The Strongest Imp in the Realm
Ahh summer! Bright, sunny days, the Summer Autoquest, summer festivals popping up throughout the wilderness; it is indeed a wonderful time in Medievia. A few paces south of the fountain in Medievia and one stride west, there is a lovely little mailbox, with an invitation to a picnic. Procuring this invitation is the beginning of the Summer Autoquest, which takes players on a fun yet challenging hunt, either through the picnic area, or in the case of heroes, the lands of Medievia. As I wandered the picnic area, perusing the imps, visiting the picnic area and fair, I stumbled into a tent covered in animal skins. Peering around intently, I noticed a very strong imp, bragging to a younger imp about his immense power. He referred to himself as "The Strongest Imp in the Realm". Really, I thought to myself. Looking more closely at this "massive" imp, I saw he carried a tee shirt. Not just any tee shirt, oh no. A highly prized Summer Autoquest tee shirt. I grinned.
Letting my clan know the slaughter that was about to occur, I was told by Drakthus that this imp's golden blade delivered 20d20 damage. Coming to a screeching halt, I quickly did the math. Oh dear. This might not be as simple as I had hoped. Well, I would be nowhere if I did not, on occasion, attempt the impossible. And so it began. I snuck back into the tent, and attempted (key word there) to plague this braggart, forcing him to weaken and thus drop that lovely but deadly blade. Nope. He dodged my attempts to trip him, and I fled, tail between my legs, whimpering softly. As I collapsed, covered in my own blood, I resolved to do this, to finish this "uber imp".
Sneaking, casting wave after wave of shocks, tripping, nothing worked. I fled so often my legs got tired. Concluding that my precious sanctuary spells were nothing to this powerful little man, I surrounded myself with a shield of fire. Crawling to my feet, I crept back into the tent. I glanced at the "Strongest Imp...ya da ya da" I saw, with great joy, that he was vomiting blood. What I did not realize was that as he became more injured, he also became more tenacious. I was so intent upon my task that I was truly surprised when, attempting to flee, I was told to lie still. I was dead. *Groan*.
The altar in Medievia looked so calm, so peaceful after being stabbed to death by an IMP. The priest helped rejuvenate my spirit, and I set out once again. Casting all my protective spells around me, I prepared to end this charade. I was a hero! No imp would get the better of me twice! I was so wrong. Bless that priest, he never even cracked a smile as I flung myself at his feet once again, praying to be reborn. He did chastise me a bit, asking why I was visiting so often. Growl. Realizing that I could not do this alone, I pleaded with my clan leader and friend, Lorton, to come help heal me while I struck this menace down. Laughing, Lorton appeared at my side, healing me, and shaking his head. He said, "No, you heal me." I clambered to my feet, and followed Lorton into the tent. He stabbed, I healed, he fled. Over and over again, until finally those magic words: A strong imp is DEAD! I cheered Lorton's performance, and he patted me on the head with a wry grin, and disappeared, leaving me with this fresh corpse. I looked into the body of the dead imp and there it was, the tee shirt. Retrieving all I could from the "Strongest Imp in the Realm", I realized I was holding his weapon. I identified it, and was amazed to see it was restricted to level 33! I tagged that blade no store and no drop, only as a reminder that cockiness is a bad thing in Medievia. Skipping to our gohome, I clutched my new tee shirt to my chest, revelling in it's rarity and sheer perfection.
So, try the Autoquests, search for the Elm Dryad and the Minstrel in the wilderness. Snap up those red, white and blue sanctuary orbs. But remember-if you meet an imp, who brags, take a minute to ponder the chance that he is telling the truth. Perhaps he really is The Strongest Imp in the Realm.