"The winding mountain path leads to farmland; walk the straight road and leave some toll money!"
Listening to the robber compose such flavor-filled "robbery rhyming verses" made you chuckle, but you didn't have time to waste here. Seeing the robber's plump figure and lack of apparent strength, you didn't take him seriously. Holding the Iron Sword like it's nothing, you bypassed him.
You hadn't walked far before the robber came chasing again: "This mountain is mine, this tree is..."
"Shut up!" A quick side-kick knocked him away, and you sprinted forward.
To your frustration, the robber came running after you again, this time wielding a Butcher's Knife, his fatty upper body jiggling as he roared, "Robbery!"
With the sun already perched atop the hill, you knew time was running out and didn't bother arguing with the greasy robber. Without hesitation, you kicked him square in the face, then stepped over him without looking back.
