The Adventure of a Non-Adventurer: Intro

The Adventure of a Non-Adventurer

Introduction

A life without adventure is likely to be unsatisfying, but a life in which adventure is allowed to take whatever form it will is sure to be short.  --Bertrand Russel

The beast circled.

Growling on a menacing note, it slowly crept on hoggish feet; it's eyes focused with burning intent.  The point of it's gaze was a single man; large droplets of saliva coursed down it's hairy lips, making the out-protruding tusks look even more sharp and shiny.  The man's appearance was plain and simple, and a bit taller than the average human.  His clothes, those of a commoner, looked slightly ragged, the results of a longer than usual journey.  His complexion, was rather clear, and yet, there was something about his eyes, that remarked, that perhaps, he wasn't the most ordinary of humans.  Most humans lacked the penetrating eyes of this man, and those eyes currently watched the beast, circling ever closer.  In one hand, the man held a single spear; it would be easily swiped away by the beast's enormous hooves.  In the other hand, he held a small mud colored stone, clenched as if it were his life.

The hungry borabeast let out an enormous roar, raising his hooves in the air.  And then, he charged.  His prey was in his sights, and he was not about to let it escape once more.

That man, the target of the ravenous pig, of course, just happened to be me.

Yes.  It was me.  Of all the people in the world who could have possibly gotten the borabeast's taste, it was me.  And yet, that wasn't the worst of it.  Borabeasts I could handle, provided I was well rested.  Who they brought with them, though, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter.  Unfortunately, I was neither well rested, nor prepared to deal with... them.  Just my luck.  And of course, of all the people who could have been bound to go on this adventure, I was the lucky one... or should I say... the unlucky one, to get chosen.

You know, I am really starting to dislike that word.  You know... "adventure".  It was the beginning of all this mess, and looking at how things are going, it is likely to be the end to all of this mess too – that is, namely, of me and my life as a human being.  You see, it's not that I want to leave life so quickly.  I think it's life itself that wants to rush me along to my speedy demise.  If it is possible for life and death, polar opposites, to finally agree about something, it is that, I, Aphanre Miro should have a quick, nasty, and violent death as soon as could be possibly managed.  Perhaps that is why the boar-beast has acquired my taste.  And I am sure that is not all.  No, death has probably sent some incorporeal demon of his realm to kill me as well.  It's in his character.  It is all in his character.  Perhaps they think if they offered some convenient way for me to pass beyond the veil, that I would take it up.  Perhaps that is why I have been through all this mess as of late... concluding, with this boar-beast.

Actually, if I was smarter, I would probably take them up on their offer.  But no, I can't do that; the game-master, adventure, wouldn't allow that.  It's against the rules for a hero to find his way to death... unless it is over a broken heart, for a beautiful maiden feigning death... which, of course, I haven't been lucky enough to find yet.  So live I must.  And yet, I have no idea how I am going to get myself out of this pickle.  Perhaps the game-master will play nice, and tell me how I'm going to get out of here before hand.  But I know better.  Oh yes, I know him far better than that.

So is my luck miserable or what?  Hehe... you know... I shouldn't have to even ask you the question.  My luck is miserable.  Wonderful.

Well, in any case, I should probably explain how this whole pickle got started.  It all started with that single word... "adventure".  It's a cursed word.  Cursed because of the danger it puts on your trail, constantly changing, and always searching for you.  Cursed because of the quest it imposes upon you, always seeming to evade you, and outwit you at every corner.  Cursed because of it's powerful draw on the instinct of man, blinding wisdom, and hiding away all common sense.  And cursed, because it traps you in the game, never to escape, and you will rarely, if ever, rest in peace once more.

No, I am not an adventurer.  I am a non-adventurer.  And this, my friend, is the adventure of a non-adventurer.

I hope you enjoy it.  Because I certainly did not.