The Department of Adventuring

You were born under the promise of a great inheritance. Your grandfather, the eccentric old baron, had locked himself in his manor after an eye-opening trip to the Abyssal Realm. He stayed in the old manor for decades, isolated from the family he had attempted to (link-reveal: "raise.")[ (You must understand that ol' Great Grandfather Wilhelm had never put effort into anything else before. When he ordered his servants to change those diapers, it took every ounce of power in his body. It was the first time since childhood that he even cared enough to use his vocal cords.)] All three of his sons were killed; Bartholomew by troll, Wilhelm II by (link-reveal: "heartbreak")[ (When he learned his name wasn't actually "Willy", and that he was in fact named after his lazy old father, well his heart just couldn't take it!)], and your father, the aspiring adventurer, was killed on his first quest as he attempted to (link-reveal: "slay 30 feral geese in Woodsboro")[ (The poor fool tried to take them all on at once.)]. [[Next-> Intro 2]]

So that leaves you. The only heir to the Ruthburt estate. For years, you lived in a rundown shack in (link-reveal: "Mudsville")[ (Who came up with that name? Were they just //begging// for a shitty town?)], subsisting off of only cheap dried grains and the eggs of a malnurtured chicken named Great Samuel the Third. Until one day, you received a [[letter]].

The letter is printed through machines, not written by quill. You haven't seen this method of scripture before, and it's quite fascinating how clean and (most importantly) official it seems. "Dear, child of the son of Wilhelm Ruthburt We regret to inform you that your grandfather has passed away. You will be receiving his inheritance shortly. This is an automated letter from the Department of Noble Inheritance. If you are unsatisfied with the quality of your letter, please write us back at-" The rest of the letter is far too smudged to read. You figure that's intentional. Your heart is pounding with joy. How will you celebrate? [[Sing halfling folk songs and dance around in your hut.]] [[Pay your respects to your poor grandfather.]] [[Kill Great Samuel the Third, for you won't be needing his eggs any longer.]]

Frightening your faithful chicken as you spring from your chair, you begin to sing an ancient Halfling folk song: "Hey, hey, hey, a million gold coins for me! My grandfather died, I'm as happy as can be!" Such an oddly specific and applicable folk song. A [[letter->another letter]] slides under your door. Probably a noise complaint.

You sit in silence, wishing to pay your respects. And then you think about how much bloody cash he had on him! That old dirtbag was loaded, and you're getting it all! You start laughing and clapping, you lift up Great Samuel the Third and kiss him on his (link-reveal:"beak")[ (he bites you in response, but you can't feel the pain; you're just too happy that your grandfather is dead!)]. The Gods see that you're in such a great mood, so they slide [[another letter]] under your door.

What an absolutely gruesome decision you've made! You're one sick puppy, you know that? To kill Great Samuel the Third, after all he's done for you, absolutely shameful! I hope you feel bad! I hope you feel very bad about yourself! As punishment for your sadistic tendencies, [[another letter]] slides under your door.

You pick up the letter and begin to read. Another (link-reveal:"machine-printed letter")[ (How expensive!)]. "Dear child of the son of Wilhelm Ruthburt We regret to inform you that the entire shipment of gold has been compromised by a raving group of geese-riding goblins in Woodsboro. As of now, we have no plans to retrieve the shipment. This is an automated letter from the Department of Noble Inheritance. If you are unsatisfied with the quality of your letter, please write us back at-" The end is smudged again. They aren't even //trying// to be subtle about it. You curse these damn geese. First, they took your father. Then they take your gold. What shall you do about this injustice? [[Begin an epic quest to retrieve your inheritance from these maniacal geese]] [[Go back to making dinner and forget this ever happened]]

Right, fantastic. Where will you begin? [[Look through your father's old belongings]] [[Go to the local Adventurer's shop to buy equipment]]

As you attempt to convince Great Daniel the Third that he's capable of laying another egg, you realize that there's more to life than material things, and you're just happy enough with your quaint little shack in Mudsville and your faithful, friendly chicken. [[The End->Fake end 1]]

Just kidding. This sucks. You want your money. [[Begin an epic quest to retrieve your inheritance from these maniacal geese]] [[No, I'm serious. I don't need the gold. I'm happy.-> Real fake end 1]]

Fine, have it your way. (text-style:"bold")+(text-size:2)+(align:"==>")+(box:"X=")[The End]

Digging through the old pile of junk out back, you happen to find a nice (link-reveal:"silver")[ (though "silver" is a technicality at this point, with all the rust and whatnot)] shield and shortsword. You also find an old, dirty loaf of bread. Do you take it? [[Why not? It may still be good.]] [[No, what?]]

Look, did we not just spend this whole first section establishing the fact that you are completely broke? You are down and out. Poverty-stricken. Badly off. Financially subpar. Fiscally deficient. You have no gold. Please be more realistic next time. [[Fine. I'll just look through my father's stuff. ->Look through your father's old belongings]]

You wipe the dirt off of the bread, and take a little nibble to make sure it's not stale. You feel one of your back teeth crack. Father's recipe. It's still as good as new! You place the bread in your bag. Hopefully you'll find some butter or marmalade somewhere on your quest, because it is quite dry. Feeling well equipped, you leave out some fresh dirt for Great Daniel the Third to eat while you're gone, lock the door to your shack, and exit the village to [[properly begin your quest]].

That sounds rather reasonable. You toss the old bread aside and go back inside your shack to grab some (link-reveal: "fresher food")[ (not by much, but at least there's no dirt on this stuff)]. Feeling well equipped, you leave out some fresh dirt for Great Daniel the Third to eat while you're gone, lock the door to your shack, and exit the village to [[properly begin your quest]].

As you start to head towards Woodsboro, you stop in your tracks as you hear the voice of your father. "Now, you must remember my child, that if you're ever to become a great adventurer like me, you can't just walk out and start slaying geese without any permits! There is an important first step that every adventurer must take. A rite of passage for all legendary heroes. [[You must first pass through...]]"

(text-style:"bold")+(text-size:2)+(align:"==>")+(box:"X=")[The Department of Adventuring] (text-style:"bold")+(text-size:1.5)+(align:"==>")+(box:"X=")[A painfully bureaucratic fantasy tale] (text-style:"bold","fidget")+(text-size:1)+(align:"==>")+(box:"X=")[[Approach the Department]]

You approach the unassuming doors of the Mudsville entrance of the Department, a musty old outhouse with a polished gold plaque labelling the door. You're no architect, but you're pretty sure you can't fit an entire Department of Adventuring inside just one little outhouse. You ask yourself, //how could this Department have been constructed?// [[They could have built it underground...]] [[Maybe its an interconnected web of outhouses sealed together through magic...]] [[I didn't think that, I just opened the bloody door.]]

Oh, excellent point... Well, if there's stairs or an (link-reveal: "elevator")[ (that's a thing that can lift people up or down through advanced mechanics, if you're not aware)], then we'll know if you're correct. Let's test it out, shall we? [[Enter through the door -> Entrance 1]]

Ah! An interesting hypothesis. So what you're saying is that the Department might be made of many outhouses that, while incredibly distant from each other on the outside, is connected through magical means in a way where they all come together to form one large building? Like this, right? <img src="https://croygmu.neocities.org/image0.jpg" width="400" height="220"> [[Yes, that's exactly what I mean!]] [[No, no, you don't get it at all!]]

Ah! A real go-getter, aren't we? You open the creaky wooden door and look inside to [[see-> Entrance 3]]

With no sort of expectations or preconceived notions of the Department's architecture, you walk in and are greeted by a beautiful, grandiose room. The Department boasts a beautiful (link-reveal: "marble floor")[ which upon further inspection, seems to contain a full map of the known world, including Mudsville, who's location is wonderfully represent by an old piece of gum on its exact coordinates], and (link-reveal: "the single largest, most open room you've ever seen in your life.")[ It's much more than one outhouse large, at least. Maybe 20 or 30 outhouses, if they're all the same size as the one you just entered from.] Whether or not this is surprising or impressive is up to you. You really didn't give me much to work with. [[Walk up to the receptionist]]

Fantastic? Well, how about we test out our hypothesis and [[enter the door-> Entrance 2]]

Really? I didn't? Well, please explain to me! No need to type, or click options, just say it out loud so I can listen. [[But you wouldn't be able to hear me.]] [[Okay, I explained it.]]

Upon opening the door, you realize that you might have actually been correct! The Department boasts a beautiful (link-reveal: "marble floor")[ which upon further inspection, seems to contain a full map of the known world, including Mudsville, who's location is wonderfully represent by an old piece of gum on its exact coordinates], and (link-reveal: "the single largest, most open room you've ever seen in your life.")[ It's much more than one outhouse large, at least. Maybe 20 or 30 outhouses, if they're all the same size as the one you just entered from.] [[Walk up to the receptionist]]

No, not at all! I promise I can hear you! [[It's kind of creepy that you were listening the whole time and didn't tell me, but I explained it all to you. Let's open the door now. -> Entrance 2]]

Fantastic! I understand everything about your theory now. How about we test out our hypothesis and [[enter the door-> Entrance 2]]

The bad news is that upon opening the door, you seem to have been completely incorrect about your hypothesis. The good news is that the entrance to this Department is one of the most wondrous sights you've ever seen. The Department boasts a beautiful (link-reveal: "marble floor")[ which upon further inspection, seems to contain a full map of the known world, including Mudsville, who's location is wonderfully represent by an old piece of gum on its exact coordinates], and the single largest, most open room you've ever seen in your life. [[Walk up to the receptionist]]

You approach the receptionist at the front desk, a small old goblin woman with braided gray hair and a tired look on her face. "Welcome to the Department of Adventuring", she says with an (link-reveal: "unenthusiatic tone") [, which is so unenthusiastic that you're convinced she has genuine enthusiasm for sounding as bored as possible], "how may I help thee?" How will you approach this conversation? [[The Bureaucratic Method]] [[The Up-Front Method]]

"Good evening, madame! I would like to request a temporary Guild membership in order to obtain a Vengeance Quest Permit." You feel a metaphorical stick begin to enter your hindquarters as you attempt to speak with proper bureaucratic sophistication. She seems pleasantly surprised, in the same way a dwarf looks at you when you make a poor yet valiant attempt to speak their language. "You'll want to speak to our Vengeance Quest Specialist Sir Archington for a permit. He's in office 37B," she replies. [[Ask for directions]] [[Try to figure it out yourself -> To the Office]]

"A bunch of goblin-riding geese stole my inheritance in Woodsboro and I want to get it back." She sighs. "Hold on. Let me send for help." She writes a quick note in a piece of paper, and folds it into an origami bird. The bird begins to fly off into a small circular pipe on the back wall. [[Wait]]

"Oh, yes. Take the door to the left, and then take two rights, and then a left." You thank her, and [[head on your way-> To the Office]].

You wait. It's kind of awkward, especially since your conversation was so distinctly un-polite. [[Apologize for your rudeness]] [[Tap your feet and whistle to make it seem less awkward]]

You apologize, and she faintly smiles. "Oh, don't worry about it. At least you're not one of those barbarian types. Big ol' beefcakes come in, can't even form a proper sentence. Just 'ME WANT GOLD', or 'GIVE QUEST'. One time some big lizard guy came in, and just plopped a troll head right on the table, thought I'd just throw some gold at him and call it a day!" You both have a good laugh. [[Keep waiting-> Polite Keep Waiting]]

Did you really think that would make it less awkward? Really? Well, it certainly did not. "Please stop that," she says. You stop that. [[Keep waiting-> Rude keep waiting]]

You wait for another agonizing minute, and suddenly a paper bird flies back out of the pipe and into the woman's hands. "Sir Archington, Office 37B," she says. It's probably best that you don't ask any more of her. She seems pretty pissed. [[Try to figure it out yourself -> To the Office]]

You wait for another minute, and suddenly a paper bird flies back out of the pipe and into the woman's hands. "Oh, right, Sir Archington in Office 37B! You'll want to go take the door to the left, and then take two rights and then a left."

The door to the left is labelled "Offices and Conference Rooms" The door to the right is labelled "Planar transportations" This seems like a pretty easy one. [[The left door]] [[The right door]]

You enter the left door, and are greeted with a long, thin corridor of identical doors, and a ceiling that's just a little bit too high. The office isn't in this hall, so you walk to the end of the corridor. There is a branching path, two right angles to identical hallways. Which way do you turn? [[Left-> Hallway left 1]] [[Right-> Hallway Right 1]]

Okay, when the lady said "the right door", she did not mean "right" as in "correct", she meant the //direction//. Like, the door to your left. [[Oh. Sorry. I'll go back to the left door. -> The left door after you mess up]] [[Ooh, "doorway to the astral plane"? That sounds fun!]]

Distracted and entranced by this plaque, you [[enter the door to the astral plane]]. [[No I don't. This sounds like a bad idea, and I'd like to go back to the correct door. -> The left door after you mess up]]

Yes, there we go! That's the (link-reveal: "right door!")[Right door as in the //correct door// this time, not the direction. The right door is not the right door. Got it? Good.] You enter the (link-reveal: "left door")[ (the right one)], and are greeted with a long, thin corridor of identical doors, and a ceiling that's just a little bit too high. The office isn't in this hall, so you walk to the end of the corridor. There is a branching path, two right angles to identical hallways. Which way do you turn? [[Left-> Hallway left 1]] [[Right-> Hallway Right 1]]

Entering the door, you are jettisoned into an endless starry sky. You can see the stone walls of the (link-reveal: "Department of Adventuring floating through the astral plane")[ (Oh, so that's how they did it!)] Small, polychromic creatures swim through the sparkling black sea. You see spectacles of lights containing colors you've never seen before. You float through this wondrous world for months, and never once does it become anything less than an eye-opening, invigorating domain. [[Until the space-worm swallows you, that is.]]

Hey, it's a choose-your-own-adventure! There had to be at least //one// death ending. (text-style:"bold")+(text-size:2)+(align:"==>")+(box:"X=")[The End]

I just told you it's an identical hallway. You remember what that hallway looked like, right? Good. Which way do you turn this time? [[Left-> Hallway left 2]] [[Right-> Hallway right 2]]

I just told you it's an identical hallway. You remember what that hallway looked like, right? Good. Which way do you turn this time? [[Left-> Hallway left 3]] [[Right-> Hallway right 3]]

Again, identical. [[Left -> Hallway left 4]] [[Right -> Hallway right 4]]

Again, identical. [[Left -> Hallway left 5]] [[Right -> Hallway right 5]]

Again, identical. [[Left -> Hallway left 6]] [[Right -> Hallway right 6]]

Again, identical. [[Left -> THE CORRECT PATH!]] [[Right -> Hallway left 4]]

As you turn into this corridor, the disorienting length makes you stumble backwards, dizzy. You squint until your eyes are basically shut, and you still can't make out an end. [[Walk down it anyways-> sleepy corridor]]

You walk down the corridor until you reach a dead end. Well look what we have here, it's Office 37A! That's the right one, isn't it? [[Yes, that's correct.]] [[No, that's the left one.]] [[That doesn't seem correct. Let's retrace our steps and start at the beginning ->Retrace to the left door]]

As you progress through the tunnel, you feel something strange begin to happen. (link-reveal: "Keep walking...")[ With every step, you feel your body start to lose energy. (link-reveal: "Keep walking...")[ You begin to slouch. The room is becoming darker. [[Fall asleep.]]]]

You reach the end of this corridor and find a map nailed to the wall, with every office listed. Why the hell is it all the way back here? [[Locate Office 37A-> Hallway right 4]] [[Locate Office 37B]]

There's a door at the end of the corridor with a plaque labeled "Exit to Mudsville", and a (link-reveal: "piece of parchment nailed to the door under it") [ (it reads: "Please relocate this door to the proper facilities in the Transportation Halls - Thank you.")]. [[I think we should retrace our steps and start at the beginning ->Retrace to the left door]] [[Screw it. Let's just go home.]]

Double-click this passage to edit it.

For the third time, it's an identical ha- ''THERE IT IS!'' Oh, I thought you'd never make it! Here it is, Office 37B. The plaque is just as plain copper as the rest of them, but to you, it's a shining beacon. (link-reveal: "Those geese are //done for//.")[ Oh, yeah, the goblins. They're in some hot water too, aren't they?] [[Enter the office]]

You enter the doors to Sir Archingtons office to find... another waiting room. On the right is the door to Sir Archington's //actual// office. On the left is a small waiting area with two rows of chairs.. An ogre sits in two chairs at once in the front, and the back row is empty. In front of you, a large, hairy creature sits behind a desk. Must be the clerk. [[Approach the clerk]]

You wake up in an unfamiliar bed...an uncomfortable one, straw mattress, a wooden slab for a frame...cold, stone walls...metal bars... ''Wait a bloody second, this is a prison!'' [[What the hell!?]]

As you shout, an armored (link-reveal: "Dwarven man")[ (he's so short and so bearded that a lowercase "d" just didn't feel right)] comes to the cell and greets you. He explains that you were arrested for loitering on Department property, and were thus sentenced to 3 weeks internment. [["Wait, the geese migrate in 3 weeks!"]]

"Oh, you some sort of geese hunter? Real sorry 'bout that, kid. I don't make the laws, I just enforce 'em." (text-style:"bold")+(text-size:2)+(align:"==>")+(box:"X=")[The End]

You walk into a small room with a desk to scale, and (link-reveal: "the most typical, wizard-y wizard you have ever seen")[ (y'know, pointy hat, wispy beard, robes with a star pattern, all that)], crouched over a few papers sitting on a short, tiny chair. He looks up at you. "They accidentally gave me a halfling sized office," he explains with a smile that conveys nothing but poorly-concealed discomfort. "How may I help you?" [["Are you Sir Archington?"]]

Cheeky. [[<- -> Hallway right 4]]

He sighs. "No, I'm Dr. Astraeus. Sir Archington is in 37//B//, not A. You should take two rights and then a left to get to his office. Have a good day." He raises his left hand and snaps his fingers, and suddenly you find yourself back at the beginning of the corridors. [[Continue your search]]

//Wait, why couldn't he have just snapped me into Sir Archington's office?// you ask yourself. The answer is probably that he's an asshole. Well, let's get on our way then. [[Left-> Hallway left 1]] [[Right-> Hallway Right 1]]

Ah, here it is. Office 37B. Shall we? [[Enter the office]]

After a long walk, you find yourself back at the beginning. Let's try this again. [[Left-> Hallway left 1]] [[Right-> Hallway Right 1]]

You exit through (link-reveal: "the same outhouse door you came in through")[ (some strange geometry going on there)], and after a short walk through the village, you find yourself back home. You hope that another old rich relative will die and get you out of Mudsville. (text-style:"bold")+(text-size:2)+(align:"==>")+(box:"X=")[The End]

"How can I help you today?" The hairy creature speaks in a deep, growling voice. "I was sent here by the front desk. I'd like to apply for a vengeance quest." "Yes, yes. Welcome to the club." [["Is this a popular side of the Department?"]]

"Oh, more than you could ever imagine," the creature sighs, and an unfathomable amount of hair falls from their face. "Everyone's got a good old Vengeance Backstory nowadays. Y'know, the old 'crime boss fallen from grace by betrayal', or 'nobleman whose family was murdered by a cult', or 'a dragon burned down my village.'" "Those sound like very, very specific and rare occurrences," you reply. "You'd damn well think so, wouldn't ya!?" the creature raises their arms, sending more hair flying upwards, sticking to the walls and drifting down in the air. You hold in a sneeze and some tickles your nostrils. "So what's your story, anyway?" [["A...um...a bunch of geese-riding goblins took my inheritance."]] [["It's...it's a long story...]]

It's only now that you realize how pathetic this sounds. "Never heard that one before. Anyway, you're number 29 on the list. Have a good day." They hold out a small slip of paper, covered in hair. You take it from their hand. It has your number on it, as a reminder. Now, where will you wait? [[Sit next to the ogre]] [[Sit by yourself]]

"Oh, you're one of those mysterious types, aren't you? Whatever it is, I'm sure it's very tragic and intriguing. Anyway, you're number 29 on the list. Have a good day." They hold out a small slip of paper, covered in hair. You take it from their hand. It has your number on it, as a reminder. Now, where will you wait? [[Sit next to the ogre]] [[Sit by yourself]]

You take a seat next to him and- Oh lord, this ogre //reeks//. It's an awful smell, a mix of raw sewage, spoiled eggs, sweat, and a faint hint of (link-reveal: "lavender.")[ Somehow, the lavender makes the whole thing much, much worse. This phenomenon, known as the "air freshener paradox" has been studied extensively by researchers, yet no conclusions have been reached.] You're not sure how much longer you can hold out. [[Keep waiting without saying anything]] [[Make conversation with the ogre]] [[Tell the ogre that he smells awful]]

You find a seat in the back corner of the waiting area, all by yourself. There are a few books lying on a small wooden table to your right. [[Look at the books]] [[No thanks. My thoughts will keep me entertained.]]

While two of the books are mangled beyond repair, two of them look like they should be somewhat readable. //[[The 1297 Adventurer's Almanac]]// //[[A Goblin Summer Romance]]//

Sure thing. Just go ahead and pass up the opportunity for free entertainment. You start (link-reveal: "thinking.")[ What, did you think I would narrate your thoughts for you? I don't know what you're thinking, and it's certainly not my job to (link-reveal: "think for you!")[ Well, sometimes it kind of is, but not like this!]] [[Keep thinking while you wait for your number]]

Are you entertained? (set: $counter to 30) You wait for |amount>[$counter] more seconds. (live: 1s)[ (set: $counter to it - 1) (if: $counter is 0)[(go-to: "Keep waiting")] (replace: ?amount)[$counter] ]

The hairy clerk calls for number 28. [[Hey, that's my number! -> ogre kill you]] [[Keep waiting -> waiting 2]]

The ogre gets up and enters the door. You see that the legs of the two chairs he sat on are slightly bent. I hope those thoughts are still entertaining you. [[Keep waiting -> waiting 3]]

You stand up and quickly walk towards the office. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the ogre stand as well. "Hey, no cutting!" he shouts in a deep, clunky voice. You feel his fist come down on your skull, and everything (link-reveal: "fades to black.")[ Sorry, mate. Should've remembered the right number. (text-style:"bold")+(text-size:2)+(align:"==>")+(box:"X=")[The End]]

I really, really hope those thoughts are entertaining. (set: $counter to 30) You wait for |amount>[$counter] more seconds. (live: 1s)[ (set: $counter to it - 1) (if: $counter is 0)[(go-to: "29 is called")] (replace: ?amount)[$counter] ]

"Number 29!" the hairy clerk shouts from their desk. Finally! With every step you take towards the office door, you feel closer to your gold. [[Open the office door]]

You flip to a random page in //The 1297 Adventurer's Almanac//. "The Department of Adventuring is expected to declare open season on all magical creatures in the Othellian Lakes area this year after a 1296 census predicted a 200% population increase in the area. The report suspected that a Grimefoot's Potion Company brewery is the culprit of this unprecedented population increase, as after the 1295 Love Potion Criminalization Act was passed, nearly 300 tons of love potions were dumped in 7 of the 9 lakes. The Othellian Lakes Park Agency claims that its rangers will be able to control the population of most other creatures surrounding the lake, but due to the unique features and strength of the griffin, Department of Adventuring assistance may be required. If you and your adventuring party don't have the equipment to hunt down flying creatures, now would be the time to invest!" The hairy clerk calls for number 28 [[Flip to another random page]] [[Hey, that's my number! -> ogre kill you]]

You pick up //A Goblin Summer Romance// and flip to a random page. "The muddy clumps of Smelliana’s hair seemed to float in the wind. She grabbed the arm of the courageous knight and held it to her chest. 'You mustn’t leave, Norr’man!' she exclaimed. 'Today is the day, my darling. I must go fight the G’narblin,' said Norr’man. 'No! Why must you go?' the tears picked up dirt, turning brown as they traveled down her cheek. 'So that our children may feast on bean sprouts with freedom and liberty, my dear. I am protecting us, and doing the goblins good! I’m doing it for us,' his voice was calm and rational, but his urine-yellow eyes spoke tales of incoming despair." You feel as if the goblin representation in this book is somewhat outdated. The hairy clerk calls for number 28. [[Flip to the next page]] [[Hey, that's my number! -> ogre kill you]]

As the ogre stands up and heads towards the door, you decide to continue reading. 'B-but what about Snorpo?' her fist clenched, but she dared not raise it at her lover. 'Snorpo needs you! He must have a father.' Norr’man looked his lover in the eyes. 'I promise to be safe, my dear,' he said solemnly, 'but this is my duty. If the g’narblin were to g’nibble all of our bean sprouts, how could we even feed our son?' 'We can find a way!' she pleaded. 'Maybe we could, but… but if the g’narblin attacked our house, Snorpo would have no way to defend himself-' 'No! I don’t want to think such horrible thoughts!' her voice was like nails on a chalkboard; horrible to most, but beautiful to goblins. Still, Norr’man recognized the pain in her voice, and soon the muddy tears were travelling down his face as well. 'I’m sorry,' he said as he rode his noble goose into the sunset. You feel yourself become invested in these characters, and wish to know their fate, but before you can turn the page, [[your number is called ->29 is called]]

As the ogre stands up and heads towards the door, you flip to another page and continue reading. "Divination experts expect a young red dragon to attack the city of Isvidell on the winter solstice of 1297. Less experienced adventurers should steer clear of the city in the week surrounding the solstice, as these dragons are not to be trifled with by any weak up-and-comers. Wiser, powerful adventurers may be able to stop the dragon. If not, however, there will be many lucrative opportunities to rebuild the city. Any clerics with the ability to revive the dead will expect great profits in the aftermath, as the nobles will pay greatly to revive their loved ones." Before you can turn to another page, [[your number is called ->29 is called]]

You decide not to say anything to him. Why did you choose to do this? This guy //really stinks//. I'd like you to (link-reveal: "imagine the worst thing you've ever smelled.")[ Now (link-reveal: "multiply that by 10.")[ (link-reveal: "Throw in a few exponents, why not.")[ Now whatever number that is, (link-reveal: "imagine that number represented by one gold coin.")[ Now (link-reveal: "imagine an entire dragon's hoard worth of that coin.")[ (link-reveal: "Add that all up together.")[ That's how much this guy stinks. You bear the stench for what feels like an eternity until you hear the clerk call for number 28. [[That must be the ogre's number -> saved from stink]] [[[[Hey, that's my number! -> ogre kill you]]]]]]]]]]

"So, uh, what sort of quest are you trying to get?" you ask him. "Me? Me want vengeance quest. Meanies took Throk's cat. Say ogre not nice enough to have cat." "That's terrible! I wish you luck, Throk." You hope that was his name, it would be quite awkward to assume incorrectly. "Throk my brother, not self. Me understand self. Grasp on lingual concepts not //that// bad." "Oh. I'm sorry." "It okay." The clerk calls for number 28. [[That must be the ogre's number]] [[Hey, that's my number! -> ogre gently correct you]]

Aw, now look at what you've done! He looks so sad! Standing up out of his two chairs, he says "Oh...okay...me just leave then..." Before he can start to walk away, he begins to cry. You can't skip this. You have to wait here with this sobbing ogre until one of you has to leave. <img src="https://croygmu.neocities.org/sadogre.png" width="512" height="512"> (set: $counter to 30) (live: 1s)[ (set: $counter to it - 1) (if: $counter is 0)[(go-to: "Sad ogre leaves")] (replace: ?amount)[$counter]]

The clerk calls for number 28, and the ogre starts to walk towards the office, leaving a steady stream of tears as he walks. Now that the smelly ogre is gone, you think you can finally skip past this whole waiting room and get back to the quest, right? Wrong. (set: $counter to 30) I'm gonna give you |amount>[$counter] seconds to reflect on what you've done. (live: 1s)[ (set: $counter to it - 1) (if: $counter is 0)[(go-to: "29 is called")] (replace: ?amount)[$counter] ]

You open the door and see a figure with a bright yellow, somewhat gnomish hat and equally-bright robes to match. Looking at his attire is like staring directly into the sun. "Yes, I'm aware. Green was taken, and red was a little too...gnomish. Anyway, have you brought with you your proof of residency, proof of citizenship, 2 years worth of tax forms, and Department of Adventuring identification?" [[Fuck.]]

"Thank you for talk. Hope you have nice day," the ogre says before standing up and making his way towards the door. You watch him struggle to fit himself through the door frame. Eventually he makes his way in, and the door closes behind him. What a nice fellow. [[Wait for your number]]

As you stand up, the ogre places its gigantic hand on your shoulder and (link-reveal: "gently")[ (as gentle as ogres can be, that is. Still feels like an anvil was lowered onto you.)] pushes you back in your seat. "No, this my number. Hope you have nice day," the ogre says as walks towards the door. You watch him struggle to fit himself through the door frame. Eventually he makes his way in, and the door closes behind him. What a nice fellow. [[Wait for your number]]

A few moments pass, and eventually you hear the clerk [[call for your number->29 is called]]

The ogre stands up and walks towards the office door. The smell carries with him. You take the biggest breath possible. It's the most relieved you've ever felt in your life. You enjoy the newly fresh air for a few moments until [[your number is called->29 is called]]

"Um...no...I wasn't informed that I'd require all of this. I could run back home and grab most of it, but I'm afraid I don't have Department identification," you say, trying to mask your absolute embarrassment. "Oh, no problem at all," he responds, in a way that suggests many problems. "Let me just ask you a few questions to get your License set up." "What is your name?" Oof, this is a rough first question. When's the last time you've even heard your first name? [[Check the letters from the Department of Noble Inheritance]] [[Trust your memory and hope you're correct]]

You check both letters, and are horrified to see that both refer to you as the "Child of the Son of William Ruthbert". Are you kidding me? Sir Archington is starting to look somewhat suspicious. I guess it isn't every day somebody has to cross-reference their name over multiple documents. [["Gregory Ruthbert"]] [["Horace Ruthbert"]] [["Rebecca Ruthbert"]] [["Wy'sa'sys Xe'sal'ana Ruthbert"]]

Ah, yes! Gregory! What an average name, but it sounds correct. "Thank you, Gregory. Your age, please?" [["25 years"]] [["42 years"]] [["354 years"]]

Horace! Quite a silly name, but it sure is yours! "Thank you, Horace," he tries not to giggle as he says your name. It is quite a silly one, after all. "Now, your age, please?" [["25 years"]] [["42 years"]] [["354 years"]]

Rebecca! A lovely name, and it belongs to you as well! "Thank you, Rebecca. Now, your age, please?" [["25 years"]] [["42 years"]] [["354 years"]]

Ah, yes. Wy'sa'sys Xe'sal'ana. You always wondered why your father gave you an elven name. "Thank you very much, uh... ma'am." You don't know why he seems unable to pronounce it, you just told him after all. "Now, can I have your age, please?" [["25 years"]] [["42 years"]] [["354 years"]]

You dig through the recesses of your brain to find this long-forgotten information. "Are you alright there?" Sir Archington asks. Better hurry up before you give yourself a headache. [["Gregory Ruthbert"]] [["Horace Ruthbert"]] [["Rebecca Ruthbert"]] [["Wy'sa'sys Xe'sal'ana Ruthbert"]]

That sounds about right. "Place of residence?" he asks. Oooh! That's an easy one! [["Mudsville"]]

"Really? You don't look a day over 276," he says with a charming smile. "Place of residence?" he asks. Oooh! That's an easy one! [["Mudsville"]]

Sir Archington frowns. "Oh, I'm very sorry about that. Anyway, do you have a wealth of more than 5,000 gold?" [["No, a bunch of goblins and geese took my inheritance."]] [["I live in Mudsville. Do you really need to ask?"]] [["Yes, I am the grandson of a Baron and have inherited a large fortune."]]

"Oh, my apologies," he says. "Must be why you'd want a vengeance quest permit." After marking down your responses, he scratches his wispy brown beard and reaches into his desk to pull out another sheet of parchment paper. "If it were up to me, I'd go ahead and give you that permit right away. Unfortunately, however, you must have proper Guild Identification before I can do so. Stay still for a second, please." He looks at your face, and then looks down at his paper and begins to sketch. You're impressed by his speed; it only takes about 20 seconds for him to finish the portrait and set down his quill. "Right. Please allow 14 days for processing, and upon your return I will grant you your identification and your permit. Thank you very much." [[Return to your home]]

"I wonder what you're still doing in Mudsboro, then," he says. "Well, I suppose it's not my business." He marks down your responses with his quill. "Lastly, for what purpose do you seek a vengeance quest permit?" After you explain your situation to him, he scratches his wispy brown beard and reaches into his desk to pull out another sheet of parchment paper. "If it were up to me, I'd go ahead and give you a Quest permit right away. Unfortunately, however, you must have proper Guild Identification before I can do so. Stay still for a second, please." He looks at your face, and then looks down at his paper and begins to sketch. You're impressed by his speed; it only takes about 20 seconds for him to finish the portrait and set down his quill. "Right. Please allow 14 days for processing, and upon your return I will grant you your identification and your permit. Thank you very much." [[Return to your home]]

"Oh, yes, you're quite right," he says. "I'll mark that down as a 'no.'" He marks down your responses with his quill. "Lastly, for what purpose do you seek a vengeance quest permit?" After you explain your situation to him, he scratches his wispy brown beard, and reaches into his desk to pull out another sheet of parchment paper. "If it were up to me, I'd go ahead and give you a Quest permit right away. Unfortunately, however, you must have proper Guild Identification before I can do so. Stay still for a second, please." He looks at your face, and then looks down at his paper and begins to sketch. You're impressed by his speed; it only takes about 20 seconds for him to finish the portrait and set down his quill. "Right. Please allow 14 days for processing, and upon your return I will grant you your identification and your permit. Thank you very much." [[Return to your home]]

Dejected, you leave the office and pass through the office's exit, which through some strange geometry leads you back into the same hallway leading up to the waiting room doors. Which direction will lead you back home? [[Left -> Sike]] [[Right -> Sike]]

I'm just kidding. You know the way back home. You return to your filthy hut, greeting Great Samuel the Third as you lay in bed to rest. Just two more weeks until you can earn your fortune. [[Wait for an agonizing two weeks]]

(set: $counter to 1209600) You wait in your home for |amount>[$counter] seconds. (live: 1s)[ (set: $counter to it - 1) (if: $counter is 1209587)[(go-to: "Sike 2")] (replace: ?amount)[$counter] ]

Hah! Once again, I'm just kidding! I really got you going this time, didn't I? [[Yes, you did, and it was hilarious!]] [[I grow tired of you.]]

Thank you, I'm very glad you're entertained. Anyway, it's time for you to get your license and permit! Isn't that exciting! [[Return to the Department]]

I'm sorry. I thought it would be funny to make you think you'd actually have to wait two weeks in real time, but I understand how that could be frustrating to you. I think we should just get back to the story, get your license, and all. [[Return to the Department]]

Returning and opening the outhouse doors, all of your excitement is sucked away by memories of hallways, waiting rooms, and (link-reveal: "paperwork.")[ (At least you didn't forget your forms this time!)] It's truly amazing how such a wondrous place can be reduced to a frustrating nothingness by the systems that occupy it. There's no time for further moralizing, however. We have a meeting with Sir Archington! You see the familiar old goblin woman sitting behind the front desk. [[Approach the receptionist-> receptionist again]] [[Head straight to Sir Archington]]

"Hello, ma'am. I'd like to speak to Sir Archington to pick up my license and quest permit," you say with a (link-reveal: "deflated sophistication") [ (you've come to understand this inflection as "The Department Dialect")]. "Oh yes, welcome back." She speaks in a similar manner. "I'm sure you remember how to get there." You're not sure why she would think you remember, it being two weeks since your last (and only) visit after all, but somehow you //do//. Perhaps she knows a bit more than she lets on. [[Head to Sir Archington]]

As you turn left and enter the hallway, you hear the women call out "Excuse me? Sir? Ma'am? Excuse me!" Oops. [[Go back and speak to the receptionist]] [[Let's just keep going]]

You turn back and make your way up to the front desk. "Where are you headed?" she asks, with a bit more emotion than usual. "Oh, I was going to pick up my license and quest permit from Sir Archington," you explain. "Oh, no worries then! My apologies. You see, we're trained to assume hostile intent if a client doesn't check in before going further into the Department." "No hostile intent here," you say, berating yourself for how awkward you sound as you say it. "Good, good. I'm glad we didn't have to release him on you, it's always such a mess to clean it up." She says this as if it is not the most ominous thing you have heard in your life. I think we should just get moving. [[Head to Sir Archington]]

Let's hope that wasn't a mistake. As you walk, you feel something //off// about these hallways. [[They always feel //off//. That's just how corridors feel.]] [[Stop, look around, and listen]]

The corridors are as empty, complex, and indistinct as the last time you've visited, but you feel yourself guided through these halls. Maybe you remember the cracks in the walls, or it's a form of muscle memory, but you feel as if you've walked these halls for centuries as you make your way to the familiar door to the waiting room to Sir Archington's office. [[Enter the waiting room]]

Perhaps you have a point. You continue walking, and as you walk you begin to hear footsteps. You find that to be somewhat of a relief, all things considered. It was getting somewhat creepy being in this big labyrinth all alone. [[Keep walking]]

You stop and look around, but you don't see anything in your vicinity. You do, however, hear footsteps, getting louder and louder. [[Run]]

The footsteps become faster and louder. Jeez, someone's in a hurry. [[Keep walking-> Keep walking 2]]

(link-reveal: "Wait a second.")[ (link-reveal: "Louder?")[ (link-reveal: "That probably means...")[ (text-style:"bold")+(text-size:2)+(align:"==>")+(box:"X=")+(text-style:"rumble")[[IT'S COMING FOR YOU]]]]]

As you gaze upon this eldritch horror, an indescribable mound of eyes and teeth with blood-red flesh that seems to fold in on itself an extra dimensional aura, you realize that you probably should have checked in with the receptionist. (text-style:"bold")+(text-size:2)+(align:"==>")+(box:"X=")[The End]

You begin to (link-reveal: "run.")[ Your footsteps are (link-reveal: "loud and heavy.")[ Your breath is (link-reveal: "strained.")[ You push and push, but you (link-reveal: "do not look back.")[ Somewhere in the depths of your mind, (link-reveal: "you know what's happening.")[ (text-style:"bold")+(text-size:2)+(align:"==>")+(box:"X=")+(text-style:"rumble")[[IT'S COMING FOR YOU]]]]]]]

You enter the room. This time, the waiting room is entirely empty except for the familiar fuzzy clerk. You speak to them, and they hand you a number. Number 5, this time. [["Thank you very much."]] [["Have they really only processed 5 people in this office the entire day?"]]

"Yeah, no problem. Listen, kid: I've been working here for 2 years now, and I don't think anyones been as polite and genuine as you are," the fuzzy clerk says. [["Thanks, but I really didn't say that much to you..."]] [["I know. I'm pretty great."]]

"Look, buddy. Not every day is gonna be rush hour, okay? This is the slowest branch of the district. Not much goes on in the Woodsboro-Mudsville-Ruthersburg District. I'm not supposed to say this, but you were pretty polite last time so I'll let you in on something: the Department sent me here as a punishment. I filed some paperwork wrong, and now I'm ringing up vengeance quests in the WMR District to pay the price for it. I'm sorry if this causes you any existential dread, knowing how irrelevant you are in the grand scheme of things, but trust me, so am I. We're all irrelevant." Yikes. I think the poor chap needs a new job. [[Wait for Number 12]]

As soon as you sit down to wait, the clerk calls for number 12. Why did they even give out a number at that point? Like, couldn't you have just walked right in? Whatever. [[Enter Sir Archington's Office]]

"Hey there, don't get too full of yourself!" they respond. "You wanna be an ''Adventurer'', not an //adventurer//, y'know?" They say the first "adventurer" with deep, melodic bravado, and the second "adventurer" in a voice that can only be described as the little orphan boy that begs for bread magically fused with the posh nobleman that throws balled up handkerchiefs at him from their carriage. You nod, not quite sure what they were getting at with that, and [[sit down to wait->Wait for Number 12]]

"I know," they respond. "That's why I like you so much." They laugh, and you laugh too, in an "I'm not sure if I'm offended or not" sort of way. [[Wait for Number 12]]

Opening the door, you see the bearded Sir Archington with familiar bright-yellow attire. "Welcome back. Do you have your forms?" he says with a smile. You nod. "Let's start with proof of residency." [[Present the deed to the shack]]

You hand him the deed. He looks at it inquisitively. "Huh. 10 copper for the whole property. What a steal!" You feel the urge to explain to him everything atrocious about the property, but you hold your tongue. "Everything looks good here. Proof of citizenship?" Now, here's a problem: nobody in Mudsville actually receives a state ID. The Department of Adventuring district that includes your town is the only legal representation it has ever obtained. That being said, maybe you can pass off another form. [[Ask if you can have your Department identification first]] [[Hand him one of the letters from the Department of Noble Inheritance]]

"Sure, I don't see why not," he says as he hands you the identification. "I apologize if your portrait is unflattering, it's a Department mandate that the portrait be drawn immediately and on location, and there was no talented artist around, so I did my best..." "Oh, I'm sure its not (link-reveal: "that ba-")[" Oh my god. <img src="https://croygmu.neocities.org/bureau%20license%20portrait.png" width="276" height="286"> It's awful. Were you even smiling when the portrait was drawn? What's with your hair? Are those goblin ears? You try to suppress your feelings of confusion, frustration, and slight amusement. [[Let's move on -> ID route 2]]]

You hand him one of the letters. "Hmmm...not what I was looking for, but it might do. It doesn't include your name, however, which could be an issue." [["Well, there's an address on the back and the deed has both my name and the address of the house, so if you cross-reference them then it acts as proof of citizenship."]]

Remembering your plan, you hand the Department Identification back to him. "This should prove my residency in Mudsville. Now all you need are the tax forms, correct?" Sir Archington looks confused. "Well, um...I guess that does serve a dual-purpose. It seems to check out. Yes, um... we can move on to tax forms." Here we have another issue: You've never paid a tax. Your pathetic shack isn't even worth a property tax, you've never made a profit large enough to claim, in fact you don't even think you've had more than 5 pieces of copper to your name at any given moment. So, what will you do here? [[Ask if there's an alternative form you can submit]] [[Give him some blank sheets of parchment]]

You explain that since you haven't made enough income to pay taxes for at least 3 years, you have no form to submit. "Why yes, that would be an issue, wouldn't it..." He still looks quite confused; your License gambit must have really thrown a wrench in that mind of his. "Maybe..um...do you have a town election voting card?" "We don't have elections," you explain. "We don't have a mayor. Or any authority, really." "That...raises a few questions. Okay, no taxes, no voter registration, um..." he begins to look at your Department ID. "Hmm, already used proof of residency, proof of citizenship, what can we use..." His eyes light up. "Got it! You're good to go!" He spends a few moments writing on a card, and then gives you back your stack of paperwork along with your coveted [[Quest Permit]]

You ask him for a few blank sheets of parchment, and he complies. You then immediately hand the sheets back to him, and explain that since you haven't had to pay taxes in over 3 years. You sense he's still bewildered from the last stunt you pulled, so he just nods, takes the form, and starts to write up a Quest Permit. After a few moments, he hands you the stack of forms back, as well as your coveted [[Quest Permit]].

Well, here it is. Your Quest Permit. "The possessor of this permit has been approved by Sir Archington of the Vengeance Branch of the Department of Adventuring to fulfill their quest through Department Rules and Regulations. The quest taker shall have full rights to any loot they obtain, minus a small quest-bearing tax from the Department. The questtaker, if encountering combat, shall take 6 second turns in between each action to vanquish any opponents." You thank Sir Archington, and he tips his hat to you. "Good luck on your quest. It was Woodsboro you were headed to, correct?" [["Yes, that's right."]]

You see a few gears turn in Sir Archington's head as he tries to make sense of this assertion. "That...sounds like solid logic. Sure. If it doesn't work, then I'll find a way to make it someone else's problem," he says enthusiastically. "Okay, finally, let's see those tax forms." Here we have another issue: You've never paid a tax. Your pathetic shack isn't even worth a property tax, you've never made a profit large enough to claim, in fact you don't even think you've had more than 5 pieces of copper to your name at any given moment. So, what will you do here? [[Ask if there's an alternative form you can submit -> alt 2]] [[Give him some blank sheets of parchment-> parchment 2]]

You explain that since you haven't made enough income to pay taxes for at least 3 years, you have no form to submit. "Why yes, that would be an issue, wouldn't it..." He scratches his beard in contemplation. "Maybe..um...do you have a town election voting card?" "We don't have elections," you explain. "We don't have a mayor. Or any authority, really." "That...raises a few questions. Okay, no taxes, no voter registration, um..." he begins to look at your Department ID. "Hmm, already used proof of residency, proof of citizenship, what can we use..." His eyes light up. "Got it! You're good to go!" Before beginning to write the Quest Permit, he hands you back your stack of paperwork with your [[Department License]] on top.

You ask him for a few blank sheets of parchment, and he complies. You then immediately hand the sheets back to him, and explain that since you haven't had to pay taxes in over 3 years. "Again, I think this works, but if it does not, then I'll make it someone else's issue." You begin to wonder if this is some sort of motto of his. Before beginning to write the Quest Permit, he hands you back your stack of paperwork with your [[Department License]] on top.

"I hope you don't find your portrait to be too unflattering," he says while he writes your Permit. "You see, it's a Department mandate that the portrait be drawn immediately and on location, and there was no talented artist around, so I did my best..." "Oh, I'm sure its not (link-reveal: "that ba-")[" Oh my god. <img src="https://croygmu.neocities.org/bureau%20license%20portrait.png" width="276" height="286"> It's awful. Were you even smiling when the portrait was taken? What's with your hair? Are those goblin ears? You try to suppress your feelings of confusion, frustration, and slight amusement as he hands you your coveted [[Quest Permit]]]

He writes a small note on a scrap piece of parchment, and pushes it into a cubby behind his desk. "Wait just a second, please." You wait, and when another piece of parchment slips through the cubby, he grabs it and gives you a thumbs-up. "Just head through the exit as usual. Oh, and here's your first membership reward." He hands you a cheap, but clean, steel sword. Sure beats that brittle, oversized toothpick you grabbed from your father's stash. Wielding the sword, you make your way through the door and find yourself in the [[Forest of Woodsboro]]

As you look around this vast Woodsboro forest, you wonder why he couldn't have just sent you straight back home the first time, if this door was so magical and all. [[Wander through the woods]]

It's a long and exhausting trek through these dense forests. The cardboard soles of your boots have dissolved in the mud, leaving you essentially bare-footed throughout your journey. After a few hours, you find a nice spot under a tree to rest. Just then, you hear a distant quack. [[Chase the noise]]

You sprint through the forest, both of your boots sliding off of your feet in the process. Finally, you see them. 5 geese carrying a wheelbarrow full of gold and goblin corpses. Those cruel bastards even betrayed their goblin masters. Truly despicable creatures. [[Begin your fight]]

You approach the gaggle of geese, holding your sword at the ready. They look at you, and begin to hiss. [[Hit one of the geese]]

You hit a goose with your sword, its head falling on the dirt. You cringe as a spray of blood erupts from its neck, some of it (link-reveal: "staining your shirt")[ (don't worry, you'll have plenty of gold to buy a new one after this).] [[Wait for your next turn]]

Six seconds have passed. What do you do? [[Hit the geese again]]

A few geese bite at you, but you manage to evade their strikes. (set: $counter to 6) You wait |amount>[$counter] seconds for your next turn. (live: 1s)[ (set: $counter to it - 1) (if: $counter is 0)[(go-to: "geese round 2")] (replace: ?amount)[$counter] ]

Striking at another goose, your hand slips and the sword spins in your hand, causing the sword to hit the goose on the head with the flat side. It still does the trick, and the goose falls to the floor. [[Wait for your turn again]]

Two of the geese run away in fear. Another bites at you, drawing a bit of blood from your arm. (set: $counter to 6) You wait |amount>[$counter] seconds for your next turn. (live: 1s)[ (set: $counter to it - 1) (if: $counter is 0)[(go-to: "geese round 3")] (replace: ?amount)[$counter] ]

Six seconds have passed. Only one goose remains. What do you do? [[Hit the goose]] [[Attempt to communicate]]

With an easy swing, you cleave the goose's head off. You thought this would feel a lot better than it actually does. With two bleeding, headless geese on the ground, and another likely dead from a skull fracture, you feel like a hell of a hero. [[Reclaim your fortune]]

Feeling guilt from your bloodshed, you decide to give this last goose a chance. "Quack quack quack?" you quack. "Quack!" it quacks back. "Quack quack." You have no idea what you're saying. The goose grabs a few pieces of bread from a goblin corpse, and walks away. Is that all they wanted this whole time? [[Reclaim your fortune]]

You decide you should probably leave the goblin corpses out here. Poor guys. Pulling the wheelbarrow all the way back to Mudsville is an incredibly difficult task, but luckily you're able to buy a few donkeys to help you, and within two moons, you find yourself back in your hometown of Mudsville with three donkeys, your faithful chicken Great Daniel the Third, and a pile of treasure that you count to be worth approximately [[three hundred thousand gold pieces]]

As you count the last piece, a letter slides under your door, which you nonchalantly pick up and [[open]].

"To our faithful Adventurer: Congratulations on successfully completing your first Vengeance Quest! Due to an increase in expenditures this upcoming year, we unfortunately had to raise our fees by a large margin. Totalling up your Department dues, Questbearing fees, Department Identification production fees, and general convenience fees, you owe the department two hundred and ninety thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine gold pieces, Happy Questing, [[The Department of Adventuring]]"

Well, at least you get to keep the donkeys. (text-style:"bold")+(text-size:2)+(align:"==>")+(box:"X=")[The End]

↶

↷

raise.

All three of his sons were killed; Bartholomew by troll, Wilhelm II by

heartbreak

, and your father, the aspiring adventurer, was killed on his first quest as he attempted to

slay 30 feral geese in Woodsboro