Amelia had tried for several moments to get Horace out of the place, but he had become Horace the statue. The boy’s got a long way to go, before he get’s one of those carved in his honour, however.
Until his shocks passed over, Amelia would just have to carry him home. Unlike most other dungeons, the exit is the same way in here. Picking Horace up and carrying him like a bag full of groceries, the looks that came her way were not exactly the most thrilling as she exited.
The adventurer she primitively threw over the hill had come back down even more wrecked than when they exited the dungeon.
“Call yourself a mother!? What a despicable display of behaviour!” Limping over to her, and arms dangling having been forced out of socket. What was Amelia to do but assist the guy of course.
“Hey adventurer! Here let me help you out.” Amelia placed Horace on the floor who for the most part, seemed to be in his trance like state of shock still. The adventurer hadn’t quite thought what his plan would be after berating the person now stood before him. Wearing gear that he could only dream of ever getting near and looking ready to show how to one shot an idiot.
Will I ever get my MEAT Amelia huffed with head down to the ground before slowing raising her head back up to the adventurer. The pupils of her eyes had long since disappeared. The adventurer desperate to fix the situation said to her, “Hey, uh my mistake. I got the wrong person. It was someone else, take care!” Too late thought Amelia wanting to say it but she felt, there was more of an impact forcing to live in silence than the loudness of a shouting match.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
She grabbed ahold of the adventures dislocated arms. Yanking on both with one swift tug down and push up in a rapid motion. He tried to yell in pain, but she closed in the distance and held her hand over his mouth. “Shush don’t wake my sleeping darling or I’ll take your legs out next time too tee-hee.” A nearby group of adventurers seeking to try the place for themselves also joined in, thinking they could be heroes.
“Hey! Let him go ya old coot. What do you think you’re doing laying hands on strangers like that.” A rookie freshman still wearing his boring dark green and brown Esquire boots and matching trousers, stood there waving a wooden sword at Amelia.
She clocked on immediately that he was shield of his party, with his barely still functioning punched in bruunze-plate chest piece and a wooden scutum stood, his two long shot companions with bows that looked as if the string was going snap any second now, wore matching brown cloaks over some peasant looking white cloth attire.
One of the longshots had recognised who Amelia was after a few seconds of intense staring. When there eyes met, the memory came flooding back. Oh, FUCK ITS AMELIA SJOKOLADE JONES
The audacity of these group of nobodies trying to tell her what to do set her mind to red alert. Horace having a 6th sense for when his mum was about go nuclear began to return to reality. Looking over he could her fists clenched and she had turned to the sides.
Rest in the next adventurers Horace began to pray for them.
