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So my Imp Wild Talent...
A delightfully impish Imp, Wild Wild Life blundered, slashed, stabbed, bolted, phased, teleported, quested and beamed his way to high enough level to dip his three-pointed toe-claws into the newly revamped and more dangerous Dragon Caves at an inappropriately low level for more thrill, excitement, adventure and loot. He promtly ignored the sign (painted in blood) that read: "Turn back, young grasshopper. The cave entrances have learned a new trick (they may decide to close on you as you enter), and with your puny 200 HP, your chance of insta-breathcursedarknessstormLogruspsychospearetc-death is approximately 98%. Turn back."
Wild Wild Life found himself in a dank, spacious cave with inexplicably large trenches snaking through the floor and with air filled with the sour stink of reptiles. As he activated his telepathy spell, he heard a ruckus on the far side of the cavern: a human voice filled with power, malice, and a faintly British accent, and the roar of an enraged dragon mingled and echoed all about him, creating a savage symphony.
Too heedless of the danger and bursting with curiosity, Wild Wild Life decided to investigate. As he arrived on the scene, he saw the terrifying and beautiful form of a venerable Red Dragon, belly a-shimmer with gems (except for a strangely naked spot right where the heart joins the aorta) fleeing towards him, tail tucked between hindlegs and pupils round with fright. In the wake of the dragon's flaming passage rumbled the continued curses (in that faintly British accent) and contemptuous laughter of the human (who was wearing an odd cloak swirling with the entire visible spectrum).
Now Wild Wild Life, hefting his brass lantern stamped with Randart(tm) on the underside, and a dusty old hauberk with a very yellowed and weather beaten size tag labeled "Size: Arvedui," took note of the many and garish wounds dressing the jewel-bedecked hide of the panicked dragon. Wild Wild Life hefted his oversized katana, and swung with all his might at that dull spot on the dragon's belly. Fueled by the wielder's innate (18/45) strength, and charged further with some of the wielder's mana, the blade sheared through the underbelly hide and severed that critical connection between heart and aorta.
As the dragon exploded into a pile of flail, spellbooks, dragon boots, arrows and more, a group of novice priests lingering nearby woke in fright upon witnessing the short-lived, feverish combat and fearfully backed away as the imp examined each piece of treasure. As they were fleeing, one novice priest tripped over his overlong robe and cursed as he toppled. Without intending to, his curse was charged with magical potency, and also without intending to, his finger was pointed at a nearby Nycademon who was peacefully napping. The Nycademon easily shrugged off the puny charge of magic, but roared in fury at its interrupted repose.
The Nycademon somehow missed seeing the novice priest (prone as he was) and decided to target his wrath at the minor demon who must have dared to attack his superior kind.
Wild Wild Life had just finished peering, sniffing and nibbling at the sturdy pair of dragon boots as the Nether Breath howled in, displacing his head from his shoulders instantly from the change in pressure, and withering his limbs and torso when the nether actually hit.
A delightfully impish Imp, Wild Wild Life blundered, slashed, stabbed, bolted, phased, teleported, quested and beamed his way to high enough level to dip his three-pointed toe-claws into the newly revamped and more dangerous Dragon Caves at an inappropriately low level for more thrill, excitement, adventure and loot. He promtly ignored the sign (painted in blood) that read: "Turn back, young grasshopper. The cave entrances have learned a new trick (they may decide to close on you as you enter), and with your puny 200 HP, your chance of insta-breathcursedarknessstormLogruspsychospearetc-death is approximately 98%. Turn back."
Wild Wild Life found himself in a dank, spacious cave with inexplicably large trenches snaking through the floor and with air filled with the sour stink of reptiles. As he activated his telepathy spell, he heard a ruckus on the far side of the cavern: a human voice filled with power, malice, and a faintly British accent, and the roar of an enraged dragon mingled and echoed all about him, creating a savage symphony.
Too heedless of the danger and bursting with curiosity, Wild Wild Life decided to investigate. As he arrived on the scene, he saw the terrifying and beautiful form of a venerable Red Dragon, belly a-shimmer with gems (except for a strangely naked spot right where the heart joins the aorta) fleeing towards him, tail tucked between hindlegs and pupils round with fright. In the wake of the dragon's flaming passage rumbled the continued curses (in that faintly British accent) and contemptuous laughter of the human (who was wearing an odd cloak swirling with the entire visible spectrum).
Now Wild Wild Life, hefting his brass lantern stamped with Randart(tm) on the underside, and a dusty old hauberk with a very yellowed and weather beaten size tag labeled "Size: Arvedui," took note of the many and garish wounds dressing the jewel-bedecked hide of the panicked dragon. Wild Wild Life hefted his oversized katana, and swung with all his might at that dull spot on the dragon's belly. Fueled by the wielder's innate (18/45) strength, and charged further with some of the wielder's mana, the blade sheared through the underbelly hide and severed that critical connection between heart and aorta.
As the dragon exploded into a pile of flail, spellbooks, dragon boots, arrows and more, a group of novice priests lingering nearby woke in fright upon witnessing the short-lived, feverish combat and fearfully backed away as the imp examined each piece of treasure. As they were fleeing, one novice priest tripped over his overlong robe and cursed as he toppled. Without intending to, his curse was charged with magical potency, and also without intending to, his finger was pointed at a nearby Nycademon who was peacefully napping. The Nycademon easily shrugged off the puny charge of magic, but roared in fury at its interrupted repose.
The Nycademon somehow missed seeing the novice priest (prone as he was) and decided to target his wrath at the minor demon who must have dared to attack his superior kind.
Wild Wild Life had just finished peering, sniffing and nibbling at the sturdy pair of dragon boots as the Nether Breath howled in, displacing his head from his shoulders instantly from the change in pressure, and withering his limbs and torso when the nether actually hit.
RIP Wild Wild Life
Intrepid and Stupid
May his successors be just as intrepid and stupid
To the delight of novice priests, nycademons
And forum members alike
Intrepid and Stupid
May his successors be just as intrepid and stupid
To the delight of novice priests, nycademons
And forum members alike
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