| You have set foot upon
rolling, grass-covered hills. Up ahead you see a human in long flowing
robes and equally long flowing white beard, with a peaked cap (on his head,
not his beard). He is holding a club.
Behind him is a gnome, who is caddying and not looking too happy about it. "Goofdaln!" you cry to the human. "Help get me out of here!" "Not now!" he says. "This is the best game of my life! I've already had five holes in one and it's only the fourth hole!" He frowns. "Or was that last time?" He shrugs. "Oh well . . . FORE!" He swings at the ball and it slices left, past the cup. He takes out his wand, points and mumbles, and the ball boomerangs back and veers right, then hops into the cup. He crouches down and yanks his arm like he's pulling the cord on a bus. "YESSSS!" he cries. "Let's see Little Mister Four-Eyes-Scar-Head beat that!" You beg Goofdaln for his sage advice. You head northwest, toward forested hills. You head north, toward a realm of mysterious monoliths. You head west, toward the lake. |