“Well, that’s some great stuff you just did for us there, Jamboree. I’ll never forget this, you just see if I won’t.”
Jamboree man did some weird stuff with his hands and screamed some kind of demented mating call. Suddenly, he disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Joe McShoots was shocked. “Skell, this guy can do literally anything. Why didn’t he just teleport us out of that damn place?”
Skellian thought for about three seconds, and replied, “that’s Jamboree man for ya, McShoots. Heaven knows what that basket case is playing at!”
Skellian studied the map in his hands. It was stained with brown and black liquid and some strange powdery smudges. “Well, McShooty my man, where shall we go next?”
Joe McShoots sat down next to an old gnarled tree trunk, a spiky thorn poked right in his left arse cheek. “God bloody damnit to the mother of steel nipples! That hurt. Well, I don’t really care, Skell. Although I could do with some nice grub and maybe a pint o’ ale to sort me right out. What say you? There must be a bloody good Inn or somethin’ on that there map?”
Skellian smiled. “There is … it’s called The Dark Mage. Weird name for an Inn, sounds like some kind of right evil bastard.”
Joe McShoots grabbed the map. “Uh … Skell. That don’t sound right. That actually sounds quite dangerous, if I do say so myself.”
Skellian whistled. “It does! Let’s check it out.”
statistic0n's writing 