Oldie but goodie. An Encounter with a Defiler.

Oh. You mean this old thing?


[When the story begins, our two heroes sit in an encampment of their
people. They have just witnessed a great
army marching up the roads from the southlands, led by a great fortress
with flies through the air.]

The greying, red-skinned elf says to you, in allundean:
"A flying wagon, or something...seen not too long before the
south-pit ran the bugs from their valley."

The greying, red-skinned elf says to you, in allundean:
"I was always a bit skeptical, but...now I'm not so sure."

The greying, red-skinned elf rises from the ground, and clambers to his feet.

Gesturing to the ladder, the greying, red-skinned elf says, in allundean:
"Let's go keep an eye out."

The greying, red-skinned elf walks up.

You send a telepathic message to the greying, red-skinned elf:
"The round-ears stand still in the home of the walking-bugs, I have
seen them... but this flying wagon? Sorcery.
They must be marching on the northern pit... just as they marched
on the walking-bugs."

You send a telepathic message to the greying, red-skinned elf:
"That must be why the northern-pit was rebuilding so quickly, as I
saw... what do you make of this?"

You stop resting, and stand up.

On the Outpost Walls [NEWD]
You are on the walls of a small weathered outpost. To the north
and west you can see the road leaving the outpost. Below you the
courtyard opens up. To the east you can see the desert lands around
you. Holes in the wall provide you safe places to shoot from and
look out of, without being noticed. However, jumping off the walls
to the courtyard or the roads would probably be very foolish.
The greying, red-skinned elf is standing here.

The greying, red-skinned elf holds a finely-made elvish longbow.

In a smooth motion, the greying, red-skinned elf slips a flint-tipped
arrow out of a dark, carru-hide quiver.

The greying, red-skinned elf brandishes a flint-tipped arrow.

The greying, red-skinned elf says, in allundean:
"I know that the south pit now controls the traitor outpost...so, it
makes sense that they try to continue north."

The greying, red-skinned elf notches his arrow against the string.

You hold the bow.

You reach into your quiver and slide out a flint-tipped arrow.

You brandish the arrow.

The hunched, sinewy elf strides over to stand next to the greying,
red-skinned elf, squinting out across the wastes, with
his arrow nocked.

The greying, red-skinned elf says, in allundean:
"But...flying structures of magick...could we defend our lands from
that? That's what really bothers me."

The sun reaches its highest point in the sky.
The red moon, Jihae, disappears below the horizon.

The hunched, sinewy elf shakes his head, his hands shaking as they holds
his arrow, nocked in place.

You send a telepathic message to the greying, red-skinned elf:
"What do we do then? I'll shed no tears over round-ears breaking each
other's gourds.. but the southern pit allready
holds part of the Abi'li pah... they may indeed march upon us."

The greying, red-skinned elf says, in allundean:
"I don't know...their numbers are too much to think about."

The greying, red-skinned elf says, in allundean:
"Hold them back as long as we can, I suppose."

The hunched, sinewy elf turns, slumping back against the wall.

You send a telepathic message to the greying, red-skinned elf:
"The sorcery of the southern-pit does not sit well with me... while
the northern-pit are not my kin, I would sooner
help them than sleep fearing that flying wagon."

The greying, red-skinned elf says to you, in allundean:
"I agree...unfortunately, the north-pit's contempt for our people is
nearly unmatched."

The hunched, sinewy elf nods slowly, leaning his head back against the
wall, with a scowl.

You send a telepathic message to the greying, red-skinned elf:
"If they have weakened their numbers elsewhere, we could strike
there... the traitor's outpost... the home of the
walking-bugs... the southern pit itself? Likely not..."

The greying, red-skinned elf says to you, in allundean:
"Hm...maybe...but the last time we provoked one of the larger
pits...it's...not something I'd like to repeat."

You nod to him.

You send a telepathic message to the greying, red-skinned elf:
"I am no Tutan, but I will lend my bow to whatever needs be done."

The greying, red-skinned elf says to you, in allundean:
"We'll wait for now...let the pits beat on each other...and if
opportunity strikes, we'll grab at it."

You nod to him.

You send a telepathic message to the greying, red-skinned elf:
"Do we stand here, or should Iyan keep eyes upon the round-ear armies?"

The greying, red-skinned elf says to you, in allundean:
"Let's go to that cave, and watch the white road. Keep our distance
from the blades of angry muls and thick-bellied
giants."

You nod to him.

You stop using a flint-tipped arrow.

You put a flint-tipped arrow inside a long, quirri-hide quiver.

You stop using an elvish longbow.

[Our heroes descend from their watchpost and set out across the vast
wastes, finally finding some shade among
the walls of a cavern]

Inside a Wide, Domed Cavern [E]
The inside of this cavern, wide enough for a half dozen humanoids to
rest comfortably, is littered with scattered bits of burned wood, flint,
tattered cloth and other debris. The high, domed ceiling extends deep into
the surrounding rock.
A small ring of stones is here, its interior blackened from intense heat.
A couple of sharp bone jambiyas are here.
A dark-stained yypr shortbow lies on the ground.
A pile of dirty cloth is here, lying on the ground.
A long, hooded cloak the color of the sand lies here on the ground.
A curved sword, made from obsidian, is lying here.
A new pair of leather-banded sleeves have been left here.
A new pair of whitish-brown anakore claw gloves lie here.A new pair of
whitish-brown anakore claw gloves lie here.
A new pair of sturdy leather boots lie here.
A new set of cuirbouilli leg guards is lying here.
A new cuirbouilli helmet lies here.
An used hauberk made of chipped duskhorn scales lies here.
An unadorned black belt lies here.
A couple of crude inix-jaw hatchets are here.
A new small crescent shaped shield made from a black beetle shell is here.
A backpack made from the hide of a jozhal is lying here.
A new collar made from tembo-hide with bone studs has been left here.
A dark man marked with black, angular tattoos is standing here.
A man marked with black tattoos stands here, skin harshly tanned.
The greying, red-skinned elf has entered a high, narrow crack in the wall.

The hunched, sinewy elf stands back against the cavern wall, glancing
about in the dim, greenish light.

The hunched, sinewy elf glances over at the greying, red-skinned elf.

The greying, red-skinned elf crouches down low, watching a dark, tattooed man.

The hunched, sinewy elf steps slowly around the side of the cavern, gaze
wary upon a dark, tattooed man.

A dark, tattooed man says, in sirihish:
"Our people say the southern army was destroyed."

A dark, tattooed man rubs his head.

A dark, tattooed man nods once.

The hunched, sinewy elf raises an eyebrow, gaze upon a dark, tattooed man.

A dark, tattooed man asks the greying, red-skinned elf, in sirihish:
"What say we make peace, for now?"

A dark, tattooed man says, in sirihish:
"Seeing how we all could be in trouble."

The hunched, sinewy elf shoots a glance at the greying, red-skinned elf.

The greying, red-skinned elf casts a quick glance out towards the road.

The greying, red-skinned elf says to a dark, tattooed man, in sirihish:
"We've no reason to put blades against your people..."

The hunched, sinewy elf nods, his mace slowly lowering to the ground.

The greying, red-skinned elf says to a dark, tattooed man, in sirihish:
"We'll protect our kin...you'll likely do the same."

A dark, tattooed man nods once, watching through the crack in the wall.

The greying, red-skinned elf whispers to you:
"Stay on guard...we'll share the cave for now, I suppose."

You whisper to the greying, red-skinned elf:
"They say the southern army was destroyed... what do you make of that?"

The greying, red-skinned elf whispers to you:
"It frightens me to think of what the north pit sent against them,
being able to win."

You nod to him.

The greying, red-skinned elf whispers to you:
"The runed beast...perhaps that's what did it."

The hunched, sinewy elf raises an eyebrow to the greying, red-skinned elf,
shaking his head a little.

The greying, red-skinned elf whispers to you:
"The road seems quiet, at least."

The hunched, sinewy elf lifts his shoulders, his quiet gaze peering out
onto the north road.

You whisper to the greying, red-skinned elf:
"I'm going to cast my eyes upon the road, shall I return soon?"

The greying, red-skinned elf nods at you.

The hunched, sinewy elf casts a brief glance at a dark, tattooed man, then
turns, slipping out of the cave.

[Our daring hero steps from the cave, and steps warily across the sands,
finding his way to a stretch of stone
known as the north road, which is littered with the signs of passage]

North Road [NESU]
The stark white of this white stone road lies across these plains
like
the spine of some gargantuan carcass. Slightly curving, and in places
partially buried by blowing red dust or broken by the stiff tufts of
pech grasses, the pale background cuts north and south across these scrub
plains.
Here, the Shield Wall crumbles and melds with the plains. To the south
it is a continual sheer wall which parallels the road on the west side, and
to the north lie only rolling scrub plains.

The tall and thin figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth
duster has arrived from the south, riding a light
greenish-brown kank.
The figure in a dark, hooded cloak has arrived from the south, riding a
grey kank.

The tall and thin figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth
duster nods at you.

The tall and thin figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth
duster looks down at you.

The tall and thin figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth
duster says, in sirihish:
"Evening Blackwing, Tuluk's pulled back."

A light greenish-brown kank walks north, carrying the tall and thin figure
in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth
duster on her back.

A grey kank walks north, carrying the figure in a dark, hooded cloak on
his back.

A voice from the north says:
"You're welcome to walk with us."

[Our hero accepts the invitation, somewhat... skulking about behind them
for a while]

The tall and thin figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth
duster says to the figure in a dark, hooded cloak,
in sirihish:
"Raiders share no promise of neutrality, remember taht."

North Road [NESW]
The stark white of this white stone road lies across these plains
like
the spine of some gargantuan carcass. Slightly curving, and in places
partially buried by blowing red dust or broken by the stiff tufts of
pech grasses, the pale background cuts north and south across these scrub
plains.
Here, the Shield Wall crumbles and melds with the plains. To the south
it is a continual sheer wall which parallels the road on the west side, and
to the north lie only rolling scrub plains. Just ahead, the road engages in
a snakelike turn to the east.
A few new woven, giant-hair caps are here.
A new circular, maroon plate of baobab wood lies discarded here.
A black, hooded dustcloak lies here on the ground in a crumpled heap.A
black, hooded dustcloak lies here on the ground
in a crumpled heap.
An unadorned black belt lies here.
The body of a Tuluki soldier fills your nostrils with a morbid stench.
The head of the lean, scar-faced Allanaki soldier lies here
The head of a half-giant Tuluki soldier lies here
A few leather backpacks are here.
Many pools of blood are here.
The headless body of a half-giant Tuluki soldier fills your nostrils with
a morbid stench.
The body of a half-giant Tuluki soldier fills your nostrils with a morbid
stench.
The headless body of the lean, scar-faced Allanaki soldier fills your
nostrils with a morbid stench.
A couple of bodies of a unit of Tuluki human soldiers are here.
The body of a unit of Allanaki heavy-infantry fills your nostrils with a
morbid stench.
The body of a unit of Allanaki half-giant infantry fills your nostrils
with a morbid stench.The body of a unit of Allanaki
half-giant infantry fills your nostrils with a morbid stench.
The body of a unit of Allanaki light-infantry fills your nostrils with a
morbid stench.
The body of the rugged, battle-scarred Allanaki soldier fills your
nostrils with a morbid stench.
The body of the dark-eyed, sun-bronzed Allanaki soldier fills your
nostrils with a morbid stench.
The body of the broad-shouldered, brown-haired Allanaki soldier fills your
nostrils with a morbid stench.
A couple of jade-emblazoned, obsidian longswords are here.
The body of the dark-skinned, middle-aged templar fills your nostrils with
a morbid stench.
A couple of bone longswords are here.
The body of the rugged, stern-looking Allanaki soldier fills your nostrils
with a morbid stench.
A few jade-emblazoned, obsidian shortswords are here.
A massive oblong structure lies destroyed on the ground here.
A grey kank stands here, carrying the figure in a dark, hooded cloak on
his back.
A light greenish-brown kank stands here, carrying the tall and thin figure
in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth
duster on her back.

The tall figure in a hooded, charcoal-gray sandcloth dustcloak has arrived
from the south, riding a brown kank.

A brown kank leisurely waves its antennae about.

The hunched, sinewy elf stands still a moment, his blank, aged expression
surveying the carnage.

The tall and thin figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth
duster shakes his head, frowning.

A massive structure that was once an oblong shape lies broken and
destroyed here. Planks of broken wood like scattered about, and large torn
strips of cloth sit intermingled with the broken wood. The broken remains
of what was probably human and half-giant soldiers lie within the rubbled
stucture, causing a stench of death to permeate the area.

The figure in a dark, hooded cloak says, in sirihish:
"Fucking raiders cleaned it out."

The figure in a dark, hooded cloak swings his legs to the side and dismounts.

The figure in a dark, hooded cloak crouches down and looks for tracks.

His voice a quiet rasp, you ask, in sirihish:
"What happened here?"

The figure in a dark, hooded cloak jumps up onto a grey kank's back.

The tall and thin figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth
duster says to you, in sirihish:
"North and the South, battling over territory"

A brown kank rubs its mandibles together.

The tall and thin figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth
duster asks the figure in a dark, hooded cloak,
in sirihish:
"You got an eye on their tracks?"

The tall and thin figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth
duster says, in sirihish:
"I'm of half a mind to run them down."

The figure in a dark, hooded cloak shakes his head.

The hunched, sinewy elf's fixes his gaze upon the immense, shattered
oblong structure.

The figure in a dark, hooded cloak says, in sirihish:
"too many kanks and all obscruing them. I see a lone figure heading
south, but we just ruined it, no doubt."

The tall and thin figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth
duster swings his legs over and jumps off of a
light greenish-brown kank.

A light greenish-brown kank curls up on the ground.

The figure in a dark, hooded cloak swings his legs to the side and dismounts.

The tall and thin figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth
duster walks to a break in the wreckage.

The tall and thin figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth
duster jumps up onto a light greenish-brown kank's
back.
A light greenish-brown kank rises from the ground, and clambers to her feet.

The figure in a dark, hooded cloak jumps up onto a grey kank's back.

The lean, obsidian-eyed man lowers the hood of a hooded, sandy-brown
reinforced sandcloth duster.

The lean, obsidian-eyed man asks you, in sirihish:
"Did the elder I spoke with convey the message that this would happen?"

The black skinned, long braided man lowers the hood of a dark, hooded cloak.

The tall figure in a hooded, charcoal-gray sandcloth dustcloak gets a
jade-emblazoned, obsidian longsword from the body
of the rugged, stern-looking Allanaki soldier.

The tall figure in a hooded, charcoal-gray sandcloth dustcloak shakes his
head, glancing around.

The hunched, sinewy elf turns his gaze towards the lean, obsidian-eyed
man, shaking his head once.

The tall figure in a hooded, charcoal-gray sandcloth dustcloak stops using
a new leather-banded chitin shield.

The lean, obsidian-eyed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Grey haired elf, skin is a rather reddish color."

The tall figure in a hooded, charcoal-gray sandcloth dustcloak wears a new
leather-banded chitin shield on his back.

The tall figure in a hooded, charcoal-gray sandcloth dustcloak brandishes
a jade-emblazoned, obsidian longsword.

The black skinned, long braided man gets a black, hooded militia dustcloak
from the body of the rugged, stern-looking
Allanaki soldier.

The tall figure in a hooded, charcoal-gray sandcloth dustcloak nods.

A fresh wind blows from a new direction.

His voice strained and hoarse, you ask the lean, obsidian-eyed man, in
sirihish:
"How did the northerners defeat such sorcery as this?"

The lean, obsidian-eyed man glances over at the black skinned, long
braided man and the tall figure in a hooded,
charcoal-gray sandcloth dustcloak for a moment.

The black skinned, long braided man looks over the sword in his hands.

The hunched, sinewy elf thrusts his sword in the direction of the
shattered, towering oblong structure.

The lean, obsidian-eyed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Numbers, I counted three templars and about five units of soldiers."

The tall figure in a hooded, charcoal-gray sandcloth dustcloak looks at you.

The black skinned, long braided man drops a jade-emblazoned, obsidian
shortsword.

The lean, obsidian-eyed man says to you, in sirihish:
"The south only came with one templar, and about the same amount of
soldiers."

His voice tapering off into a long, wheezing cough, you say to the lean,
obsidian-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Do..."

The hunched, sinewy elf leans forward, his shoulders shaking with a hoarse
cough.

The lean, obsidian-eyed man watches you quietly, waiting for him to recover.

After catching his breath, you ask the lean, obsidian-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Do the southerners hold the trai... the outpost?"

The lean, obsidian-eyed man nods at you.

The lean, obsidian-eyed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Yes, Allanak currently is occupying Luirs."

The hunched, sinewy elf shakes his head, the wrinkles around his eyes
deepening as his expression becomes strained.

The lean, obsidian-eyed man asks you, in sirihish:
"You alright? Need us to contact some of your people?"

The hunched, sinewy elf shakes his head, lifting his gaze up with a brief,
steely glance at the lean, obsidian-eyed man.

The lean, obsidian-eyed man frowns, a faintly perplexed look on his face
as he notices the gaze.

The hunched, sinewy elf turns, stepping among the broken bodies that cover
the road.

His voice hoarse, you ask, in sirihish:
"They will come again?"

The giant crimson sun rises in the east.
The white moon, Lirathu, slowly sets in the northwest.

The lean, obsidian-eyed man glances down the road, towards the east.

The hunched, sinewy elf pauses, straightening his posture and looking over
his shoulder to the lean, obsidian-eyed man.

The lean, obsidian-eyed man turns back to you.

The lean, obsidian-eyed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Yes, I'd say that they probably will."

The black skinned, long braided man says, in sirihish:
"probably today as well."

The lean, obsidian-eyed man picks up a black, hooded militia dustcloak.

A brown kank leisurely waves its antennae about.

The black skinned, long braided man says, in sirihish:
"They cannot afford to let 'nak move in reinforcements."

The lean, obsidian-eyed man gives you a black, hooded militia dustcloak.

A piece of black, sandcloth has been sewn and stitched tediously to form
this durable dustcloak. A large hood has been added to allow greater
protection for the wearer during a sandstorm, the defense that sandcloth is
known for. The left sleeve of this cloak is stitched with the rank insignia
of the soldier and upon the front and back the Jade Cross of Tektolnes is
prominently displayed.

The hunched, sinewy elf folds the cloak over his arms, his lips pursed as
he peers idly down it at.

The lean, obsidian-eyed man says, in sirihish:
"I'd say Tuluk was left with two units and three templars."

The lean, obsidian-eyed man says, in sirihish:
"Not enough to take the Outpost, I'd wager. At least not with nearly
total losses."

The black skinned, long braided man says, in sirihish:
"If we can hold the templars back, we'll be fine."

The lean, obsidian-eyed man glances at the black skinned, long braided man
for a moment, then turns back to surveying
the landscape.

The lean, obsidian-eyed man gestures northwards.

The tall figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster has
arrived from the south.
The tall figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster has
arrived from the south.

The lean, obsidian-eyed man says, in sirihish:
"Dalmalk is out there."

The tall figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster
enters swiftly, looking about.

The black skinned, long braided man nods.

The lean, obsidian-eyed man says, in sirihish:
"Our two elven friends, good morn."

The tall figure in a hooded, charcoal-gray sandcloth dustcloak tips his head.

The tall figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster nods
to the lean, obsidian-eyed man.

The black skinned, long braided man inclines his head.

The lean, obsidian-eyed man says, in sirihish:
"Looks like there's a few more Tuluki up north, careful."

The lean, obsidian-eyed man says to the black skinned, long braided man,
in sirihish:
"Lets go check it out."

The tall figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster says
to you, in allundean:
"Tekh'al."

The tall figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster looks
down, noticing he's standing in a pool of blood.

The hunched, sinewy elf turns towards the voice, simply lifting his chin
in acknowledgement to the tall figure in a
hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster.

Looking up, the tall figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth
duster says to you, in allundean:
"Tekh'al "

The tall figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster says
to the tall figure in a hooded, sandy-brown
reinforced sandcloth duster, in allundean:
"N'am continuing."

The tall figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster nods
to the tall figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster.

The tall figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster runs
east.
The tall figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster runs
east.

[Our hero glances around for a while, then decides to follow these men,
stepping lightly from between stands of
thornbush, and trying to stay within earshot.]

A voice from the east says:
"You as well, interesting times we're living in."

A voice from the east says:
"Aye, tis it is."

East of here are Scrub Plains.
[Very far]
Nothing.
[Far]
Nothing.
[Near]
A grey kank stands here, carrying the black skinned, long braided man on
his back.
A brown kank stands here, carrying the tall figure in a hooded,
charcoal-gray sandcloth dustcloak on his back.
A light greenish-brown kank stands here, carrying the lean, obsidian-eyed
man on her back.
A greenish-brown kank stands here, carrying the stout, hazel-eyed man on
his back.
A light greenish-brown kank stands here, carrying the worn, massive dwarf
on her back.

A voice from the east says:
"This is Cog."

A voice from the east says:
"One of ye men saved me life."

A voice from the east says:
"Aye, they executed him right there on the spot."

A voice from the east says:
"I need ye help."

A voice from the east says:
"Lucky him than you, eh?"

A voice from the east says:
"Though he was an idiot for getting himself killed."

A voice from the east says:
"Speak your mind, Dalmalk."

A voice from the east says:
"Alright lets be frontal and out in the open with everything."

The leathery, grey-bearded templar has arrived from the south.
The stern-looking, dark-haired Allanaki soldier has arrived from the south.
The muscular, battle-scarred Allanaki soldier has arrived from the south.
The rugged, scar-faced Allanaki soldier has arrived from the south.
The stalwart, dark-haired Allanaki soldier has arrived from the south.
The lean, battle-scarred Allanaki soldier has arrived from the south.
The figure in a black, hooded militia dustcloak has arrived from the south.
The tall figure in a black, hooded militia dustcloak has arrived from the
south.
The tall figure in a black, hooded militia dustcloak has arrived from the
south.

The leathery, grey-bearded templar shouts, in sirihish:
"Charge!!!!!"

The leathery, grey-bearded templar walks east.
The stern-looking, dark-haired Allanaki soldier walks east.
The muscular, battle-scarred Allanaki soldier walks east.
The rugged, scar-faced Allanaki soldier walks east.
The stalwart, dark-haired Allanaki soldier walks east.
The lean, battle-scarred Allanaki soldier walks east.
The figure in a black, hooded militia dustcloak walks east.
The tall figure in a black, hooded militia dustcloak walks east.
The tall figure in a black, hooded militia dustcloak walks east.

A voice from the east says:
"What do we have in teh Outpost?"

The lean, obsidian-eyed man has arrived from the east, riding a light
greenish-brown kank.
The black skinned, long braided man has arrived from the east, riding a
grey kank.

A light greenish-brown kank runs west, carrying the lean, obsidian-eyed
man on her back.
A grey kank walks west, carrying the black skinned, long braided man on
his back.

The sun begins its long voyage across the heavens.
The red moon, Jihae, disappears below the horizon.

You think:
"Hot sands!"

A voice from the west says:
"Where the fuck'd they come from!"

The tall figure in a hooded, charcoal-gray sandcloth dustcloak has arrived
from the east, riding a brown kank.

A brown kank walks west, carrying the tall figure in a hooded,
charcoal-gray sandcloth dustcloak on his back.

A voice from the west says:
"go go go!"

A voice from the west says:
"Fuck if I know."

[Our hero decides to follow suit. Slipping quietly out from where he
crouches among a thornbrush. This was
only the beginning of the day's adventures, but the rest are best left for
tales around a fireside.]

I wish I'd played with that character.

It sucks they removed those logs; they were GREAT.