As I hoisted my looted shields and swords onto the crafting table, word reached me that Alley, Oba and Gravedancer were in the midst of a perilous undertaking and did I want to join in the antics. I was assured there was risk to life and limb, but the reward would be well worth it.

I questioned their use of the word "reward", but when I heard the target of their escapades, my mind was immediately made up to settle an old score. The object of their scorn? The fire chicken.

A previous quest had taken me deep into Wynton’s Folly, and while I escaped with the sought after treasure of a new hat, the experience was not a grand one.

I came face to face with the fire chicken, and although he blinked first, thusly giving me the victory in the staring contest, he took the loss quite poorly and chose to set me on alight as retribution. Clearly, not the first time I’ve been set ablaze by a ne’er-do-well, but it was the first time at the hands of poultry. Not a shining moment for me. And that bird is a master of fire lighting.

However, retribution was at hand. I may have been late to the party, having to make a slight detour to Desolis, but I arrived in time to leap into the action. And leap I did.

The meat and feathers were flying that night, and although the fire chicken lashed out in all directions, the power of the bow and the might of the steel was ultimately triumphant. I have to admit, I was lulled into a false sense of security as fire chicken threw himself to the ground and pretended to be defeated. As I went in for the drumstick, he rose up and attempted to incinerate me again.

I say attempted, it was quite the success. I took the brunt of his fury and soon my vision was shrouded in flames. It was all part of my plan to stumble on a rock and roll in the dirt to quench the burning. It would have been better had I not left my douse scroll at home, but my quick thinking saved the day.

From there, it was back into the fray with a barrage of attacks. Gravedancer and Jobe unleashed a savage assault of ranged attacks that cut the fiery beast to the quick. Alley and I swing like the dickens, hacking at those gnarled feet of his.

In the end, the miserable sod lay in a heap at our feet, the smell of roasting chicken filling the air. I wanted to show him what-for and was ready to feast on the leg when I was told to stop wasting time, grab the feathers and get back to Desolis. I replied that it was terrible to waste such a delicious smelling feast, but once I retrieved my feathers, my dining hopes were dashed as the brute turned to ashes and dust.

It was a good night. I had gotten my revenge and returned the handful of feathers for a fine reward. I feel rather slighted over not getting the drumstick, but we must take the good with the bad.


You’re all doing a wonderful job! I’m quite certain that colossal ball of fire will be the end of him. I will stand here and continue to give you updates!


Face down in the dirt as it should be. Now, let me get the appropriate utensil and drumsticks all round I think.

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

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