BattleMaster Community
BattleMaster => Roleplaying => Topic started by: Nosferatus on December 28, 2016, 08:17:07 PM
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"What! You won't offer me a loan then? I am the Manstomper for goat's sake! the army needs eyes and ears!"
The scout guild master trembled anxiously and struggled to find the right words to explain how impossible Thesseus' request was.
"Sir, I'd gladly offer you a loan, but there just ain't any scouts left! Not a single soul here in Sniika dares to go out on the streets even at broad day light."
"There won't be a single soul left if you leave us without any scouts! These men of Gotland are made out of more then just flesh and bones, they aren't scared of some daimon pet animals! Divine droppings flow threw their veins on a daily basis! You should be punished for speaking this filth!"
Thesseus captain pulls his masters arm and whispers tactful advise in his ear.
At first Thesseus seemed to be discarding his captains wise words but after exchanging glances with the guild master he chooses to follow his Captains advise none or the less.
"Fair well, may you rot in your greed, for i care none! The great dung heap of Gethsemene lays waiting! How i long to bed my dearest Chilpy on that gorgeous heap of droppings, that ocean of pungent odour, that mountain of brown gold!"
Thesseus sighs like a teenage lover, helplessly lost in primal, blind, childish love.
Not just for his dear Chilperik, but more so for this great dung heap of Gethsemene that lays waiting for him on the horizon, a place or thing that any man from Gotland would murder and die for.
A trophy unlike any other, as if brought down from the eternal pastures by the great hairy one him self, and in Thesseus' mind, it was already his.