Post by morgause on Oct 24, 2005 23:23:07 GMT -5
A tall figure stands inside the castle's entrance, silhouetted by the rays of light that are brave enough to venture into the castle's forbidding hallway. As she looks into the murky gloom ahead of her, a few last wisps of breeze play in her curling locks of hair and whisper past her cheeks. With one last pang of regret, she turns away from the light to face her inevitable destiny...
"Aww, bloody h**l. Why's the treasure and monsters always got to be in moldy old ruins? Maybe I'm just gonna not do it no more after this one. All I wants is just a nice dungeon for a change. Not this slime and spiders. I don't wanna have ta wash my hair again just for this here slime."
After her somewhat impolite greeting of the scene before her, The Woman makes her rather unceremonious way into the castle. She picks her way gingerly across the dirt-encrusted floor. With all her force of concentration she avoids the nasty, sticky cobwebs and most of the more questionable heaps of debris on the floor. With her entire being focused on the clutter around her, any other thought would surely tax her somewhat limited mental capacity. After taking a number of paces into the interior of the castle, and just beginning to wend her way down the stairs, she stops suddenly. Her head jerks up and her eyes scan the darkness around her wildly.
"Hey! What oaf turned out the bloody stinkin' lights?!?"
The moment for any possible insight quietly slipped away without being marked. It would forever go unnoted in her mind that indeed there had never been a light in that hallway to begin with, at least not for the better part of a century. Her grumbles, seething with disgust, follow her back to the entranceway where she could just discern the contents of her pack. With an exaggerated sigh, she turns her pack upside down, scattering the contents across the once-carefully-avoided slime. After kicking around the contents for a bit she eventually comes across the desired torch, flint, and steel. She scoops up the remainder of her gear. A few of the more adventuresome clumps of slime and webbing follow her equipment into the pack. She fastens her bag closed, swings it onto her shoulders, and kneels to strike her flint and ignite the torch. With a certain air of victory over the gloom, she is in a much better humor as she stands. Only then does the thought creep into her mind that mayhap there could be some slight difficulty undoing her backpack to return the flint and steel to it while holding a blazing torch. After a second, ever so slightly better-thought-out attempt, she proudly stands with torch at the ready, eager to conquer this citadel which has caused her such grief. All thoughts of cobwebs and slime have largely been crowded aside by a sense of her recent victory over this horrid building.
Peering down the stairs into the darkness, she notices large scuffed patches of lichen and mold on the steps. Perhaps something large and heavy was recently dragged down those stairs. Her mind, however, could not be bothered with such petty observations. She was merely glad to see that she could step somewhere without getting slime on her beloved orc-hide boots. As she starts down the stairs, she finally takes note of something that had been nagging at the corner of her consciousness for some time now. There was light ahead of her which revealed several figures that were making an unusual amount of loud noises. Grimacing with the effort of trying to figure out exactly what she was seeing, realization slowly dawned upon her.
"Hey! This here's was s'posed to be a good fightin' dungeon. They didn't say nuttin' 'bout there being no brothel here. I's come for loot. I didn't come for no rollin' on the floor with no naked cross-dresser."
And thus it passed that The Woman made her entrance into Dungeon.
"Aww, bloody h**l. Why's the treasure and monsters always got to be in moldy old ruins? Maybe I'm just gonna not do it no more after this one. All I wants is just a nice dungeon for a change. Not this slime and spiders. I don't wanna have ta wash my hair again just for this here slime."
After her somewhat impolite greeting of the scene before her, The Woman makes her rather unceremonious way into the castle. She picks her way gingerly across the dirt-encrusted floor. With all her force of concentration she avoids the nasty, sticky cobwebs and most of the more questionable heaps of debris on the floor. With her entire being focused on the clutter around her, any other thought would surely tax her somewhat limited mental capacity. After taking a number of paces into the interior of the castle, and just beginning to wend her way down the stairs, she stops suddenly. Her head jerks up and her eyes scan the darkness around her wildly.
"Hey! What oaf turned out the bloody stinkin' lights?!?"
The moment for any possible insight quietly slipped away without being marked. It would forever go unnoted in her mind that indeed there had never been a light in that hallway to begin with, at least not for the better part of a century. Her grumbles, seething with disgust, follow her back to the entranceway where she could just discern the contents of her pack. With an exaggerated sigh, she turns her pack upside down, scattering the contents across the once-carefully-avoided slime. After kicking around the contents for a bit she eventually comes across the desired torch, flint, and steel. She scoops up the remainder of her gear. A few of the more adventuresome clumps of slime and webbing follow her equipment into the pack. She fastens her bag closed, swings it onto her shoulders, and kneels to strike her flint and ignite the torch. With a certain air of victory over the gloom, she is in a much better humor as she stands. Only then does the thought creep into her mind that mayhap there could be some slight difficulty undoing her backpack to return the flint and steel to it while holding a blazing torch. After a second, ever so slightly better-thought-out attempt, she proudly stands with torch at the ready, eager to conquer this citadel which has caused her such grief. All thoughts of cobwebs and slime have largely been crowded aside by a sense of her recent victory over this horrid building.
Peering down the stairs into the darkness, she notices large scuffed patches of lichen and mold on the steps. Perhaps something large and heavy was recently dragged down those stairs. Her mind, however, could not be bothered with such petty observations. She was merely glad to see that she could step somewhere without getting slime on her beloved orc-hide boots. As she starts down the stairs, she finally takes note of something that had been nagging at the corner of her consciousness for some time now. There was light ahead of her which revealed several figures that were making an unusual amount of loud noises. Grimacing with the effort of trying to figure out exactly what she was seeing, realization slowly dawned upon her.
"Hey! This here's was s'posed to be a good fightin' dungeon. They didn't say nuttin' 'bout there being no brothel here. I's come for loot. I didn't come for no rollin' on the floor with no naked cross-dresser."
And thus it passed that The Woman made her entrance into Dungeon.