The Minstrel Cycle Begins
There's a shimmer in the air and a faint and distant *oink,* and then a short, squat little man is standing in front of you, bowing.
"Verily, the Avatar of Boris is upon thee!" the little man says. "I am Clancy, Boris's faithful minstrel. Thou hast summoned me from the spectral mirror realm to which I was banished when Mighty Boris perished generations ago!"
"A mirror realm? So, like, everything was backwards? That had to suck," you say.
"No, it was worse than that, Boris!"
"Call me $playername," you say, "or quotid. Whichever."
"Sorry. It's just that thou lookst so akin . . . anyway. In the mirror realm I was cursed to have an animal-like appearance! In that wretched place, my handsome visage was replaced with the head of a pig!"
"Wow, that sounds terrible," you say, as Clancy oinks softly to himself. You decide to tell him about the snout and the curly tail at a more appropriate time.
| Well met, then, good Clancy! |
"I pray my music shall once again lighten thy soul and thy loafers, Boris -- er, I mean, $playername," Clancy says. "Now do you know where there's an inn near here? I could absolutely murder a trough full of mash."
Occurs when prompted by Clancy.
