514 days after a wizard cursed the REALM…
Current Version:
“Hey! Hey you! Down here!”
Val the Simian worries that the chipmunks of the REALM had developed the ability to speak, but that proves not to be the case. More than anything else, the rodent-sized creature at his feet more closely resembles a teeny-tiny horse. When Val looks closer, he can even make out a teeny-tiny saddle.
“You’re no chipmunk,” Val states.
“And you’re no Faery,” says the tiny horse, “though it has been a bit of an unusual year, so I shouldn’t be surprised to find a monkey at the Faery Parade.”
“I’m an Ape,” Val sniffs.
“And I’m a Pooka,” says the tiny horse.
With that settled, Val trudges onward along the riverbank. The Pooka follows, surprisingly fast for its size. “You look pretty tough,” says the Pooka. “Are you up for a fight?”
“I’m not here to battle. I’m here as a peaceful explorer, a sailor.”
“Too bad.” The Pooka sighs. “Big guy like you would make a great warrior.”
Something snaps inside Val’s head. Memories flood his mind from a long-ago battle between the Simians and their most deadly foes. Bangs and pops assault his ears. The acrid stench of gunpowder stings his nostrils. And the blood, and the blood, so much blood, drips from his hands.
Val shakes his head until the phantom blood vanishes. “I’m just a peaceful sailor,” he insists.
“Guess I’ll look elsewhere,” says the Pooka. “I need someone to battle an Apocalypse Beast for me. I tried and tried, but its toenails are made of something tougher than I am.”
“I’m not a warrior,” Val snarls. “Not anymore.”
Web3 Draft:
- Listed on OpenSea
- Listed on Rarible
Revision Notes:
To be added.
