Any bowman worth his salt knows you want light armor, plenty of arrows, a discreet blade, and of course a good solid oak longbow to make a safe and lucrative living. I began my journey in Pyros' Landing with a paltry supply of arrows, fabric garments, and a sorry excuse for a bow - even by Pryos' Landing standards. I was no archer, and yet with little direction to guide my adventure, I took to the desert wasteland outside town for a preliminary hunt.
Sneaking past snakes, spiders, and beetles in search of more rewarding targets, I drew my bow and angled it toward a nearby desert wolf, medium-sized and grey in color. My encounter with the beast, which left me bleeding and broken, confirmed it would take new equipment, training, and patience before I'd be able to reap the hide of a single brown bear. I may not be a fast learner, but my determination to become a formidable warrior, successful businessman, and homeowner remained steadfast.
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My brush with a bloodthirsty bandit on the trail into town led me toward a merchant of archery. My lead on the swordsman closing, an arrow lodged in my leg, the pious craftsmen fended off my attacker and offered to heal my wounds. I was out of arrows and without a proper bow, beside. The merchant offered me a simple, yet durable short bow and a quiver of arrows at half his asking price. I gave my thanks and promised my continued business, and then head into town in search of leathers to better protect myself in the wild.
Back in Pyros' Landing, the merchants aren't nearly as personal, nor do they have any interest in striking a deal with patrons. My offers ignored, I reluctantly paid the asking price and changed out of my rags. Now adequately armed and confident, it was time to work toward redeeming myself after the humiliation I suffered just hours before in the wasteland. The next time I encountered a bandit, I planned to have an arrow between his eyes and a blade in his back before he would apply a single bandage. And after looting the tosser's satchel, the generous merchant who saved my life would be paid my debt.
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My first proper kill was a brown bear, and it was a pleasant surprise to find a sack of coppers in its possession. Mayhap that explains an earlier battle between the bear and a very large snake. Regardless, after a few successful hunts I had amassed a satisfying stash of around 200 coppers, or two silvers. I knew it would serve me well to secure my spoils before I encountered another bandit, as there wouldn't likely be another honorable merchant to protect me. Even after a few successful hunts, I was still painfully slow on the draw, worse yet with a long bow.
Approaching the bank in town, I was perplexed to see a herd of folks of all stripes shouting over each other the word, "bank." Further, the establishment refused to accept my business until I joined along. 'When in Rome,' I figured. I stashed my coppers, along with a long bow I happened upon in travel, and began looking for a gate that might provide expedient transport to far-away regions.
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Indeed, the world is a strange place, yet somehow it all feels warmly familiar, like a dream I experienced in youth. The sounds and sights, the creeping mutant insects, heroic friends and sinister strangers, the sense of wonder and anxiety, and beautiful terrains that beckon night and day, it all feels so remarkably familiar.
