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Article by:
Lord Peregrinator |
The Adventures of Armand Hammer It was but ny-on three weeks back that I stumbled upon this tale. I was hard at work with the usual occupation of a Sosarian resident, trying to scam some youngster out of his gold, when I came across a mystical man. When my usual tricks didn’t work I tried to break his head in with my cudgel... but that too proved ineffective. There I sat.. stood rather.. frozen before this mystical figure with a binding of magic. Trying to find a way to pass the time while waiting for my invisible bindings to disappear I asked the fellow his name. “ Some call me.. Tim?” he replied as if asking me a question. Now I have been across these lands more times than Minocian Pimp and I must say, never had I heard such an awe inspiring name as Tim. I inquired where someone with such an odd name came from and he answered me in a most perplexing manner “ Bah! Time not have I to discuss with you my thereabouts, for now I am hereabouts and I will tell you a story since you be sufficiently bound and I see no youngsters around to get free reagents.” *Alas!* I thought to myself, * This chap follows my ways as well, and most distressing he wishes to bore me with a tale of, in all probability, some poor chump who he duped a good deal of gold from!* But the tale he told me was far different than what I had expected, for it was not just a tail of scamming but also of adventure and death! “ Well it was back about a good twelve days ago that I was taking a friend of mine, a rather extraordinary tamer, into Destard to hunt for some dragons. I was to provide him protection while he dodged the heated breath of those disturbing creatures. Anyhoo, as I came through the gate with my buddy I spied something I never though I would see again, the Hammer of Daril Hammer!! Knowing the true importance of this artifact I immediately ran back through the gate, unfortunately my friend was a bit slow of mind as well as body and didn’t quite make it through. “I entered into a dilapidated hellhole of a bar along the road leading northeast from Britain named, ImaNewbie’s Fellowship Hall. There I found my prey, a rather dimwitted fellow named Armband Hammer. YES!! The very son of the man whose hammer lay within the festering pit of Destard! Quickly I pounced upon the fellow and shook him mightily! “” Follow me you must!”” I bellowed into his ear for I feared his mind might need the added volume to coherently understand my exclamation. Being the ever obtuse fool he smiled and said, “” Ah! Hello there fellow adventurer, I have nothing better to do then follow you to places you have yet to describe. Let’s be off!!”” “I dragged this example of our failing school systems down the street, relating the story of his father, Daril. I told him of the hammer that lay upon the streets of Vesper for many years, unable to be wielded by any mere man. This hammer that had been created with all subjects of magicalness to be most powerful had lain upon the cobblestone paths for centuries. None could rightly wield it as before taking more than two steps the hefty weapon would slay them without forethought. That was until one man came to Vesper, Daril Hammer, he hefted that mighty hammer with the greatest of ease and all knelt before him in his ever glorious splendor. “For many years after claiming the power of the Hammer Daril ruled the hunting grounds and dungeons of all the lands. When his son was born, Armband, he named his hammer after his boy, prophesying that one day his child would wield the great weapon as well. Verily it was that Daril headed into Destard, and there it was that in a quest to kill one of the mighty ancient wyrms he was turned into the very first charcoal briquette. Armband Hammer was most surprised at the extraordinary powers of his blood and set off with me to Destard to search out his heritage. “ We were forced to wait until early the next day, when all the pkers were taking their middle-school classes, before venturing into the dungeon. Upon stepping through the gate we encountered my tamer-friend, what was left of him made a goodly powerful stain on my fine leather shoes and to my great discomfort I found later that even soda water won’t get it out! The hammer lay upon the top of a great monolithic stalactite stretching towards high towards the ceiling. After convincing the dipstick to scale the gigantic spike I hid myself and watched from the safety below. He moved up the cavernous creation like some fish flopping about on the ground. He had no coordination at all, he hand and legs scrapped upon the rocks, his feet entangled themselves in his tattered cloak, and his rather large helmet continuously bounced upon the edge of rock which he scaled. After a good bit of time he made his way to the top, the hammer was his! Armband Hammer’s Hammer!! “ It was then that a gigantic head veered up from behind the celebrating fool. With one sniff the man was blown from his precarious perch and slammed against the cavern floor. Acting quickly I opened a gate back to Trinsic before the creature could notice me, but to my great disdain Armband, using the last of his strength, grabbed ahold of my silken cape and was dragged out behind me. “ So there we were, in the midst of a bustling city street I stood over a broken, bloody, jello-like, mass of a man, clutching tightly to a rather expensive hammer. I was running low on regs, and did not wish to return to the bank to grab any more so I set about to convincing him to sell his hammer for a good deal of money so I could use my magical expertise to cure him of his ailment. The hammer was sold for a good deal of gold and for seventy five percent of it I brought the man back to his normal resemblance. “ It turns out, however, that the reason the hammer si so deadly to any but the Hammer family is that it was forge quite off-balance, and the Hammer genealogy, being quite a bit off-balance as well, compensated quite well, making it an ideal family weapon. Well it was thereafter that a good many residents of Trinsic were slain by the ungainly weapon and Armband ended up being the target of a large class-action suit which left him with nothing but the cloth on his back.. and that only because of a severe lice infection.” It was then that I realized I was free of my magic bonding and sped away from Tim in search of this Armband Hammer. I stumbled across him in the middle of the town square of Trinsic, where he stood chained above a sign reading “ Practice your marksmanship here.” There was not much left to his debt to the city and I paid it off, for I had other plans for the bedraggled fool. What became of Armband Hammer you ask? Well for a good deal more than I paid Trinsic I sold him to a local cartoonist who had lost any creative ideas he had once possessed after suffering a good half dozen kicks to the head by his pet mule. I hear that the cartoonist is making out quite well and that Armband is enjoying his new job in the spotlight.. even though it is whispered that the struggling cartoonist has been forced to lend out Armand’s services to the Minocian Pimps whenever he finds himself short on the rent. . |
