Page 1:
<h1> Your Personal Tutorial to Your Fantasy Adventure
(A public guide to your imagination for the skeptical, made by the hands of a
man who doesn't give a single whopping floop about life's meaning) </h1>
<p> Welcome to your imaginative fantasy world where
you could finally tap into your “imagination” with little to no expectations
what-so-ever. If you just came in here
with high expectations, then prepare to receive the gift of disappointment and
shame because this meant to help people with little or no imagination. I bet
you are wondering who I really am, don’t you? Well let me show you and then
we’ll get started. Does that sound okay? </p>
<br />
<p> Greetings, My name is Samuel the Sarcastically
Skeptic. You probably are wondering “are you really a ‘Wizard’.” (Sarcastically)
NO, I’m probably some 60 year olde long-bearded oddball wearing blue pajamas
like Merlin and waving around a magic wand that shoots rainbows and glitter and
making anything happen just out of
nowhere like that no-good mute pixie Tinker Bell. Now since that’s out of the
way, let us begin.</p>
<br />
<p> “this is a blank page” you say, that’s because you
do not have the imagination that of a 10 year old boy or a 12 year old girl.
How about we start with an easy one, There is a beautiful grassland with lush
forests and mountains all around, filled with random magical creatures,
dungeons filled with adventure and pointy-eared-tree-hugging-dirt-worshiping
hippies (take your pick), and at the center of it all, you see a majestic glowing white kingdom (because of the high
amount of powdered sulfur that paints the inner and outer walls) that you might
get to see ( provided the sulfur in the air or the plague doesn’t get to you
first).</p>
<br />
<h3> Please select where you want to go:</h3>
Page 2: blacksmiths
Here we are that The Blacksmith’s Shop, one of the foremost industrial
places in the kingdom (aside from The Foundry and The Mines) especially in
times war where The King needs his arms and armor. This is a place where the
middle class blacksmiths pick up some dainty tools and work day and night,
their hands and fingers to the bone just to give upper folk (and other
businesses who need them) the tools and wares they so desire at a price of gold
equal to the time and effort put into it (upper class nobles being snide and
all often get away with having it at a lower price). They might as well live in
the shop because of the said reason.
“Where’s The Blacksmith?” Well, by the look of it… he is
either on a one hour break after doing non-stop working a long day making at
least five sets of arms and armor or the shop is closed for the day because of
the plague or he died of a bad case of "Black Lung" (again, take your
pick) and we just broke in for no apparent reason, but just to have a look
around. We might as well get out of here before someone calls the guards on
us….
Page 3: throne room
Now we are at the glorious Throne Room which is the
centerfold of the entire kingdom inside a castle with freakishly long and tall
hallways (with very few people that walk through them I might say). There is
also a giant fancy and priceless chandelier hanging at the center of the room
where ambassadors have to look down at the floor because it would strain their
eyes looking at the king (and the long carpet that leads to him). How about a
closer look, shall we?
Alright then, here we have a throne chair made of gold and
mahogany (with slightly stained velvet cushions done in by the unwiped buttocks
of previous kings). I bet you are wondering “why is no one sitting on the
throne?” that’s pretty simple mind you, it is because we do not have a king
yet, and who knows what god-awful person will be next for king… it could be
some farm boy who becomes a hero whether he’s good or evil… a fat, greedy,
momma’s-boy of a noble taking everyone in the kingdoms gold while the True King
and half the militia are out on a crusade… a cannibalistic, mercury-sniffing
warlord, or a power-hungry 14 year boy who just wants to sit in a fancy chair
(also, take your pick).
Page 4: mead hall
Ah yes… here we enter
“The Mead Hall Tavern” where (at a cost of one gold piece) you can drink the
finest mead around served by the finest looking beer maidens in town. Just a
word of warning: don’t touch the fine ladies here (unless if want to get the
plague or STDs like Herpes, Chlamydia, or Gonorrhea). How about we sit at a
table, so that we are not looking like complete strangers.
Speaking of strangers, there are a variety people that go in
and out of here almost every hour ( except for the town drunkards that never
seem to pay their tab) coming in on a daily to settle down and have pint,
speaking of which…(calls over barmaid for a mug of ale and pays her a bag of
gold) okay, now, where was I… ah yes, there are sometimes traveling bards by
day (with a seldom lyrical opus that are no match for some of the folks
philistine ears), and assassins by night waiting for their target prey to be
walking through the front door (be glad it’s not this time), the average sell
sword staying for the night telling his or her recent tail of adventure (but
like any other person, anyone coming in here could say whatever they want and
nobody would really care). What’s really fun to watch is one of the drunks in
here get beaten to a bloody pulp by one of the mercs, such a sight to see.
Page 5: forest
Well, now we are here… at the edge of the forest as you
wanted. To be honest with you, all you can see right now are a bunch of
woodland creatures that don’t seem to be
exciting to me, but if you go deeper, you can probably find a white
single-horned prancing pit pony called a unicorn and maybe (if you are lucky)
you’ll find a group of elves (those blasted hippies, they and their “protect
the forest” nonsense). I still wouldn’t go alone if I were you, unless if you
know of a creepy old man that just give a magic wooden sword and shield along
with advice that is said in a riddle(in a foreign language).
You know what? I’m getting a little bored around here, just
staring at a bunch of trees, we might as well leave before we mauled by a bear
(or take an arrow to the knee by a pointy-eared hippie).
