The second podcast, where the characters and players are introduced to 5th Edition.
Drinking God Rules:
Rule 1 from Kellnorin “Breaking the Seal”
If a player leaves the table to use the bathroom, the remaining players can collectively finish a full drink and make them take a shot upon returning.
Rules 2 from @halfwithalfling “Playing with matches”
Everyone Drinks whenever someone deals fire or lightning damage because lightning burns so bad it might as well be fire.
The Gaul fall is also in effect this Session.
Characters:
- Mack ‘Mumbles’ McGumtree - Played by Tom Fonss
- Sollen Stoneshield - Played by Gary Soldati
- Chancho Dreeft - Played by Matt Cook
- Agholor Manherder Alonsokiko - Played by Brian McGrath
- Zorticus Dominax - Played by Daniel Acker
- Roofer - Played by Matt Buchholtz
Locations in this episode:
- Greyhaven - a great city that lies in the Greenwald to the west.
Jokes introduced:
- Gary is an Old man for drinking EnSure.
Play-By-Play
… Patented critjuice shenanigans…
The group has just reached the gates of Greyhaven, the jewel of the west, the largest city in all of the Greenwald (which is the region just to the west of Thunderblood).
They’ve been on a caravan for the last month, heading dead-west down the ol’ trade road and have just about arrived…
Starring
Gary Soldati playing Sollen Stormshield… and maybe something else.
Daniel Acker playing Zorticus Dominax, the hermit drow. A real psychopath, sociopath – all of the paths. Everything you want him to be and more… and a lot less.
Tom Fonss playing Mac Mumbles McGumtree, a 322 year old rock gnome bard. Drug addled and loving every second of it baby.
Matt Cook playing Chancho Dreeft, a lightfood Halfling rogue who loves the shadows and is a bit feral. He gets berserker rage, but he likes to help creatures and is very certain that he already is a big deal, and will continue to be so.
Together the two of them are The Little Naughty Boys at the end of the table.
Brian McGrath is playing Agholor Man Herder Alonzo Kiko the barbarian goliath. A Goliath is huge, standing about 8 foot tall, 360 pounds. Essentially half human, half giant. Clearly stated that he doesn’t have a paunch. He is bigger than Shaquille O’Neal.
Matt Buchholtz is playing Roofer, a wood elf monk/roofer. He is from Thaddix, Thunderblood. His weapons are a spar (a modified quarterstaff), a kama (scythe), and thatching needles (darts). He does what he does and he’s trying to be the best at what he does.
Drinking Rules:
Gary is currently drinking EnSure – not that this is relevant
The D6 comes up: The dice was rolled by Gary because who knows how many more sessions we have with him. Gary rolled a 2 (the Gaul fall is now in effect). Follow @RyanFGaul on Twitter.
Rule 1 from Kellnorin “Breaking the Seal”
If a player leaves the table to use the bathroom, the remaining players can collectively finish a full drink and make them take a shot upon returning.
Rules 2 from @halfwithalfling “Playing with matches”
Everyone Drinks whenever someone deals fire or lightning damage because lightning burns so bad it might as well be fire.
Everyone is rested and everyone has full hitpoints. They have reached the walls of Greyhaven and a Flock of Hippogryph knights have swooped overhead in a v-formation. They can see the powerful flanks of the horses and the eagle wings and eagle heads with full armored bodies. Full plate mail gleaming in the sunlight, soaring over these tall grey walls to this city on the harbor. And beyond it, the beautiful grey sea with white sunlight glints on the horizon. It is a beautiful sight, there are people everywhere and it is a gorgeous day.
The veils of reality are parted…
There is rocking and jostling as the caravan feels every hole and divot in the broad dirt road as they sit in the back of the 14 wagon caravan that has traveled all the way from Thunderblood. The sun is setting on the horizon. Huge thunderheads loom on the horizon from the ocean, getting lit up by the setting sun.
Green grass and rolling hills are cut by the winding road and to the left and right there are thickets of trees; oaks, alders and birch trees where birdsong can be heard and all around the caravan are people gathered around the gate.
Two huge open wooden doors reveal the road leading into the city itself, with a portcullis that has been cranked all the way up. Wooden posts have been staked outside the city itself and they are connected by long pinkish ropes all dangling in bunched knots from the post. A sign or proclamation is there but the group can’t quite make out what it reads from the caravan.
The Caravan Master shouts “Ho, get the men up tight. Into the city now! HO! HA!”
Sollen kisses Elizabeth passionately while trying to disconnect himself from her arms. “Oh, mmm, ah, thanks Elizabeth, it’s been fun.” He murmurs to her. Sollen and Elizabeth Shoehelm have had a passionate tryst on the caravan and it’s almost like the end of summer camp for him.
Zorticus is up next to the caravan driver, biting his nails into points and staring at the driver. The pot-bellied driver says “Son, I’m gonna be glad when you’re off this caravan.” Zorticus smiles and nods.
Mac is tuning his lute, he’s been all around. He often dares others to name a place he hasn’t been to and already thrown up in. But, it has been a while since he was last in Greyhaven. Dinfizzle, the jocular and friendly gnome befriended the group and allowed them to enjoy the delights of his wagon. Mac has taken advantage of this, but that hasn’t bother Dinfizzle at all.
Chancho is walking by and holding his crotch, not sexually, but like a small child as he sees in awe the splendor of the city. He says “woah, woah, woah.”
Agholor is next to Chancho and Mac, thinking he is part of the gang and wants to be friends with them. Agholor left his job at the Barrel Cracker in Thaddux to travel to Greyhaven for the opening of the new Barrel Cracker in Greyhaven.
Roofer counts his silver and realizes that he’s had to pay 5 gold to the Roofer’s guild, so he deducts that from his purse and in so doing Sollen notices and also remembers to pay to his group – the Stone Scouts (the smith and metal forgers branch). Roofer attempts to gel the group together. He’s spent a whole month leaving Thunderblood and the Thatch Bros to become an Entrepreneur and he sees that as being well worth his time (because there is money in adventuring) so he’s going to do that now.
Roofer says to everyone before it looks like they’re about to part ways “Guys, before we all split, I just have one quick idea. And it’s that we stay together, forever, and just become partners and I think it’s a great idea because we got lots of people here and I think that we got lots of potential. I seen all sorts of laughter and happiness come from this. You all got my card, so I think that … it’s a go!?”
Findizzle replies ecstatically “Yes, absolutely. I think that’s a wonderful idea!”
Roofer “Great! So, we got a driver… And who else do we have?”
Findizzle, dressed slightly ostentatiously in his doublet, paunchy losing his hair but with a big comb-over gnome scholar; “well, I mean, well, here’s the thing. I think that’s wonderful idea, or at the very least, I’m going to need help unloading all of my baggage and getting it over to the inn I’m staying at The Drunken Gryphon” I mean, I’ve been on all of these caravans and it’s a real shame to see you go. I’ll gladly pay you say, three gold pieces each to accompany me to the inn and I could buy some drinks and we could have fine farewells.”
Chancho says “YES!”
Agholor says “Done! I could carry probably a couple person’s stuff, so I could do that.”
Roofer “This seems great.”
Zorticus gives a thumbs up and a thumbs down and shrugs.
As they all agree with the plan, the caravan rolls on and they can hear someone cursing up front of the caravan. It is the Caravan Master “Arwww, Out of the Way!” The lash of his whip strikes out at a filthy beggar in a cloak of indeterminate color due to the mud and everything that has coated it, but the hood is pulled up to his face and the group can see the hands are wrapped in cloth bandages. The beggar lunges at each of the wagons as they pass crying out “… a ride into the city! A ride into the city for a beggar?”
As the group passes he lunges towards their wagon, right up to it. Too close, right up to the open door. Invading personal space he is on the verge of climbing into the back of the wagon itself. He stinks, badly. Chancho, having grown up in the wild thinks no harm can come of this and he extends his hand to the beggar and says “let’s go” Zorticus grits his teeth while Sollen invites the beggar in and Agholor bodily picks up the beggar by his torso and puts him in the wagon.
The beggar is absolutely shocked, as Agholor easily sets him down saying “What’s your name?” The stench of the beggar intensifies in the enclosed space. He smells like rotten food, like a dumpster in the sun. He has not been cleaned in doubtlessly years. He pulls his hood tight. “Thank you, thank you” he says in a scratchy, grimy voice.
“You’re welcome,” Agholor politely says “You smell kinda bad. We should probably get you a shower or a bath or some sort of rinsing.”
“Leave me be,” the beggar snaps.
“Oh, okay.” Agholor replies while Sollen tries to hand the beggar a gold piece surreptitiously. The beggar however is not quick to take it. He spends a moment looking at it before taking it with obvious gratitude. “Thank you” he says and in that moment Zorticus goes up to him and gives him a big hug, picking the beggar’s pocket to steal the gold piece. The beggar didn’t even notice but as they are hugging the caravan comes to a halt and the city guards begin to perform an inspection.
A guard peers in the door, “All right everybody looks… WHAT?” As the guard incredulously notices the filthy beggar “What is a filthy beggar doin’ in here!”
Agholor patiently says “He said he needed a ride into the city.” Chancho hisses at the guards and Sollen responds “He’s our guest.”
The guard backs hastily away waving at the group “All right, all right. More than my job’s worth. More than my job’s worth” he mutters. They lurch forward and pass through the gates.
And as soon as they’ve passed the inspection the beggar looks to the group and says almost without a word of acknowledgement “Thanks.” He steps from the back of the wagon and drops to the streets and disappears into an alley.
A drayage lot is made available and the oxen are unhitched and the rigmarole of the unloading begins. The group begins to help Dinfizzle unload his gear and 45 minutes later the lights of The Drunken Gryphon inn beckon to them, lighting up the streets as the sun sets and the clouds roll in.
Dinfizzle looks up at the encroaching clouds and says “Storm, big storm coming in it looks like. City of Storms, don’t you know. Blame it on the dragon. There’s a dragon in these parts that supposedly loves the weather. I’ve never seen it certainly, but it’s been a long time since I’ve been back to the city. I spent some time here researching. In fact, that’s what I’m here for now.” He finishes as they reach the big, three story inn the sound of many people spilling out into the street.
The party opens the double swinging doors on a large common room on the lower level, lights, sound and the bustle of people. Huge, long tables with loads of people sitting at them. “Yes, in fact, I am here to meet an old friend of mine, a sage as it were. His name is Hatherford and he’s been working with the aristocracy to help them with, oh this and that you know. It’s been at least 6 years since I last saw him. I’m looking forward to seeing him. He’ll be meeting me here in a little while. But don’t worry about that. Find yourselves a seat, find a table, and I’ll bring you some drinks. What is everyone having?”
One of the group mentions payment for the delivery of the luggage and Dinfizzle apologizes “Oh, certainly, certainly” and he fumbles out a copper pieces to the porters and bellboys of the inn to take his baggage and luggage up to a room. “Yes, excellent, so what is everyone drinking? Dwarven ale? Elven wine?”
Agholor with his typical request “Shasta, if they have it.”
Chancho is quick to follow with a request for “King Harbor, please.”
Findizzle takes everyone’s orders around the table and disappears up to the bar, returning moments later after everyone has found a seat at an end of one of the long tables. The whole town has a feeling of medieval London mixed with 1800s New York. It is a bustling, crowded, stinking and chaotic place, but the group can see how happy and at home Dinfizzle seems to be. He offers some idle chatter about the locale.
“I love it here. They don’t have a King, at least not anymore. They do have a Queen, but she’s too young to rule, so it’s all done by a Duke and he’s turned much of the power over to the merchant guilds. It’s a town run by the people, to a large extent. Though the Aristocracy still has a final say about much of the laws. But, it’s neither here nor there, you don’t hardly care, I’m sure. So anyway, here’s our drinks!” And a waitress arrives with the beverages.
“Thank you” Agholor says. “You’re welcome” replies Findizzle while Chancho chitters. “You know,” Findizzle goes on, “I don’t really know much about what you guys do… what were your occupations before you joined the caravan? How did you make your money? You, tiny, stinky, Halfling man. I find it hard to imagine you ever had any income from anything?”
Chancho eagerly pipes up “Nothing, I had no income. I needed no income. I defended my friends, my family and they fed me well. And well I was fed.” And he drinks from a cup that is clearly too big for him.
Findizzle persists, “Then why come to Greyhaven?” Chancho doesn’t even pause, he puts down the mug and says “Well, because I have been foretold to do such.”
Findizzle’s large eyebrows shoot up “Oh, prophecy?” “Yes!” says Chancho, clearly not knowing what that word meant. And Findizzle goes on “One should always listen to prophecies…” but he moves on. “And what about you, er, Zorticus” he says to the drow, “so seldom does one see a Drow on the surface.”
Zorticus’ eyes dart about, clearly showing his anxiety at the question and he moves his body about, cracking his bones and he uses a voice, not his own, “heh heh, you know.” Zorticus puts his head down to indicate an end of the conversation.
Findizzle is not perturbed, “such a strange character, but honestly one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met. It’s been so fascinating. Anyway, three gold for all of you before I forget!” And Findizzle passes out the promised payment. Throughout all of this Findizzle has been looking regularly to the doors, growing more and more uncomfortable. He adds “Where is Hatherford, he is usually so punctual.”
The big claim to fame of this inn is the figurehead of a giant ship, a flying gryphon carved out of wood is in the centre of the room, paint peeling off of it. It is mounted on the central column and has been covered in hundreds of flyers and notices and job postings which have been nailed to it all over.
Mac throws up a tearaway sheet that reads “Lute lessons” and others can see he has 8 of them up there already. Zorticus takes a lute lessons sheet on the sly. As the group sits there and Findizzle runs out of small talk “I don’t know where Haverford could be..” which queues the doors to fly open.
Through the swinging doors an older looking tall man, grey hair tied back in a ponytail and bearing a long beard cut square to his chest. He wears a cloak about his thin frame and he staggers into the inn. He pushes a few people out of his way, one of which is the bouncer at the door. He glances around swiftly, his eyes finally coming to rest on the group’s table. Findizzle’s eyes go wide, “Hav, Hav, Haver, Haverford?” The man, obviously now Haverford, stumbles at a hurry to the table, panting. He pulls from his cloak a green pouch tied up with a golden cord. He hurls it upon the table causing Chancho to cry out.
“The iron flask. The iron Flask! You have to find it!” He exclaims between gulps of breath. “You have to destroy it!” He looks frantically at the group, “And whatever you do, don’t open it!” Then he shoots a worried glance towards the door.
Agholor calls out “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait… don’t open the bag?” But it is too late, there is a back door and the man has fled through it, into the city night. The scent of coming rain wafts into the noisy inn.
Findizzle calls out to the swiftly closing door, “Haverford, where are you going?” And as swiftly as Haverford has left, three city guards enter through the main doors of the tavern. They wear the regular dark red jerkins of the city militia, soiled from the course of duty and wear the single breastplates of their armor, carrying halberds. They are sweating from an exertion and they look around. Behind them, an elder statesman type individual (much like Donald Sutherland) enters behind them along with the Captain of the City Guard, a tough looking half-orc.
The Captain cries out “Everybody stay calm. Stay where you are!” His gear is in good condition.
The older gentleman whispers in a voice the entire room hears clearly. “We are looking for a traitor.”
The large fireplace crackles against the far wall, it is the only sound in the room as Chancho quickly looks around, noticing that the second and third story rooms are all balcony style rooms, overlooking the common room of the inn. Chancho senses the tension in the room and ducks behind Agholor to climb up the wall to get into a balcony on the second floor. Acrobatically he flips up to the floor, flinging himself up the loos cobblestones of the wall. The pine branches of the balcony railing. Zorticus doesn’t look at Chancho, but his pointy, long tongue follows Chancho’s climb.
Roofer notices Zorticus’ tongue and says “Is that… Is there something wrong with your tongue there? It, it’s just moving in a weird way.” Agholor laughs, and Mac hops to his feet.
“Oh, yeah, that’s right! Hey, any of you cats seen a pink elephant?” Mac cries out to the entire bar. “Anyone? Little guy, a lady, pink elephant.” The whole bar was quiet, ringing out like a bell.
Sollen asks the Captain “Did you just ask no one to move?” The Captain is dressed in half-plate. Much nicer gear and better tended clothing than the soldiers about him. He has a big long sword in one hand. Roofer notices that the boots of the captain are these mid-calf all leather with silver capped toes and fine silver needlework on the sides that form silvery wings on them. The boots look valuable, much more valuable than the rest of what the Captain wears.
An additional six guards arrive. The elder gentleman is wearing purple robes and appears to be an aristocratic. His dark hair is swept back and going grey at the temples and he has a finely kept goatee. He wear a double buttoned vest with a black and gold brocade on it. There are some drops of rain on the shoulders of the individuals who have just entered.
“That’s right, everyone, stay calm. Stay where you are. This is an official investigation. There’s no need for anyone to get excited. Simply stay where you are. We are looking for an escaped criminal.”
Sollen stands up, kicking his chair back loudly. He then slips the pouch under his chainmail and stares at the Captain. Sollen drinks his beer defiantly.
The Captain looks at Sollen and then looks at his guards. He commands them, “I want a few of you to go outside and look outside. The rest of you, fan out and start asking questions.” He dismisses them with a wave and then purposefully strides towards the bar while looking at Sollen with an ‘I’ll get to you in a moment’ look.
The aristocrat remains by the door as the Captain quietly asks his questions of a barmaid. Her platter of empty mugs falls with a clatter to the floor. “Duke Draymore” she quails.
“Duke Draymore!” Pipes up Roofer. “If you happen to need any roofing done, I’ve got this card here, and you can just have it, and if you decide that you need roofing, I can do thatching, I can do other roofs. I can do tile, I mean, I specialize in thatch, but that’s just the way I do.” Duke Graymore is idly fiddling with a heavy silver necklace around his neck. It is a finely wrought chain that ends in a large silver medallion. He hears you and speaks quietly to a guard. The guard approaches the group “Did you see anything? What do you know about the guy who came in here? We’re looking for a man, he’s got a pony tail. Chest length beard. Did you see anything?”
The guard gets the upper hand in the conversation and says “This is important business. What we’re really lookin’ for here. You saw something didn’t you?”
Roofer “Yes, I saw the man you’re looking for. Does his tongue dart this way and that? Because I saw that.”
“Uh, not very helpful. YOU!” The guard says, turning to the dwarf. “I’ve had enough out of you as well. Tell me what I want to know or I’ll throw the lot of you in the jail, all right! The Brig! Wait, no that’s on a ship isn’t it.”
Roofer politely tells him that’s so and the guard says “Right, well it’s not on a ship, it’s a jail! That’s where you’ll go.”
Sollen levelly states “I don’t think you’re big enough.”
“What?! Are you defying the law?” The guard exclaims. “You’re defying the law?!”
“Not my law” states Sollen. The guard turns to look behind him and call some of the other guards over, stating “I’m not interested in your intimidation tactics, all right, you dwarf. I’ve scraped bigger than you off of my boot! Boys, get over here! Search all of these jokers, huh. Getting’ tough with us! We’ll search you well!” More guards come over to his call and they prepare to search the group. “Come on, turn around!”
As that happens, Agholor pipes up politely to the guard “I could help search, I’m a trained bouncer.”
The guard snaps at Agholor “You’re getting searched too! All of you are getting searched, right boy! Hands on the table! Hands on the table, right now!”
Agholor is confused “I said, I could help search…”
The guard is having none of it and says “You can help search by putting your damn hands on the table.”
Agholor “Wait a second, I’m pretty trained in this and I, uh, I think maybe I should just search you first, and then you can search me.”
The Captain of the guard hears the commotion and approaches “What’s goin’ on here!”
Agholor turns to the Captain and says “I was offering to help search people, cause this here guy wanted to search people, and then he seemed to not think I was qualified, but I was a quartermaster for a while and I was in the war…
The Captain says “shut up,” but Agholor continues “and then I’ve worked at a tavern – it’s The Barrel Cracker …
The Captain insists “I said be quiet!” and Agholor blithely ignores him, “and uh, they’re opening another franchise I think… it’s uh …”
The Captain finally snaps “I said be quiet, son!” and he gets onto a stool into Agholor’s face. “We’re not looking to have any trouble tonight. We’re not lookin’ to spill any blood, all right? This is just a simple thing and we’re not trying to deal with a bunch of drunk hooligans … all right?!”
“I’m not drinking, I’m drinking Shasta.” Says Agholor patiently.
“I don’t even know what that is!” The captain says.
Defusing the tension, the back door opens with a loud bang and the guards who had gone outside, enter crying out, “We found him! We got him!” and they drag in a dead body.
Agholor says brightly “Oh yeah, that guy! He was just here.”
They drag the body over and a guard yells out, “clear the table, clear the table.”
The Captain says “oh, you saw him!?” just as Dinfizzle stands up, putting his hands to his mouth sadly saying “Haverford.”
The body is slammed on the table, spilling beverages not hastily grabbed by patrons. With the thud of the body Zorticus says “oh my!” in a girly voice.
Haverford’s face is gray and drawn and he has several crossbow bolts in his chest. Duke Draymore whispers “Search his body. Search him! He must have it on him.” And the Captain of the guard moves to search the body.
“Shouldn’t you be figuring out how he was killed” Sollen says menacingly. “The what, the who, huh, three quarters?”
“Why do you keep calling me ¾” the Captain of the guard says, his hands poised to search.
“Because you look like you’re three-quarters orc.” Sollen says dead-pan.
The half-orc Captain shoots Sollen a cold glare and says “I deal with a lot of shit in this city, but I’m not lookin’ for it tonight.”
“Aw, baby, you can’t bring that sort of negativity to your job like that. You just gotta go with the flow.” Pipes up MaK Mumbles. The Captain gives the entire party an exasperated look and sigh and it is very clear that he is making a mental note of each of them before he finally begins to search the body.
“Look at that. Poison, looks like poison.” He pulls one of the crossbow bolts from Haverford’s body and it slips cleanly free with a wellspring of green putrescence bubbling up from the wound in the corpse. “I’ve seen this before. This is a Schort Poison.”
“A poison from Schort” the Duke whispers. “Are you saying, that we have assassins from the Empyrean Empire here?”
“Either that, or someone with deep pockets.” The captain confirms.
Involuntarily, Dinfizzle gasps “oh god, this is horrible! He was no traitor. I’ll tell you that much! He was a good man!”
And the Captain and the Duke turn on Dinfizzle, the Duke menacingly whispers “And what do you know about this? Did he give you anything?! I want all of these men searched. Turn them around. Hands on the table, immediately.”
The Captain moves to comply. “You heard what he said! You’re Lordship” But up on the landing Chancho makes a small mouse sound that he’s directed to Sollen. He has positioned himself directly above Sollen. Sollen looks up and with the mug in one hand he slides the pouch into it.
With renewed intensity he takes a step back from the table, his hands swinging out crying “no one’s touching me!” But before he does that he leans in close to the Captain of the guard and says “Listen, I was going to pretend to put this pouch in the mug and throw it against the wall to try to get the thing out of your hands. I’m still gonna do it. But you know I’m gonna do it. And then we’re probably gonna fight.” He then puts the pouch in the mug and he lets fly upwards towards Chancho. Everyone watches the mug sail up to him and Sollen grimly draws his maul.
Agholor says “Oh hey, that’s the thing that guy put on the table!”
Sollen says “That’s the pouch you were looking for.”
The Duke says “I want all of these men arrested, immediately!” Dinfizzle gasps again.
The room is a large common room. There are three 20 foot long tables. The party is at one end of them. There is an aisle about 5 feet between each of the tables. The common room is at about 2/3 capacity and along the west wall is a 10-15 foot wide fireplace with a crackling fire. Along the North wall is the bar where the bartender. The double swinging doors are set in the middle of the east wall and the staircase to the next level stretches up along the south wall. The second and third floors have about 24 rooms in total. A large chandelier hangs from the ceiling equidistant from the balcony of the second level. It is smoky and warm, lots of people and there are a couple of windows to either side of the double front doors. The group is at the table closest to the fireplace.
The captain of the guard touches his sword and then says “I’m going to give you all one chance to lay your hands on the table, or this will end in blood.”
Agholor politely states “Well, I don’t think we should fight at all if it can be avoided.”
Roofer says “Woah, I just thought that there might be a job here! I think that there’s been an egregious misunderstanding. My friend here has been drinking a lot of dwarven wine, and he’s a light weight anyway…” Roofer starts speaking faster and faster in the hopes of persuading the guard this was all a big, drunken, misunderstanding. “I mean look at him, he’s barely even there! He’s like a waif, and so when he has all this drink it goes straight to his head and right down his beard and then back into his brain and then back another time into his beard. It’s like double filtration… so… I think maybe there’s just been a mis-understanding. And he’s kind of an idiot… so…”
As the Captain of the Guard waits for them to put their hands on the table, Zorticus turns to him and his tongue slurps into his mouth. Looking around, acting confused, his eyes get all pitiful and he says in elaborate sign language like he’s deaf and hasn’t got a clue as to what is going on. One of the city guard pushes him aside, acknowledging that Zorticus has nothing to do with this group while Duke Draymore says “get the deaf mute out of the way.”
Zorticus says “That doesn’t mean I’m mute!” as he stumbles back, finishing with an extremely evil grin. But for some reason he is ignored.
Mack shouts out “It’s not just this dick bearded dwarf that’s drunk! This whole group is three sheets to the wind, I’m so sorry! You know, it reminds me of a song…. We’re a group of traveling clowns! Oh my god, this guy is so drunk, he” and Mack bursts out giggling drunkenly, “he reminds me of that classic song I wrote that goes something like… hmmm”
She said her name was Virginia
Maybe it was Nicole.
Mmm, I don’t know.
You see, I was fairly drunk
Like this dick beard right here.
She said she was my old flame.
Mmm, now I’m blanking on her name.
Angela… no, it’s probably Nicole.
I am currently drunk.
The Duke does not take this well at all. He whispers harshly, “Stop that singing! Shut these men up, Captain. I won’t have this.”
The Captain says to the Duke “Calm down, Calm down. They’re just some drunk assholes.” Turning to the entire bar he loudly declaims; “Look, everyone sit down and shut up or we’ll drag you away, all right? I’m making this your responsibility, song smith.”
Mack spouts “You got it, baby, anything you need!”
“Or it’s your head!” snarls the Captain.
Mack seems to realize the import of what the Captain just said “err, ulp, yep, okay!”
Loudly the Captain says “Keep this dwarf under control!”
“Hey man, get yourself together, I’m just …. Get yourself presentable like.” And Mac smacks Sollen around playfully.
“What did you throw up there! WHAT DID YOU THROW UP THERE!” The Captain bellows at Sollen.
“My mug” says Sollen. “My mug.”
Incredulously the Captain says “You’re ready to fight the entire town guard, over your mug!?!”
“I thought you might steal my coin purse!” Sollen sputters.
“Sit your butt down!” The Captain screams. Chancho has opened the pouch revealing its contents to be a map of very confusing detail. He furiously and furtively studies it before hiding it upon his person and climbs to the third level before the guards make their way to his position. It reads “herein be the iron flask, speaketh the word and pass” in a Dwarvenesque script. There is a crown, clashing swords, a little wheelbarrow and a man feeding a mouse some cheese. There are two crossed arrows and more script that reads “the old city between iron gate and the parish.” There is a very detailed asterisk.
When the guards reach the third level Chancho hides himself by a table leg and the guards storm by him as he, melted into the shadows, rubs the front of his pants in a circle while staring at a bar maid below.
Agholor hasn’t quite caught on to what’s happening. “I was just trying to offer some help.” But he still places his hands on the table and sits quietly.
The Duke has riffled through the body’s pockets and says with disgust, “There’s nothing here. There’s nothing on it. This is no good. We have to find that map!”
Dinfizzle stands up and says “Now wait a minute, leave his body alone. I won’t stand for this. I won’t stand for it at all. My friend Haverford was a good man. He was not a traitor! If he did anything, I’m sure he did it for good reasons!”
The Duke slowly turns towards Dinfizzle and menacingly whispers “You knew this man? You were friends with him?”
Dinfizzle backpedaling says “I was friends with him, I was good friends with him. And I won’t hear you drag his name through the muck!”
“Very well,” whispers the Duke “Captain Orc-Blood, drag this gnome to the dungeons to be interviewed later. And take this body with you as well.” Immediately guards move to accost Dinfizzle while others gather the body.
“Wait a minute! I haven’t done anything wrong” cries out Dinfizzle in fear and burgeoning panic.
“I’m going to take my hands off the table if you don’t let go of him,” states Agholor calmly. They continue to drag him away. Agholor takes his hands off the table and moves to grab Dinfizzle. Roofer moves to help. Sollen gets up, proud of his performance, but still moves to help. Chancho sees a person being treated unfairly so he moves to help as well.
Zorticus leaves the group and sits down at the bar next to barmaid, giving her a wink.
The Captain of the Guards turns to the Duke and says, “He has a point, he has done nothing wrong.”
“Are you questioning my authority as the Duke?” The Duke whispers.
“No, your highness.” The Captain sighs. “Take him to the dungeons.” The guards once more move to drag out Dinfizzle.
While his erstwhile companions gird themselves for battle, Zorticus turns to the barmaid and uses vulgar sign language to ask if she’d like to fuck him. She shudders, abhorred by his presence, and turns away. Zorticus stares intently anyway..