The personal journal of Harbull Furfoot
I don’t know what those other two pricks are playing at but fate seems to have spit on me again as I have the gross misfortune to be alone in the company of that oaf Werner. At least the other two on occasion can make for slightly interesting conversation but this oaf couldn’t find his arse with both hands. Anyway, it can be helped. I guess I can use this time to think more about my future bestselling book ‘Traveling with Idiots; a Halflings Tale’.
Well that was unexpected to say the least. We seem to make quite the effective duo as it turns out. Quite the brains and brawn combination. In our continued quest to track down this ‘nice’ beastman we summoned a quite grotesque spirit of the forest whos name slips my mind, for those kinds of abominations are beneath my recognition. Still this spirt could have killed us with little trouble one assumed so I thought it best that the gob shite that is Werner should not handle what could have been a very difficult negotiation for a lessor man, ironic given I by their standards am a ‘lessor man’.
Anyway, because I’m not clinically retarded I can not just read, but also read my surroundings. From my research I knew this spirit loves to be treated with the upmost curtsy, an hilarious concept given the repugnant nature of the thing, so proceeded to, for want of a more eloquent phrase, charm the shit out of that thing. It worked, as I knew it would, and the abomination offered us a deal.
The deal stipulated that if we could last five minutes with father bear (a rather formidable fast moving, yet somehow surprisingly mind mannered killing machine) then the spirit would lend us his power to summon this ‘half beast’ thing we are looking for. The rules stated that we must stay within a set perimeter and if we or the bear creature were to leave then they would lose.
We were transported to a clearing in the forest and the battle began. Given our rather noticeable difference in combat ability our tactic was clear. I would run through the forest hiding from the bears attacks whilst slinging vulgar your mum jokes towards the surprisingly easily offended bear in a bit to distract him whilst my companion did the only thing he ever capable of, violence. I’ve heard of bear knuckle fights but this was ridiculous! Oh Harbull you old so and so you’ve still got it, that one certainly makes the book! Long story short a combination of devastating yo momma joke and that brainless chancers fists delivered a crushing knock out blow leading to our victory.
The spirit of the forest was not best pleased for he had underestimated the tactical genius of Harbull Furfoot and the physical power of his trusty mutt. With another charm offensive the spirit fell victim to my command of language and vast intelligence and plucked a ‘multi use bird’ from the sky allowing us to summon the ‘half’ beast man at will by whispering the name to the bird and releasing it.
We met the ‘half’ beast man in a clearing and my god he almost made Werner look like he had two brain cells to rub together in comparison. After interpreting some tedious gesture etc we learned of the location of the beast men’s hide out located nearby. The leader it seems is beneath a trap door in the forest while five other beastmen of various types keep guard close by. Now to tool up, regroup with the others, and summon ‘half’ beast man one again (joy) to lead us to their hideout. Once there another chapter of my great novel should write itself. Now I am in great need of some stimulating intellectual conversation so I think I will talk to a rock as I’m sure it will be a step up from the conversation the oaf provides.
Harbull Furfoot
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