The Reaping Stone (Cassomir) Table 2

Game Master Karmic Knight

And the story begins...

Merelda arrives early each day. Sits quietly in the darkest corner of the bar and watches everything and everyone carefully
with one hand on her rapier and the other on her cheap wine, nursed carefully for hours.

The owner and his daughter were interesting to say the least. The father a former soldier for sure with his smooth movements
and stuffed hyena-men. The daughter...well she was something else. For a human she possessed a beauty that was almost
magical, subtle like a first kiss, but waiting for more.

The others...a bunch of strangers seemingly circling the drain of life that leads them to this surprising clean bar.

A fellow Calistrian kept glancing her way... Merelda had heard of her whispered recently. A prodigy, or something like that.
Looking for answers in all the wrong places. Merelda smiles at the thought, thinking that could be a motto for their entire religion.

The dwarf was a dichotomy. He smelled of sawdust and herbs, but dressed like a trapper/hermit. Wrinkling her nose at the smell
whenever she passed him to releave herself, she wondered at what his motivations for coming into this dreadful city were.

A soldier...his motivations were clear. He was here to get away from everywhere else. His arms...she had to look away. They
frightened her, and merely reminded her of the fragility of the other races.

The well dressed gnome was her favorite. Obviously an arcanist of some sort, the young woman was tinkering with sketches and
color swatches while always asking Basila if she would wear her creations to help her advertise.

She turned her gaze to the eager young man finally...the distant family looking for a home desperately. A burgeoning alchemist
from the weird stains on his clothes, and the odd unidentifiable smells. A leech or an asset? Only time would tell if he was a stallion or a nag.

With a small smile, Merelda turns her gaze upon herself. Obviously someone who likes to dress in black, she was poised,
long of limb and nary a hair out of place. Mild makeup use enhanced rather than covered her beauty. She was hunting.
Oh yes, she was hunting and she did not hide it...why would she. She covered her Cheshire-like grin with a big sip from
her wine cup finishing it finally.

Yes, an odd group in the Pike and Tankard Inn. Lady Chaos herself must be touching Merelda's life today. Maybe in ways
she has yet to understand.

Excellent.

Merelda raises her now empty cup to Basila as she works nearby, her icy voice as steady as ever, revealing nothing.

"Wench? More of this excellent wine please?"

Him'Wazir nar Maekra, once a hero, gritted his teeth, forcing the puny withered things that were now his arms to raise his tankard, even as they burned and trembled with the effort. Feigned drunkenness soured with his mood and his eyes moved to the stuffed gnoll chieftain, his skeletal fingertips drumming against the hilt of his scimitar, Nipple Taker.

"I need a good excuse to kill something, something that deserves it," he muttered into his empty mug, his own emaciated reflection staring back at him from the depths.

Kirzon never felt better than when he had his hands on a mug of ale. He sits at the bar, a rather sizable snake resting itself beside him. "Twas a good day we 'ad t'day, wasn't it Boros?" The latest hides and herbs he had fetched from the swamp had been sold or bartered quite well. Kirzon had just acquired a large supply of alchemist's fire, which could be pretty useful when living in a swamp full of waterlogged wood.

He looked around and saw there were mostly out-of-towners sitting around today. Though not entirely unfamiliar faces. That boy Nicias was still around. Vasaro explained that Nicias was his nephew and was mostly loitering for now. Then, there was the Qadiran, looking unnecessarily glum. Wasn't every day one saw a Qadiran at the inn even once, let alone twice in a row. Kirzon decides to amuse himself by approaching. "Lad, looks like ya be outta ale there. No sense in that, eh?" Kirzon waves over to her "neice," Basila. "Hey, Bassie, git this man 'ere another ale! Put it on me tab." He then sits down, uninvited. "So what's yer story? 'Snot tha first time ah saw ye 'ere at tha ol' Pike n Tankard."

Innis sit in her favorite spot in the center of the room and strums her small harp adding slow delicate rhythms to the the air wondering how Vasaro could run even a halfway successful bar without music. She passes a coy smile to any man or woman who's eyes linger on her but today is another slow day. She waits while playing her music for a man, not any of the sorry lot in the room but a perhaps more unfortunate soul. She glances at "The Widow" (she certainly dresses the part) mostly out of impatience but also taking note of how she watches Basila like wolf does to it's cornered prey this could be fun yet...

Performance: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23

Him shakes his head, as if clearing off cobwebs, and manages a crooked smile, "Well an ale is always welcome, thanks, allow me to introduce myself, Him'Wazir. My story is simple fought gnolls, got captured and ruined by gnolls, and have come here to build my strength back up. Are you a local?"

Vasaro watched from behind the old weathered counter as his daughter winced at being called a wench by the elven lady in the corner. Strange attire for a lady – elf or not – she seemed dressed for a wake. He had learned better to worry about his patrons drink then whatever reason they found themselves here.

The inn was slow tonight but that was expected for a Moonday. He turned away from his daughter Basila as he heard his old friend, Him'Wazir nar Maekra, lament once again. He was a shell of his former self. Once a proud warrior responsible for saving Vasaro almost two decades ago Him had lost himself in the bottle after having both arms cut off. It was one of the cruelest tortures he could think of to enact on a warrior. Still his arms had somehow been restored however his spirit had not been. He poured another tankard of ale and was just passing it to Him'Wazir when old Kirzon slid over.

He wondered if even Old Kirzon could cheer up Him'Wazir. The dwarf was anything but your typical dwarf. Finding solace under the canopy of trees rather than the dark domain of a cave. He had often wondered what others of Kirzon's kind thought when he met them. A question for another time.

"Hush now Him'Wazir and ease your pain friend. Maybe Old Kirzon can bring back some joy to your life with one of his sordid tales."

It was then he heard a rather eerie notes being plucked on the harp he looked up and saw the exotic woman. The song put a chill down his spine but he could not help but continue to stare. He began to see her there like it had been some twelve years ago. A tear rolled down his cheek and quickly he turned his back to the musician feigning like he was looking for a bottle on the shelf behind him.

Innis notes the Old Innkeeper peculiar reaction to her, certainly not the reaction she wished to evoke but having met many true bards on her travels she understands the effect music can have on a person. True enough was the fact that the two of them had nary shared much in the way of conversation; Vasaro always busy with one thing or another even as she lounged in the middle of the room his eyes seemed to linger anywhere but. A strange experience for someone who finds themselves always in the midst of attention wanted or otherwise.

Lililinda throws open the door suddenly, entering the common room from the street. She strides purposefully toward the bar with firmly planted footsteps, a look of haughty detachment on her face. She sweeps off her elegant fur-lined travelling cloak to reveal a magnificent gown of white silk and silver thread embroidery that would be at home in a palace. She mounts the tall stool at the bar, drops her bag and cloak at her feet, and sits in prim silence, hands in her lap.

Then promptly brings her forehead down onto the bar with a loud THUMP.

With her curiosity piqued by the tiny woman's explosive entrance. Innis stashes her hand-harp a glides over to the gnome who is too self-absorbed in her personal crisis to notice until Innis is sitting right beside her. Innis indicates for Basila to provide a drink to the little one. "What troubles you so my dear?" Innis asks, her voice much like her mismatched eyes and everything else about her possessing an obscure but beautiful strangeness.

She lifts her head up and turns her face to Innis. Her calm mask has slipped, and it looks like she's barely holding herself together.
"Oh, I went to speak with the tailors guild like Vasaro suggested, and they wouldn't take me seriously! Noone even acknowledged my presence for several minutes, then they talked down to me like I was a child, and they laughed, actually laughed when I inquired about setting up shop uptown, and one of them had the gall to ask where I had stolen my outfit! I made this! With my own two hands and now look at the state of it, absolutely filthy" she brushes at her dress, which has picked up a bit of road dust on the hem, not pausing in her tirade. Casting prestidigitation to clean "Now I have no idea what I'm going to do, I'll end up begging on the streets and..." she pauses suddenly. "Oh! You didn't need to stop playing for little old me, your music was wonderful, darling!"

"How cruel, your dress is a beauty that could even put me to shame, a truly remarkable piece of work. Is there someone directly in charge of this matter I could petition on you're behalf, you will find I can be quite...convincing."

Takes out her hand harp once again and plays a more upbeat melody.

"You may call me Innis, Lady...?"

Merelda approaches casually with her hips swaying and her drink in her hand, and jumps into the conversation uninvited
as she leans on the bar next to the pretty purple-haired gnome.

"They were male weren't they. Misogynists all of them. You should teach them a lesson my dear! Let's see...
You could infect their stock with lice eggs? Heh. Makes you want to scratch just by saying it right? Lice eggs."

Merelda shivers at the thought of such delicious justice. She makes sure to point her derriere at Him'Wazir when she does.
The Widow never lets a good shiver go to waste.

"Ah, Sister Merelda how good of you to join us. Not one to be left out of the fun of plotting a good scheme eh?"

With a face and smile as if carved from alabaster, Merelda turns toward the oddly sensual dual-colored
eyes down the bar from her and just across from the gnome's sprout of hair.

"Never Sister Innis. It would almost be blasphemy to do so wouldn't you agree?
Please! Continue your music if you wish. I'm really just here for another refill..."

At that Merelda will cock her head slightly, and wave her cup at the bartender Vasaro without looking away from Innis.

"More wine please."

"Have I not introduced myself already? How rude of me! I'm Lililinda, Fashion Designer Extraordinaire!" She holds out her hand with a smile.

"On the matter of the guild, it was four women, two men actually. I have no idea what they could possibly..." she trails off for a moment, then continues in a more uncertain tone. "Do, do you think it might be a... a size thing? I thought society had rather grown past that sort of thing."

Nodding grandly and trying to keep a conspiratorial tone to her voice, Merelda agrees with Lililinda.

"Of course it is. They must be jealous of your sense of style! Wearing white after Harvest day!
How gauche...until now! You will turn...what is the name of this berg again...Cassomir! Right,
Cassomir's society will be turned on its ear by your challenging designs and attitude. They have to
keep you down somehow! Can't have a gnome jump up the ladder of society and success when they are
so short, now can they. It would make them seem even less by a giant margin."

Turning back to her now full cup of wine, Merelda casually runs the tip of her finger around the rim
in a casual manner as she finishes speaking. Pausing she then takes a finger with a slight bead of
red wine on it to her mouth in a manner that suggests something else entirely, then continues.

"You feel slighted do you not? You wish to put these people in their place? The Savored Sting is
there for you. All you need do is ask my Lady Lililinda."

Realizing she needed to take some of the seriousness out of her tone, Merelda takes the gnome's chin to turn her gaze
gently and then looks her directly in the eyes.

"Even a gentle soul can find comfort in the embrace of the Unquenchable Fire that is Calistria."

Merelda then kisses the gnome gently, but ever so sensually. Like a butterfly would kiss.

Suddenly she is gone, up and moving back to her shadowy corner with her satisfied smile hidden behind her wine cup.

Innis smirks in amusement "I agree with Merelda, unless you have made specific enemies, this is a human city after all. In either case I do have a love of beautiful things so if would like our help..." ~eyes flick over to Merry~ "then your dress has won you that. Besides it could be fun and I could you use a distraction, we can speak more of this tomorrow if you wish. For now rest, and enjoy good company."

"Just be careful of Sister Merelda she can be quite forceful at times." she adds quietly but with an exaggerated show of it.

Merelda nearly snorts out loud at her fellow Calistrian's remark of her forcefulness, but manages to choke it back.
She then arches one pencil- thin eyebrow and raises her wine cup in a silent toast to Innis while nodding her head subtly in her direction.

Him shakes his head, as if clearing off cobwebs, and manages a crooked smile, "Well an ale is always welcome, thanks, allow me to introduce myself, Him'Wazir. My story is simple fought gnolls, got captured and ruined by gnolls, and have come here to build my strength back up. Are you a local?"

"Local? Ha! Nah, not exactly. Ah been livin' in tha swamp, ya know? That's 'ow ah met this fella 'ere." He begins to pet his snake, who remains coiled up beside him. "His name is Ouroboros, but that name's a real mouthful. Ah call 'im Boros."

He then begins to notice the girls in the bar conspiring. The two tall ones egging on the little one. He slides a bit closer to Him'Wazir and gives him a nudge. "Check out them bonnie lassies sittin' together. Mebbe ye should go chat 'em up? I've a fancy to tha li'l one, but ah expect ye might want one of tha tall ones."

Him quirks a half smile, "Ah, well pleased to meet you Boros, you to Master Dwarf. At the moment I can talk the talk, but I fear I could not walk the walk. Nevertheless they do seem to be having a lot of fun, and I have never regretted introducing myself to a lady. But you shall have to give me your name if I am to make introductions."

"Tha name's Kirzon," he says. He starts to offer his hand for a drink, but realizes how that might be a problem given the state of his arms. Instead, he gives the man a pat on the back. "But ah'm too old fer chasin' lassies like them. You, on tha other hand are dark 'n 'andsome. Why don'cha go on, then? Ah'll stay 'ere 'n nurse me drink."

Ovderhearing the ladies conversation, Nicias decides to intervene.

"Ladies, I couldn't help overhearing your difficulty. may I ask, how much you offered in bribes? I'm afraid that entry to a guild is determined only by your ability to grease the wheels of finance. It is, however, an equal opportunities employer in that class, gender, race, ethnicity, inclinations or anything in your background are no impediment to your application so long as you can bribe the right people. I swear, they would invite a devil to join if he paid the right bribes. In the morning, I suggest you find yourself a lawyer. For the right price, they can find all the right people to bribe and suddenly there will be discovered a loophole on the law which means your application will be reviewed in a favourable light.It is the way of things in Taldor."

"Ah and now a noble knight comes to offer his assistance to damsels in distress, suddenly I see this Inn for what it is..." ~looks around wide eyed~ "...a breeding ground for heroes as it surely must be."

She offers the back of her hand for the eavesdropper to presumably kiss "A name Sir. Knight, that and I may forgive your prying however well-intended."

"Hmmm, well met Kirzon, but do they not say age is a state of mind? A man can change his mind, no? And one need not be seeking love, or lust, to enjoy an interesting dynamic. For the moment I am content enough to watch young Nicias's efforts, I am not the man to advise on Taldan business practices," Him says, leaning back in his chair to watch the ensuring entertainment.

Nicias grins, "I am Nicias, Mighty knight and rescuer of damsels in distress. and Visaro's nephew, for my sins." he bows and kisses the proferred hand theatrically.

Showing her perfectly white teeth at Nicias in a grimace, Merelda gestures with her wine cup broadly spilling a little.

"Yes! Let's throw money to money-grubbing lawyers who do nothing really but shuffle the money around!
Laws are for those who do not have the spine to handle their own problems, and bribes are for those who
think they can buy their way out of everything."

Pointing at Nicias she continues:

"There is no such thing as a 'damsel-in-distress' either, only women waiting to take control of their own lives
and empower themselves so that they no longer need help unless they want it."

Settling a little from her rant, Merelda waves her free hand as if to clear the air.

"There may be truth in your last statement. You may be Vasaro's nephew. That is something I have no knowledge
of, and my ability to tell who may be related to whom is not very good when it comes to humans."

In the background you hear Basila laughing. "In that type of company it might be you who needs to be rescued cousin Nicias."

"Aye now girl mind yourself." Vasaro's voice carries throughout the inn,"Customers are meant to be respected. As well as your cousin."

Quickly Basila's laughter ends and she returns back to cleaning up the tables of any plates or tankards. Uncorking a bottle of wine Vasaro moves to the cluster of women and pours a deep red liquid for Merelda.

"The boy talks out of spite," pointing to his nephew, "But he does offer another avenue you might want to consider Lililinda. Finding a representative to get you in touch with the right people would be helpful. Maybe find a noble lady and impress her with your wares. All it takes is one to notice and the rest will be drawn to you like rats to grain."

"Oh Sir. Nicias you are safe with me after all I don't bite....much." Innis flashes him a flawless smile.

"Did you know there are seven words spoken that can make any woman fall in love with you?" ~she asks staring into his eyes, then leans in so close he can feel the heat of her but never once touching as she whispers into his ear~ "If not would you have me reveal them?" ~she pulls away to look back into his eyes~

Looking on Innis's attempts with a tear in her eye, Merelda quickly wipes them away as she whispers to no one in particular.

"Ah...young Lust. I do miss those days."

For one moment, maybe two, Merelda's eyes are focused on a spot in a dark corner of the ceiling where shadows danced, her calm gaze wide and glazed with memory.

Her predatory gaze descends upon her quickly enough however to make one wander if she had done so at all, or if it had been merely a trick of the eye.

Lililinda seems to be much more in control of her emotions now. "Thank you all for the advice. I'll have to do same thinking. On the matter of some sort of 'vengeance', I'd rather get may satisfaction when I become independently successful in spite of them."
She giggles at the tought. "Oh, I'll rub their noses in it for sure eventually!"
She turns to Innis."For now, how about we take our minds off such dour matters. Could you perhaps play us something bright, darling?"

Nicias blushes at Innis's intimation and stammers,
"Uh - I'm sure that won't be necessary. Uh - I just - yes, I have a job I need to do for my uncle now." He backs away, nearly tripping over a stool and retreats towards the interior of the Inn. "Please excuse me, ladies." He adds, bowing hastily.

Innis shares a private and satisfied smile with the other ladies in the room as Nicias bounds away with little grace. She takes up her harp once more now that the commotion has passed.

Looking at Lililinda, Merelda smiles and purrs.

"At least you've got the right idea Lady Lililinda. Don't lose that fire! Noses such as theirs deserved to be rubbed in the
filth of their own making!"

Seeing Nicias retreat quickly from Innis's suggestive performance, Merelda again chuckles to herself, fairly sure where he was actually
going...

"Yes Sister! Play something...Happy? Maybe something we can dance to?"

A mischievous smile plays on her lips ever so lightly.

Chuckling Him stands, wincing at the tremor in his legs, before walking over to stand before Innis wearing a slanted half smile,

"You know the Lay of Sir Savian? I have a want for sweet sorrow... Though perhaps it is not known here? After the Ladies happy dance, of course. I would be left in your debt."

Continues a light-hearted melody but frowns as the newcomer makes his request. "I have spent much time traveling abroad, a difficult song to be sure and I am but a novice. It seems today I have run into a touch of inspiration. I will attempt it but will likely not do the song the justice it is due. If you would see yourself in debt so cheaply it will be yours. Join me if you know the words..."

~ Innis takes a few moments after the song for the ladies is complete letting silence fill the air before slowing starting a song of sorrow and heartbreak. Like all of her songs today it is a great performance ~

The gaunt Keleshite bows at Innis's words and steps back, watching until she begins to play a song of woe, and as the melancholy music begins to rise he steps forward and sings; his voice at first rasping, but steadily becoming stronger and fuller, as he and the musician exchange verse for verse,

Perform Sing: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21

"Still! Sit! For though you listen long
Long would you wait without the hope of song
So sweet as this. As Illien himself set down
An age ago. Master work of a master’s life
Of Savien, and Aloine the woman he would take to wife."

As the notes die away he bows to Innis and, expression grim retakes his seat taking a long contemplative pull of ale.

* Innis Perform 23 + 2(Aid other from Him) = 25 (total)

A great albeit not flawless presentation of the song. With Him'Wazir supporting her music the song ascends to something truly memorable a thing that could pierce even the coldest of hearts. Innis stands over Him'Wazir as he takes his seat and before the crowd is roused from the song's clutches even after the silence that followed. She places her hands gently on his frail shoulders, leans down and plants a kiss on his forehead. He feels an odd sensation beyond the mere kiss itself; a memory of the strength he once possessed passes over him momentarily having earned a blessing from a lady in the room. She then retakes her usual seat.

Kirzon is caught up in the beautiful music that the pair make, not an easy thing to do to an aged and stoic dwarf. He remains very still when it's done, not wanting to break the mood. It's only when Him'Wazir returns that he congratulates the man.

"Tha' was a migh'y fine song, brought chills ta e'en this ol' man 'ere. Cheers ta you and tha lady," he says, lifting his mug in a toast. As Him sits down again, Kirzon again probes his melancholy. "Ne'er heard that song before, but t'was a good one. Ah'll admit, beats yer average Dwarven drinkin' song, not that drinkin' songs're a bad thing, eh? But it seems like the tune 'as some meanin' ta ya."

Frowning, Merelda wonders to herself. The song was unfamiliar and sung in a language she does not prefer, but for all of that,
it was a good effort of them both. Together they were better than each apart would have been.

Perhaps I have misjudged these humans? Tonight they matched any good elven bard's mastery of harp and song.

That thought in itself is a strange and scary revelation Merelda must think upon.

"I say THAT deserves a drink. Barkeep! Refill their drinks on my tab!"

Innis magically sends a message to Him'Wazir if the dwarf has keen ears he might also hear the

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28. Kirzon hears the surprising message, but is wise enough to keep his mouth shut!

Drawn back to the common room by such uncommon music, Nicias remains just out of sight through a nearby doorway, enjoying the music. He waits a short while before bustling out and approaching Him,
"Him! I never knew you were such a wonderful singer! You would have made a fair bard yourself, I imagine. Almost as good as the lady there. But let's play something a bit happier, eh. Visaro will not be happy if you chase all his customers away."

"Desire and ability are two different things..." Him'Wazir, murmurs, his gaze locked on the table. When Nicias speaks he barks a short bitter laugh,

"Credit only the Lady and liqour lad, the drink lends a kinder ear," he raises his tankard, studying it for a moment, "to old friends sorely missed, and new friends worth... missing? As for your dog of an Uncle, ha, he knows as well as I that nothing makes a man drink deeper than a little melancholy."

Kirzon puts two and two together as Him mutters further regarding desire and ability. And he thinks its time for some intervention. Him was obviously very down on himself, despite the fact that the day was objectively going quite well. "Alright, lad, seems like ye need ta not give up tha opp'rtunities that be right 'n front o' ya. Ah ken tell ye've 'ad a rough time, prolly 'cause o' them arms o' yours 'n all. But let me tell ya, there always be a way ta make it right. Lemme tell ya a story. This be a dwarf story, so 't might take a while."

"A long while back, ah wasn't some crazy dwarf livin' in tha swamp. Mind ya, livin' in tha swamp's actually pretty interstin', but that's beside tha point. So anyway, ah used ta be real strong, ya know? Was a lumberjack in these parts, choppin' down trees like the were twigs with me old axe. But we all git a bit long in tha tooth, ya? Started havin' trouble heavin' tha axe. So what'd I do? Sure, ah 'ad some time when ah just felt sorry for meself, but 'ventually ah changed. Ah learned 'ow ta chop down trees with me mind." He starts tapping his noggin as he says this. "Now, ye say, 'ows that ye be choppin' trees with your mind? But ah was tha one teachin' folks where ta chop, n' how ta chop, n' all sorts o' fancy stuff."

Kirzon pauses for a little bit, to take another slow draw from his ale. "Now, ye prolly think ah'm tryin' ta tell ya that ya just need ta learn how ta use yer strength in a new way. Ya know, like ya gotta learn how ta make some lemonade outta lemons 'n all. But ah ain't choppin' trees no more. Fact, everythin' ah done before was so, so wrong." Kirzon begins to launch into storytime, sharing his tale of how he led a band of loggers to their doom, but also how he received a great spiritual awakening that made him who he is. It's all in Kirzon's background -- I know I can't pull off writing the whole darn thing with an accent. He doesn't mention that it was some sort of Great Tree or Great Tree Spirit, however, speaking instead more generally about the Green Faith.

"So ya know what tha moral o' tha story is? Sometimes, when life changes, what ya want ta do is try tha same ol' thing but in a different way. So when ah lost me strength, ah wanted ta keep choppin' trees, 'cause that's all ah ever knew. But what ya really need is ta try somethin' completely new. Like ah did. Don't try ta relive yer ol' past. Try ta make a new future. And lemme tell ya, today's as good a day as any ta make 't 'appen, eh?" When he finishes his story, he nods his head toward Innis with a grin. Because there was no way he was going to just sit there and let the Qadiran pass up a girl like that.

"Ah, I appreciate the sentimentals, is that right? The thought perhaps? My commiserations for the loss of your men, it is a hard thing to loose those in your care... Some things require time to overcome, perhaps if I were less vain I could care less that I look more stick than man, perhaps if I could forget the hope in their eyes that I would save them, but alas I am a vain glorious romantic fool to the core of my being - and I cannot forget so easily. Be assured that I have not given up, only accepted my limitations for the time being, I just could not face the looks in the eyes of those who once saw me as a hero... There are few things so cutting as pity..." He strokes the hilt of his scimitar,

"But I can still fight, and I will. Indeed I hope to find work for a sword soon, I cannot prevail upon friend Vasaro much longer and even in my current state I am confident I can impress any perspective employer with my blade skills. Besides if I were to try something new, what should become of Nipple Taker here, she is to good a blade to go to rust!

Vasaro smiles at the passion that has returned to Him's voice. "That deserves a free round on me for everyone. Good song, good company and even better drink! Tonight we celebrate my friends and when tomorrow comes we will worry about it then!" Vasaro calls out to Nicias, "Nephew head to the kitchen and grab me a keg of Blind Stirge from the cellar. Hurry now we have thirsty customers."

Nicias rolls his eyes and says"Ok, Uncle. and Him, if you ever find that job be sure to save a part for me - I've a mind to join you. Beats carrying Kegs for Uncle Vasaro any day, and my bow arm needs exercising!"

"Right you are lad, I'll even help out your exercise regime by letting you carry any extra loot! What can I say, I am a giver! But not presently suited to heavy lifting."