Choice A



 Storm Storm Storm

        Griffith the Brute walks away in shame, and orders more beer until he is so drunk he stumbles and gores himself on his own broadsword.
        "Let's go", exclaims Reizil! You and Reizil mosey over to the blacksmith to equip yourselves.
        "Because you're an acrobat  I plan to go to Corey the Baron's castle. He has the largest hoared of gold in all the land besides the great dragon to the south. You decide to do a practice round on the blacksmith.
        "Howdy", you say to the black smith. He looks up from his work and starts babbling about current news. Meanwhile Reizil aerial flips over the counter and steals all his gear with out a sound. He sneaks up behind the black smith and guts him. You and Reizil turn around with your new equipment and walk out towards the the old road through the abandoned forest.
        "We'll do just fine you," say to Reizil. He hands you a bag of gold he stole from the blacksmith as well. You and Reizil move on into the night. Suddenly a storm hits and you are down pored with rain. The only light comes from the frequent lightning bolts.
        "Some dark work is afoot," says Reizil. Suddenly you here a rustle in the woods. Instantly you have your bow ready while Reizil pulls out his dagger and back flips up into a tree. You take in all the sounds looking for an assailant. Suddenly a shadowy figure pops out of the forest! You shoot your arrow and here a clang. A whooshing sound passes near you as the arrow ricochets. A little ugly hermit with a big nose steps out of the thicket.
        "I'm Chadbal the pot maker, would you like to buy a pot?"
        "Um, no thanks ," you reply. You turn your back the the hermit and start walking. Reizil falls out of the tree and starts walking with you. Suddenly the hermit is in front of you again.
        "Would you like to buy a pot?" he  says again.
        "Um, no thanks," you say again a little aggravated
        "How about now?"
        "No."
        "Now?"
        "No"
        "Now?"
That's it. That's the last straw. You whisper to Reizil; "On the count of three we...

A buy a pot."
B kill him."


Hosted by www.Geocities.ws

1