It was a normal day in the life of Nack Antson, to-be-founder of a new village that may rise to be the Jewel of the southern riverlands, peaceful lands that have rarely, if ever, seen any crimes. But thats all a dream of the distant future. Today would be a day of zeal, getting all kinds of things done. Hunting boar and badgers, flattening the land in preparation to extend the palisade, and eventually fishing, because he hasnt done that in ages. So he grabbed his fishing pole and some earthworms and made his way to the river. At the river he stumbled upon a group of strangers travelling the river, it was too late when he realised what was going on. He tried to escape on boat but the strangers, who turned out to be raiders looking for unknowing victims, hit him with a projectile startling the poor lad for a fraction of a second. He knew the only way to escape is on land so he jumped out of the boat and ran as far as his legs could possibly carry him, with the persecuers at his heels. It almost looked like he could lose the four brutes in Lynx- and Bat capes but his efforts were in vain. One of the bloodthirsty barbarians caught up and knocked him to the ground giving him the most terrible headache he ever had, and that, unfortunately, was the last thing he ever felt.
This was the story of Nack Antson, a person too light hearted for this cruel world who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Let us all hope that he at least got be burried by the brutes who have slain him so he may find his way to valhalla.
Seriously tho, at least bury my corpse when you are done fucking it inside the stinking shitpile you call your home.... please..