Thread: ATM II RPG
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Old 10-18-2006, 11:43 AM   #262
Hookbill the Goomba
Alive without breath
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Join Date: Jan 2003
Location: On A Cold Wind To Valhalla
Posts: 6,153
Hookbill the Goomba is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Hookbill the Goomba is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Hookbill the Goomba is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Hookbill the Goomba is lost in the dark paths of Moria.
The slime filled land was not in the least bit pleasant. Smilog the Dwarf ground his teeth and plodded angrily through the marshes, grumbling and cursing as he went. His travel worn clothes were riddled with holes and stains from so many different places, he felt as if he had already walked the length and breadth of Middle Earth. But his eyes were fixed on Mount Zoom, it's smoke ridden summit grinning at him like a large grinning thing. He hated it.

As the undergrowth became large and unfriendly, he drew his axe and began mercilessly hacking the giant weeds. He let out a frustrated cry as some nettles got caught in his trousers. Swearing in Dwarvish, he hoped around, ripping the offending weed from the cotton of his trousers and cursing it further.

"Ho Hoom!" came a voice from somewhere, "Can't you see I'm trying to sleep."

"Buzz off!" shouted Smilog, in no mood for more weirdness, "can't you see I'm trying to get back to Mount Zoom?"

"How would I know that?" asked the voice.

"I could ask you the same question," feeling satisfied, Smilog stomped off through he undergrowth, hacking and slashing as he went. There was the sound of some squelching and sloshing from behind and Smilog finally stopped brooded, awaiting this new madness.

"Ho hoom," boomed the voice, "turn around and let me have a look at your face. I almost feel I dislike you, but let us not be hasty. Turn around."

"No thanks," said Smilog and he walked off again. There was a tremendous booming and crashing and the sound of large footsteps squelching and making all kinds of odd noises. Suddenly, huge, twig-like fingers covered in slime, gripped Smilog about the chest and lifted him up. He found himself looking into the most unlikely face he ever did hear tell of...


"I say," said The Barrow Wight as he and Tollin the Minotaur dashed away from Anakron in case he turned on them, "poor old Smilog. Should we go look for the little chap?" Tollin thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. The idea of angering Anakron at that time seemed most unwise, besides which, he found Smilog rather annoying, despite the fact he had saved him from the labyrinth.

Corridor after corridor passed them by until The Barrow Wight tripped over a mop that had been left on the floor, probably by a lazy cleaner. He noticed the door they were now outside of was slightly open. Putting his head back on, The Barrow Wight pulled Tollin into the room.

It was small and cold, icicles hung down from the ceiling and there was a snow-like substance on the ground. "How can this be?" asked Tollin, "we are inside a Volcano."

"A moving Volcano," pointed out The Barrow Wight, "This whole jolly things a mess. What's not to expect, old boy?" Tollin agreed and they began searching for anything of interest. It was Tollin who found something, a set of tracks leading all around the room. The tracks were made by webbed feet, but far too large to be normal ducks.

"What do you make from that?" asked Tollin, "There are at least three separate tracks here. It must be where the Were-Ducks congregate." They stood in that cold room, gazing at the tracks. They did not look that old and there was evidence that it was frequented quite often.

Slowly, The Barrow Wight lifted his head and gripped his sword hilt, "We had better get out of here, old boy."

"Not so fast!" cried a voice from behind.
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