There's now lore for the Money Bin! It was stupid of the creeps to break into the Money Bin. Because while a welcome mat sits at the Bin’s front entrance, intruders quickly learn the mat is just for show. The Money Bin’s ground floor is protected by traps too numerous to list in full, though they include fall-away doors, spiked walls, acid pits, gatling guns, and a host of venomous creepy crawlies. Those who survive these initial perils are able to access the Bin’s upper levels, but would-be robbers must still contend with ten additional floors’ worth of guards and snares if they intend to access the Money Bin’s vault. The vault, of course, has its own defenses, though in reality it needs none. Because any hooligan unfortunate enough to reach the Money Bin’s eleventh floor must face the Bin’s creator - an industrious Scot who defends his wealth with a vitality that belies his age.

There's now lore for the Bear Hunter! These strange creatures walkin’ through the mountains? Well, the Bear Hunter reckons they must not’a heard that these forests are his, and that he don’t take kindly at all to trespassers. The Hunter’s snares normally trap black and brown bears, but he’s recently learned that they catch creeps just as easily. Hell, easier even. The bears eventually learn to avoid areas the Hunter has trapped, but the creeps? Those dumb sacks just keep marchin’ through the Hunter’s land, content to keep fillin’ the Hunter’s traps and his belly. Yes, the Bear Hunter’s eaten a lot of creep meat over the past few weeks. And while creep sure don’t cook or chew or taste as good as bear does, the Bear Hunter’s never been one to complain about scorin’ an easy meal. The Bear Hunter’s known lean times before, but for as long as this creep siege carries on, he won’t go to bed hungry.

There's now lore for Holgar the Horrible! Up to now, Holgar the Horrible’s been content to wait out this creep siege within his family’s wooden cabin. “As a professional courtesy, you understand,” says Holgar to his wife, Brunhilda, as she brings him his morning breakfast: A bowl of leftover, lukewarm fish stew and a slice of rye bread. “After all, we pillagers have to stick together. I wouldn’t want these creeps to attack me if I was raiding their land.” Brunhilda rolls her eyes and sets down Holgar’s breakfast. As soon as the stew hits the table, Holgar digs in. “Sure,” says Brunhilda, returning to the kitchen. “You’ve chosen to stay here, safe and hidden, out of professional courtesy. Not because those creeps outnumber you 500 to 1. That sounds like you, Holgar. You’re always so courteous.” “I am, aren’t I?” says Holgar. After downing three slurps of stew, the Viking reaches for his beer stein - and is surprised when his hand passes through empty air. “Brunhilda!” shouts Holgar, somehow managing to push his wife’s name out through the bits of stew stuck in his throat. “Where’s my morning beer?!” “Didn’t I tell you?” shouts Brunhilda in return. “We’re out of beer! You drank the last of it yesterday!” “Out of beer?” says Holgar. “OUT OF BEER?!” Moving faster than thought, Holgar rises from his chair, grabs his twin battle axes from their place beside his door, and bursts into the countryside. As she hears creeps start screaming, Brunhilda smiles. “Really,” says Brunhilda, “I should have told him we were out of beer weeks ago.”

There's now lore for Huli the Monkey! Let me know what you think 🙈! In Nature’s jungles, there is just one law: Do not mess with Huli the Monkey. Especially not in front of his ladies. “Dear dead gods, he’s on my head!” screams Jarad the giant. Huli has scrambled atop Jarad’s forehead and begun beating it like a pair of bongos. “The damn crazy monkey’s on my head! Jerome, get him off me!” Jarad’s partner, Jerome, takes aim and swings his massive, wooden club at Huli. Or rather, he swings his club at where Huli had been. Because Huli has already dodged Jerome’s strike, and latched himself to the giant’s club. In the trees encircling the action, Huli’s female admirers hoot and swoon. Urged on by the cheers of his chimp co-eds, Huli runs up Jerome’s club and then the giant’s arm, grabbing a pair of bananas with his tail along the way. Before Jerome can swat him away, Huli dives across the giant’s body, hurling the bananas in Jerome’s eyes as he falls. Banana-blinded, Jerome accidentally beans Jarad with his club a couple more times before stumbling into a tree himself. Both giants are down for the count, and Huli is resting safely in his fan club’s arm. Which is just another day, for the King of the Jungle.

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