Kir Drax'in
Big Gay Follies
Hello. My name is Kir Drax'in. My father was a baron of a
small province northwest of Britain, my mother a counselor to
Lord British himself. My upbringing was uneventful, my needs
catered to in a way that I was comfortable at all times, but not
QUITE spoiled. When I was 17 a raid of orcs decimated my
homestead, killing my family, and the vulturous looters swarmed
out of Britain and plundered my every belonging.
So I set forth into Brittania, and it is here my adventure
begins.
Walking through the gates of the graveyard north of Britain, I
came upon the notorious murderers Big Gay Magik and Cocklane.
Considering cowardice the better part of valor, I hid in the
shadows of a building to watch their actions. My brin literally
churned with my thoughts of how to deal a blow to these vile
assassins.
"They're all at the forge," said Magik.
"Our forge, or Britain's?" asked Cohclane.
"Ours," responded Magik curtly, and they started out
the north gate.
Stripping to my pants, I ran after them, only to encounter
Cochlane engaged with a fellow Guild member (designated by their
orange and black garb in commemeration of Hallow's Eve) against a
fairly well-armored tinkerer and an equally adept smith.
"Hail Cochlane!" I cried. "Thou needest a fence
for thy ill-begotten goods?"
Blood streamed from Cochlane's sword as he hewed the tinkerer
to the ground.
"Nay", he replied breathelessly, heading after the
fleeing smith with his murdering compatriot.
So I took off north, wandering through the forest until I saw
a rather large smithy set next to the mountains.
Having so recvently lost my family and all my belongings, I
did not fear death. I boldly marched up to the door of the forge.
"Open the damn door!" I cried, pounding on it.
Inside was the shuffling of many feet, and conversation. They
commented on my nearly naked state, then opened the door.
"My god," I thought. "These fellows ARE
daft." But with the names "Big Gay xxx" what
should I have expected.
Inside their forge was about a 10 people, all dressed in
orange robes and black capes. I looked as out-of-place as a sheep
in a pig corral. At first glance the forge was quite impressive,
but the bags on the floor and backpacks on the table were the
most impressive. Peeking at them out of the corner of my eye, i
saw they were filled with weapons, armor, clothes... and gold.
Magik spoke: "Who in the hell are you?" (He seemed
the only one with any sense in the entire bunch)
Thinking quickly, I replied, "Cochlane told me to come
here and get my raiments to assist thee in thy massace."
No answer. They started talking about a group of adventurers
near the dungeon Destard, and started filing out the door.
"Someone watch Kir!" a stocky fellow name Tenzak
kept shouting from just outside.
I grabbed a black cape and stepped out to avoid suspicion.
"Someone watch Kir.. oh nevermind," Tenzak trailed
off as I came into view.
We started off towards the dungeon, the guild cutting a swath
of innocents on the way. I seethed with anger with the death of
each miner, the pillage of each warrior.
Time passed. We arrived, and they killed adventurers without
mercy. I was given a magic war fork and a robe, which being the
wrong color, got me attacked by the guildsmen several times. Each
time a cry of "Thou attackest a fellow guild member!"
stopped the offender, leaving me with only minor gashes... my
time as a baron's son left me as an apprentice swordsman, so I
was able to defend myself quite well. I shouted for "a
damnable dye pot" several times, but none was forthcoming,
so I ended up tailing with them as the hurried back to their
house, chattering about "a group of a dozen horsemen
assembling to wipe us out"... The news was recieved via
other-worldly communication, which they all seemed to be tied
into.
On the way to the house, the horsemen arrived. Only my
differing garb kept me from being cut down like the murderous
guildsmen.
Several of the clan made it into the house, and were casting
lightning from the heavens through the forge windows.
"Open the damn door!" I shouted for the second time
that night.
It opened. Inside were two magi guild memebers. My heart beat
with the thought of the opportunity ahead of me. I walked up to
the pack on the table, grabbing a chain tunic, a heater shield,
and a viking sword out of it.
The magi were casting out the window, paying me no mind. I
pondered how to get the pile of 800 gold coins out of the sack
without making a sound.
The magi at the window spoke of their mana being depleted.. I
fingered the edge of my new sword, pondering taking them both to
meet death inside their own home.
They were saved only by the door being opened from the
outside. Magik walked in.
"What are you doing here!" he thundered. "We're
being slaughtered out there!"
"We're casting from in here" replied one of the
magi." We've killed several of the attackers."
I stammered, thinking quickly. "I was hewn down in the
battle, and looted. Magic resurrected me, and I am here
re-equipping myself."
Magik shook his helmeted head. "Well hurry the hell
up." he said, and walked out the door.
The time for thinking was over. I shoved the entire pack in
front of me, coins and all, into my own backpack. I started for
the door, hoping the magi were too busy to notice.
I was too encumbered to move. They were too busy to notice.
I grabbed items at random out of my pack, chucking them into a
bag on the floor. A magic gnarled staff.. 2 studded magic
tunics.. a slew of halberds.
Finally I could move... and the rest of the story is
unexciting.
I walked out the door, in to the woods. Removing the hateful
clan garments, i strolled through the silent forest back to
Britain to count my gains.
My god the gains! 800 gold. A bone tunic and leggings. Two
dozen scrolls, three partially filled spellbooks. 2 viking
swords. A bag of potions of every possible color. Another magic
gnarled staff. A gold chainmail tunic. The contents of the bag
seemed endless.. an so was my joy.. for to my knowledge, they
don't know where the bag is.
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