Posted by Morpork at May 14th, 2007

“Are you a barbarian?” said Farmer.

“Nay, fighter. Of truth and justice if I may add,” said the man.
“But… but you aren’t wearing anything! Where’s your shining armour? Where’s your steady shield?”

With a sparkle on his tooth*, the man said, “Ah, I AM wearing something. Behold my Masterwork Loincloth of Projectile Deflection! Everyone knows armour is pointless but underwear! That is known to protect!†”

“I see. I defer to your expertise then, great… fighter sir. What is a Masterwork though?”

“I couldn’t afford any armour,” he almost spat the word, “so my momma sewn me this masterpiece of a loincloth. You want to touch it?”

Farmer searched for a trace of red on the man’s face but there was none.

“Er… no. You couldn’t wear something over it?”

“Same slot. Can’t jolly do that.”

“What, you mean…” glancing to a woman in armour at one side, “there is nothing unde-”

“Hail! Do you need a man-at-arms for the Party you are mustering?”

The speaker was so tall he overshadowed Farmer, who wasn’t a short man.

“My word! You MUST be a barbarian!”

He flinched at the word. “Certainly not sir! I am very civilised I assure you. I am a half-dragon Paladin and I would like to offer you my services.”

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*He probably polished that one tooth just so he can glint it at times like this.

†Superman for instance. Interestingly, certain golden, spiky haired individuals fight better the less they are clothed. Pharmaceutical companies and smithies are both under investigation for supplying unneeded consumer goods.