[119 / 4 / 38]
You look yourself over in the mirror. Tightly knit muscles form a solid core under tanned skin - the result of years of training. Though you have been getting weaker ever since you left the monastery.
20 years of age, you're a LOW-LEVEL HUMAN MONK. Enticed by women, you have escaped the monastery and have been on the hunt for pussy for what, 6 months now? Unfortunately, to no avail.
You briefly recall the beginning of your quest. Initially, you could only stumble over your words and mutter incoherent phrases in front of girls, but your work at the laundry, surrounded by women young and old, has forged you to at least be capable of keeping up the conversation with them (sometimes).
Performing various jobs around the city, you have scraped by somehow, but knew neither comfort nor wealth. That will change, however. You have a PLAN.
There is certain work that various people tried, but few succeeded in - that of adventuring. Slaying monsters, dungeoneering, defeating demon lords - girls LOVE heroes. You'll become one of them, obtain pussy and get some wealth for your trouble to boot. Unfortunately, you're barely above a regular schmuck in power, from what you can tell, so you'll have to start low.
You assess your equipment. There are your clothes - traditional monk wear, just right in spaciousness without being entangling, great for training, work, and battle. You've patched them up numerous times now and, to be honest, it's about time you changed them for something new, but you just can't let go - they're so good and comfortable. There is some casual wear that you use to not stand out too much though. You've also got a small pouch of copper coins - enough to get you through a week or two without work. There's also various tools you've stolen from the temple to keep things in order, such as a sewing kit and some hygienic accoutrements.
You reach for the bottom of your bag. There they are, your weaponry - your nunchucks. For all your lazing around, you've been forced to train hard with them and you're kind of grateful for that now. You make a few careful swings in the cramped tavern room. They feel a bit foreign in your hands, but the muscle memory is there.
You pack your things up and descend into the mostly empty tavern hall. It is early morning and you've already eaten your breakfast, as meagre as it was. First order of business for an adventurer is FINDING A QUEST to accomplish. Or at least gathering rumours to get you a lead on some task. You eye the tavernkeeper, a burly man whose tavern maids you've been trying to bang for the past month. He responds to your gaze with a cursory, disinterested glance.
>What do you say/do?
20 years of age, you're a LOW-LEVEL HUMAN MONK. Enticed by women, you have escaped the monastery and have been on the hunt for pussy for what, 6 months now? Unfortunately, to no avail.
You briefly recall the beginning of your quest. Initially, you could only stumble over your words and mutter incoherent phrases in front of girls, but your work at the laundry, surrounded by women young and old, has forged you to at least be capable of keeping up the conversation with them (sometimes).
Performing various jobs around the city, you have scraped by somehow, but knew neither comfort nor wealth. That will change, however. You have a PLAN.
There is certain work that various people tried, but few succeeded in - that of adventuring. Slaying monsters, dungeoneering, defeating demon lords - girls LOVE heroes. You'll become one of them, obtain pussy and get some wealth for your trouble to boot. Unfortunately, you're barely above a regular schmuck in power, from what you can tell, so you'll have to start low.
You assess your equipment. There are your clothes - traditional monk wear, just right in spaciousness without being entangling, great for training, work, and battle. You've patched them up numerous times now and, to be honest, it's about time you changed them for something new, but you just can't let go - they're so good and comfortable. There is some casual wear that you use to not stand out too much though. You've also got a small pouch of copper coins - enough to get you through a week or two without work. There's also various tools you've stolen from the temple to keep things in order, such as a sewing kit and some hygienic accoutrements.
You reach for the bottom of your bag. There they are, your weaponry - your nunchucks. For all your lazing around, you've been forced to train hard with them and you're kind of grateful for that now. You make a few careful swings in the cramped tavern room. They feel a bit foreign in your hands, but the muscle memory is there.
You pack your things up and descend into the mostly empty tavern hall. It is early morning and you've already eaten your breakfast, as meagre as it was. First order of business for an adventurer is FINDING A QUEST to accomplish. Or at least gathering rumours to get you a lead on some task. You eye the tavernkeeper, a burly man whose tavern maids you've been trying to bang for the past month. He responds to your gaze with a cursory, disinterested glance.
>What do you say/do?
