Kwip; Champion of the Little People (no, not the Kobolds)

I’m ALL ABOUT helping people. Especially da kiddies! After all, who’s going to be changing my diapers and pushing me around in my wheelchair when I’m an old man? Kids. That’s right, the future of our…something something something.

Plus, they’re easy to make fun of.

So here it is, another day, another character. That’s right; I’ve hung Kwip up. I now have a new and powerful character! The mighty Bottom, Theurgist of Great Reknown! No, you simpletons, his name has nothing to do with anatomy. It has to do with Shakespeare. Sheesh. Look it up.

Anyway, since it’s a well known fact that few are brave enough to group with me…
Death says, “Yeah, funny how people get about dying.”
You say, “Quiet, slut!”
Where was I… Oh, yes – see, everyone’s afraid to group with me. Some sniveling nonsense about getting everybody killed or something. Hey man, it’s not MY fault you can’t handle all the bad guys that come! Well, I mean, yeah, I know you say we’re supposed to only draw one at a time, but hey – if there’s five of us, let’s be fair and bring five of them! Right? Sheesh. You guys are such cheaters. I should report you or something.

Oh, right. So anyway, I made a new character, Bottom. He’s a theurg, as I believe I stated. My guildmate Callico thinks I should get he last name of “Zup” – something to do with what position I always wind up in, but I’m not sure what she means by that. Doesn’t everyone have over 500 deaths by the time they’re fifth level? Oh, yeah, I’m sure it’s just me. Nice try.

Anyway, I LOVE my little theurg. In a way that’s not healthy, know what I mean, nudge nudge, wink wink! He can solo oranges with relative ease! Why, this one time, I took out an orange AND a yellow! Well, perhaps I should qualify – I took out the orange, and his yellow friend came and pounded the snot out of me with the corpse of one of my earth elementals. But after I got back from the bindstone, I’ll tell you what! I walked right up to that guy and LET HIM HAVE IT! My grave, I mean. The next time I went back, I sent a few elementals at him instead.

So I’m doing my thing, be-bopping around, at peace with the world, when the town crier in Cotswold tells me of a small child, Frip, that needs my help! Oh my gosh! This looks like a job for SUPER THEURG.

So I’m off. First, I have to figure out how the heck to get there. Basically, this involves wandering into a stupid bandit camp, letting them chase me back to town where the guards WATCH THEM BEAT ME TO DEATH (yeah, I’m REAL fond of our might “Realm Defenders,” let me tell you). Here’s how that little encounter goes: I run into town, a stream of bandits hot on my tail. I see a guard, and I figure I’m saved! I run right at him. He stops, turns and looks at me. The bandits run up to me, form a circle, and commence to pound the holy hell out of me. I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure I heard the guard giggle. Then, once I’m a bloody pulp, the bandits turn to leave, casual as anything. Well, now suddenly this realm guard is Dudley Friggin Doright, and he leaps to attack the bandits – now that they’ve been kind enough to put their backs to him. Sigh.

I wake back up at the bindstone and decide I can’t do this myself. I call on Yates, whom I think I’ve explained is actually Yellow Rat Bastard.

You send, “Hey, where the hell is Frip?” to Yates.
Yates sends, “Who?”
You send, “Frip” to Yates.
Yates sends, “What are you talking about?”
You send, “WHERE THE HELL IS FRIP?!?!?” to Yates.
Yates sends, “Is that the kid by the bridge?”
Yates sends, “Yeah. He’s by the bridge.”

Right. By the bridge. Now, I’ve hunted around Cotswold, I know where the bridge is. I don’t remember ever seeing a kid hanging out there, but I’ve been known to not be the most observant soul in the world…

Death says, “Hey, remember that time you walked out of the house without pants? Twice?”
You sigh.

Anyway, I trot over to the bridge. I don’t see him, but maybe he’s closer to the shore. I’ll just go down and have a SWEET MOTHER OF GOD GET THEM OFF ME! AIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!

Death says, “Oooo-hoo-hoo-hoo! Look at ‘em go! Get him, goblins, get him!”
You say, “AAaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!”

Well, one quick trip to the bindstone, and I’ve verified that there is no small child at the bridge.

You send, “You lying bastich!” to Yates.
Yates sends, “Try the other side of the bridge, jerk.”

Oh. Right. The OTHER side of the bridge. Well, that’s pretty clever. So off I go, making sure I stay in the MIDDLE of the bridge as I cross – with my luck one of those bastich goblins is down there with a bow playing Robin Hood or something.

But I get over to the other side with no problem. Upon my arrival there, I see some guards standing around, talking to another adventurer. I decide to kick a little Role Playing rap on them…

You say, “What, ho, fellow adventurers! Verily I hath come seeking the wee tiny lad known as Frip! Pray tell, mightest thou tell me of location?”

Right at that moment, about a hundred bandits come screaming out of the woods. The guards holler something about defending the Realm, but screw them, that’s why they get paid the big bucks. I do the smart thing and try to run off, but instead charge straight into the attacking bandits.

Where they promptly kick the crap out of me, and send me back to the bindstone.

Death says, “Hooo-hoo-hoo, stop it, ha ha ha, you’re KILLING me!”

I hate my life.

You send, “You lying jerk-off goombah! That stupid brat’s nowhere’s near the bridge!” to Yates.
Yates sends, “Yes he is, doofus. He’s on the same side as the bindstone!”
You send, “Ah-HA! Caught you lying! There IS no bindstone at the bridge!”
Yates sends, “…”
Yates sends, “You’re at the wrong bridge, dumbass.”

Oh. Well, that makes sense. Finally I get this all figured out, and someone (who is NOT a Yellow Rat Bastard, thank you very much) actually directs me to the right horse route and everything! Yeay me!

So I make it to this bridge. Sure enough, there’s little Frip, doing this little thing. Well, basically just standing there, looking pathetic. I approach him, and he whines…er…tells me about his father being lost. Well, no problem there! I shall go find his dad! And it turns out I’m in luck – no sooner have I agreed to help the little basti…er…child, then someone says something about his dad being off to the East along the river in some old ruins. Excellent! I’m off like a prom dress, in pursuit of my prey!

Well, of course nothing’s that easy. I get there, and there’s all these stupid Bloody Bones and dumb zombies wandering around. I figure, hey, no problem – I send in a couple of my earthen buddies to take out the Bloody Bones. Their friends get a bit feisty, well, I whip out the ol’ Field of Frost. Which hits. Every single thing within about a 300 mile radius. Every single one of which then resist its effect.

In turn, they all descend upon me.

Sigh. I don’t even get a quickcast off before I’m ripped limb from limb.

This time, I’m a bit more careful coming in. I scout the territory out, go AROUND the Bloody Bones & Co., and approach from the rear. As I get near the tower, out of some ruins comes charging Hugrath, whom I’m supposed to be looking for.

Except now he’s a zombie. A zombie with friends. And they ALL want a piece of my sweet, sweet brain.

So. I’m back at the bindstone.

Death says, “again”

Thank you. I’m back at the bindstone AGAIN. Sigh.

But this time, I know where he is, who he’s with, and what to expect. So VERY CAREFULLY, I make my way back. There he is, hiding in what I previously mistook for an empty ruin. I find a nice, distant spot from which I can launch my assault.

And a demon comes walking around the corner and eats my ass.

His tag says he’s a weakened demon. Right. Weakened enough to tear through my sorry butt in about three hits.

Now I’m back at the bindstone, weeping inconsolably. I attempt to throw myself in front of several passing horses, all to no avail.

Okay. Fine. I will go back. ONE MORE TIME.

And you know what? I killed him. Pretty easily, in fact. An ice creature to draw him out, then four earth critters to pound the snot of him. His spirit tried to tell me something to pass on to his son as it departed its vile host, but I was too busy crapping on its carcass to notice. Ah, well.

I make my way back to Frip, his eyes all aflutter with excitement. Kids.

You say, “Hey Frip, sorry man, but your dad was a zombie from hell. I sent a couple of my boys over to sodomize him to death. But don’t worry. He said he LOVED it.”

Frip says, “No! Not my daddy! No!”

And then he ran off! Not even a ‘Thank you for risking life and limb!’ or anything! Hrmph. Kids. Ungrateful bastiches, the lot of ‘em.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *