Please allow me to introduce myself, I'm Salt, and I'm a man who used to have some wealth, but still has a lot of taste.
We, the Vagabonds, are a curious and elusive family and we move in Lovely ways, but we will fend for ourselves and our family, as - even though we may seem a bizarre and dysfunctional family - we are a clan and will remain so, forever, The Vagabonds I.
So, this is me, Salt, and as long as I can remember, I've been an Unflappable and Anarchistic bloke, always looking on the bright side of life. I became a fulltime and professional globetrotter, probably because I was born in the Jolly and Ambitious Black Lagoon. But that's not the only reason I became a globetrotter. You see, my first mom (yes, I actually have two - it's there in the family archives) is Mabel:
She's a nice, but Dyslexic Chaperone and every time I asked her about her life before the Black Lagoon, she would tell me longwinded, Jolly and incoherent tales of living in the distant Land of Maykbeleef. So you understand that, ever since I was a Fabulous toddler, I have dreamt of visiting that fascinating land. And when I was 17 and a-couple-of-months, I was off to find it. Even though I had no clue where to find it. But it was a Vagabond-thing to do, so I was off.
Well, I did have one Sexy clue: my mother Mabel sporadically mentioned Arlington, her uncle. And after a decade of trotting the globe, telling my tale to worn-out librarians in dusty libraries, inquiring for the land of Maykbeleef in desolate youth-hostels, inquiring for the Reclusive Vagabond called Arlington in Anarchistic pubs... I finally found him:
Not in the Land of Maykbeleef, but in a Creepy Pub, somewhere in the Ravishing town of Eger, Hungary. He instantly recognized me as the son of his niece - so the tales about The Vagabonds being one tight and close-knit family were confirmed. And when, later that evening, my wallet and my diary were mysteriously stolen, he happily paid for all our drinks out of his own pockets, slammed me on the back and laughed like an Unbeatable old uncle who was rejoined with his long-lost nephew. I did wonder about his rather thick Hungarian accent, but I guess that's what a decade of living there does to you. He was awesome.
Of the next morning, I cannot remember much as the Eger-wine was now insanely hurting my head, instead of pleasantly numbing it. I do remember cool Uncle Arlington confiding to me he was an ancient Alchemist, and that I needed to go see his wife: my Auntie Angel, in Liechtenstein. She surely could show me the way to the Land of Maykbeleef. He gave me four and a half Hungarian Forints for the journey and I set off. Two days later, I met her:
And I immediately could tell that she wasn't my Auntie. Nor an Angel. Although she was shy, she was Anarchistic and when I told her Uncle Arlington had sent me, she showed me her ginormous, Ravishing belly. Indefatigable as I was, I congratulated her and already even hoped to become the godfather to that nephew or niece that she carried. She cursed me, this Sorceress, claiming I would find no rest in this mortal world, and would forever keep on globetrotting. I didn't mind, really - I'm still cheerful. But I realized she was just a sexual affair of Arlington.
Who in hindsight probably wasn't my uncle, anyway.
And who probably robbed me of my money and my diary in the first place.
So I found myself stuck, in one of the smallest countries of the globe - which, being a globetrotter is quite a nuisance. I was alone and broke (the remaining half Hungarian Forint I kept in my Nutty pocket was useless here anyway), homeless and Indefatigable.
The cheerful bloke in me considered the options: I could go back to Arlington and have him give me my Wild money back, but the Fantastic bastard had probably already spent it. I could try to find a shitty job in Liechtenstein, which after all is a little paradise, but I'm a Vagabond, so I did the Vagabond thing to do: I stopped worrying, symbolically dumped my nagging doubts down a Liechtensteinian drain, took an Unimaginable breath and closed my heavy eyes.
It was then I heard a comforting voice: "Hallo, iz anyzhing ze matter, mein freund?"
To be continued in part II!
Now for the game!
In this story are exactly 59 (I did my best but couldn't make it 60!) adjectives. You can replace these with other, random adjectives from my humongous list, to see what weird adjustments are made to the story. Anybody can comment up to three numbers - I will look them up and replace them in a reply to your comment, as well as update the text with the new adjectives in bold.
E.g. your comment
28 - 19
12 - 9
59 - 4
will replace adjective 28 with new adjective 19, replace adjective 12 in the text with new adjective 9, and 'old' nr. 60 with 'new' nr. 4. Which might result in (again, as an example):
Original: We, the Vagabonds, are a curious and elusive family and we move in chaotic ways.
Replaced: We, the Vagabonds, are a charitable and unchallenged family and we move in epicurean ways.
Let's make this a strange, fascinating, and possibly incomprehensible story! Part II will continue the story for the four remaining paintings/characters and will be played in the same manner. I will have it written in a few days (only for your pleasure to be maimed in the same fashion!).
Oh, don't bother counting the numbers of the adjectives - they're randomized!
Let's have fun!