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==An Encounter with The [[Elite Destroyers]]== | ==An Encounter with The [[Elite Destroyers]]== | ||
As you make your way through the winding halls of the dungeon, a strange noise catches your attention—a series of dull clang... clang... clang... accompanied by hushed voices and the occasional giggle. Rounding the corner, you come upon a peculiar sight: four figures, small and shadowed, crouched around what looks like a battered old door. The air feels heavy, like you’ve stumbled upon something momentous. | |||
The group notices you immediately, springing to their feet with exaggerated confidence. The leader, a wiry figure with a mop of messy hair sticking out from under a dented helmet, steps forward and brandishes an oversized hammer. "Halt, traveler!" he declares in a voice that's clearly an octave higher than he meant it to be. "You stand before the Elite Destroyers! State your business, or face the wrath of our combined power!" | |||
Behind him, the others nod gravely, clearly taking their roles very seriously. One of them, a girl clutching an enormous, overstuffed bag, speaks up. “We’re on a mission of great importance,” she adds, with all the gravity of a veteran adventurer. You notice the bag is full of... door spikes? Dozens of them, some new, some bent and rusted. | |||
The boy with the hammer gestures dramatically toward the pile of spikes they've collected, as though presenting a hoard of legendary treasure. "These relics of the dungeon are valuable to adventurers like yourselves," he explains with a smug grin. "We’re collecting them to sell at a premium price on the surface. After all, every hero needs a good spike, right?” | |||
The illusion of their power cracks when one of them, the smallest of the group, trips over their own feet while trying to nod in agreement. The bag of spikes rattles loudly as the girl holding it almost topples over. Another member quickly scrambles to help her while muttering, "Careful! Those are worth a fortune!" It’s clear they are children—resourceful and oddly industrious, but children nonetheless. | |||
At first, you’re struck by their bravado and the absurdity of their operation, but as the encounter continues, you feel a pang of concern. The oversized hammer looks too heavy for the leader to swing properly, and the bag of spikes weighs down the girl so much that she’s constantly adjusting her stance. The mismatched armor they’re wearing doesn’t look protective at all, and their "mission" of collecting spikes to sell to adventurers on the surface suddenly seems more like a desperate attempt at survival than a clever enterprise. | |||
If nothing else, they seem fiercely determined and entirely convinced of their status as adventurers. You can’t help but wonder: should you buy a few spikes just to keep them safe from whatever dangers lurk deeper in the dungeon? Or will they stubbornly resist your concern, determined to forge their own legend—however precarious it may be? | |||
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Latest revision as of 16:17, 22 November 2024
| Dicey Dangers, The Creepy Creature of Vulture's Vineyard | Game by Joel Hills |
An Encounter with The Elite Destroyers
As you make your way through the winding halls of the dungeon, a strange noise catches your attention—a series of dull clang... clang... clang... accompanied by hushed voices and the occasional giggle. Rounding the corner, you come upon a peculiar sight: four figures, small and shadowed, crouched around what looks like a battered old door. The air feels heavy, like you’ve stumbled upon something momentous.
The group notices you immediately, springing to their feet with exaggerated confidence. The leader, a wiry figure with a mop of messy hair sticking out from under a dented helmet, steps forward and brandishes an oversized hammer. "Halt, traveler!" he declares in a voice that's clearly an octave higher than he meant it to be. "You stand before the Elite Destroyers! State your business, or face the wrath of our combined power!"
Behind him, the others nod gravely, clearly taking their roles very seriously. One of them, a girl clutching an enormous, overstuffed bag, speaks up. “We’re on a mission of great importance,” she adds, with all the gravity of a veteran adventurer. You notice the bag is full of... door spikes? Dozens of them, some new, some bent and rusted.
The boy with the hammer gestures dramatically toward the pile of spikes they've collected, as though presenting a hoard of legendary treasure. "These relics of the dungeon are valuable to adventurers like yourselves," he explains with a smug grin. "We’re collecting them to sell at a premium price on the surface. After all, every hero needs a good spike, right?”
The illusion of their power cracks when one of them, the smallest of the group, trips over their own feet while trying to nod in agreement. The bag of spikes rattles loudly as the girl holding it almost topples over. Another member quickly scrambles to help her while muttering, "Careful! Those are worth a fortune!" It’s clear they are children—resourceful and oddly industrious, but children nonetheless.
At first, you’re struck by their bravado and the absurdity of their operation, but as the encounter continues, you feel a pang of concern. The oversized hammer looks too heavy for the leader to swing properly, and the bag of spikes weighs down the girl so much that she’s constantly adjusting her stance. The mismatched armor they’re wearing doesn’t look protective at all, and their "mission" of collecting spikes to sell to adventurers on the surface suddenly seems more like a desperate attempt at survival than a clever enterprise.
If nothing else, they seem fiercely determined and entirely convinced of their status as adventurers. You can’t help but wonder: should you buy a few spikes just to keep them safe from whatever dangers lurk deeper in the dungeon? Or will they stubbornly resist your concern, determined to forge their own legend—however precarious it may be?
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The Creepy Creature of Vulture's Vineyard | ******************************************************************************************************************************************** |