TBTCH: Hero Cottonmouth
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| - | Golden | + | Golden fields stretch out as far as the eye can see. Afternoon sunlight warms your skin and gleams in your blond curls. Your blue eyes sparkle with mischievous energy. |
You smile. | You smile. | ||
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"But lo and behold, a new warrior steps onto the battlefield!" you say to no-one, swinging your wooden sword over your head dramatically. "It is young Captain Hero Cottonmouth and his legendary blade Dragonfall! The armies of Aestus have no chance against this mighty soldier!" You dance and swing, felling imaginary enemies with your equally imaginary magical sword. After a few minutes you fall into the grass, exhausted, your smooth skin moist with sweat. Playing with wooden swords is so underwhelming, why can't you have a real enemy to fight? | "But lo and behold, a new warrior steps onto the battlefield!" you say to no-one, swinging your wooden sword over your head dramatically. "It is young Captain Hero Cottonmouth and his legendary blade Dragonfall! The armies of Aestus have no chance against this mighty soldier!" You dance and swing, felling imaginary enemies with your equally imaginary magical sword. After a few minutes you fall into the grass, exhausted, your smooth skin moist with sweat. Playing with wooden swords is so underwhelming, why can't you have a real enemy to fight? | ||
| - | Xander | + | Xander, your brother, calls to you from a distance. "Hero, Mom says to stop messing around and get back to your chores! The cows won't milk themselves!" |
You roll your eyes, you've got bigger ambitions than the damn cows. Your brother never really understood your desire for adventure, always wanting to follow in his mother's steps to become a farmer. They aren't even your blood reletives, years ago your parents were killed in an accident and Mrs. Cottonmouth adopted and raised you since you were a baby. Now in your sixteenth year, your youth has made you yearn for a grander life of battle and heroics. | You roll your eyes, you've got bigger ambitions than the damn cows. Your brother never really understood your desire for adventure, always wanting to follow in his mother's steps to become a farmer. They aren't even your blood reletives, years ago your parents were killed in an accident and Mrs. Cottonmouth adopted and raised you since you were a baby. Now in your sixteenth year, your youth has made you yearn for a grander life of battle and heroics. | ||
| - | You gaze up at the sky, you should probably do your chores. Mom said that you'd probably get to bring the goods into the city when the Harvest Festival came around next week, but you have to be good. However you feel | + | You gaze up at the sky, you should probably do your chores. Mom said that you'd probably get to bring the goods into the city when the Harvest Festival came around next week, but you have to be good. However you feel antsy and consider skipping all of that and heading into town instead. |
*[[COTTONMOUTH: Be the loyal son and do your chores.]] | *[[COTTONMOUTH: Be the loyal son and do your chores.]] | ||
*[[COTTONMOUTH: What's a little slacking going to hurt? Skip chores and go into town.]] | *[[COTTONMOUTH: What's a little slacking going to hurt? Skip chores and go into town.]] | ||
[[Category: The Boy They Called Hero]][[Category: Hero Cottonmouth]] | [[Category: The Boy They Called Hero]][[Category: Hero Cottonmouth]] | ||
Current revision as of 16:38, 20 June 2011
Golden fields stretch out as far as the eye can see. Afternoon sunlight warms your skin and gleams in your blond curls. Your blue eyes sparkle with mischievous energy.
You smile.
"But lo and behold, a new warrior steps onto the battlefield!" you say to no-one, swinging your wooden sword over your head dramatically. "It is young Captain Hero Cottonmouth and his legendary blade Dragonfall! The armies of Aestus have no chance against this mighty soldier!" You dance and swing, felling imaginary enemies with your equally imaginary magical sword. After a few minutes you fall into the grass, exhausted, your smooth skin moist with sweat. Playing with wooden swords is so underwhelming, why can't you have a real enemy to fight?
Xander, your brother, calls to you from a distance. "Hero, Mom says to stop messing around and get back to your chores! The cows won't milk themselves!"
You roll your eyes, you've got bigger ambitions than the damn cows. Your brother never really understood your desire for adventure, always wanting to follow in his mother's steps to become a farmer. They aren't even your blood reletives, years ago your parents were killed in an accident and Mrs. Cottonmouth adopted and raised you since you were a baby. Now in your sixteenth year, your youth has made you yearn for a grander life of battle and heroics.
You gaze up at the sky, you should probably do your chores. Mom said that you'd probably get to bring the goods into the city when the Harvest Festival came around next week, but you have to be good. However you feel antsy and consider skipping all of that and heading into town instead.
