YArpg- Human Male Swordsman
From Create Your Own Story
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Since that day, your father has been teaching you how to fight, for it was then that he realised what a cruel and unforgiving world it was that he intended to send you off into. It seemed he did not want you to meet the same fate. He has told you more than once that your shoulder-length brown hair and pale green eyes remind him of your late mother. | Since that day, your father has been teaching you how to fight, for it was then that he realised what a cruel and unforgiving world it was that he intended to send you off into. It seemed he did not want you to meet the same fate. He has told you more than once that your shoulder-length brown hair and pale green eyes remind him of your late mother. | ||
| - | Such training has made you somewhat muscular, and you are a little taller than the average sixteen year old. You are not intimidating, though, and generally fit in with other boys your age physically. | + | Such training has made you somewhat muscular, and you are a little taller than the average sixteen year old. You are not at all intimidating, though, and generally fit in with other boys your age physically. Not that you need to. Besides the resident druidess who rarely offers words beyond polite acknowledgements, you and your father are alone out here. |
Your family heirloom, a supposedly enchanted steel helmet worn by your mother's ancestors in battle, has been stolen in the middle of the night. Your ageing father suffers from severe knee pains and cannot travel beyond your isolated cottage without significant assistance. It is up to you to reclaim the heirloom. | Your family heirloom, a supposedly enchanted steel helmet worn by your mother's ancestors in battle, has been stolen in the middle of the night. Your ageing father suffers from severe knee pains and cannot travel beyond your isolated cottage without significant assistance. It is up to you to reclaim the heirloom. | ||
Current revision as of 11:12, 14 July 2017
You were only nine years old when Death took your mother from you.
Since that day, your father has been teaching you how to fight, for it was then that he realised what a cruel and unforgiving world it was that he intended to send you off into. It seemed he did not want you to meet the same fate. He has told you more than once that your shoulder-length brown hair and pale green eyes remind him of your late mother.
Such training has made you somewhat muscular, and you are a little taller than the average sixteen year old. You are not at all intimidating, though, and generally fit in with other boys your age physically. Not that you need to. Besides the resident druidess who rarely offers words beyond polite acknowledgements, you and your father are alone out here.
Your family heirloom, a supposedly enchanted steel helmet worn by your mother's ancestors in battle, has been stolen in the middle of the night. Your ageing father suffers from severe knee pains and cannot travel beyond your isolated cottage without significant assistance. It is up to you to reclaim the heirloom.
You are just outside your cottage. It has been snowing recently and a single set of tracks leads away from the entrance. The door has been taken off its hinges and lies several feet away.
Do you:
