Rolled 3, 1, 1 = 5 (3d3)
>>6070401>rolled 1 for sneekibreekiOnce past the edge of town, the mains open up to a streets of shops. Just houses with expanded sitting rooms mostly, and a large headboard over welcoming glass-paned doors. Fragile and respectable. Fuggen Humie. Fuggen DUM.
Why do they like putting windows up the front? Even <span class="mu-i">if</span> it's a business, it's dumb: it lets people see right in, count the defenders, see what's good Stuffs for lewts. AND the whole front wall's just thin wood and glass. Hard to make and prone to break. Several hours work by a trained glassman for a nice big sheet, and a small rock off the street can break em. Why? The headboard already says what's sellen, right? Humies <span class="mu-i">double</span> dumb and no cure comin.
None of it's welcoming now. There's no lights in the rooms, no sounds of living. No smells. Down the whole main street, the same.
Probably the plague goddem. Bad Magic.
You shift the Dagger in its belted sheathe from your side to the front of your belly; easier to draw.
You do your thing: sneak into houses for lewts n killz. After the fourth house you stop bothering. Everywhere's been broken into already; everything worth taking already sacked.
Lots of fights: dead blood on the floor, on broken barricades, furniture broken and torn to shit, bash and slash and chop holes in the walls. Your darksight lets you see everything.
There's some places where a dead body rotted open, blackening everything around it. The bodies are gone, already removed by someone, but there's no work to spare to scrub the black print of death from those. Huh.
No people. hrnnnn. No people on the main street. It doesn't seem like what ever Bad Shit happened's left yet.
Just sleeping.
After all that, fuggen noth-
There's a moment of thick animal smell, a padpadpadpad recognizable as a runup, and just enough time to half turn when <span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-s">something</span> clamps on to your neck and shoulders and starts to ((((shake)))) you! It's got your Dagger arm! You can't get it out to give it some!
>uuUUuu-aaAArrr>nrrr-rrR>RRnnyYAH!!>derr ye CUNT>ye MUHFGN><span class="mu-i">YAHH</span>!!!Your heels go backwards, your toes gouging into meat like they've been doing to the soil these past few days.
The pain of it makes whatever's holding you loosen a little, just enough for you to panic swing the shoddy axe backwards, the flat end of the ax head landing a solid
>B O N K ! ! !<span class="mu-r">HOWR HOWR HOWR HOWR HRRR!...!...! HOWR HOWR HOWR HOWR HOWR ! ! ! </span>
It's a DOG! Old! Huge!
A piece of wood from your shoulder and some basket weave from the side of your neck is gone! That fuggen fourlegged bastich ripped it!
And there's blood! He got you, even through the armor!
There's a rope on it's neck, and a wolf-collar: a wide, hinged iron band with long iron thorns screwed on, facing out.
The letters on the front say
>T O W S E R>critical oof!>BITE! & SHAKE!!>3d3 of damage vs YOU>durability discounts damage to HP by 2HP per Dur every 3HP physical damage incurred</span>