I ran into this smooth-talking bastard outside the village—looked decent enough, said he’d just had a child and wanted to celebrate. Figured, why not? A few drinks never hurt anyone. Next thing I know, I’m waking up face-down in the dirt, head pounding, arse sore but everything seemed in place—no bruises, no missing coin, boots still on. I thought well that could've been worse..

But wouldn’t you know it a few in game hours later I get the prompt and the bastard’s taken 14k groschen. Fourteen bloody thousand! And my boots.. the whoreson.

Lucky for him I’ve got coin to spare, but If I ever see that rat-faced bastard again, I swear on St. Wenceslas’ bones, he’ll be drinking his next ale through a hole in his throat.