Gone Walkabout - the new beginning
I have emerged from the caves into the light of day, to seek my fortune and reclaim our ancestral lands! I've got an unshakeable sense of déjà vu, though. Bah! So what am I doing with my sense of vengeance against those who usurped our lands? Why, engaging in high adventure of course! Well, okay, mostly all I've been doing is killing and crafting. Ah, the stuff of legends!
All right, enough of that bluster. I have an admission to make. I, uh, well... I feel a little lonely hunting in the wilds. I have seen other people in the vaults and in the hills, but they're not much for conversation. Yes, I'm shy, so I don't always stride over to them and start up a conversation. A few times I have had people jog right up to me and stare, but never say a word. I've tried saying "hello," but I guess the friendly gesture doesn't offset the smell of sweat, reedshark blood, and drudge guts that permeate my armor. They simply blink at me and run off. I'm not a real social guy, so I can only guess at what causes this behavior.
Of course, I am also not inclined to be friendly to people who lead monsters onto me or run between me and the critter I'm trying to puncture with an arrow, only to have it run off after them. I'm not sure if I should be peeved about that or not. I mean, the life they may be saving is mine, after all. I think sometimes that the critter feels the same way as I do - they often go attempt to gnaw on the interloper, which would be kind of a weird thing for me to do. Not that it isn't tempting. I'm thankful that I haven't had too many of my kills stolen out from under me though. I'm not talking about that reedshark I'm sniping from behind a tree fifty yards down the beach, I'm talking about the drudge who's whacking me in the shins with his board and nail! We're both on the verge of collapse, I manage to duck under his guard and raise my bow to smack his smirking drudge face into next Wintersebb and thwok! He's dead and I didn't touch him. I must say, there are few things worse than getting the snot beaten out of you so that someone else can march up and loot the corpse without even acknowledging your bloody, beaten existence. It would be different if they ran up and said, "Gee, are you okay? I thought he was gonna kill you!" Bah! Life goes on.
Enough of the complaining! All the arts and crafts classes in the old caves seem to be paying off. You know, as a kid I was always saying, "Why do I gotta learn this for? There's nothing in this cave to hurt me other than my classmates! Come on, boot making? We have merchants for that!" Well, Mom and Dad, I was wrong. I'm out in the hills and there's no merchants out here! I have to say I'm really proud of the nice bow I've managed to make for myself. Shoots straight and can stand up to a drudge skull or five. And even though I look like some kind of pastel nightmare, my armor is serviceable! What more can a lone bachelor like me be excited about? Not much, at least until I learn some social skills. Is there a spell for that?
