Monster Hunter
From Create Your Own Story
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Your pants are a mess as well. Dirt and other substances have stained them and given them a new color. Your shoes are in a similar condition, but the pants were at least the proper size. | Your pants are a mess as well. Dirt and other substances have stained them and given them a new color. Your shoes are in a similar condition, but the pants were at least the proper size. | ||
- | However, you do have one saving grace: a crimson scarf you always have wrapped neck and face in a way that covers the chin. It's old and ragged, but relatively clean. The old hand-me-down reminds you of fond memories of playing in the field before you were old enough to help toil in the fields with the rest of the men in your family. You look of your right shoulder and then the left. | + | However, you do have one saving grace: a crimson scarf you always have wrapped around your neck and face in a way that covers the chin. It's old and ragged, but relatively clean. The old hand-me-down reminds you of fond memories of playing in the field before you were old enough to help toil in the fields with the rest of the men in your family. You look of your right shoulder and then the left. |
The task that was making sweat drip from every pour was always the most difficult. It's almost like your father knew you didn't like it and wanted YOU to be the one to do it every time it needed to be done. With a pitchfork in hand, you were spreading hay, your least favorite task. | The task that was making sweat drip from every pour was always the most difficult. It's almost like your father knew you didn't like it and wanted YOU to be the one to do it every time it needed to be done. With a pitchfork in hand, you were spreading hay, your least favorite task. |
Revision as of 03:53, 18 January 2016
You are a young farmhand, working alongside your father on the family farm with your three brothers. You wipe the sweat from your brow with what was once a shirt that is now barely a piece of clothing at all, the dirt stained fabric hangs onto your shoulders like a discarded old towel. The neck has been torn on one side and there are dozens of holes, leaving much of you exposed to the elements
Your pants are a mess as well. Dirt and other substances have stained them and given them a new color. Your shoes are in a similar condition, but the pants were at least the proper size.
However, you do have one saving grace: a crimson scarf you always have wrapped around your neck and face in a way that covers the chin. It's old and ragged, but relatively clean. The old hand-me-down reminds you of fond memories of playing in the field before you were old enough to help toil in the fields with the rest of the men in your family. You look of your right shoulder and then the left.
The task that was making sweat drip from every pour was always the most difficult. It's almost like your father knew you didn't like it and wanted YOU to be the one to do it every time it needed to be done. With a pitchfork in hand, you were spreading hay, your least favorite task.
No one's in sight, and you've almost completely finished spreading around all the hay you were tasked with.
What do you do?