Hero

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AtomicJuicebox

level 18

would you kindly?

Age 12 years 4 months
Personality neutral
Guild no guild
Monsters Killed about 5 thousand
Death Count 7
Wins / Losses 10 / 5
Bricks for Temple 3.9%

Equipment

Weapon fairy's battle axe +11
Shield plastic riot shield +10
Head cap with IR-sight +10
Body chitinous armor +11
Arms Hellboy's cuff +11
Legs street gang leader's sneakers +13
Talisman Achilles' heel +12

Skills

  • steel finger level 8
  • street magic level 1

Pantheons

Gratitude5167
Storytelling470

Achievements

  • Champion, 3rd rank
  • Favorite, 3rd rank

Hero's Chronicles

Entry one, kind of

Well, here’s my first entry again. My first first entry got pulled for “inappropriate content,” whatever that means. My god tells me I should be fine as long as I don’t say “$¥%&” or “#€$#” and stop talking about “¥$!%&#” and “£%#?$”. Anyway, my point is that I’m jumping on the chronicle bandwagon from here on.

Entry two, kind of

If you were actually reading this, you might wonder why I’m writing. I’m kind of wondering myself, so I guess I’ll say it anyway: my god, the illustrious BadgerSandwich, suggested it. Because I really haven’t got enough going on with all the praying, questing, monsters, and hangovers.

Entry three, kind of

I’m getting sick of writing that little note at the top of every entry. From now on, it’s understood.

Thank you for understanding.

Work experience

I wasn’t always a hero, you know. Until a few weeks ago, I was working as a professional doorstop in Beerburgh. I can’t say I miss it; I’ve got more scars from doors than I do from carnivorous plants. For anyone interested, that’s 41 and 27, respectively.

A sandwich

Scared a barmaid today. She thought I was muttering to myself – like i was trying to summon evil spirits or something – and had the hired muscle show me out. Roughly. It’s been happening more and often, so I figure I should clear things up.

My god is a sandwich.

Honestly. I was talking to a piece of meat and two slices of bread wrapped in tin foil. He usually stays in a special pocket of my knapsack, away from scavengers and hungry fat people. That crazy mumbling was me asking my god for guidance. And why am I taking orders from something below me on the food chain? … … … I’m still trying to figure that out.