His Grace, His Excellency, the Duke of Ankh, Commander Sir Samuel Vimes [1] opens his eyes and finds himself staring at some very unfamiliar treetops. The ground beneath him is hard-packed dirt, and something rocklike is digging into his right shoulderblade. He can hear the sound of buzzing insects and, quite possible, the faint tinkle of a bubbling brook.
Vimes is sure he’s not supposed to be here.
Now, this wouldn’t be the first time he had woken up, flat on his back with no memory of how he got there. But one, that usually involved greasy gutters and a gritty Ankh-Morpork night, and two, that’s not the sort of thing that happens to him anymore, thanks. He shuts his eyes tight, willing this dream—because it has to be a dream, right?—to end.
Why did it have to be a forest? Not that Vimes has anything against fuzzy animals. He just prefers them cooked well-done on a plate with some chips on the side. Not that he minds trees, but he likes them much better after they’ve been turned into useful things like houses, and paper, and crossbows. He just has to hope that if he lies here long enough, it all go away.
A bumblebee lands on his nose.
Vimes sits bolt-upright with a yelp that echoes through the forest. “Who did that?”
[1] Blackboard Monitor if you're feeling cheeky.
Monsters and Men
“The Goatman. So he’s…half goat, half man? Which half is which—no, wait, don’t answer that, I don’t want to know.”
Regardless of whatever stupid job this place has given him, Sam Vimes will always be a copper, and so when he hears that kids are disappearing, he goes to investigate. So far, this has mostly involved eyeballing surly teens hanging around the Flying Saucer Cafe and trying to get them to tell him what’s going on. They eyeball him right back—that’s the trouble with teens, they’re champion eyeballers—but they’re easily bribable with milkshakes, and that’s how Vimes learns about this mystery creature stalking the woods.
“No, no, no, wait,” he’s saying. “I’ve heard this one before. There was a story out of Lancre about some farmer’s cows getting maimed by some monster, but it turned out to be nothing.” [2]
“If you don’t believe us, then why don’t you go see for yourself?” says Surly Teen #1.
“Yeah, why are you hanging around us, anyway? You some kind of pervert?” adds his companion.
With a groan, Vimes stands up and stalks to the door. Maybe he will go see for himself.
“Hey, aren’t you going to pay for these!” one of the kids calls after him.
[2] Was it a hoax meant to scare the populace? No, not at all. Francis Chisolm just turned out to be a godsawful butcher.
Sam Vimes | Discworld
His Grace, His Excellency, the Duke of Ankh, Commander Sir Samuel Vimes [1] opens his eyes and finds himself staring at some very unfamiliar treetops. The ground beneath him is hard-packed dirt, and something rocklike is digging into his right shoulderblade. He can hear the sound of buzzing insects and, quite possible, the faint tinkle of a bubbling brook.
Vimes is sure he’s not supposed to be here.
Now, this wouldn’t be the first time he had woken up, flat on his back with no memory of how he got there. But one, that usually involved greasy gutters and a gritty Ankh-Morpork night, and two, that’s not the sort of thing that happens to him anymore, thanks. He shuts his eyes tight, willing this dream—because it has to be a dream, right?—to end.
Why did it have to be a forest? Not that Vimes has anything against fuzzy animals. He just prefers them cooked well-done on a plate with some chips on the side. Not that he minds trees, but he likes them much better after they’ve been turned into useful things like houses, and paper, and crossbows. He just has to hope that if he lies here long enough, it all go away.
A bumblebee lands on his nose.
Vimes sits bolt-upright with a yelp that echoes through the forest. “Who did that?”
[1] Blackboard Monitor if you're feeling cheeky.
Monsters and Men
“The Goatman. So he’s…half goat, half man? Which half is which—no, wait, don’t answer that, I don’t want to know.”
Regardless of whatever stupid job this place has given him, Sam Vimes will always be a copper, and so when he hears that kids are disappearing, he goes to investigate. So far, this has mostly involved eyeballing surly teens hanging around the Flying Saucer Cafe and trying to get them to tell him what’s going on. They eyeball him right back—that’s the trouble with teens, they’re champion eyeballers—but they’re easily bribable with milkshakes, and that’s how Vimes learns about this mystery creature stalking the woods.
“No, no, no, wait,” he’s saying. “I’ve heard this one before. There was a story out of Lancre about some farmer’s cows getting maimed by some monster, but it turned out to be nothing.” [2]
“If you don’t believe us, then why don’t you go see for yourself?” says Surly Teen #1.
“Yeah, why are you hanging around us, anyway? You some kind of pervert?” adds his companion.
With a groan, Vimes stands up and stalks to the door. Maybe he will go see for himself.
“Hey, aren’t you going to pay for these!” one of the kids calls after him.
[2] Was it a hoax meant to scare the populace? No, not at all. Francis Chisolm just turned out to be a godsawful butcher.