I made it down the hill to the village without incident. How boring, should we go back out and find a metaphorical pack of coyotes? Nah, probably not a good idea to go fight monsters with base stats, no weapons, and no skills. Fair, fair, though it is a bit of a bummer that we didn’t get a hiking skill or something. We were walking for a while. Maybe it takes five miles at a time or something, or – oh crap, I bet it’s a total lifetime miles walked kind of thing. Damn. That would mean that we’re way behind the natural born people here. Stupid jerks, having nineteen years of walking experience on us. I mean, we do have over twenty years of life experience on them, so that’s pretty alright. And yet not twenty years of walking experience I said as I was reminded again to enjoy a nice frolic at the base of the hill.

I wound my capering to a halt as I entered the town. I didn’t want to look like a crazy person when entering a small country town. Might as well make them earn the knowledge of my eccentricities the over time.

As I entered the town proper, I was cheerily greeted by one of the villagers with what my brain interpreted as a friendly wave. Apparently I had a VERY powerful translation skill that hadn’t shown up on my character sheet, because what he actually greeted me with was a cheery middle finger. I smiled and flipped him off too, just to be polite. I walked over to the man.

“Good afternoon, my name is Iron Bear. Welcome to Blue Valley Town!” I looked around. “Is this even a valley?” “Nope”, the good-hearted farmer replied. “But our founders were very into valleys. Actually, our town hall is in a trench!”

“...”

Iron Bear noticed the rock I was unconsciously twirling in my hand. “Hey great! You even brought a donation to help build our mountain! Can’t have a valley without a mountain you know!”

“Oh” I replied. “Well here than.” I emptied my pockets of my stash of fightin’ rocks. An excited glint entered Iron Bear’s eyes as he stroked his manly beard. “Well, well, well. As fine a stash of mountain bits as I’ve seen in a mustached hog’s whisker.”

Iron Bear guided me toward a small hill of loose gravel and rock nearer to the village center. He carefully placed the rocks he’d been entrusted with onto the pile and proudly led me around the heap to what he introduced as “The Grand Blue Valley.”

The Grand Blue Valley was fairly sizable for a hand-dug ditch in a rural village; with a length and width of nearly a football field, and a depth of probably twenty-five feet. The baby ravine held a wooden two-story building whose roof just barely peeked out of the impression. Several older men and women lounged in what appeared to be bathing suits on the flat roof of the building. “Morning Iron Bear!” One of the men greeted, followed by a round of ‘hellos’ and greetings. “Who’s that new fella you got with ya?” “This is my new friend! I met him at the village entrance. He brought us some really nice rocks!” “Wow, what a big-shot" the mid-seventies man in what looked to be a yellow-dyed thick woolen speedo replied. “Does the newbie have a name?” Asked the woman beside him. “Nope, never asked!” Iron Bear happily replied.

The old man shifted slightly in his chair. “I’m Drifting Cloud” he inclined his head toward the grandmotherly figure next to him “and this here’s Spanking Willow.” At this the elderly lady made a swooshy motion with her finger in the air and a gust of wind blew over Drifting Cloud along with his chair and the drink he held in his hand. He rolled end-over-chair-over-end straight to the edge of the building and off the side, landing on the ravine floor with a ‘floop’ and a cloud of dust.

I looked around at the crowd of unworried faces, each person’s response varying between an eye-roll with a smile to a light chuckle. The old lady shifted her gaze from the side of the roof which Drifting Cloud had fallen off of back to me. “That was my husband, Mayor Drifting Cloud. You may call me Sleeping Willow.”

I replied with a polite middle finger and a “nice to meet you.” Then added “Is he ok?” A streak of light then shot upward from the side of the building, and Drifting Cloud landed on the roof; one hand brushing dirt out of his hair, and the other brushing it out of his speedo. “Excuse me young man, what I meant to say was that this lovely young lady is my wife Sleeping Willow.”

The remaining roof loungers introduced themselves. I discovered that this gathering was a meeting of the town council, and, as the exciting new person in town, I was invited to join. I politely declined on the grounds that I hadn’t eaten all day or had any water, and Drifting Cloud made a motion to “skip the day of work in order to provide charity to the hungry.”

Most of the members heartily agreed and in a few moments I was whisked off to the local restaurant by a herd of chattering elders and an excited Iron Bear.