Timothy had been travelling for several days and nights to reach Fort [+TE+]The_Lad. The only thing that had kept the rays of the sun from turning his face to a bright crimson had been his trusty fedora atop his head. As he approached a bridge in front of him, Timothy heard a strange voice.
"Da's a nyc hat u got der fam."
It said. Timothy looked all around for where the voice came from, but the only figure he could make out was a hooded figure in the road ahead of him.
"It wud b a shaym if anyfink wer 2 hapn 2 it."
The voice got louder as he approached the bridge where the figure stood, and Tim began to recognise the dialect the man was using. He appeared to be from the former republic of Lutonia.
"Fam, stop ryt der or il shank u. Il fkin cut u. Git down of ur fkin 'orse an tayk of ur fkin fdora. O wayt nvr mind ur wyt u cn pass."
Timothy studied the man. He didn't appear to be much younger than Timothy himself, and he was holding an odd makeshift knife in his right hand. He seemed to be a tough character - the kind of person he could use on his quest.
"I say, would you like to join me on my quest? I am seeking great fortune and could use someone like you in my group of adventurers."
The man appeared to stop and think, checking around Timothy.
"U ain't got no wogz or pakiz in ur groop fam, il joyn u."
And so Timothy tipped his fedora to the man and helped him up onto Brandon's back, before heading off to the Fort which was now peering through the fog in the distance.
