Verisimilivirate

You're just an average guy - with an unnatural thirst that can only be slaked by all things medieval and fantastic. Myth, lore, fable, and legend all draw your eye before anything else. You're an adventurer through and through, with your only regret being that you were not BORN into some of the stories you are so fond of reading. If it weren't for the lack of magics and flying dragons in the true past (and for the fact that you don't believe in wishes), you would have wished yourself into the long-forgotten pasts of Medieval England as a noble knight, adventurous rogue, or valiant wizard. But dreams were made to birth fantasy into reality, as you are to find out today...

As you plod along to your next class at Gotchamoney U, thinking of the doldrums of life that lie ahead of you in a career (nay, a UNIVERSE) that barely interests you, you hear a faint disturbance behind you. Before you can lazily turn to see what it is, a speeding student CRASHES into you! Well, honestly, YOU crash... HE rushes on like nothing's happened, zooming across the brightly lit quad. After taking several dizzying spins and crumbling to the ground, you unmuddle your head just long enough to look up and see a parchment roll, with the crimson wax seal apparently just broken, lying there on the grass before you, just at arm's reach. You groggily reach out to take it, opening it to see what appear to be Druidic runes, with their Modern English translations scribbled in to their right.

"What the...?" you think. It must have been at that same moment that the short pudgy dude that toppled you realized that HE no longer had the scroll and YOU did, for you hear a shriek from the far side of the grassy quad, "GIVE ME THAT SCROLL!!"

From the first blow you received, you KNOW you're no match for this mini-powerhouse's speed OR resilience, apparently. So, if you want to KEEP the scroll, only three options presents themselves - there's a dense forest near the edge of campus that is about half the distance from you to the guy away from you in the OPPOSITE direction; there's a slightly rusted pruning hook (atop a steel pole - left absent-mindedly by the campus gardener) that more than anything resembles a six-foot spear; and there's an open manhole (sewage - yuck) about two steps behind you. Whatever you choose, it must be in a hurry, as the little chubby guy has already begun his blinding race back toward you - and the scroll.

Of course, you could always just drop it and let the crazy Pygmy get what he wants and be gone...
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