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 In Which Of Nothing Of Consequence Happens

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Number of posts : 761
Registration date : 2007-04-26

PostSubject: In Which Of Nothing Of Consequence Happens   Tue 11 Dec - 18:05:43

In Which Nothing Of Consequence Happens*

*Quite Brutally

So we had one of our usual debates marked by clear strategic thinking, decisive application of logic and intellect, and calm unswerving clarity of purpose.* Our options appeared to be:

• Head to Westfall by boat, though our method of acquiring passage on said vessel was a major sticking point here.
• Walk to Westfall through the somewhat perilous undead infested land of Duskwood.
• Locate Meanius, our friendly neighbourhood Night Elf teleportation service, lately thought to be visiting renowned local hunter Nessingwary (This was my preference, why walk when you can ride?)

* For newer readers this means we hadn’t the faintest idea of what to do next or how to do it and basically argued a lot pointlessly

Eventually we travelled south to Lake Nazferiti where we could hopefully find a boat courtesy of Venture corps, the goblin corporation engaged in a major civic beatification project in the region.* We engaged in conversation with some typically friendly hospitable goblins who seemed as happy to see us as a dwarf discovering an infestation of Termallion blood mites in his armoured trousers.

*Sadly the goblin idea of beatification involves removal of all those pesky trees, strip mining and such like.

Whilst goblin tree shredding machines worked hard at deforestation nearby we talked ourselves in and out of trouble several times before finally and after much hard debate, compromise and dedicated struggle, we reached a position of unity.*

* We agreed to disagree

Plainsweaver and I decided to heroically retreat after expressing concern at Kasbo’s condition, as he seemed to be becoming mentally unstable. Indeed it was his apparent obsession with the idea of a boat trip that had swung the decision in favour of seeking a boat in the first place; for fear that his mental condition would deteriorate. Now we were concerned that more sinister forces could be at work, and we even considered and checked for the possibility of magical control.

As Plainsweaver and I left with the rest of the party, it was only through the keen eyes of Puderillo that we learned the fate of Kasbo and Fuq’ Witt. Seeing sailing vessels tied to a huge goblinoid construct in the lake entered the filthy black waters, which turned out to be oil, and drowned horribly.*

*Which is a far worse fate then drowning nicely

So, moving on, we journeyed to the camp of the Hunter Nessingwary. Arriving, we discovered several things of interest:

• Meanius the night elf had left. We had missed him only by twenty minutes and he was not expected back for a week, if at all.
• Some very surly bystanders had a lot to say for themselves: A hunter called Horban Woodwalker and a night elf called Fuqnosia Upubumia.
• Nessingwary spent his time hunting Fellbats, Crocalisks, Panthers and Raptors.
• His idea of a conversation not involving hunting was one about fishing.
• He had a silly accent which tended to wonder geographically occasionally
• He was a detective part time and was interested in some recent child murders in Duskwood, specifically in the area to the east known as Beggars Haunt
• He had ambitions to defeat a great dragon that laired in Duskwood, but did not believe our stories of our recent triumph against a great dragon.
• He had a friend named Barov at Adlers Stead in West Duskwood

He felt some entertainment was called for and set a challenge between us and his two surly companions. The theme? Hunting of course. We spent a day searching out and tracking various beasts and Plainsweaver and I emerged triumphant in the contest. Modesty forbids me revealing who actually won.* Plainsweaver meanwhile had obtained his own (inferior) familiar, a hawk named Stormbreaker.

*But you wouldn’t be far off if you mentioned The Grest Cedrico Umberto Nicello Traviati Claxsimeone

So disgusted was our host with his lackeys performance that he had them banished from the camp as our new followers. After much further debate, once again involving the possibility of taking a boat and a possible trip to try and find Nessingwary’s son currently away at Thousand Needles involved in a gnome / goblin inventing competition, we decided to head north to Westfall through scourge infested Duskwood where undead moved openly through its forests, banshees prowled its many dark corners and skeletons roamed abroad.

Werewolves howled in the night and catacombs and cemeteries crawled with creatures that looked like they had escaped from a Michael Jackson video shoot. Plagues of madness swept the land and rivers of blood nourished an evil horde of growing malignant infection. Vincent Price was in hospital with nervous exhaustion, such was the demand for his voiceovers to describe the terrible happenings. In a final terrifying development, wintry showers were also expected.

This then was the land through which we travelled heading for the city of Westfall where our final task awaited, to infiltrate to extreme Defiers, this would end our current list of obligations. Would we see the hunter again? It seemed possible as he had a great many reasons to be in Duskwood. We all felt sure we’d be seeing him again some time…

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