PeteWi the Disoriented
I must admit, I question the concept of owning and training a dragon. On the one hand, it seems quite fulfilling; having a companion that can smite enemies from above and swoop down with vicious intent. However, what if said dragon decides to bite the hand that feeds it? Is there still a hand? To that end, what do dragons eat? From my encounters, their diet seems to consist of Outlanders. Further, where does one take a dragon in order for it to handle it’s privy duties in private?
That aside, I met up with Alley to take her pet dragon out for a stroll in Nightshade Pass. The majestic creature needed to spread it wings and take a refreshing bathe in the accompanying pond.
The jocular times were interrupted by that troublesome troll that lives by the bridge. It seems dragons do not take kindly to disturbances to bath time and the troll was turned into a smelly, grumbling plaything.
Standing to the side, I watched in both horror and amusement as Alley’s dragon rained down some fiery vengeance. The fire blast to the eyes was horrific to witness but satisfying to behold.
No, we shant interfere. The troll brought this upon himself. Bath time is sacred for all of us and he must learn his lesson.
I’m not sure what we are witnessing. I believe that is the golden spotlight of devastation.
Desperate times indeed. The troll is winding up to throw a haymaker. Wait, my mistake, he’s trying to hit one dragon with two large stones.
More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia
- This trolling must cease and desist
- Revenge is a dish best served cold, unlike champagne, which should be served piping hot!
- Attack of the Fire Harpy and the Shiving of the Troll
- Behold the Power and Might of the Fire Chicken!
- Nothing good comes from the limitless Rise
- By the stinking of this dung, something wicked this way comes
- The Mighty Cloak of Yellowness Returns!
- Xavara, I have you now
- Into the Dragon’s Den – by mistake
- I can’t be held responsible
After my glorious victory in the epic battle against Xavara the File Pillar, I returned to Desolis to claim my reward. While allowing the citizenry to congratulate me on ridding them of such a menace, I was approached by one of the local officials to inquite if I might be lend my assistance in another matter.
These Desolis folks take their desert quite seriously and a band of roughs known and the Atavists have been roaming the dunes, leaping out from behind rocks and stabbing unsuspecting travelers with pitchforks. Since Xavara had fallen at the hands of my sword, perhaps I could point it toward these unsavory types?
With my new found fiery companion, I marched straight out into the desert and demanded satisfaction for the ill the Atavists had wrought.
My reply came in the form of a pitchfork to the backside, an act I did not take kindly to. As we all know, plate armor defeats cotton and flaming sword defeats pitchfork. My retaliation was quick, deliberate and riddled with fire. The pitchforks were broken, the citizens punished for their treachery and the roasted pig stolen.
Then matters escalated. Seeing my ill treatment of his followers, the pointy hat wearing big boss made his presence known with an all consuming ring of fire. Little did he know that my daily regimen consists of setting my own self on fire.
It should be noted that those who play with fire should not wear cotton robes. This, along with a flaming sword to the kidney, was the ultimate undoing of the Luminous Atavist. After frisking his smoldering remains for trinkets, I yet again returned to Desolis to regale all those who wished to listen and many who didn’t, of my great exploits and how they were now safe to roam the desert wastelands as they see fit.
Now see here. If you’re about to launch a series of fireballs at my person, I give you fair warning, I shant take kindly to such actions and will be forced to retaliate. This will end in one of us begging for mercy.
No mercy given! I’m just glad it was you asking. I had my doubts there for a few moments.
More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia
- Ashes to Ashes, Xavara to Dust and now I have my own Fire Elemental
- When a quiet lunch in the meadow turns into a fiery horror
- Completing the Grand Tour to get the Highwayman Hat in Shroud of the Avatar Release 21
- Xavara, I have you now
- Attack of the Fire Harpy and the Shiving of the Troll
- The Ruins of the Obsidian Order under the Epitaph in Desolis
- What did we come in here for again?
- I’m not a bore, I went boar hunting. Big difference
- Hello Tour Guide… We Meet Again
- Hello Fire Chicken, We Meet Again
Come Windy. If we are to face the hazards of the purveyors of evil and rapscallions of ill repute, we must fortify ourselves in mind and body. Since the mind portion is most likely a lost cause at this juncture, at least we can prepare the body.
More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia
- There’s always something nefarious in the swamp
- Hello Cultist Chaps
- Is there no end to this blight?
- A cold, bleak, dark winter ahead
- Getting the mushroom bruise
- Show me your booty!!
- Time to work on my cardio
- PeteWi 1, Xavara 362
- This trolling must cease and desist
- Woody and I get in over our heads in Deep Ravenswood
More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia
- Alley Oop shows perfection and mastery with Blades
- How to train your dragon with Alley Oop
- Alley Oop is the first to herald the Return of the Avatar!
- Alley Oop opens The Spiral Hedge Restaurant in HighIron
- The Badass Clock Tower of Stinging Tree Hollow compliments of Alley Oop
- Alley Oop takes me on a guided tour of New Britannia – Hidden chests, Haunted Chapels and let’s not forget the helm
- Alley Oop kills a man in the street just to watch him die. But he really did deserve it.
- I make Copper Armor, there is some Hot Tub diving, I get stuck in a tree and Alley Oop turns 60
- Alley once caught a fish…. this…. big….
- Alley builds the stairway to heaven
Let us just move past all the broken bones and carnage strewn across the mountain side, as well as the multitude of failed attempts that lead to extended convalescence under the care of a local healer; slipping between the borders of madness and sobriety. Let us also look past the poor weapon and armor choices, inappropriate skill management and miscalculations with the business end of a sword.
Instead, it is time to bask in the glorious defeat of that fiery harpy known as Xavara. It may have only happened once, but it counts, and I’m accepting the reward.
Yes my little mud buddy, I know you did most of the work with your mighty ground pulverizing punches. I also agree that things would have gone more smoothly had I not fallen headlong into the sulphur plumes on those first few attempts. In my defense, it was dark. But in the end I did offer up a few critical strikes and managed not to fall off the cliff, so double victory in my book.
I would regale you with more riveting details of the epic struggle, but I’m quite sure I need to visit a healer as that last crushing body slam has take a debilitating toll on my person and I’ve lost all feeling in my body.
More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia
- Xavara, I have you now
- A bridge too far. A troll too big. A Kilt of no return – Trolls in Shroud of the Avatar Release 20
- The Legend of The Pickled Spinster Inn – Part II
- Helpful pointers in the art and majesty of ranged combat
- Rehabilitating Thugs and Bandits through games of Skill and Chance
- Ashes to Ashes, Xavara to Dust and now I have my own Fire Elemental
- Fit in mind and body
- The Buried Treasure of Penmawr Island – Assembling Captain Kennet
- Wolves and Bears living together. Chaos in the streets!
- More exploration leads to finding Veimor in the Greymark Forest
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