Then there's this poor guy. My Level 1 Slayer dashed by him countless times trying to escape the goblin shamans, goblin chiefs, Beholders and everything else, without even noticing that man on the watchtower waving at her.

And...OMG! Thank you, Abydos Jackson! You are Divine! :D

It was hot. And dry. And beginning to look like the longest day of his - like as not - soon to be muchly shortened life. There was some good yet an awful lot of bad in the latter part of that realization. He glared at the evil beasts marching around on the ground, impeding his escape from the watchtower. Fecking* goblins!

Quincy tried squinting at the cloudless sky to judge the position of the sun, but the orb's brilliance was too much for his eyes to bear. Was it still morning? Or past high noon? An hour or two of his Broken Valley Village Guard Recruit training had been dedicated towards explaining how to tell the time of day without the use of a sundial; too bad no-one had thought to warn him of the potential risk of sun-burnt eyeballs! When his mam went on about him going blind, it had nothing to do with the sunlight. More like about stuff happening alone in the dark.

Though Carl Jackson's farm was naught but a few minutes walking distance from the village, Quincy cursed himself for not having had the sense to bring along a flask of wine or water, for an emergency such as this. His mam had always told him to be prepared, but how was he supposed to know to be prepared for a cowardly guard, a goblin shaman and a fecking horde of goblins? Okay. Maybe there were only three goblins all told, but the shaman was three goblins inserted into one body by itself! Making them a horde, to be sure. And then there was that coward (may he rot in jail for an eternity) Peavey running off, leaving Quincy to fend for himself against this (admittedly small) horde. Damn that Peavey!

Not only did he now have a skull-splitting headache and was seeing odd coloured spots on everything, Quincy was positive the stream flowing by his watchtower refuge was chortling, as if it looked forward to watching his demise. About to raise his fist and curse at the curiously entertained brook, he became aware of a human in leather armour, holding a club or somesuch, jogging up and down the beaten path on the other side of the giant beech tree that stood too far away to offer shade. A girl from the shape of her, and within shouting distance. Or so he thought.

He yelled. He hollered. He screamed until he thought he'd permanently lose his voice. Hearing some sort of cackling which sounded suspiciously a lot like laughter coming from the goblins, Quincy was inspired to jump up and down while waving his arms about like a madman, hoping to catch the girl's attention. To no avail - he watched her jog by over and over again. What the feck!? Was she blind and deaf? What kind of crazy person sold armour and weapons to a blind and deaf person? Oh. Yeah. He'd forgotten how low the dodgy merchants in Broken Valley would stoop for a coin or two. The bastards! Selling hope to some poor sightless, hearing-impaired fragile thing like her!

When the girl finally strolled over in the general direction of the watchtower, he watched as her neck craned upward. Though he knew his mind was becoming foggy from lack of water and too much sunlight, he still had to rub his eyes to make sure his vision wasn't completely damaged. Was she really staring at the giant beech tree? How could that be, her being blind and all? He began shouting anew, but she still didn't look his way. Well, maybe she wasn't totally blind, but she was definitely deaf, poor lass.

After circling the tree a couple of times, the girl spotted something at the base of the watchtower that made her curious. Peeking down he grimaced. That empty sack had been sitting there for as long as he remembered. But who was he to judge? If the Divine Spirit whom he'd been praying to was hiding out in an musty, old potato bag, then so be it! Just as she stepped up to inspect the sack, he let out one final, desperate shout. And she heard him! Leaping lizard, she wasn't deaf after all! Divine be praised! Grinning like silly git, he opened his mouth to call down to her, to explain the direness of the predicament he was in when...wham! It was as if a sledgehammer implanted itself into his head, and memories of his entire life** flashed before his eyes. The pain passed as quickly as it had arrived, thank the Divine; the girl's timing was impeccable, as he didn't think he could last much longer. He gave his head and shoulders a shake to get rid of the unexpected affliction, and shouted, "Trapped. Goblins stole grappling hook. Need grappling hook." Or summat.

The next few minutes were a blur, due to the waving daisies, bobbing peonies, and dancing marigolds swirling around his aching head. Who knew flowers were so sparkly, mesmerizing, and lively? ***

Quincy beamed when the grappling hook was thrown up. A moment later he stood on the ground facing his savior, and gazed into her milky eyes. Silver eyes! A Dragon Slayer! Yes! He immediately explained the need for her to go to the Village Guard Barracks and expose the villainous coward (Peavey) who'd left him high and dry, before he himself ran back to the village - dehydrated, starving, hallucinating and all - eager to boast of the deeds of his new-found hero.

Then watch Peavey rot in prison for all eternity.

*Fecking/feck=lovely words learned from the inimitable Irish 'lady', Agnes Brown (as in 'Mrs Brown's Boys') on BBC. Heh.

**Mind-reading Quincy costs 400 experience points and gives 1 stat point! Whuh?

***Hey, it's Valentine's Day as I write/post this. Bite me.