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| Gage Part 2 |
| Fire Caving |
I sobered up a bit from the last time I logged my thoughts…which is never a good way to write…so, I decided to grab some ale and drink ‘til I fill a pale. Not a poet, but truly gifted I am.
Hmm… where to begin my retelling of the past few days event…well we did venture for quite some time…I want to say North, but it could have just as easily been south. So, I’ll just say we were traveling for awhile. Eventually, I ran out of mind numbing substances, which I think I wasted most of them in one night drinking with the Gim. He’s quite a drinker that short guy. Didn’t think he had it in him, but I would imagine by the way he’s dressed that it’s not the first time he’s gotten piss drunk. Either way I’m pretty sure I drank him under the table…oh yeah I also hunted a rabit early that evening…although it had an arrow in it…so, apparently I hit it with an arrow….with my bow that I lost…I guess. Either way the group was well pleased and I’m sure they cooked it up and ate it, but I was so full of spirits that I wasn’t able to partake in anything else.
Just a few hours into the next day those morons tried waking me up..HA ha. Little did they know you never wake a Barbarian after a night of drinking…you simply let him awaken through the natural form of sleeping until I pissed myself in the morning. It’s the typical way where I come from, but perhaps they’re not aware of our customs. I figured a Druid would know that that nature wants a Barbarian to sleep especially if he’s drunk and wields a big sword Ha ha. So, we walked in the morning and eventually reached a small town full of small people. Somebody from our group…um… the one who’s name I didn’t really care to learn walked up to scout the town. I decided that my best stratagem was to try to blend into the crowd. Granted, I looked much larger than any of them but nonetheless I can pretend to be stupid and poor occasionally.
One person from the crowd who looked like he may have seen some action in battle…from the backlines that is…stood forward and started talking about our weapons or leaving them… something like that to which I replied good luck with that. My party was not happy with my choice of words, but I am who I am. Bored with the situation, I took some alcohol from…from…um… that guy who sings and makes me feel better in battle…bah…one day I’ll learn his name. So, yeah he gave me some drink…which he later explained was from the goblin…who I’m just assuming has no name and simply goes by dumbass. Right, so people left and I stayed back drinking until eventually I grew tired of my ale…yeah tired of it, ugh.
Casually, I walked through the streets innocently looking for my “friends” so I could question them about the piss…I mean the quality of my ale…because I’ve had better, and this was bad…very bad. I found them in about three cranks of my wank’s time. I nonchalantly walked in and headed towards the…guy who gave me the drink.
Apparently, it was bad timing or something because I think I fell into a trap or something because I couldn’t move my body…I mean I could tell my body to move, but it didn’t do what I had told it to move…or something like that. Then people kept talking about hunting a dragon and getting large amounts of treasure…that sounded like a good time so I sort of paid attention, but then they went back to talking about stupid people not liking stupid people and whine whine whine. Bunch of stupid conversation about nothing… I mean you can’t be pissed forever about things; you just have to let things go sometimes. Like me I never get so pissed that I can’t let it go. Unless I’m in a rage or somebody has it coming, but besides that…there’s just a few times I’d hold a grudge.
This ale the Druid gave me isn’t really working that well…I believe he called it W A T E R. Apparently, you drink it and it makes you high on life…not really sure what he meant but I’ll pretty much drink anything.
Right, um… the mission, we decided the money and treasure and thrill of killing a dragon would be fun and exciting…or at least would be a quick death…which is all a man can ask for, and we took on the adventure. The guy who spoke a lot also talked about this great treasure that he wanted us to get for him, but I mean…he’s so little I don’t see why we’d give it back especially since we could easily just take off with it. Sounds like it’d be worth it’s wait in gold.
Until I die or lose my means to multiply.
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| From the journal of Gage McCown |
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Contributor: Chuck Jubenville |
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