"What the f*ck is going on up there?". Ffarg was only slightly sturred by the noise that was going on above him. All the same he was pissed. He had after all slept for over a 7 decades - the trials of parenthood taking its toll. He dusted off his bed sheets, now mere rags, falling to dust as his long nailed fingers swept wildly across his withered torso. He blinked. Twice. He hated waking in the dark, but then it's always dark underground. Who the hell is shooting a gun up there... surely bullets aren't that widely available that someone would be using them at such a rate? And only 'gunslingers' held the weapons of mass destruction. In the hands of a gunslinger, on bullet is all that is required. In this age common men opt for a more earthly protection - magic. He scolled himself - it was no longer his age!
Ffarg blinked again - damn it where is that candle?! Oh Fuck It - Ffarg snapped his fingers, illuminating a pale blue aura around his forearm, his back ached instantly and the backs of his eyes screamed at the intrusion of his new found friend. His eyes took only a few moments to adjust. He shook his head and took something out of his pocket and put is in his mouth. He hadn't had a smoke since he went into hybernation 70 years ago... he was dying for a fag!
He found the ladder and made his way towards the night chill, some fucker up there must have a light!
The trap door pushed open with suprising ease, dust bellowed upwards in tiny mushrooms and the old wood creaked with a noise that felt like it would leave splinters. The old door was open, probably the work of the weather, the old work house didn't show any signs of human interferance. He popped his great head out, looked around and then climbed out. The building directly oposite, the largest of the small cluster, had lights - but the shooting was not coming from there. Ffarg clasped his staff, 3 metres long, and not much taller than himself, ducked under the doorway and headed out into the night.
When he'd arrived here the small hamlet had been deserted, but not for long. The evil that had run the townsfolk out had long gone, but Ffarg now felt a growing unease - something was not right. His thick skin crawled and it was all he could do to stifle the shiver that ran down his huge spine.
Priorities:
Fag
Food
Beer
Sex - preferably with a Female
FFarg reached the doorway of the 'well-lit' building, took a quick look over each shoulder (the shooting was coming from the opposite side of the clearing - some idiot was fireing wildly into the undergrowth) and stepped in.