your castle to find it lying in ruins. Oh, and there’s a dragon sitting on top of the pile of rubble. Jon is there too.

You are starting to think Jon may be jealous about you marrying Ginger. He does have an unhealthy fixation for fire-crotched gingersnaps.

“Where the hell is my family?” You draw your sword, waving it menacingly.

“In my belly.” The dragon guffaws, releasing a blast of deadly dragon fire. “Thank you so much Sir Jon for raping the woman first. I love my food when it’s properly terrorized and ravaged.”

“Jon! How could you?” You fall to your knees in sorrow. “You were my friend!”

“Don’t listen to the dragon! She’s lying. I’ve been tracking her for weeks. She’s the mate of the dragon I killed in Irelandshire years ago. To avenge her lover, she’s trying to turn you against me by creating this incredibly unnecessary scenario to frame me for the rape, murder, and plunder of all you know and love.”

“That seems excessive, Jon. Excuse me if I don’t buy that.”

“It’s true! She wants to set us against each other so she can kill us both while we’re at one another’s throats.”

“For what greater purpose?”

“Elaborate revenge and kingdom domination.”

“Hmmm, we are pretty badass. I doubt she could kill either of us one on one. And that does sound like something a dragon would do.”

The dragon roars and flaps her massive wings. “I never lie about properly terrorized and ravaged food. Rape and betrayal are the perfect seasonings.”

Well now, this is an unfortunate situation. Who is telling the truth?
> You kill Jon and the dragon
“You bastard! How could you rape my wife!?”

“I’m not a bastard!”

You and Jon attack each other, and just as Jon warned, the dragon fries you both with a blast of dragon fire. With the two of you dead the dragon goes on to… get slain by The Rabid Fox a few hours later.


You have to be kidding me. Don’t you know anything about the antics of cliché knightly heroes? The gallant knight always marries the blue eyed blonde haired princess and enjoys blissful princess bosom until the end of his days. And you want to throw all of that away for some lowly baron’s daughter or common wench? You disgust me.

Fighting for an unworthy cause, you race forward to meet Jon in good old-fashioned master-student combat. The clamor of steel on steel fills the field as you and Jon clash and slash. Sweat stings your eyes as Jon attacks with relentless vigor. You dodge, parry, and counterstrike as best you can, but you are fighting against the man who taught you everything you know. How can you possibly hope to win? You don’t even have the righteous thirst for princess bosom riling your untapped potential.

For gritty lowborn buxom wenches!

Well, I must admit they do have their own special brand of flavor. It just doesn’t have the same ring to it though.

Drunk on visions of buxom wenches you dodge blow after blow after blow. You resist the urge to strike and continue to dodge; your heart will tell you when it is time to attack.

“I taught you well,” Jon pants. “You’re dodging like a true champion.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Time for another lesson.” Jon backs off and takes a defensive position. “You can’t dodge if I don’t attack.”

“You son of a bitch.”

Jon smirks. “Trumped.”

A crazy idea crosses your mind. You don’t know if it’ll work – or if it even makes any sense – but it just might be stupid enough to work. With nothing to lose and everything to gain, you begin the attack. Just as expected Jon dodges. Then you dodge his dodge, catching Jon completely by surprise. Taking a page out of Samwellington’s incredibly short book of useful combat skills you follow up with a dodge ram attack, circling Jon and barreling him into the ground. The maneuver hurts like hell, but like a true hero you ignore the pain and leap to your feet.

You hold your blade over Jon’s throat. “Yield.”

Jon chuckles. “Nice moves. You win.”

You help Jon to his feet as the crowd erupts into a chorus of cheers and shouts.

“What skill! What daring! What a fight!” The king bids you and Jon both kneel and knights the pair of you right there in the field. “They’ll be talking about this tourney for ages. I don’t even know what that was you did there Sir, but it was fantastic.”

All that is left is for you to name the Lady Fair of the tournament. I still don’t approve of your anti princess antics, but you showed mettle in the melee and that is something to take pride in.

Two buxom wenches who have caught your eyes on since the tourney started: the ginger haired Baron’s daughter, Ginger, and a lowly servant woman, Abbey, with rather typical and mundane features. What the servant woman lacks in grandeur she makes up for with a charming smile and pleasant cuteness all her own. Of course, naming a servant woman Lady Fair could cause some very serious problems by offending the nobles.

Not that it is my place to intrude young knight, but Jon has been ogling the gingersnap all day. Take that as you will. The choice is yours after all; you earned it.
> You name Abbey Lady Fair
You already shunned cliché protocol by refusing to fight for princess bosom, so you may as well go full renegade and elect the servant woman Lady Fair. There is something bewitching about good old down to earth country cuteness. All of the beautiful noble Ladies can primp themselves up all they want, but they can never attain the country wild of a lowborn servant girl.

A wave of awe spreads through the crowd as you proclaim Abbey Lady Fair. Fights break out, which quickly turn into full-blown riots. You grab your new ladylove and disappear in the chaos while you still have a chance to escape.

“Not so fast,” snarl the high-pitched bitch voices of the weasel brothers. “You committed a great insult today. I think the king will be quite pleased when we bring him your heads.”

“I won the melee. By law and tradition the right to name Lady Fair is my choice and mine alone. Now get out of my way or else I’ll have to kick your ass all over again.”

“Can you fight the both of us and defend your whore at the same time?”

“He doesn’t have to.” The Rabid Fox draws his blade and springs to your side. It appears you have made a friend. “My good, Sir, my sword is yours.”

“Thanks, but why are you helping me? I broke the cliché.”

“I don’t know what that means, but you fought with honor. And that I can respect.”

The weasel brothers topple over unconscious. Jon and Ginger stand behind them each holding a big ass rock.

“My way saves time.” Jon discards his rock and beams. “Now let’s get out of here so I can get it up and get it on. Know what I mean?”

With that taken care of the six of you make your escape. (The Rabid Fox picked up a prostitute on the way out, that dog.) The kingdom devolves into a bloody civil war as a result of the tournament debacle. In the mayhem, the king got trampled to death and poor Princess Anne was brutally raped by no less than sixty-nine men. Princess Anne recovered from the savagery and personally hunted down every single one of the scum and forced them to castrate themselves and consume the mess. Future reference, don’t mess with her.

You, Jon, and the Rabid Fox carve out your own minor kingdoms and remain close friends to this day. You feel horrible about what happened to Princess Anne and offer her a place of honor in your court, but she politely declines, harboring no bad feelings against you. She elects to travel the world as an adventurer. Your life with the newly crowned Queen Abbey is blissful and filled with bosom and country cunt. You never get the ever sought after princess bosom, but queen bosom is a nice too.

I swear she called it that, not me!


Wise decision: it is best to stick with your strong suits.

You excuse yourself and get up to leave. The moneylender, mutters something to himself while stroking his beard as you head toward the door. Something is really evil about this guy. You turn around and lop off his head before heading home. Yeah, that was probably a good idea.

The morning of the tournament dawns crisp and cool with a slight breeze, just enough to give the ladies’ skirts a nice billowing. You feel a familiar stirring in your loins, and it is driving you insane. As a fledgling hero, you have been saving yourself for your future princess bride, but dear God has it left you on edge, not that you have not had offers. Jon was right; your scar is a chick magnet. You practically have to beat them off.

A gaggle of girls giggle as you walk past them. Bitches.

Whoa, where did that come from? That is not very heroic. The proper term is ‘wenches.’ Remember that next time, fledgling hero.

With your minor slip into villainy over, you prepare for the melee and take your place in the fighting field. There appear to be fifty or so participants as you try to pick out some of the people the Baron told you about. You see Mad Moose McDoogle in his clumsy antlered helmet, Sir Richard Lionsmane with his shaggy locks, Sir Henry Williams a.k.a. The Rabid Fox, the Weasel brothers in their matching silver gilded armor, and Bucktooth Barry among others.

“Save your energy,” says Jon. “Let the others wear themselves down. They’ll make a mistake eventually. Then you can strike when they’re weak and out of position. And stay by me. We might both be able to get knighthoods out of this.”

“Don’t worry. I got your back Jon.”

A blast from the bugle signals the start of the melee. The clamor of blunted steel on blunted steel rings through the fairgrounds. You and Jon fight back-to-back, just as you did against those trolls several years ago. You two are not the only ones fighting on teams. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the Weasel brothers and Mad Moose McDoogle charge The Rabid Fox.

The Rabid Fox looses ground as the trio attempt to surround him. He isn’t dodging. He’s parrying. He’s done for. The Rabid Fox’s and one of the Weasel brother’s swords shatter on impact. Mad Moose McDoogle peels off the attack and rounds on the Weasel brothers, catching them unaware. He knocks them both down and out just before The Rabid Fox charges him in turn.

A sword slashes inches from your cheek, and you regain your focus. Dodge, slash, dodge, dodge, slash, dodge, trip, kick. Another one bites the dust.

The fighting continues until there is just you, Jon, The Rabid Fox, who has not only obtained a new sword but a horse as well, and Bucktooth Barry left.

Maybe you should turn on Jon now?
> You turn on Jon.
Fuck this shit. You’re in it to win it. You whirl around and knock Jon out cold. Poor bastard never saw it coming.

Bucktooth Barry gestures toward The Rabid Fox and the pair of you charge the mounted knight. You pull up at the last moment and watch The Rabid Fox clobber Bucktooth Barry aside the helmet. Seizing the opportunity, you bolt in, grab the reins and yank. The horse bucks, but The Rabid Fox manages to cling in the saddle.

With no other options, you hack at the horse’s legs. The beat cries out in pain as The Rabid Fox topples from the dying beast. You thrust your sword, sticking the point an inch from The Rabid Fox’s throat.

“Yield.”

The Rabid Fox coughs blood. “You have no honor. You’re no… hero.”

“Hero’s win. I won. Now yield.”

Blood gushes down your leg, and you scream in pain as you collapse to your knees. What happened? What the bloody fucking hell!? The dying horse lying beside you twists its neck, reaches up and bites you in the throat. Warm blood trickles down your body. You cannot breath.

You fall into a pool of blood.

The Rabid Fox staggers to his feet, shaking his head.

You hear Jon’s voice. “A heroic knight fights with honor at all times.” Those are the last words you hear as the world fades to black.

Well that was disappointing. Killed by a horse. Apparently, you were not the hero I thought you were. He must be somewhere else. Enjoy death.


Without a moment’s hesitation, you turn and rush the bandits. You are the fledgling hero of this story after all, and the hero always wins. The bandits either agree or are too shocked by your blazen stupidity and gawk at you as you close the gap.

By the time one of them gathers his wits, three of them are dead at your feet. A bolt grazes your cheek as you cut the fourth man down. The fifth man, who fired the bolt, turns to flee back into the forest. He does not make it. Jon skewers him from behind.

“That’s going to be quite the scar,” says Jon. “It’s not so much a deforming scar as a handsome, charismatic scar. All great heroes get them. Chicks dig it.”

“I don’t have one,” whines Samwellington.

Jon rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I wonder why.”

The three of you hobble back to the hamlet. You have one of the priests help draft a report of the incident and send a runner to deliver it to the baron. Some unimportant nobodies go clean up the mess while you kick back and relax. Not bad for a (k)night’s work.

“Good work today kid, but don’t get ahead of yourself kid,” says Jon. “You still have a long way to go to be a true knight. It takes hard work to bang a princess and ride off into the sunset. Oh, and remember.”

“Dodge,” you say in unison.

The baron is pleased with what he reads in the report. You become Bowie’s replacement in the hamlet guard and undertake some other minor missions with Jon and Samwellington. Soon you become a bit of a celebrity and inspiration, and your fame goes countywide. Priests take time out of their day to tutor you in your letters, and the baron invites you and Jon to take place in the next tournament he’s hosting. The king will even be there; it is supposed to be quite the shindig. Things are looking up. All you have to decide now is what event you are going to compete.
> You compete in the melee.
It is best to stick with your strong suits. You have combat training and can dodge with the best of them in the melee. From what you understand, dodging is frowned upon in jousting. Besides, you would have to borrow a horse from someone, and you do not have the money to ransom the horse if you lose. Debtors do not make good heroes.

Jon decides to enter the melee as well.

The morning of the tournament dawns crisp and cool with a slight breeze, just enough to give the ladies’ skirts a nice billowing. You feel a familiar stirring in your loins, and it is driving you insane. As a fledgling hero, you have been saving yourself for your future princess bride, but dear God has it left you on edge, not that you have not had offers. Jon was right; your scar is a chick magnet. You practically have to beat them off.

A gaggle of girls giggle as you walk past them. Bitches.

Whoa, where did that come from? That is not very heroic. The proper term is ‘wenches.’ Remember that next time, fledgling hero.

With your minor slip into villainy over, you prepare for the melee and take your place in the fighting field. There appear to be fifty or so participants as you try to pick out some of the people the Baron told you about. You see Mad Moose McDoogle in his clumsy antlered helmet, Sir Richard Lionsmane with his shaggy locks, Sir Henry Williams a.k.a. The Rabid Fox, the Weasel brothers in their matching silver gilded armor, and Bucktooth Barry among others.

“Save your energy,” says Jon. “Let the others wear themselves down. They’ll make a mistake eventually. Then you can strike when they’re weak and out of position. And stay by me. We might both be able to get knighthoods out of this.”

“Don’t worry. I got your back Jon.”

A blast from the bugle signals the start of the melee. The clamor of blunted steel on blunted steel rings through the fairgrounds. You and Jon fight back-to-back, just as you did against those trolls several years ago. You two are not the only ones fighting on teams. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the Weasel brothers and Mad Moose McDoogle charge The Rabid Fox.

The Rabid Fox looses ground as the trio attempt to surround him. He isn’t dodging. He’s parrying. He’s done for. The Rabid Fox’s and one of the Weasel brother’s swords shatter on impact. Mad Moose McDoogle peels off the attack and rounds on the Weasel brothers, catching them unaware. He knocks them both down and out just before The Rabid Fox charges him in turn.

A sword slashes inches from your cheek, and you regain your focus. Dodge, slash, dodge, dodge, slash, dodge, trip, kick. Another one bites the dust.

The fighting continues until there is just you, Jon, The Rabid Fox, who has not only obtained a new sword but a horse as well, and Bucktooth Barry left.

Maybe you should turn on Jon now?


All of Jon’s training really pays off. Using your sixth sense, you see the attack coming leagues away. With all the grace of youth, you jump to the side as a horse leg soars past your ear. Quite unfortunate for Bowie, who takes the hoof straight in the face. You do not even look. The crack and thump tells you all you need to know.

Dodging more chunks of horse and human, you maneuver your way to Jon and the trolls. Master and apprentice stand back-to-back as you fend off the fearsome beasts. Dodge, parry, dodge, dodge, strike, dodge, parry, dodge, dodge, dodge, strike. And so the battle goes. Troll blood drenches you as you hack away. Surprisingly, it smells like apples.

“Jon,” you say, while dodging another troll fist, “they keep regenerating when I dodge them. It’s a troll blood bath, but they aren’t going down.”

“DODGE!” Jon shouts. “Always DODGE!”

“Then RAM,” screams Samwellington, bulling into the fray. By the sound of the collision, you think Samwellington just tackled Jon’s troll. What an awful, squishy sound.

“Where the fuck have you been?” you ask.

“Cowering.”

Your troll swings its long hairy arms wide and claps them together, aiming for your head. You dodge and slide along the blood slicked ground, slashing the beast’s legs as you slip between them. Hopping to your feet, you deliver the finishing blow as the beast drops to its knees before splashing face first into a puddle of its own blood.

Jon’s troll has met the same fate. Jon appears unwounded, though breathing heavily, leaning on his sword.

“Oh, dear god! Samwellington!”

Samwellington lies on the ground with a grisly gash on his robust gut that looks inches deep. “Oh don’t worry,” he says. “They just cut into the fat. I always knew eating all that pork lard would pay off one day.”

Jon smirks. “See, I told you. Dodge.”

“I won’t question you again Jon. Too bad about Bowie though.”

“Meh, he was a fucking dick anyway.”

Sam struggles to sit up. “I don’t think those trolls were the reason those people went disappearing.”

You nod. “Because all this blood and gore would have been pretty hard to miss.”

“No. Because there are five guys with loaded crossbows behind you.”

“Shit.”
> You surrender.
Sometimes the odds are just stacked too highly against you. It is not that you are a coward or anything. It is just that you know a lost cause when you see one. If the situation had been different… Oh well, what is the worst that can happen? They will probably just steal your valuables and leave you on your merry way. Thankfully, none of you are women.

“I yield,” you say, unbuckling your sword belt.

“Some knight you are,” Jon scoffs as he rushes the bandits. Five bolts tear into his body, ripping his flesh to ribbons like a ragdoll.

Samwellington squeals incomprehensible gibberish.

“He never even had a chance to dodge.” A lone tear trickles down your cheek. “Poor bastard.”

Jon’s eyes snap open. He glares at you as he struggles to his feet, using his sword as a crutch. “Cunt.” He takes a step toward you. Five more bolts drive into him, and he collapses in a heap.

Samwellington squeals more incomprehensible gibberish.

“What the-?”

…

Your head is throbbing and you taste dirt and blood. Bindings dig into your wrists and ankles. The bandits are dragging you through the undergrowth: rather unkindly as your head bangs into root and trunk alike.

Oh dear God, I hope I don’t have a concussion. Mom always told me to wear a helmet.

How long had you been unconscious? Surely, it could not have been more than a minute or two. The road should still be close. If you could only somehow manage to escape, you could gather reinforcements.

You thrash in an attempt to break free, but your efforts are rewarded with nothing but a series of swift kicks to the ribs. You slip into your happy place for the remainder of the journey, day dreaming of sweet, succulent, juicy bacon and princess bosom.

…

A fist drills into your gut, wrenching you out of your blissful imagination. The bandit leader towers over you, looking buff and pissed. You know he is the leader because he is wearing a cape and is the only black dude in this story.

“Alright, punk, you’ve got two choices.”

“Naturally.”

“I’m always looking for good men to join my crew, and since you surrendered like a good little bitch, you get the first crack at signing up. All you have to do is kill your friends to prove your loyalty.”

“Did you have to hit me?”

“Yes, it illustrates my tough guy, no bullshit attitude.”

“Oh, I see. Kind of like how Dark Lords sacrifice random minions to show how evil they are.”

“Exactly. You get the picture. I knew I liked you. Now go kill your friends and maybe one day you can earn the right to wed my ebony bandit princess daughter.”

“Is she tight and curvy?”

“What part of bandit princess don’t you get?”

“Sweet.”
> You accept the offer
“I love princess bosom! And bacon.”

“Of course you do. Underlings, untie him and give him his sword. He has friends to murder.”

The bandit underlings do as commanded and direct you to the tent where Jon and Samwellington are being kept on the opposite side of the camp. The entire place is a mess of mud and slop: nothing like a rainstorm to turn a perfectly planned camp into a pile of crap. As you make your way to take care of business, you spy what can only be the ebony bandit princess. The bandit leader did not do the lass justice. She is nothing less than a dark chocolate goddess sent from the heavens themselves.

She notices you staring and rubs her nipples. “Like what you see?”

“Yes, Mam.”

“Me too.” She winks and blows a kiss. “Think your cute?”

“You can bet your scantily clad ass and bosom I do. I’m a generic hero after all. Being cute is in the job description.”

“Ooooooo, a generic hero turned renegade! That really turns me on. I’m so wet.”

“Yeah, all this rain is getting me soaked too.”

“Cute and funny! We’re going to have a lot of fun tonight.”

“I try to have fun every night. I love games. Do you like games?”

“I think I just orgasmed. See that tent? Five minutes. Be there.”

The ebony bandit princess saunters off, leaving you alone to complete your dark deed. Looking forward to countless nights of games and fun, you duck into the tent to kill Jon and Samwellington. They are blindfolded, bound, and gagged. They won’t even know you betrayed them!

You raise your sword to do the deed, but before you can deliver the stroke, all the wonderful memories you had training under Jon stream through your mind. You remember the first time he taught you to dodge, the first time he had a random ragamuffin kid in the hamlet throw piles of shit at you, the time he told you what a clitoris is, and the time he first taught you that survival sometimes means kicking the enemy in the balls.

Shit I dunno if I can do this.

Perfectly understandable, but I assure you the ebony bandit princess is the only ebony chick in this universe. Is your friendship worth giving that up? She is unique, one-of-a-kind, like a special edition Poke’mon.
> You ebony bandit princess, you choose you!
How positively villainous, betraying your best friend and teacher. You kill Jon with a discreet thrust to the heart. Samwellington takes a little more work since you have to cut through all the fat, but in the end, the deed is done. I hope you are proud of yourself.

With a minute to spare, you enter the tent the ebony bandit princess demanded. You play games together all night long, every night for years to come. Eventually, you take over and become the new bandit leader, earning a fortune in the bacon smuggling trade. Life couldn’t be better for a bandit king.

For awhile you feared the ghosts of Jon and Samwellington would return to the living world and haunt you for your atrocious crimes, but thankfully you are left in peace.

One night you die of a heart attack while playing your nightly game with your ebony bandit princess turned queen. The absurd amount of bacon consumption probably had something to do with that. Before you were forced to enter your happy place all those years ago, you had been able to suppress your bacon cravings. Since then you could never resist the urge. Alas, life treated you well all the same.

The afterlife does not. You go to the innermost circle of hell and burn in eternal hellfire for murdering your friends in cold blood, asshole.


“I love princess bosom! And bacon.”

“Of course you do. Underlings, untie him and give him his sword. He has friends to murder.”

The bandit underlings do as commanded and direct you to the tent where Jon and Samwellington are being kept on the opposite side of the camp. The entire place is a mess of mud and slop: nothing like a rainstorm to turn a perfectly planned camp into a pile of crap. As you make your way to take care of business, you spy what can only be the ebony bandit princess. The bandit leader did not do the lass justice. She is nothing less than a dark chocolate goddess sent from the heavens themselves.

She notices you staring and rubs her nipples. “Like what you see?”

“Yes, Mam.”

“Me too.” She winks and blows a kiss. “Think your cute?”

“You can bet your scantily clad ass and bosom I do. I’m a generic hero after all. Being cute is in the job description.”

“Ooooooo, a generic hero turned renegade! That really turns me on. I’m so wet.”

“Yeah, all this rain is getting me soaked too.”

“Cute and funny! We’re going to have a lot of fun tonight.”

“I try to have fun every night. I love games. Do you like games?”

“I think I just orgasmed. See that tent? Five minutes. Be there.”

The ebony bandit princess saunters off, leaving you alone to complete your dark deed. Looking forward to countless nights of games and fun, you duck into the tent to kill Jon and Samwellington. They are blindfolded, bound, and gagged. They won’t even know you betrayed them!

You raise your sword to do the deed, but before you can deliver the stroke, all the wonderful memories you had training under Jon stream through your mind. You remember the first time he taught you to dodge, the first time he had a random ragamuffin kid in the hamlet throw piles of shit at you, the time he told you what a clitoris is, and the time he first taught you that survival sometimes means kicking the enemy in the balls.

Shit I dunno if I can do this.

Perfectly understandable, but I assure you the ebony bandit princess is the only ebony chick in this universe. Is your friendship worth giving that up? She is unique, one-of-a-kind, like a special edition Poke’mon.
> You free Jon and Samwellington
No, you just cannot bring yourself to betray your friends like this. You are a hero goddamn it, and being a hero sometimes means letting the legendary Poke’mon roam free. For whatever reason, the bandits just assumed you would kill your friends and did not even bother maintaining a guard on you until you actually did the dastardly deed, which makes freeing Jon and Samwellington astonishingly droll.

Samwellington maintains the status quo by squealing incomprehensible gibberish. The fellow is nothing if not consistent.

Freed from his bindings, Jon decks you in the jaw and kicks you in the groin once you hit the ground. “Never. Call. Me. A. Fucking. Bastard.” He kicks you once again for good measure.

You curl into a ball and wheeze. “Understood.”

With that out in the air, Jon reverts to all smiles and rainbows and helps you back to your feet. “Good. Thanks for cutting us loose. Ready to settle the score on these pricks?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute. Still in pain here.”

“Right, right.”

After you recover from the assault on your genitals, you, Jon, and the squealing Samwellington launch a surprise assault on the bandit camp. They prove as unprepared and hapless as they have so far demonstrated. Stab, dodge, slash, hack, dodge, dodge, slash, dodge, stab. Soon enough only the bandit leader and the ebony bandit princess remain.

“Look at what you’ve done!” he shouts. “Do you think I’ll just stand for this?”

“I thought you just stood around and scratched your nuts all day,” you say. “This is a pretty piss poor operation.”

“You piss pot! You threw away the opportunity of a lifetime. You could have had an ebony bandit princess. I was going to look at you as a son! Now you’ll never find true love or happiness.”

“My uncle always said, ‘Every piss pot has its lid.’ I’ll find mine some day.”

The bandit leader draws his scimitar and discards his cape. Oh snap, he means business now. “You son of a peasant! I’ll kill you!” The bandit leader darts forward with the speed of a black mamba.

You dodge the attack like a pro. The bandit leader moves to strike again, but his own daughter stabs him in the back.

The ebony bandit princess points to the same tent she did earlier. “You. Me. Tent. Now.”

“Yay, I love games!” you cheer as you follow her into the tent.

Well, well, well nice going hero. You have your cake and you get to eat it out too. Life goes on and you and Jon eventually receive knighthoods for your valiant efforts in your ongoing adventures. Samwellington continues to provide… company if nothing else.

Ever since you entered your happy place, you have had difficulty resisting the succulent allure of bacon. Thankfully, with Samwellington around the bacon never lasts long, probably saving you from a heart attack.

You marry the former ebony bandit princess and enjoy your specialty games every night. Yay games!


Sometimes the odds are just stacked too highly against you. It is not that you are a coward or anything. It is just that you know a lost cause when you see one. If the situation had been different… Oh well, what is the worst that can happen? They will probably just steal your valuables and leave you on your merry way. Thankfully, none of you are women.

“I yield,” you say, unbuckling your sword belt.

“Some knight you are,” Jon scoffs as he rushes the bandits. Five bolts tear into his body, ripping his flesh to ribbons like a ragdoll.

Samwellington squeals incomprehensible gibberish.

“He never even had a chance to dodge.” A lone tear trickles down your cheek. “Poor bastard.”

Jon’s eyes snap open. He glares at you as he struggles to his feet, using his sword as a crutch. “Cunt.” He takes a step toward you. Five more bolts drive into him, and he collapses in a heap.

Samwellington squeals more incomprehensible gibberish.

“What the-?”

…

Your head is throbbing and you taste dirt and blood. Bindings dig into your wrists and ankles. The bandits are dragging you through the undergrowth: rather unkindly as your head bangs into root and trunk alike.

Oh dear God, I hope I don’t have a concussion. Mom always told me to wear a helmet.

How long had you been unconscious? Surely, it could not have been more than a minute or two. The road should still be close. If you could only somehow manage to escape, you could gather reinforcements.

You thrash in an attempt to break free, but your efforts are rewarded with nothing but a series of swift kicks to the ribs. You slip into your happy place for the remainder of the journey, day dreaming of sweet, succulent, juicy bacon and princess bosom.

…

A fist drills into your gut, wrenching you out of your blissful imagination. The bandit leader towers over you, looking buff and pissed. You know he is the leader because he is wearing a cape and is the only black dude in this story.

“Alright, punk, you’ve got two choices.”

“Naturally.”

“I’m always looking for good men to join my crew, and since you surrendered like a good little bitch, you get the first crack at signing up. All you have to do is kill your friends to prove your loyalty.”

“Did you have to hit me?”

“Yes, it illustrates my tough guy, no bullshit attitude.”

“Oh, I see. Kind of like how Dark Lords sacrifice random minions to show how evil they are.”

“Exactly. You get the picture. I knew I liked you. Now go kill your friends and maybe one day you can earn the right to wed my ebony bandit princess daughter.”

“Is she tight and curvy?”

“What part of bandit princess don’t you get?”

“Sweet.”
> You refuse the offer
There is no way you can betray your friends like that, even if it means certain death. They would never betray you. That manner of treachery is the stuff villains are made of, and that is a long dark road you want no part of. Villains never get princess bosom! You’re also not too sure about their bacon situation.

“I’ll never join you!”

“Really? What a pity. I suppose I’ll have to waste you now.” The bandit leader draws his scimitar. “Ebony, get in here!”

A slick dark chocolate goddess enters the tent: scantily clad in bosom emphasizing furs. “Yes, father?”

“I wanted this chump to see what he was missing out on. Flash him a little more skin… no not that much! Put your top back on!”

“Wait a second,” you say. “You named your daughter Ebony? Isn’t that crass?”

“I’m not very creative, alright. I don’t even have a fucking name of my own.”

“I’m just going to call you Sinbad. Because you sin and you’re bad. Get it?”

“Oh mother-fucking merciful God!”

The bandit leader, now known as Sinbad hacks your body to bloody bits with his scimitar while Ebony rubs her nipples in the background. Something tells me she has daddy issues. Anyway, you’re dead, so you won’t get to explore them.


You are a local swineherd in the village of Jacquescrappe and your two best friends in the whole world are your two favorite pigs "Oinky" and "Snout".  You have recently finished your daily chores when you hear a terrifying scream.  Your village is known for suffering frequent hit and run attacks from the creatures in the mountainside and those that get taken never come back.  By the time you get there, it is already too late.  And to make matters worse, it was your little sister that was taken this time.  You've been dealing with this shit your whole life, but this is the last straw.  Somebody has to take care of those foul beasts!

You pick up a pitchfork only to be stopped by the gentle hand on your shoulder.  You turn and see Brandolf the Bray gazing down at you from behind a beard that is quickly encompassing his whole face.  He tells you that to stop the monsters you must focus on assassinating the Craxil, for without their leader the rest will likely vacate the area (or at least fall into disunity making them easier for the local militia to handle individually).

 Many other villagers have arrived on the scene and they obviously share the same sentiments as you.  Seeing the looks in their eyes, Brandolf decides he's going to have to organize a council meeting to discuss the matter before anyone gets it in their mind to do anything stupid.

> You to The Council Meeting Then
Brandolf the Bray manages to convince the townspeople to stow their torches and pitchforks and agree to a council meeting but it is clear from everyone's faces that they would not accept any outcome that did not involve taking immediate action.  Brandolf's magic may be formidible, but against a numerous and organized foe he would not get far.  The townspeople (yourself included) are but farmers and peasants and would be hardpressed to slay a hackneyed donkey, let alone a monster.

Most of the creatures that come out of the mountains are lumbering, humanoid creatures that stand about 10 feet tall and are covered by brown fur from head to toe.  They have a hunch in their backs, and the villagers have taken to calling them humunculi.  While these creatures are certainly new to you, you are warned that there are even more dangerous creatures lurking in the depths of the mountainside.  Now you begin to look at the towering rockface with a mixture of curiosity and dread.

"We need to deal with this Craxil thing NOW" an angry voice shouts.  "How long must be culled before the royal military arrives to aid us?"

Of course, the royal military they speak of is from the kingdom of Mihtana, which is a considerable distance away.

"The royal military has never been willing to send any military force out to our village, why should this be any different?"

This comment is true, you think.   The village of Jacquescrappe is a considerable distance away from civilization and the kingdom of Mihtana sees it as being of no strategic value.  Even if it was under direct threat of annihiliation, you doubt anyone would go through the trouble of committing a significant military force out to such a far away place.  In fact, Brandolf is the only outsider that has bothered to help the village in a long time.

The rest of the townspeople immediately begin arguing over whether they should stay and defend the land of their ancestors or simply leave.  Others put forth ideas on how to trap the Craxil that are quickly dismissed by Brandolf as stupid.  Suddenly, Brandolf makes an announcement.

"I have a poison, aquired from an alchemist in Lima, that can kill the Craxil.  Even trace amounts of this deadly substance can kill even the largest of creatures".

> You listen Intently to Brandolf's Plan
"The trouble is that this poison must be ingested or applied to a blade, simply splashing your opponent with it will not suffice."

"But how will anyone even get that far?  Without royal aid, how can anyone even hope to reach the Craxil?"

At this point, many in the council are reminded of your exploits at last year's "capture the flag" contests.  In fact, at every annual festival you manage to outfox your opponents, evade their numbers, and sneak up on their flag.  Your success record was almost unrealistic.  Suddenly, the council gets it in their minds to send you in with the poison.  In fact, you're alarmed by how quickly they're all agreeing to this idea despite the fact you haven't yet.  Then again, you've always sensed that as a swineherd you've never really been well liked or considered "valuable" by the townsfolk so this response isn't entirely unexpected.

Nonetheless, you aren't going to go anywhere or do anything that you haven't agreed to do first.  Unlike the others in the room, Brandolf has the decency to walk up and ask your opinion on the matter.  He is usually dismissive of stupid ideas, but he seems to think this one might actually work.  You take a moment to decide how to respond.

> You accept The Offer And Begin Your Quest
You resent that the rest of the village is so quick to agree to such an idea without bothering to consult you first, but these creatures carried off your sister and they are going to have to pay for that.  Besides, this shit has to stop.  You inform Brandolf that you agree and he smiles warmly.

"Thank you young one, you are certainly bold to undertake such a suicidal mission."

"Well, what choice do I have right?"

He hands you the vial of poison, a short sword, a longbow, and a quiver of basic iron arrows.  For once, some of the people of the village actually look at you with respect but then you realize that they are commenting on how stupid you must be under their breath.  The ingrates!  Still, you need to focus on the task at hand.  Brandolf reminds you that the Craxil will be larger that the other creatures and that you should seek to evade rather than engage its underlings.  At this point, you realize you have a problem...

You stink!  The stench of swine manure spreads forth like body odor of a sweaty fat girl and you realize you are going to have to do something about this if you expect to succeed in your quest.  The council members may be used to it as this is a farming community, but the creatures almost certainly will not be.  You are going to have to consider how you are going to go about dealing with this issue.

> You try The Fancy Cologne
You know that a friend of yours has recently returned from his trip to the city and brought some cologne with him.  You've heard that it does wonders for a man's scent and promptly apply some from a bottle labeled "Musque".  Coincidentally, it does seem rather musky.  Confident in your newfound manly scent you head into the mountains and prepare to meet destiny.  The wind changes direction and your enemy is aware of your position before you even reach the first plateau on the trail.  It isn't long before the humunculi are upon you, ripping you from limb to limb.  You tried to defend yourself with your short sword but hey... these are monsters and you've got the upper body strength of an anorexic girl.  They find you to be an unsatisfying meal.

THE END


You resent that the rest of the village is so quick to agree to such an idea without bothering to consult you first, but these creatures carried off your sister and they are going to have to pay for that.  Besides, this shit has to stop.  You inform Brandolf that you agree and he smiles warmly.

"Thank you young one, you are certainly bold to undertake such a suicidal mission."

"Well, what choice do I have right?"

He hands you the vial of poison, a short sword, a longbow, and a quiver of basic iron arrows.  For once, some of the people of the village actually look at you with respect but then you realize that they are commenting on how stupid you must be under their breath.  The ingrates!  Still, you need to focus on the task at hand.  Brandolf reminds you that the Craxil will be larger that the other creatures and that you should seek to evade rather than engage its underlings.  At this point, you realize you have a problem...

You stink!  The stench of swine manure spreads forth like body odor of a sweaty fat girl and you realize you are going to have to do something about this if you expect to succeed in your quest.  The council members may be used to it as this is a farming community, but the creatures almost certainly will not be.  You are going to have to consider how you are going to go about dealing with this issue.

> You roll Around In Mud And Grass So You Smell More "Earthy"... Like The Monsters Do
You reason that many of the monsters that come down from the mountainside smell a bit "earthy" so you try rolling around in the mud and grass to try and acheive that same smell for yourself.  Unfortunately, it doesn't mask the stench of the hog manure that still stains your pants and boots.  It isn't long before the humunculi are aware of your presence.  The villagers got to see their hero pounced on and torn apart before he even got out of sight range.  Too bad.

THE END


You resent that the rest of the village is so quick to agree to such an idea without bothering to consult you first, but these creatures carried off your sister and they are going to have to pay for that.  Besides, this shit has to stop.  You inform Brandolf that you agree and he smiles warmly.

"Thank you young one, you are certainly bold to undertake such a suicidal mission."

"Well, what choice do I have right?"

He hands you the vial of poison, a short sword, a longbow, and a quiver of basic iron arrows.  For once, some of the people of the village actually look at you with respect but then you realize that they are commenting on how stupid you must be under their breath.  The ingrates!  Still, you need to focus on the task at hand.  Brandolf reminds you that the Craxil will be larger that the other creatures and that you should seek to evade rather than engage its underlings.  At this point, you realize you have a problem...

You stink!  The stench of swine manure spreads forth like body odor of a sweaty fat girl and you realize you are going to have to do something about this if you expect to succeed in your quest.  The council members may be used to it as this is a farming community, but the creatures almost certainly will not be.  You are going to have to consider how you are going to go about dealing with this issue.

> You just Take A Bath
This is a no brainer.  If you want to shed the stench of pig crap then take a bath and get a change of clothes!  You head down to the bathouse and a tall, dark haired girl prepares your bath.  The bath is relaxing and you take special care to dawn an all tan outfit as you suspect it may help you blend in with the rockface better than your usual swineherding outfits will.  When you are done, you realize you haven't any scent at all and gather up the equipment you were given at the council.  It is time to go.

The villagers are gathered at the base of the mountainside cheering you on as you walk forth.  Despite their cheering you know they don't really give a shit about you and you question why you are still taking this kind of risk, but you move forward with it anyway.   You continue up the path and reach the first plateau that overlooks the village.  There are two caves that go down deeper into the rockface.  You remember seeing humunculi emerge from these caves so you reason that this would be a good place to being your search.

All that's left to decide is which cave you wish to enter.

> The Left Cave

You are quickly beginning to wish Brandolf had given you a torch, but given the nature of your quest he probably figured you didn't need to draw attention to yourself.  Still, you can barely see more than a few feet in front of your face and it is only getting darker as you continue further inward.  You run your hand along the right wall and move carefully, scouting each step with your foot to avoid a fall.  Your heart is racing and you know that at any moment, something might come out and attack.

Eventually, the cave leads into a small inner chamber with a campfire in the middle.  Three humunculi are sitting around the campfire, roasting human limbs on a stick as if they were marshmellows.  Fortunately, they are not aware of your presence and the campfire enables you to see there are several tunnels leading out from this chamber.  On the other side of the chamber is a tunnel that goes deeper in, but you won't be able to go down this way undetected as long as the humunculi are here.  There are also nondescript passsageways to the left and the right (large and small respectively) that you can reach as long as you stay in the shadows.

> You sneak Down The Large Passageway
You press your body firmly against the back wall of the chamber and slowly make your way over to the entrance of the large passageway on the left.  Occasionally the campfire will flicker light in your general direction giving you pause, but the humunculi are totally unaware of your presence.  Eventually, you manage to make it to the passageway and it doesn't take long before you reach another chamber.  You are greatly disheartened by what you see up ahead.

A larger than normal humunculus stands in the center of the fairly well lit chamber and judging from his tribal decor you figure he must be someone of rank.  The passageway continues at the other end of the chamber, but this creature blocks your path.  At the moment, he is looking off to the side and does not notice your presence.  You weigh your options.

> You charge Him With Your Sword Drawn. Only One Of Him After All.
You may be weaker than a Japanese schoolgirl but there is only one enemy to face here and you have the element of surprise!  Perhaps if this were just an ordinary humunculus this would have worked, but it becomes apparent that this well decorated character is something altogether different.  His reaction time is excellent and he whirls around to back hand you before you can get within range to strike.  This sends you sprawling across the floor and knocks the sword out of your hand and beyond your reach.  Before you can get up, he leaps over and grasps your neck.  As he squeezes the life out of you, the three from the other room come down and you quickly realize all hope is lost.  There is no point in fighting now, it is simply...

THE END


You press your body firmly against the back wall of the chamber and slowly make your way over to the entrance of the large passageway on the left.  Occasionally the campfire will flicker light in your general direction giving you pause, but the humunculi are totally unaware of your presence.  Eventually, you manage to make it to the passageway and it doesn't take long before you reach another chamber.  You are greatly disheartened by what you see up ahead.

A larger than normal humunculus stands in the center of the fairly well lit chamber and judging from his tribal decor you figure he must be someone of rank.  The passageway continues at the other end of the chamber, but this creature blocks your path.  At the moment, he is looking off to the side and does not notice your presence.  You weigh your options.

> You draw Your Bow And Try To Kill Him From A Distance Before He Realizes You're Here.
The room is too well lit to try and sneak past him and lunging forth at a superior foe with a short sword doesn't strike your fancy either.  You decide to get creative and pull out the bow that Brandolf gave you in the council before you left.  You ran a few practice shots before departing on this journey and you know you can at least hit a general target, though you'd be pretty hard pressed to achieve any kind of real accuracy.

The first shot whizzes past the creatures head and into a nearby pillar of rock.  His eyes go wide as he looks at the arrow then turns to look directly at you.  You immediately pull back another arrow and take aim knowing this shot is going to make or break destiny.  You aim for his chest as that is the broadest target available and the iron arrowhead may even reach his heart.  As he lunges forth you close your eyes and release...

You half expected you'd be dead by now but when you open your eyes you discover your arrow went through the creatures neck.  He is now on his knees bleeding profusely and clutching his throat.  Wasting no time, you finish him with your short sword, then dive into the darkest corner.  The three humunculi heard the ruckus and have come down from their campfire to see what the commotion was.  When they discover their fallen comrade, they go into a rage and start to look around.  You dig into the corner as much as you can and clutch your sword.  Two of the creatures move towards the unexplored passageway on the other side of the chamber while the third seems to be gravitating closer to your position.  You begin to wonder if you should strike him by surprise while you still can or hope you can try to remain undiscovered.
> You strike Now While You Have The Chance!
Instinctively, you know you are going to be discovered if he gets any closer.  You aren't sure how you are going to go about escaping the other two, but you are gonna have to kill this one before it gets any closer.  Without warning you lunge forth and put your short sword through the creature's belly.  You were actually aiming for the heart and the creature moved so I guess that says something about your swordsman skill.  Nonetheless, it proved effective at killing the creature.  You waste no time at all in bolting back up to the original chamber with the campsite and the other two will round the corner any second.  You need to make a decision FAST!

The large pathway (on the right wall as you enter) is now inexplicably barred but you can still run back outside the cave or down the passageway that was previously inaccessable due to their presence.  The adrenaline floods your body and your survival instincts take over.  You immediately decide to...

> You run Down The Previously Inaccessable Passageway
You run down the passageway that you were previously unable to get to while the three humunculi were at the campfire.  Unfortunately, the humunculi have chosen the same path.  You aren't sure if it is because they saw you or because of bad luck, but they are not far behind you now.  You reach another chamber and find a large, demonic looking creature blocking your path.  Before you can even think about how to describe this thing you feel the humunculi grab you from behind and pull you to the ground.  They are about to stomp you to death when the demonic looking creature disintigrates them on the spot.

"Nobody takes my prey in my domain.  Tell me little thing, what are you here to do?"

This thing looks like a large floating eye with multiple smaller eyes attached atop its head.  You realize this thing is a beholder and soon you find yourself paralyzed in its gaze.  That's what you get for staring into its eye I guess.

"Answer me puny one, why are you here in my domain?"

You are too terrified to answer, but this creature appears to grow irritated by your silence so you muster all the courage you've got and speak up

"I'm here to slay the Craxil" you proclaim, terrified of how this creature will respond to such a bold statement.

"HA!  Amusing little one, someone of your strength doesn't have what it takes but it would entertain me to see how you die in the Craxil's mountains.  Answer this riddle correctly, and I will permit you to continue through to the other side of my domain.  Answer incorrectly, and you will share the same fate as your pursuers.  Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be" you squeak.

"Very well!" it bellows, clearly enjoying every bit of this.  "I am a vast canyon that spans beyond sight.  I am without end and have been a part of every man whenever there is trouble.  What am I?"

> You boundless Hope

"Indeed" the creature states.  "You are clearly in trouble right now as you are helpless in my domain, yet like the rest of your kind you retain hope of survival somehow.  I guess this means I'll have to let you through to the other side, but hear this:  once you reach the other side, I'll not permit you back in so this is a one way deal.  Get going."

You wanted to protest as you can't guarantee you won't need to come back here later in search of the Craxil but let's face it... you aren't willing to argue with this thing either.  Just stay focused on the goal and avoid unnecessary conflict with anything other than the Craxil.  You cross to the other side and a gate closes behind you.  The beholder gives you a look as if to say "good-bye", then turns and moves the other way.  You have no choice but to move foward from here.

> You time To Move Forward
You are standing on a narrow plateau in the rugged mountainous region beyond your village.  Unlike the brownish/tan rockface you see near your village, the rocks in this region are more redish and vibrant looking.  You see a path leading forward and you decide to follow it.  On the plus side, you haven't encountered any hostile creatures so far.  You walk for at least a few miles and it appears to extend beyond your sight.  You curse at your luck and begin to slump into depression when you realize you don't even know where to fnd this Craxil thing in the first place.  You decide to build a campfire for the night, think things over, and gather some rest.  As you are doing so, a strange man lumbers out from behind a large rock and begins to beg you for help.

"Please, it won't take long.  My caravan was beset upon by foul creatures and I fear for my families safety.  You must help me!"

You pause.  It seems odd that a human would be up here in such a hostile region, let alone a caravan.  But this is definitely the face of a human and he shows no signs of hostility.

"Why are you up here anyway"? you ask. "The Craxil and his followers will kill anyone that wanders into their mountainous territory."

"We got lost trying to find our way to Jacquescrappe village, perhaps you've heard of it"?

"Yeah... I just came from there... but I don't think you want to go back that way, you won't get far."

"Look, I don't wish to be rude, but my family is in danger and I need your help NOW!"

At this point, the man turns and runs down the path.  You call out to him to stop but he keeps going.  You aren't sure if you would be of much help to him in battle, but you aren't sure how you would feel about abandoning him like that either.  Time to decide...

> You ignore The Man, There Is Something Fishy About That Fellow
You decide to just ignore the man as he runs on ahead.  Part of you feels like an absolute dickhead for doing this, but you sense there is something strange about how a human caravan is operating this far into the Craxil's lands in the first place.  And even if it is true, the man is physically stronger than you are so what kind of help do you honestly think you can provide in a situation that has him scared?  Most importantly of all... your gut tells you there is something fishy about that fellow and you think it best to let him run on ahead.

You wait until he is out of sight, then wait a while longer and continue your jouney.

As you continue on your journey you wonder if you made the right choice.  I mean, what if the man's family really was in danger and you could have made a difference?  Did you make the right call?  You console yourself by reminding yourself of the importance of your own mission and how you cannot afford to take unnecessary chances.  Just as you are having these thoughts, you discover the man who approached you earlier as well as four others standing in the middle of the beaten path with their heads down.  It looks like you aren't done with them after all...

> You what Do They Want?
The man you just dismissed earlier is standing at the front of the pack.  You knew there was something off about that earlier request and seeing this display only reaffirms that you were right to avoid them in the first place.  They are all looking down at the ground but now he is looking up directly at you with a creepy smile on his face.

"So, you saw through our little ambush scheme did you?"  he sneers.

"What is it you want?"

"Quite simply we're aware of your quest to reach the Craxil and we are not prepared to allow it."

At this point their heads begin to twist and contort and their skulls appear to come out of their mouths.  It is almost as though they were never human at all but part of some kind of disguise.  In fact, it is now readily apparent that this is the case.  You are now looking at five maniacal looking skeletons armed with an assortment of swords and hand axes.  They seem like they are eager to get things started and in fact, they are all rushing down the beaten path towards you.  You turn the other way until you can decide what to do and despite what you've been told about the undead, you discover they are perfectly capable of keeping pace with you.

You know you aren't going to be able to take on five of these guys and they seem intent on sticking together during the pursuit.  To your left is another cave you've chosen to pass up on your journey, figuring it was just another humunculus den.  Perhaps, if you are lucky, you can lose your pursuers in there.  Alternatively, you could always try climbing the steep rockface off to your right.  You've had plenty of climbing experience as a kid and somehow you hope these skeletons won't be able to follow you.  You could also turn around and start unloading arrows into your enemies.  They may be keeping pace with you, but you still have a heck of a head start and you'd wager you could release quite a few before they catch up to you.  It's up to you...

> You try To Lose Them In The Cave
The cave is dark, and dark is good given your need for evasion.  You dart forth into the cave hoping not to alert any inhabitants present inside.  You know you have a good headstart on your pursuers so you take the time to quietly move in and survey your surroundings.  Just inside the cave is a half eaten corpse (one of the villagers that was taken from the village a few weeks ago in fact).  The stench is overpowering but you persist down the next passageway and into a large chamber with a multitude of standing rocks.  Another passage off the left wall goes deeper in, but you choose instead to find a hiding place behind one of the standing rocks here.

For quite a while you wait, thinking the skeletal warriors that chased you are not going to be coming.  Just as you are about to stand up and leave you see them coming down the corridor.  They fan out and are now scoping out all the possible hiding spots in this room so it won't be long before they find yours.  You look back at the passageway on the left and notice that although they are not up, there are bars in the floor that can be raised to block the passage.  You can only hope that the lever on the wall controls this mechanism.  In a flash you jump up and run towards this passage.  You throw up the lever and step back.  The bars raise in time to stop the other four from getting in, but the lead one who tried to fool you earlier managed to get in before the bars raised and now brandishes his sword at you.

In self defense you draw your own sword and prepare to thwart his advance.  He is fast and it takes all your concentration just to block his attacks from hitting you.  Given you are in a close range battle in a part of the cave that may or may not have other inhabitants, you don't really see much use in running.  You figure you are going to have to continue this fight with your sword but another item catches your eye.  Off to the side is a good size rock that would fit easily in the palm of your hand.  Given the opportunity you could try and bash the skeleton in the face with it.

> You sword Fight

There is no time to try newfangled plans, you just need to survive.  You parry his most of its attacks but take several slashes.  Nothing major, but damn if it doesn't hurt and you are losing blood.  You manage to land a blow against his shoulder and it goes halfway through the bone, but that doesn't stop the skeleton from fighting.  In fact, before you can get your sword back out he lands a blow against your shoulder and it deals a lot more damage.  You struggle to keep up with your opponent but you are losing a lot of blood now and this monster is picking up the pace.  In desperation you suddenly drop any pretense of defense and lunge forth at your opponent.  You bring your sword down through several ribs but this does little to phase him and now you are wide open for the final blow.

Perhaps this would have gone better if you remembered that bladed weapons are only effective against enemies with flesh and blood.

THE END


The cave is dark, and dark is good given your need for evasion.  You dart forth into the cave hoping not to alert any inhabitants present inside.  You know you have a good headstart on your pursuers so you take the time to quietly move in and survey your surroundings.  Just inside the cave is a half eaten corpse (one of the villagers that was taken from the village a few weeks ago in fact).  The stench is overpowering but you persist down the next passageway and into a large chamber with a multitude of standing rocks.  Another passage off the left wall goes deeper in, but you choose instead to find a hiding place behind one of the standing rocks here.

For quite a while you wait, thinking the skeletal warriors that chased you are not going to be coming.  Just as you are about to stand up and leave you see them coming down the corridor.  They fan out and are now scoping out all the possible hiding spots in this room so it won't be long before they find yours.  You look back at the passageway on the left and notice that although they are not up, there are bars in the floor that can be raised to block the passage.  You can only hope that the lever on the wall controls this mechanism.  In a flash you jump up and run towards this passage.  You throw up the lever and step back.  The bars raise in time to stop the other four from getting in, but the lead one who tried to fool you earlier managed to get in before the bars raised and now brandishes his sword at you.

In self defense you draw your own sword and prepare to thwart his advance.  He is fast and it takes all your concentration just to block his attacks from hitting you.  Given you are in a close range battle in a part of the cave that may or may not have other inhabitants, you don't really see much use in running.  You figure you are going to have to continue this fight with your sword but another item catches your eye.  Off to the side is a good size rock that would fit easily in the palm of your hand.  Given the opportunity you could try and bash the skeleton in the face with it.

> You bash Skeleton With Rock
You grab the rock you noticed earlier almost immediately, then go back to blocking your opponents attacks.  The enemy is attacking fast and furious and it takes all your concentration to block.  Even so, you only manage to block most of its attacks and take a few slashes.  Nothing major, but you are losing blood.  Eventually you see your opening and you ram the rock into the creature's skull with the full force of your adrenaline infused arm.  You hear a satisfying crack as the front of the skull crumbles and the creature stumbles back.  Realizing how brittle this thing must be, you grab its wrist before it can regain composure and bring the rock down again, taking off its sword arm at the elbow.  Another crack at the spine for good measure and you are confident the creature is dead.  The other four look on angrily and scream but the bars prevent them from doing anything about it, so you decide to move on deeper into the cave in hopes of finding another way out of here.

The cave only gets darker and darker as you go in deeper and you find it odd that there are no other inhabitants in this region... until you see a pair of large white eyes staring back at you from the darkness in the next cavern.  It doesn't appear willing to leave the chamber in pursuit of you, but you cannot return the way you came as the skeletons are still banging on the bars you left behind.  Studying the creatures behavior a little more, you begin to suspect it is a grue.

You've heard stories of grues from nearly every adventurer you've ever met.  These things are the leading cause of death amongst those in the adventuring profession.  Even higher than dragons, vampires, and Lindsay Lohan.  In fact, while grues are believed to be organic and corporeal, no adventurer has ever actually killed one before.  You struggle to remember what the adventurers told you when dealing with a grue.  It has a certain weakness, but for the life of you you simply cannot remember what that is...  You're going to have to guess.

> A Grue's Weakness Is Garlic, you apply It To Myself

Of course!  Garlic!  You still have some garlic powder in your pack that you use to flavor your pork rines.  You douse yourself with it and make a mental note to bathe later so the other monsters don't notice your scent.  You confidently walk into the dark chamber ahead, certain that the grue will flee your garlic stench.  As you confidently strut through the creatures chamber you think to yourself,

"Why can't all my challenges be this...."

You don't get enough time to finish that thought.

You were eaten by a grue.

THE END


You grab the rock you noticed earlier almost immediately, then go back to blocking your opponents attacks.  The enemy is attacking fast and furious and it takes all your concentration to block.  Even so, you only manage to block most of its attacks and take a few slashes.  Nothing major, but you are losing blood.  Eventually you see your opening and you ram the rock into the creature's skull with the full force of your adrenaline infused arm.  You hear a satisfying crack as the front of the skull crumbles and the creature stumbles back.  Realizing how brittle this thing must be, you grab its wrist before it can regain composure and bring the rock down again, taking off its sword arm at the elbow.  Another crack at the spine for good measure and you are confident the creature is dead.  The other four look on angrily and scream but the bars prevent them from doing anything about it, so you decide to move on deeper into the cave in hopes of finding another way out of here.

The cave only gets darker and darker as you go in deeper and you find it odd that there are no other inhabitants in this region... until you see a pair of large white eyes staring back at you from the darkness in the next cavern.  It doesn't appear willing to leave the chamber in pursuit of you, but you cannot return the way you came as the skeletons are still banging on the bars you left behind.  Studying the creatures behavior a little more, you begin to suspect it is a grue.

You've heard stories of grues from nearly every adventurer you've ever met.  These things are the leading cause of death amongst those in the adventuring profession.  Even higher than dragons, vampires, and Lindsay Lohan.  In fact, while grues are believed to be organic and corporeal, no adventurer has ever actually killed one before.  You struggle to remember what the adventurers told you when dealing with a grue.  It has a certain weakness, but for the life of you you simply cannot remember what that is...  You're going to have to guess.

> A Grue's Weakness Is Noise, you Shout Loudly As you Enter

Of course!  Many creatures are frightened by loud noises, grues must be too!  You march into the chamber singing "FRIDAY FRIDAY" as well as "MY MILKSHAKE BRINGS ALL THE BOYS TO THE YARD..." certain that this will scare the creature.  Sadly, despite your frightening choice in music, the creature does not appear to be phased.

You were eaten by a grue.

THE END


You grab the rock you noticed earlier almost immediately, then go back to blocking your opponents attacks.  The enemy is attacking fast and furious and it takes all your concentration to block.  Even so, you only manage to block most of its attacks and take a few slashes.  Nothing major, but you are losing blood.  Eventually you see your opening and you ram the rock into the creature's skull with the full force of your adrenaline infused arm.  You hear a satisfying crack as the front of the skull crumbles and the creature stumbles back.  Realizing how brittle this thing must be, you grab its wrist before it can regain composure and bring the rock down again, taking off its sword arm at the elbow.  Another crack at the spine for good measure and you are confident the creature is dead.  The other four look on angrily and scream but the bars prevent them from doing anything about it, so you decide to move on deeper into the cave in hopes of finding another way out of here.

The cave only gets darker and darker as you go in deeper and you find it odd that there are no other inhabitants in this region... until you see a pair of large white eyes staring back at you from the darkness in the next cavern.  It doesn't appear willing to leave the chamber in pursuit of you, but you cannot return the way you came as the skeletons are still banging on the bars you left behind.  Studying the creatures behavior a little more, you begin to suspect it is a grue.

You've heard stories of grues from nearly every adventurer you've ever met.  These things are the leading cause of death amongst those in the adventuring profession.  Even higher than dragons, vampires, and Lindsay Lohan.  In fact, while grues are believed to be organic and corporeal, no adventurer has ever actually killed one before.  You struggle to remember what the adventurers told you when dealing with a grue.  It has a certain weakness, but for the life of you you simply cannot remember what that is...  You're going to have to guess.

> A Grue's Weakness Is Light, you Make A Fire With Some Wood And Tinder
Grues are afraid of light!  This is why it won't leave its pitch black chamber to pursue me.  Fortunately, you still have some flint and tinder.  You originally brought it with the intention of building a campfire along the journey but things change I guess.  You light a piece of wood and wrap a piece of torn clothing (soaked in cave water) around the middle to help prevent the flames from going to far down near your hands.  You need to move fast as this is not going to last for long and you don't want to be stuck down there without light.

As anticipated, the grue backs away in a feverish effort to avoid the light your flame is generating.  You are pleased to see that the passageway at the end of this chamber has a faint light source at the end (although it is very far away).  Hauling ass as fast as you can, you head down the tunnel towards the light source as your makeshift torch is already beginning to burn itself to completion.  By the time it does, you've already made it close enough to the nearby light source that the grue wouldn't dare follow.

It seems the light is being generated by a series of torches that line a set of tracks.  It is then that you realize this cave is not really a cave at all but a mine occupied by numerous kobolds.  You were always raised to believe that kobolds had beards and wore candles on their heads, but seeing them now you realize how ridiculous that claim actually is.  Who came up with that anyway?  In reality, they are like miniture lizard folk and very scrawny too (even by your scrawny standards).  Staying at the edge of the light source, you decide to observe these creatures for a little while before planning a move.  You are reasonably certain you could handle one or possibly even two in a fight but you most certainly can't charge in or you will be overwhelmed in an instant.

Of particular notice is the kobold on the high ledge that is sporting a purple overcoat and barking orders at the laboring kobolds in whatever the hell language these things are speaking.  It occurs to you that these kobolds may very well be working for the Craxil, in which case you would very much like to get your hands on that one in the purple & green coat.  You tire of wandering the mountainside aimlessly, narrowly evading one death after another all the while having no idea where this Craxil actually is.  Perhaps you could find some way of getting to him quietly and making him talk.

There are a few problems with this plan.  For starters, the torches provide plenty of illumination in this region and there are countless kobold laborers that would detect your presence and tear you to shreds if you just went in as things are now.  You entertain the idea of making them chase you back to the grue, but you don't really have enough wood for another makeshift torch.  Even if you were to sneak along the wall on either side, there is still enough light in there to give away your location.  This is going to be tough.

You observe them more and try to formulate some kind of cogent strategy when you notice a kobold has to emerge from a nearby storage chamber to bring wood to the torches.  The storage chamber isn't illuminated and you didn't even notice it was there in the beginning.  That gives you a couple of ideas.  For one, you could hide in the storage chamber until the next kobold comes in to keep the torches going, then kill him quickly.  Once the torches go out, you can head to the head kobold in charge.  Alternatively, you can set the entire room on fire, which would undoubtedly create a diversion.  This plan is risky given that the fire would undoubtedly light the place up quite a bit, but it would also eliminate the tinder they need to light any torches later.

> You hide In The Storage Room And Kill The Kobold
You sneak into the storage room and wait for almost 2 hours before the next kobold comes in.  As soon as he does you plunge your sword into his back and try to silence him by holding his mouth shut with your arm.  He let's out several whining and whimpering noises but nothing that seems to attact alarm.  A few minutes later another kobold walks in, obviously waiting for that tinder and you manage to surprise attack that one as well.

Unfortunately this plan isn't working out as well as you had planned.  The torches are still going strong and now a group of three kobolds is heading towards the stock room.  You hide behind the door and manage to kill the first one but the other two draw their weapons and start shouting.  Soon, all the kobolds in the mine are aware of your presence and it isn't long after that that you begin to find yourself overwhelmed.  You have the unique displeasure of being killed an eaten by a large number of creatures that are even weaker than you are.

THE END