Hey, I’ve never backstabbed you…yet.
If only you had thieves’ tools you could pick the lock of my chastity belt… poor thing.
That’s ok. I’ll just have to manage somehow.
So, how do you pee in that thing?
Easy. Imagine a cheese grater.
I don’t wanna.
So, when is this caravan gonna get a move on? I’m bored. Bad things happen when I’m bored.
I’m with Autolycus. I can only strain my noodle so many times.
Yeah, I see it took you almost 10 minutes. I like my noodles al dente, thanks.
I haven’t decided on my religion yet.* But I know that I have a distaste for Pastafarians. They have been a great sauce of discontentment to my superiors. However, I’m here to protect, guide, and enlighten my fellow believers in the true path (whatever it might be). Pastafarians are seen as a test to better my faith and prove my religion’s “rightness.”
“Nice to meet you AClockworkMelon. May our journey together be fruitful.”
*Malacandra, is there a local religion/deity?
Melon stands on the crest of a hill overlooking Sullwasser. In one hand he clutches a tattered Googlemaps printout, in the other he holds aloft a steaming pasta strainer. Nodding to Wolverine, he turns to face the misguided cleric of [insert name of incorrect religion here].
“It seems we’ve reached Sullwasser without incident. His Noodly Appendage has guided us through the steaming broth of the wilds and delivered us without harm. Blessed be to His Most Holy Meatballs. What is our next move?”
*Wolverine inwardly makes a note about the terrible direction sense of Pastafarians. Don’t trust them any farther than you can stretch a noodle.
*
“Methinks you’re facing the wrong way. We’re heading to Kullen. Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us.”
Sharpens his sword I’m hungry. Let’s find something to eat.
Malacandra, what hours are you available to check on this thread?
“Well, um, obviously I mean’t we’ve reached Sullwasser… from Scottsdale. Now that we’re finally here we can continue on to Kullen.”
They got food in Kullen? Grumble
It is now 7 a.m. local time. I last posted 10 p.m. my time. Timezones, yanno.
The trail from Sullwasser winds up a steep hillside, and going is slow for an hour or so until the rise is crested. After that the pace picks up a little. It is early afternoon. There is no sign of giants, for which all present are duly thankful. However, the dull routine is interrupted by the sound of a scream somewhere off to the left, and there is a faint smell of smoke along with something more disagreeable.
Melon glances to the left.
“Autolycus, is that you?”
I hope it wasn’t me! I mean, it wasn’t me.
Smells like burnt swamp rat on a bad day… Fwew, smells worsethan my Aunt Agnus’ farts.
Who wants to go check it out?
“I’ll go, but I’m not going alone. One of the fighters should stay with the caravan in case it’s a trap while the other one comes with me. Autolycus, you should also come. You’re pretty stealthy and we could use the extra pair of eyes.”
“Any objections?”
I don’t like the sound of that. What’s in it for me? Ok fine I’ll go. Don’t make too much noise though. Wolverines ain’t exactly known for their subtlety.
“I could not live with myself if there was Pastafarian work to be done and I missed out. The three of us can go and leave the others to guard the travelers.”