You are a simple bard invited to perform before a bored and grumpy king. Your hands tremble as they clutch your humble instrument. You think to yourself "This is it. This is where all the hard work pays off. This is a bard's time to shine!"

At the expense of getting started with your performance right away, you opt for an introduction. Surely this king cares who you are, or anything about you at all, for that matter!

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Always eager to think of ways to ingratiate yourself in front of superiors, you notice a spot on the king's shoe. You hock a mean one into your trusty rag and set to work. This crusty old king will warm up to you yet!

Wow, you sure fucked that up fast!

You launch into an absolutely exquisite melodic paean about the king's wife. You even throw a little dance number in for good measure!

The king is a homosexual!

But the double entendre of "queen" suddenly dawns on him. He finds it quite clever and amusing.

He appoints you as head dragon slayer of the kindom! You truly are an unlikely hero thrust into the position of greatness.

You point out the overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

Oh yes! You rip out some mean licks on your lute. The monster ballad rocks the palace hall, as the subjects are in awe of your lightning fingers.

It seems the king has heard it before.

You wander into the city streets to prepare for your questing. You wonder if you might want to stock up on several extra large dragon corpse satchels just to be on the safe side. But maybe you should start with the armor first. You think you'll stop by the smith's.

Or will you?

"I can make yer bard armor for you. +5 wot, though?"

The gentleman wonders what item, in addition to the armor, you would like in quantity of five?

"Why di'n't you say so! I got just the thing to spruce yer pulchritude right up!"

You don't have enough golds!

The smith wonders if just five satchels will be enough, considering your obvious natural abilities in the field of dragon slaying.

He gives you 10 satchels, on the house! He tells you to come back any time in case ou need more.

Homosexuality is outlawed in this kingdom! Anyone caught in the act will be immediately locked up in the king's personal dungeon.

He sends you on your way, however, with a gracious recommendation. If asked, you have no idea where it came from.

You voice your request to the friendly butcher.

"We don't stock dildos here! And besides, haven't you heard about the city ordinance on homosexuality??"

You set about looking for the local codsmith, or groincobbler as otherwise known sometimes. You are stunned to find a treasure trove! Cod Palace, the busy cod enthusiast's one-stop cod solution!

So many choices! You're like a kid in a candy store, and instead of candy, the kid finds a lot of cod pieces instead!

Sweet Jesus! You've found it. "Hull of the Flagship", it's called. It even has ruffled trim and a bell afixed. It's perfect. Alas, you do not have the golds for it.

You offer your hat. The codsmith inspects its worth as potential material for a new cod piece. It shows promise, but it simply is not worth the same as the Hull of the Flagship. He refuses.

In an act of understandable desperation, you snatch the piece and scram!

The angry smith calls for strapping men to apprehend you.

You find a window to a back alley and dive into the safety of a dumpster.

Yes! You and your magnificent piece are alone together at last! Except for some vagrants camping in the alley. They ask if you can spare any cods, but you politely decline.

You don the cod piece. Now this is the kind of comfort that is only possible with a top of the line luxury cod. The majesty of your union with the piece is heralded.

You raise your arms in triumph. You are the king of this alley!

Your subjects instantly prostrate themselves before the bearer of the great piece. They would do anything for you. They would take a crossbow bolt for your groin. In Cod they trust.

You are clearly making progress here. Any adventurer would be lucky to begin a quest with your recent acquisitions. You can almost taste the dragon bounty already.

Just a moment... you start to wonder if the attire of your servants is altogether appropriate? Their groins seem conspicuously barren.

You don't know why you didn't think of this earlier!

You order your new servants to sneak into Cod Palace and snatch a couple cods that are befitting of a distinguished entourage.

They return successfully, and possibly completely unoticed!

You flee, but the groin cobbler is hot on your trail!

You did it! You are free of the tyranny that would deprive your groins of a snug, fashionable cradling.

You cavort with carefree abandon, not the least bit concerned with the flopping about of the nether-regions. Nor are you concerned with any vengeful codsmiths who you are quite sure probably didn't follow you.

You lead your party outside the town to begin what you can only assume will be an insane dragon murderfest. Your two companions are able-bodied, loyal, and clearly very intelligent. You wonder what their names are. You are too caught up in your bold leadership duties to ask though, and you figure you will probably just make up some stupid names for them later on.

Where would you like to go to find some dragons to slay?

Stupid Flothers! What a dumb suggestion! There is no such thing as a dragon concentration camp!

You slap Daunchy around a little too for good measure.

You peer into the thick forest, but you cannot see any dragons in your immediate vicinity. This quest will surely be a long and trying one.

Daunchy suggests looking for dragons in the caverns of Harold. You decide to teach him what happens to brainless servants who make up bullshit places.

Hey, look, the caves of Harold. You will consider entering the caverns of Harold at some point.

Top notch idea, flothers! An excellent idea like that deserves a reward. You hoist Flothers your thickest T-bone steak.

You find yourself in a really moist and smelly swamp. This is where the investment of a stolen cod piece really pays off. Your groin is warm and dry.

You see a swamp wizard.

You rip out one doozy of a silly dance. Dragons be damned. You'll have to slay this rhythm inside you first!

Daunchy and Flothers are really excited.