OOC: My ccharacter's name is Ele, and he's a warrior. He loves hot wings. And... well read.

IC: "Good sir, I wish to accompany you on your journey, as long as I get some hot wings. And does this pay?" he asked Ahndrew.

"Pay? Pfft." Ahndrew chuckled.

"Answer the question."

"Hell no."

"Argh."

Ele pondered. He'd get no money, but how much could it hurt to save a place that serves what Ahndrew calls "the bitchingest hot wings"? And if he did save the place, maybe he'd be vaulted to fame! Fame and money mix like Peanut butter and jelly. Or so he thought.

"Alright. I;ll go." Ele said.

All his life, since back as far as he could remember, Ele had been doing stuff for money. Robbing people, hurting people, and one incident he'd rather forget, when he killed who he very soon found out were his parents.

6 years ago, when Ele was 19, (this tells you something) he met up with a client in a pub.

"I heard you do stuff for money..."

"If its what I think you're thinking of, piss off, or I'll mop the floor with ya."

Ele was no man to be played with. At 6'5, and 280 pounds, he was no one you'd wanna fight.

"No not that... there's some people I need you to take care of..."

"You mean...?"

"Yeah..."

He thought about it. He was low on cash, broke, actually, so he desperately needed the money. But was he willing to kill?

Robbery? No sweat. 'Physical persuasion'? Yeah. But murder?

"...How much are you paying..?"

"3,000 silverachinos."

He NEEDED that money. But did he really want that tainted on his soul? Well...

"...Alright. Where can I find these people, and what do they look like?"

"You don't want to know their names..?"

"That's not how I perform my services."

"Fine..."

The man described the people.

"Alright, I'll meet you back here after I'm done." Ele said.

"Be quick with it please..."

Ele headed out for his destination. He spotted the two people his client described, walking home from the local market. There was a middle aged female, and a middle aged male.

"Why does he want these harmless looking people dead?"he thought.

"Eh. Get these thoughts out of your head... its not your job to have feelings for these people... you're supposed to kill them, and get your money..."

He knew how he'd do it. He'd follow these people home, they lead them into an isolated part of the house, and slit their throats with a knife he found.

The people arrived at their house, a large one, made of wood and straw.

"Why does this look familiar...?"

He went in their backyard and yelled. When he saw the people come out through the back door, re ran around the house and slipped in the front door. He hid behind a large bookcase, which only rich people had.

"That was odd." said the male.

"Probably just some youth playing around." said the female.

He was waiting for about an hour when he heard the female.

"I'm going to put up the laundry, dear." she said.

Whe he saw her leave through a crack in the bookshelf, he snuck out from behind the bookshelf.

"Why the hell does this place look so familiar..?"

He spotted the male sitting on the floor, reading the bible.

He crept up behind him and slit his throat. He dared not look into the man's face. The man trembled and gasped for air, then stopped moving. He dragged the body into a dark corner. He waited near the back door for the woman to enter. Ten minutes later, she entered, and he pounced upon her, slitting her throat. He threw her into the corner with the man in disgust.

"The horrid things I do for money..." Ele said, wiping his hands off on a rag which was on the floor.

As he wiped his hands, his eyes came upon a necklace with the letters e-l-e inscribed on them.

"What the..."

He looked at the faces of the people he murdered.

They were his mother and father.

A normal person would have been crying out of their body right now. But Ele was not normal, and neither was his relationship with his parents. He was thrown out of their house 5 years prior to this incident, for stabbing his baby brother, who did not die. He tried his best to forget them, and his past, but this brought back so many memories. But he showed no other emotion that surprise. Tears began to swell in Ele's eyes.

"The bastards... they deserved it..." He snuck out of the back door and made his way back to the pub.

He saw the client.

"You did it...?" the client asked.

"Yes..."

"I need to be sure. Where are the bodies?"

"In my smeggin house!"

"..What?"

"They were my parents."

The client looked at Ele. He could tell he was telling the truth, but the only emotion he was showing was anger. What the hell was wrong with this kid?

The client gave Ele the 3,000 silverachinos, and fled quickly.

"There you go, stupid. You have your smeggin money, and for what? The lives of your parents? Way to go, you damn idiot. Enjoy your money on your path to hell."

You would think Ele would become a holy man after such an ordeal. But no. he kept doing the same thing, except for assassinations. He would travel around, doing jobs for money, until he reached the current town of Zarglamesh. He would help rescue some place called Fatte Larreth, and become famous. Greedy? Yes. But determined? Even more so.

"Stop, KNAVE!" shouted a freakishly thin figure in the shade of a tree. The figure leaped out of the shadows of the tree and landed behind the man reading the sub-sign. The clearly Elven man drew his rubber chicken and wrapped it about the neck of the man reading the sub-sign, choking him until he was, like, dead and throwing his body aside.
"FOOL! What devilry- Oh, pardon my intrusions, good sir. You merely try to save an establishment that is clearly a fine place indeed, worth saving- What, ho? Fatte Larreth's? Why, that is the encasement of foulness if I ever did see one!"
"That's only because you're anorexic, TUBBY! I mean, SKINNY!" said teh Ahndrew. "You can't respect good food!"
"Sir, I take offense!" said the pointy-eared Aryan freak. "I am BULIMIC! Why, I simply self-induce vomit for my own person so that I may keep my slim figure and battle evil!"
"... What?"
"I am NERSAVIUS! Master Archer of the Olde Ninth Purple Elven Army of Nervosavia! I come to-"
Ahndrew spat in disgust. "Are you going to help me save Fatte Larreth's place or are you going to be a twat and OPPOSE THE MAGIC?"
"MAGIC? Good sir, I'm all for a bout of magic! Why, when there's magic afoot-"
"If you shut up, I'll give you a..."
"Yes?"
"Shut up."

OOC: Mind if I join? Rather than my usual bio then post, I'll do a bit of an in-character, narrative introduction, then post a brief OOC bio at the end.

IC:
Lokki was down on his luck. The bard was fourty-something, though he didn't look a day over twentyish, and hadn't had a decent adventure in well over a decade since his old adventuring partner had settled down to raise a family. He had tried to solo it for a few years, but that had left him nigh penniless and with no worldly possessions save the clothes on his back, a battered lute, a flask of metheglin, his writings and a rusty rapier. The literature aside, he was essentially back where he started all those years ago when he struck off on a quest for fame and fortune. The curse of agelessness that he had been afflicted with so long ago was finally beginning to seem like a curse.

As such, he retired some time ago to the quaint little village of * (OOC: I'm to lazy to fill in the blank, so sue me. ) with intent of adapting the glory days of his adventuring carreer into all manner of ballads and epics. After all, was that not what a bard was supposed to do? Unfortunately, he had been promptly struck by a second curse: writer's block. In short, things were not looking good.

"Still," muttered Lokki as he mused, "At least I still have my tall, lithe physique," - he paused to admire himself in the clear waters of the town fountain - "though my kilter has likely deteriorated, along with my martial prowess. Shame. What few magics I obtained are probably long gone as well. Where did it all go wro-"

Lokki's inward ramblings were cut short by a certain sound. It was one that he had not heard in far too long, but a was nonetheless very familiar indeed: it was the sound of a commotion. Not just your average kind of commotion that occurs regularly in every village and hamlet from here to the ends of the world. This was a special commotion. One that brought back memories and one whose significance Lokki new all too well. The timing was too perfect to pass up. As quickly as his figuratively rusty legs could manage (which wasn't very quick), he dashed over to its source.

Lokki read the sign with barely-contained excitement and anticipation. No sooner than he had finished reading, he twirled to face the originator of the notice and introduced himself with an ostentatious bow: "Greetings, good Sir! I am Lokki Estianio Gallansbayne, ex-adventurer and uninspired bard extraordinaire. As one who dabbles in the creative pursuits, I have nothing but appreciation for masters of the culinary arts and therefore hereby pledge myself hithertoforth unto your noble cause."

He grinned widely as he awaited a response. It was not the epic quest that he had navely hoped for, but, well, it was better than nothing.

OOC: Eh, voila. If there's anything you would like changed (or if you want me to leave the RP entirely), just let me know. Finally, to conclude, a brief bio (no history, that was included in the narrative).

Name: Lokki Gallansbayne
Age: ~45
Race: Human
Sex: Male
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 143lbs
Appearance: Tall and skinny. Long, unruly brown hair tied back into a pony-tail extending to his lower back. Grey-blue eyes. Generally wears a black trenchcoat, heavy brown boots and a dull turquoise tunic and beeches.
Abilities: Fairly agile and stealthy, though he is out of practice in these regards. Average constitution, but quite weak in terms of physical strength. Has had combat experience, particularly with the halberd and rapier, but is once again out of practice. Has long forgotten all magical powers. N.B.: as stated, he only appears to be of roughly twenty years of age.
Personality: Outwardly, Lokki is cheerful, optomistic and extroverted even in the worst of times. Perhaps some what eccentric as well. Intelligent and confident, even borderline arrogant and tends to use fancy verbiage. Quite chivalrous, particularly towards women. Determined, but not afraid or ashamed to back down or run away (in fact, he is quite adept in this) if needs been. Interests include literature, music, history and drinking.

Name: Wednesday
Age: 137
Race: Elf
Sex: Male
Height: 6'6"
class: mage
Appearance: dark and gothic, Wednesday is a black elf, that is to say, you get white and black humans, you get white and black elves, he is NOT a dark elf. Wednesday has violet hair and eyes and is very tall and slim, he wears a patched grey/black cloak with a hood and wears mainly black leather/ cheap cloth garments. he has a book the size of a small table strapped to his back (it's one of the only things he owns which is expensive) which looks all magely. he has a silver coin strung on a chain around his neck an his mages staff is a farm scythe
Abilities: fairly good at the basic elemental magics he can do yer usual, fry it, shock it, float it, soak it, freeze it or crush it. he's also not too shabby with the bladeon his staff, although far less competent than people who have actually trained as warriors. In a pinch that book hurts if it hits yer nut.

ic: a tall man walked up to the booth and read the documents
".....hot wings?....."
"yeah but no angsty goth types"
Wednesday pulled down his hood off his face
"sorry bout that, Fatte Larreths? B****in, I'm in, I love that place"
"oookay"
"yuss, I'm a mage, my name is Wednesday, want something blown up? i'm your man er...Elf, by the way, what's your opinion on looting?"

"A fellow elf, eh?" asked Nersavius of the obvious. "It's always good to have kin along on such a venture as this!"
Nersavius eyed the large book on Wednesday's back.
"Well, Wednesday, it seems you're carrying a large book!" Nersavius stated, a fact that all could see clearly.
"Yes... Yes I am," said Wednesday.
"Quite the large book, indeed," observed the ever-watchful Nersavius, the eyes of a hawk in his skull, as any of the more perceptive readers could realize. "What's in it, might I ask?"

Wednesday looked around
"stuff....secret stuff...things so secret your head might melt to even think of knowing what they are"
Nersavious blinked "gosh"
"yes" continued wednesday "and I certainly didn't lose the key last week"
both elves stared blankly for a while
"excuse me, I must go and visit a locksmith"

"Aha!" Anhdrew shouted, leaping ontop of the table, starlting everyone, "And thusly, we shall be known as the heroes of our generation! Battling the power and bringing justice back to the world! Babes across the land will swoon when they hear Ahndrew, Lokki, Nersa-something-or-other, and.. Uh.. Tueseday, was it?"
"Wednesday" He sighed
"Oh, uh, terribly sorry. And Wednesday!" Ahndrew stuck up his fist in triumph, and jumped down, giving high fives and pats on the back to people who didn't even ask for one.
"So, where to now, knave?" Nersavius asked, "Wait, did I say Knave? I meant leader! Hahaha!"
Ahndrew sighed and turned his head to the local pub, "The pub of course, all adventure s-"
"THE PUB!?" Nersavious shrieked "Why, thats nothing but a pool of saturated fats"
Ahndrew cleared his throat and pushed aside the annoying elf, "BECAUSE thats where most adventures start. And, hell, if you keep acting like this, I could go for a pint myself."

OOC: Alright, now if you want to join, just right in some intro where you meet us where we might be. I would do a bio, but hell, STILL NO TIME. kk

"the pub?" exclaimed wednesday, "huzzah, as long as it's not the Two Jugs, I'm narred from there for a magic show involving a monkey, three showgirls and their pool table"

Nersavius brushed himself of. "Well, fine! We shall enter this structure of tomfoolery and, 'Fetch ourselves quite the pint,' or whatever it may be that you wish to say!"
Nersavius followed the group into the pub (of tomfoolery!) and looked around. "I suppose it certainly is CLEAN... But it still stinks of tomfoolery, I say!"

"Do you mean, thusly, to imply that there is something wrong with tomfoolery?" inquired Lokki as he followed Nersavius and the others into the tavern and took a seat at the bar, "Now, let us make merry ere our quest commences. Barkeep: a tankard of your finest metheglin, if you would be so kind!"

"Eh?" grunted the bartender, turning to face Lokki, "You what?"

"Curses. I keep forgetting they don't sell it here; I shall have to show them how to brew it one day," grumbled Lokki inwardly, before saying more audibly, "No matter. In that case, I should like a flagon of your cheapest ale."

"Cheapest? Hahaha! Give him the most expensive drink on the menu, my good man!" Nersavius laughed.
The bartender eyed Nersavius, muttered something under his breath and went into a back room. When the bartender came back out, he was holding a steaming black cup with a strange, silver liquid in it.
"Fine liquefied Drow hair. That will be three virgin souls and a spinal cord," said the bartender, holding out his hand at Lokki, waiting for payment.
"Three souls- How would you expect me to pay this? I can't afford such a thing!" Lokki protested.
"Then you'll have to be arrested until you CAN pay!" spat the bartender.
"Now, barkeep, isn't this over the line? How can I pay you when I'm in prison?" Lokki asked, but his words were no match for a dozen fully armored men storming into the pub!
"ARREST THIS MAN!" shouted the bartender at the guards that decided that now would be the best time to storm in and look for people to arrest. "He refused to pay for the finest drink of finery, fine liquefied Drow hair!"
There were several gasps across the pub.
"He refused to pay!"
"OMFG!"
"Oh, what has our fair city of * gone to, today, when someone refuses to pay?"
"Devilry!"
"How DARE he!"
"How dare YOU!"
"How DARE you for daring ME!"
"lol"
Then the guards were suddenly on the attack!

With limited time, Lokki spontaneously leapt behind the bar and grabbed the bartender in a headlock, using him as a human shield. With his free arm, Lokki drew his rapier and held the other man's arms behind his back.

"Terribly sorry about this," muttered Lokki to his hostage, "but I have to give myself some time to defend myself." Turning to the inhabitants of the inn, he continued: "Now, let's not be too rash, chaps. If you would recall a few moments a go, 'twasn't I who ordered the drink. Rather, 'twas my - well, I'd hardly call him a friend after this - acquaintance Nersavius who ordered the drink for me. Logically, seeing as it was he, not I, who requested the beverage, it seems only fitting that he, not I, should be expected to pay."

Lokki, sweating profusely, tightened his grip on the bartender as he awaited a response. Sure, it was a long time ago, but he had gotten out of worse predicaments before now...

"W-wha-WHAT? You're going to put the blame on ME?" Nersavius sputtered as guards approached him. "Oh, if THIS is how things will be-"
Nersavius leaped beside Lokki and grabbed the bartender, ripping out his spinal cord.
"Yar, that's gonna' smart in tha' mornin'!" shouted the bartender as he fell over like jelly.
Nersavius jumped over the bar and lashed out with the spine like a whip. It slapped a guard in the face but didn't do nothin'.
"Uh... Crap," Nersavius muttered, running up a conveniently (or is it?) placed staircase, still holding the spinal cord.

"Quickly, Knaves!" Nersavius asserted, dashing up the stairs and swinging the spinal cord as a mace, "Up the stair's! The king's guard are deathly aware of staircases!"
Ahndrew muttered a curse, leaped over the bar, and raced up the stairs behind Lokki. Wednesday, wondering just what the hell was happening, followed.
"On, troops! Stop the murderer!"
"Well, uh, why don't Young o first?"
"Because... Well.. I'm the captain"
"That sounds like an excuse to me."
"Well, smart ass, why don't you go up?"
"... Don't feel like it, is all"

The stairs led to a clamped room, with little light filtering into it through the dusty window. The group dodged through stacks of books and dead farm animals to the window, used Nersavius as a rock to break the glass, and leaped out.
"RUN! RUN, DAMNIT!" Ahndrew shouted, bolting for the town line as the guard jumped over the stoop after them. Stoops they could handle with only a slight feeling of queasiness and butterflies.
2 yards (2.5 meters, I believe, for the rest of the world) later Ahndrew ran into an inconveniently placed twig, starting a domino effect which knocked everyone on the ground, giving the king;s guard time to catch up.
"You Have... Uh... One second, let me check the book," The captain murmured, pulling out a rule book from his right pocket, "You have committed a crime in the kingdom of Morrow- Er, *. You can either pay the 12 gold, as is the price for de-spinning a middle-aged bar keep, or go to jail."
Nersavius shouted "RESIST ARRE-"
"-He'll pay he gold." Ahndrew said.

12 gold later!
"Damnit. I hate you people."
" Actually it was all Nersavius's fau-"
"All we had to do was get some info, and you f**king killed a man. Honestly. Go join the navy or something. Now we have to go to the Gentlemen's Club for information... Which is cool.. But their pints are 4 bucks more. It's crazy."

A figure seemed to smirk as the group 'idiot' did a rummage of things. Chuckling quietly he took a drink of his gold colored ale. "Interesting rabble, heh." thought a nearby figure in a corner of the bar as the happenings occured. The figure was equiped with a simple black cloak, a quiver strewn to his back. As well one could notice a really short bow. The quiver on his back held simple darts which seemed to be for the bow. The figure has black, lifeless eyes and dirty blonde hair that went to his shoulders. The hair worn in a mullet-eque style.

The archer was human, and observed Nersavius as he ran up a staircase to the inn section of the tavern.

"Well in this town anything is norm' I guess." the lone figure muttered to himself.

(OOC: Kind of a short post but it places my char watching, and commenting for now. Profile later, bed now.)

Hiding beneath a table an the corner of the bar, Wednesday had been trying to set fire to a gaurds foot, but nothing had happened. he sighed and jumped as the simple black cloak of the man sitting at the table burst into flame.
Wednesday gulped, exclaimed "oops", jumped out from under the table and followed Nersavius upstairs before the fire was discovered

And so, our heroes made their way to the Gentlemen's Club... What challenges would await our heroes as they made their way to the-

Wait, they're already there. A bit boring...

"Why, what knavery is this!?" exclaimed Nersavius. "Oh, this is the Gentlemen's Club... Yes... SPREAD OUT!"
"You're not the leader of the group!" said Ahndrew. "BOW DOWN."
"Yes, sir..."
The heroes spread out nonetheless, 'covering more ground' and all that jazz. Off in the corner...
"So, uh... You shall sell me... What?" Nersavius asked a shadowy figure.
"Some... D. R. U. G. S. if you know what I mean..." replied the obscure person.
"No, I'm not following," said Nersavius. "You'll have to be more specific."
"Doom rocket ultra guns, fool!" shouted the shadowy man in the corner.
The people in the Club looked up. "He's selling DRUGs!"
"DRUGs!? DEVILRY!"
"Oh no, he's selling DRUGs! The fiend! I WANT ONE!"
And so, the random, unimportant characters of the Club flocked over to the shadowy figure, offering neatly stacked piles of money for the DRUGs.
"Back! BACK!" the figure shouted, leaping out a window and running off. "Mine, MINE!"

. . .

"Hey, let's ask that one man over there who decided not to buy some DRUGs something about our adventure!" shouted Nersavius to his fellows, pointing at an old man sitting on a stool, looking wise and whatnot.

"Doom rocket ultra guns, eh?" pondered Lokki, "From the name, they sound rather lethal and terribly expensive. While the former is always useful at some point, I don't like the sound of the latter. Ne'ermind."

Lokki's musings were interrupted by a call: "Hey, let's ask that one man over there who decided not to buy some DRUGs something about our adventure!"

"Good idea," agreed Lokki, moving over to the aforementioned person along with the rest of the group. "Terribly sorry, by the way, Mister Nersavius - was it? - about the prior incidents, but, well, I had to save my neck somehow," Lokki apologised to his comrade, then went silent: he felt it best that their leader handle extra-party diplomacy.

"Aye, I myself recall reading an announcement to that effect on the bulletin-board in the town square," interjected Lokki, "but that's besides the point. I'm rather curious as to the nature of this so-called 'River of the Damned'. For all the time I've been living in and around *, I can't say I've ever read anything of it."

"Hmm," pondered Ele (OOC Note: whatever happened to him?), "I wouldn't trusting anything calling itself 'of the Damned'."

Wednesday mentally plumbed the depths of his lore. "I heard it's a river haunted by the spirits of crooks and villains who met their end there."

"Lies!" accused Nersavius, "Lies and hear-say! 'Tis a dank and evil place infested with zombies. Pirate zombies!"

"Mayhap we should have asked the old man for more info," suggested Ahndrew, "We could always go back; we haven't gone that far yet."

"Nay, what for?" questioned Lokki, "'Tis always by far more exciting to discover these things for oneself - what with the added element of mystery and danger and all that good stuff." Striking a dramatic pose, he announced "Onwards, to the River of the Damned" and thusly the group set off in the direction in which they presumed the aforementioned river was located.

- OOC -
Uh... Let's just say everyone is with us, or in the nearby area or something. You know.

I just have a few things to say, now that I think about it.

Some players (well, half or more, I'm not counting) introduced their characters but never had them join the party. There's no hard way to join the group.
Just walk up and be like, "I'm joining you guys because... I feel like it."
Nothing needs to be complicated.

OOC: I know what you mean, Pregga. It's mostly just you, me and Geo running the show. Wednesday was last seen in the first inn and Ele hasn't done anything since his introductory post; I only narrated them to our present location because I needed a couple of extra speakers. Mike's character is also back at the inn, still, unless one of us says that he was following us the whole time.

Not that I'm complaining or anything, just observing.

BTW, in case you weren't already aware, I'm Lokki in another account. I got logged out mysteriously and logged into this one out of habit; the only reason I was posting as Lokki to begin with is that I hadn't been bothered to log out after I had been using him in the chat ages back.

"There it is! The river of the damned!" SHouted Ahndrew, who suddenly, along with his teamates, appeared in front of it in a montage-like manner.
They walked up to who appeared to be some owner.
"ah! welcome to the river of the damned! you came early, so I think you can enjoy our discount for early birds!" He bellowed.
"Enjoy such damnation!? What is this tomfoolery!" That elf one with the weird name shouted.
"Well, seeing the Ye Ol' Atkins diet craze-"
"The one where you vomit out your food?"
"Yes, that. Well, people have been looking for scary things. So I bought out this river and am now sellign boat rides! So, are you ready to get that slim figure you always wanted and get scared s**tless!?"
"Uh... It's a Amusement ride?" Ahnder asked
"Yes!" the operator chirped
"Er, we gotta take it to peleneen. How do we do that?" The fearless leader questioned.
"Just take it down 7-so miles, just 3 gold pieces!"

3 gold pieces later!

They stepped onto the rickity old boat. It was coated oin several layers of cobweb, seeming not whatsoever fit for such a mildly-swift river. It smelt of dried blood, which was covering the deck. Must've been some satanist blood orgy or something, they seem to love doing it on old rickity boats.
"What are these cinder blocks for?" Lok asked the operator about the pile of cinder blocks in the corner while Ahndrew began to steer the boat down the road.
"For the Pirate Zombies, of course! Good luck!"

Nersavius looked behind the rickity boat, out onto the foggy waters. The River of the Damned was spooky, having skeletons playing cards by the river and horrific little beasties wandering about the waters, screaming bloody murder.
"Bloody murder! BLOODY MURDER!"
But the most eye-burning, spine-snapping fear-fest of all had to be the skinny-dipping zombies. Forever did Nersavius curse his eyes for looking behind the boat.
"What do your elf eyes see?" asked Ele of Nersavius.
"Well, Aragorn- I means, Warrior guy, I see fog and my eyes burn from the foul visions such a Damned River is named for. However, I am looking forward to a slim body that all the ladies will love so!"
"Aren't you, uh... Skinny enough?" asked Ele.
"WHAT DOES THAT MEAN!? Keep your foolish tomfoolery nigh out of my presence, mortal!" Nersavius exploded.
"Fine..." Ele muttered, walking off.

Nersavius squinted and peered through the fog.
"Hey, I see the front of a ship..." he told his companions.
"That would be our ship, fool," Ahndrew said, rolling his eyes and taking the left turn at the Foul Corpse of Stench Most Foul.
"I KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN OUR SHIP AND OTHER SHIPS!" Nersavius shouted. "This is a different ship. Behind us."
"Does it have one of those things where a woman carved from wood is on the front?" asked Lokki.
"I think so... Wait... No, it's just a fat man. A really, really fat man! Carved from wood!"
Wednesday froze in place of whatever he was doing and looked back on his Bardic lore knowledge and all the crap he picked up from traveling.
"Fat man...? ZOMBIE PIRATES!"
"Oh, snap indeed! Thursday, shoot them with lightning!" shouted Nersavius
"Lightning!?" Wednesday echoed.
"Yes! Aren't you a mage?" Nersavius asked.
"What kind of mage shoots lightning?" countered Thursday. I means, Wednesday.
"Ones that don't SUCK THE BIGGEST!" Nersavius shouted. "WE MUST FIGHT THEM!"
"You ever think that maybe they don't want to fight us?" Ahndrew asked skeptically.
"They're zombie pirates. Of course they want to fight us," replied Nersavius.
"Son of a-! You're right!"

And so, they prepared themselves for combat as Greasebeard the pirate of the Phat Pearl pulled up by their side and boarded them with his deadly crew of pirate zombies, thus the biggest, most epic and only* battle on the River of the Damned ensued!

* There would be more, but how many people ride the River of the Damned just to get to Fatte Larreth's? I mean, who even wants go to to Pelaneen?

At last the group were beginning to encounter the kind of action for which Lokki had hoped. "En guarde!" he cried as he leapt dramatically into a fencing stance and brandished his rapier before one of the undead swashbucklers shuffling its way on to their vessel.

"Graaarrgghlll..." came the zombie's witty retort. The monster slashed wildly at Lokki, who stepped back and parried, only to have his corroded weapon snap under the weight of the pirate's ancient cutlass.

"Bollocks!" cursed Lokki in an uncharacteristic display of inarticulacy, not that he had time for such things, what with being gradually surrounded by sea-faring abominations. Quickly changing strategy, he instead kicked his opponent in the pelvis, which, being so rotten, snapped in half with the force of the blow. However, the horde was coming in too thick - but not too fast; they are zombies, after all - for Lokki to even consider engaging them all in mle, so he decided it was time to fight fire with fire. Well, fight zombies with fire.

Leaping behind the breeze blocks, Lokki raised his arms in preparation to preform the arcane gestures.

"A-" came the first syllable. Then Lokki paused. "Ah? Ar? Abracadabra? Alfalfa? Arrondissement? Arsenal United?" he tried to remember, but failed. He had to think of a new plan of action.

Suddenly, he remembered the cinder blocks he was sheltering behind and what the boat owner had said about them, but how exactly were they supposed to defend from zombies? Picking one up - and struggling: he was very much out of shape - he tossed it experimentally at the nearest pirate zombie. The concrete cube connected and knocked the creature's head clean off before carrying on its parabolic trajectory to eventually impact the floor. However, it did not stop there: its weight smashed through both the decrepit deck and aged hull, creating a sizeable leak.

"Oh dear."

"WAIT!" Nersavius shouted at Lokki. "Don't throw the-"
Too late was Nersavius as the cinder block smashed through their own ship. The zombie pirates laughed at the heroes' misfortune, then realized that they were also on the boat and began panicking.
"Yar, off tha' boat!" shouted Greasebeard with his large, greasy beard and oversized, greasy coat. "TAKE THE PRISONERS WITH YE!" he ordered before jumping back onto his own boat with the other zombie pirates before the Ship of All that is Good sank completely.

"Yar har har!" laughed Greasebeard at his prisoners. "A couple o' rich purses for me loot pile, eh?"
He had his zombie pirates search our heroes, and they came up with several items that Greasebeard did not favor.
"What's all this? A sword o' foil? An oversized book, is it? A rubber chicken and a spinal cord!? Just where do you fools plan on going?"
"Well, we were going to Pelaneen to save Fatte Larreth's..." muttered Nersavius.
The pirate started. "FATTE LARRETH'S!? Aye, that be the finest dine beyond tha' seventeen seas! Why didn't ya' just take I-80 to-"
"Closed."

"Closed..?" Asked the pirate zombies in their pirate-like confused daze, "Well, that's renovation for ya."
"So.. Can you give us a lift, then?" Questioned Ahndrew, wondering why their previous ship didn't hit rock bottom yet.
"Sure thing!" The pirate captain bellowed, "You're poor bastards! Just make yourself usefull and we'll drop you off at Pelaneen!"
"Uh.. Thanks..." he answered.
As the pirate boat started sailign down the river to the heros' next couragous chapter in their quest, the previous boat exploded in a unexplained USS Maine-like manner, expect now there was no Spaniards to needlessly slaughter.
Yet.

A few minutes later, the ship slowed to anchor-drop in front of a dark trail.
"Final stop" Shouted the 'cap'n.'
"Wait! You said we'd be dropped off at Pelaneen! Not THE FOREST OF SLIGHT-DISCOMFORTS!" Shrieked Nersavious.
"Well, asswipe, what do you expect? We're f**king pirate zombies. Seriously. We ain't the most trustworthy type." The captain responded before kicking the posse off of the ship into the forest of slight-discomforts.
Apart from Ele. Who landed in the forest of hellish torture in a several-hundred-foot-deep punji pit coated in pig s**t.
"Oh my god! they killed Ele!"
"Those basta- Wait.. What did Ele even do, anyways?"
"Dunno"
The fearless heroes were able to stomach their nervousness, and stepped into the path of sticks arranged in such a matter that they would surely trip the venturer. With a pray and a curse, they stepped onto it for what most surely would be a somewhat inconvenient travel.

"The Forest of Slight Discomforts?" trembled Lokki. Well, not trembled, more shivered minutely. Trembling was reserved for places more akin to the nearby Forest of Hellish Torture. "I suppose I'm somewhat culpable for all of this, given that I sunk our vessel in the first place, so I'd suppose I had better apolog-oof!"

"Apologoof?" questioned Ahndrew, "What the hell's an apolog-argh!"

"The Apollo Jar?" misinterpreted Nersavius, "'Tis astounding that mere humans should even know of the Apollo Jar, but why are you bringing it up n-oops!"

Wednesday, who had been held up by some brambles that chose to inopportunately tangle themselves in his robes, caught up with the group to find them all lying atop one another.

"Eh? What's all this nonsense?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"I tripped over a branch," replied Lokki in the muffled fashion of a man with two others laying atop him, "and they all tripped over me."

"Oh."

Momentarily, the heroes-to-be were back on their collective feet. However, the noise had attracted the attention of the woods' mildly sinister inhabitants...

OOC: ...but what of the nature of these inhabitants? You decide! 😮

"How I hate this Path of Inappropriately Laid-About Twig-Sticks!" said the annoyed Nersavius, brushing himself off. "And the Forest of Slight-Discomforst makes it no better-"
"OMGWTF!" shouted a nearby voice, utterly cutting off Nersavius' complaints.
"What was that?" asked Wednesday.
The party was silent because they were out of chips and dip. But they also wanted to hear the source of the noise.
However, their motionless standing only brought about their downfall!
Strange creatures hopped from the trees, dancing about around the huddled heroes.
"What- What are those!?" shrieked Nersavius in question.
"WE, FOOLISH HUMANS, ARE FURRIES!" a thing announced loudly.
"I'm an elf."
"I CARE NOT!" screamed one of the things.
The creatures, now numbered in two-dozen, looked like midget humans that crossed with random forest animals. Some were fox-humanoids and others were discolored and wore shoes and gloves. They were all freaks just the same.
"We are the MoFoers!" chanted the creatures. "We are the MoFoers!"

WHAT WOULD OUR HEROES DO!?

Lokki watched the newcomers for a few moments, then stepped forward dramatically. "Fear not, for I shall deal with these bizarre creatures!"

Reaching for his scabbard, he drew thin air and waved it menacingly for several seconds before remembering that his weapon had been destroyed in the conflict with the zombies. Raising his hands in an arcane gesture, he immediately let them fall limp again when he recalled that he had forgotten all of his spells. As a last resort, he placed one foot back and swiftly extended his arm - palm facing outwards and fingers outstretched - in an attempt to knock the creatures down with a blast of air. The best he managed was a cool breeze.

"Yes!" he affirmed, "I shall deal with them... diplomatically! Praytell, my good abominations, what is it you want from us humble travellers?"