Go through your things
From Create Your Own Story
(Created page with 'You sift through your belongings, piled in a corner of your room. Your wardrobe is somewhat limited: you own one old dress, a plain floor-length skirt, a stained white blouse, a …') |
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| - | You sift through your belongings, piled in a corner of your room. Your wardrobe is somewhat limited: you own one old dress, a plain floor-length skirt, a stained white blouse, a pair of warm woolen stockings, a pair of worn fur-lined boots, several hairbands and a few ratty short socks which are currently plugging up a mouse hole. Your armor consists of a pair of rotting knee-length leather boots to which you've crudely fastened some scrap iron, a pair of engraved steel wrist guards you scavenged from an unfortunate bandit you found lying in a gutter, a studded leather belt and a short cloth dress with laces at the bust and sides, which offers virtually no protection and reveals far more skin than you'd like. Your only weapon is a short bow, with three arrows in its quiver. You also own a large sack to throw everything into when you beat a hasty retreat from landlords who've realized they haven't seen a penny from you in | + | You sift through your belongings, piled in a corner of your room. Your wardrobe is somewhat limited: you own one old dress, a plain floor-length skirt, a stained white blouse, a pair of warm woolen stockings, a pair of worn fur-lined boots, several hairbands and a few ratty short socks which are currently plugging up a mouse hole. Your armor consists of a pair of rotting knee-length leather boots to which you've crudely fastened some scrap iron, a pair of engraved steel wrist guards you scavenged from an unfortunate bandit you found lying in a gutter, a studded leather belt and a short cloth dress with laces at the bust and sides, which offers virtually no protection and reveals far more skin than you'd like. Your only weapon is a short bow, with three arrows in its quiver. You also own a large sack to throw everything into when you beat a hasty retreat from landlords who've realized they haven't seen a penny from you in months. |
Your only possession of any value is a beautiful silver circlet with a brilliant amethyst set in the centre. This was left to your sister by your mother, and by your sister to you. It is your only link to your lost family. It is by far your most precious possession, and accordingly you keep it well-hidden. Its worth to you far surpasses its monetary value. | Your only possession of any value is a beautiful silver circlet with a brilliant amethyst set in the centre. This was left to your sister by your mother, and by your sister to you. It is your only link to your lost family. It is by far your most precious possession, and accordingly you keep it well-hidden. Its worth to you far surpasses its monetary value. | ||
| - | You also own the threadbare | + | You also own the threadbare nightgown that's on your back, and the rough wooden cross that hangs between your breasts. |
Sighing and picking forlornly at a hole in one of your boots, you: | Sighing and picking forlornly at a hole in one of your boots, you: | ||
| + | *[[Bathe]] | ||
*[[Change into a dress]] | *[[Change into a dress]] | ||
| - | *[[Change into your armor]] | + | *[[Change into your armor 1|Change into your armor]] |
*[[Walk downstairs in your nightgown]] | *[[Walk downstairs in your nightgown]] | ||
*[[Strip down and thoroughly comb yourself for bedbugs]] | *[[Strip down and thoroughly comb yourself for bedbugs]] | ||
[[Category: Darklands - A Medieval Adventure]] | [[Category: Darklands - A Medieval Adventure]] | ||
Current revision as of 00:08, 25 December 2015
You sift through your belongings, piled in a corner of your room. Your wardrobe is somewhat limited: you own one old dress, a plain floor-length skirt, a stained white blouse, a pair of warm woolen stockings, a pair of worn fur-lined boots, several hairbands and a few ratty short socks which are currently plugging up a mouse hole. Your armor consists of a pair of rotting knee-length leather boots to which you've crudely fastened some scrap iron, a pair of engraved steel wrist guards you scavenged from an unfortunate bandit you found lying in a gutter, a studded leather belt and a short cloth dress with laces at the bust and sides, which offers virtually no protection and reveals far more skin than you'd like. Your only weapon is a short bow, with three arrows in its quiver. You also own a large sack to throw everything into when you beat a hasty retreat from landlords who've realized they haven't seen a penny from you in months.
Your only possession of any value is a beautiful silver circlet with a brilliant amethyst set in the centre. This was left to your sister by your mother, and by your sister to you. It is your only link to your lost family. It is by far your most precious possession, and accordingly you keep it well-hidden. Its worth to you far surpasses its monetary value.
You also own the threadbare nightgown that's on your back, and the rough wooden cross that hangs between your breasts.
Sighing and picking forlornly at a hole in one of your boots, you:
