The Many Adventures of Tiramisu: 1000 Statues Episode 1
Hark! I have returned for more wonderful adventures! I, the 3rd Level Fighter Tiramisu, travelled to a wet wasteland and found there a dungeon known for its statues. So, I descended alone (and bravely) into the place, slaying monsters this way and that, and found a group of adventurers mourning a fallen companion. They called him "Line-ways" John, and he wore a suit of diamond, a wide brimmed hat with an emerald set in the crown, and boots of fine snakeskin—for all his swagged up clothes the fool died to a poison gas trap as easily as a grandmother would die in the Razorblade-laden Obstacle Course: easily indeed. I looted his magical axe and cool arms and was on my way, taking my new companions under my wing to guide them in the arts of valorous conquest. Among them was a man named Gene Erikson who brimmed with power and immensitude—I could tell by his eyes he was a 5th Level Fighter, and he possessed many wondrous items. Otherwise, I met Liam the Cleric, Mortigaunt the Mezmeriser, who were both mostly unremarkable, and some fop with a red hat. Together we went onward!
What ho! I kicked open a door and found goblins inside, wasting their lives at cards. Without hesitation I scythed through them like so much wheat, and they fell dead. Then, I killed their leader and claimed the remaining 5 as my pages, to be trained in chivalry. They belonged before to a "union" which extracted "dues" from its members: not I, I shall heap luxuries upon them, and they will grow fat with wealth and power. I bound them with ropes (an initiation ritual) and had them travel in front of the party in search of traps.
My comrades told me there were Wights who lived in the southeast of the dungeon, and indeed I believed their words. Thus I bid them follow me, and trust in my strength. We rushed toward the room and I gave precise instructions: "Do not enter, friends," I said, "until I have lain to rest all the vile spirits within." They nodded, though the red-hatted fop seemed to have a glimmer of impulsivity hidden behind his ears. I charged in and first blasted with my Electro Gun (yes, I possess such fine things!) and slew one Wight after another: I counted 10 within the room, though Wight blood scattered by the hewing of my blade occluded my vision like so many autumnal stormclouds. Then, in a bout of sheer naivety, Red Hat launched himself into the room—he was inspired by my miraculous bladework, and wished to play the hero. The tall, white Wights rent his flesh: he was degloved before my eyes, peeled like a banana, opened like a can, his skin ripped like a sticker from a firm surface, pried opened like chest of treasure—but no treasure was contained within except the viscera of youth, which drenched my stark-white armour to ruddy red. But his death was not in vain: the distracted Wights fell to my stout sword, and we escaped unharmed. Except for he who died, now dead behind us. His corpse, inert, did not wave goodbye.
For all his strength, Gene approached and confessed to me that I fought better than he ever had. I nodded and shook his hand—a fine man. The others cheered for now 10 less evil beings stalked this blighted world.
We went Goblin-first to a lower floor. It was blanketed by lily white snow. The knee high substance caused my comrades to fear for hidden traps, but my goblins were brave and volunteered to sweep the way ahead. We swept from room to room, when a pack of 12 winter Wolves sprung out in ambush. Gene said to me "I'll handle this" and slew 4 in short order. Liam the Cleric, too, wanted a piece of the action and bonked a Wolf such that it lost its memories, and then died of head pain. Having sated his jealousy of my previous valour, Gene suggested we leave the dungeon. I offered Liam a bump of the fist. The Wizard, Mortigaunt, continued to do nothing: this is the problem with Wizards, who are not worth their share of treasure.
Though all the treasure was acquired before I joined, my newfound comrades were inspired by my bravery and offered me an equal share. Yet I am a river to my people—all the gold I earned was given to my newly minted goblin pages and my new squire, who are now dressed in fine brocade and know what it is to enjoy the courtly pleasures of feasting, idleness, and the suppleness of woman. The "Union" never granted them that.
I think, sometimes, of my former Squire Moid. He told me when he left that he "despised" me, but surely that is not the case. I plucked him from poverty, and taught him all he knows. These Goblins will not be so ungrateful of all I do, and much I shall.