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 Recent Posts 
'Dear friend Olaf, all's the pity for your fine brews have no place on the floor, and I won't let them go to waste ! Coraline my dear, help yourself...' Coraline gingerly starts lapping up the bigger puddles of spilt beverages. 'My dear Olaf, how have you been ? It's been awhile hasn't it ? It’s been at least four days since I passed out in your beloved establishment. And four days may as well be a lifetime when I'm away from the best of the best brews in Varisa.'
Chadwilt uses his right hand to pinch his left palm, then gingerly reverses the action in a very well practiced manner and pinches his right palm with his left hand; then rather indelicately bites his inner mouth cheek (twice!), assured that he is not dreaming he then says, ‘So you’re paying to me to drink and find wenches… er, women to ‘work’ for us … and these same women will be serving me drinks …’ Chadwilt has had drunken dreams not as good as this!
'I may regret this in the morning, but then again what don’t I ever regret come every morning anyways? Well let it not be said that Chadwilt Carinio is ever one to spoil a party ! But Saul, dear fellow, from an unapologetic drunk to a reformed crime operative, I’ll shake your hand on this on the condition that we get twice our money back from the chips we have on us and I require a bottle before bed, and I go to bed quite often ! '
Chadwilt takes two large sips out of his second glass of wine and eye’s the third glass in front of him. ‘By declining my request of parley , as is your right sir; it is in turn my right, by the buccaneers code, sanctioned by the Overlord of Riddleport himself, that I am not beholden to you, nor to this establishment nor your peers nor their peers, and as such, I am a free agent and your sir are not my captain, albeit, a captain of industry at this juncture; a countenance that I neither I ask for nor seek, BUT should you seek my sword arm sir, then it would be to your benefit and the benefit of your peers and theirs’ the same, that you then sir should very well request such aid as that I can provide, as demonstrated by myself in bringing three would be felons down and the fact that in returning what is yours by ownership to you, and liberating you from dire consequnces of such a loss; and thus if we are all then agreed, YOU sir, should then request parley’ that we may continue. Chadwilt somehow finishes his third drink while still sipping his second glass; no one in the room seems to fathom how this is accomplished; ambidextrous drinking being only mastered by a mere few drunkards and takes many years of debilitating hangovers to perfect.
Saul smiles. He says, Who else will join this young lady? He looks at each of the remaining heroes waiting for an answer.... ‘First I believe you’ll be wanting this friend Saul.’ Chadwilt produces the shrunken chest from his vest pocket and hands it over to Saul. ‘Many a soul were signed away for that tonight.’ Chadwilt remarks as he places the prize right in front of the Gold Goblin’s proprietor. ‘You are quite the lucky one dear Saul, your customers did not turn into a mob and have gone, for now at least and now you only have to deal with Us ! And we in turn can deal with any angry patrons who decide to take issue with you or any other future issues. that I'm sure will arise. ‘Might I suggest we begin the … Parley ?
Chadwilt, eyes still on the thug but greedily reaching for the bottle of wine, visibly brightens for a few moments as he savors the sweet, sweet aroma from the bottle, only to be cheated of glory when but two red violet drops spill forth. ‘No surprises here' he says in pain as he walks to close the door to the outside and then circles back to join Vee and the thug once again. Visibly containing no small rage at his bitter misfortune, almost wishing the thug would try something, and thinking, Maybe these people were just robbing the place out of spite because they could not get one drink!
Chadwilt looks at thier captive du jour ’ If you prefer to be left alone with both this lovely lass and fair Coraline I will be happy to oblige, but the dear lady seems to have a sting that would shame my good hounds bite. I would hate for you … or parts of you to be no longer here upon my return; although I would be happy to leave you here to their tender care and search for a wine cellar…’
‘First round you say ? Come now good Saul; how about a tall drink for every party crasher I laid low ? A parched throat and empty ale stein is nearly a crime worse than theft !’ But as he says this Chadwilt motions to Coraline towards him and makes eye contact with the thug. Pointing to the thug on the floor with his rapier, then shifting the tip of the blade to point to the body of the wizard and then back again at the thug, he then indicates the kitchen door as thier destination with an easy nod of his head. ’Let’s not make this a bitter beer for you; come on then, pick your friend over there off the floor and please, no sudden movements that may excite Coraline’.
Quietly to the proprietor he says, ‘Saul, if you could instruct any of your remaining staff to bring those other two fallen thieves to the kitchen it would be much appreciated; if you instruct them to bring me a filled flagon it would be even more greatly appreciated.’
Chadwilt says to the room "Might I suggest you begin by questioning that fellow under fair Coraline.” He does this as he continues to go through the fallen wizard. Chadwilt is looking for any clues, or choice goodies, quite anything of value information or monetarily wise actually. After doing so Chadwilt will do much of the same with ‘the lady’ (who is more ladylike now).
Chadwilt, shrunken chest in hand and wizard’s body under heel, takes his own warning seriously and throws a cold iron dagger at the fleeing thug,
Chadwilt keeps his eyes on both downed wizard and ‘lady’, watching for any hidden allies (or would be looters) they may have among the throng. With all the command, bravado, and manner of a drunken sea captain, Chadwilt shouts to any of the bouncers (or able bodied patrons) who seem to have recovered “Secure the room! Don’t let anyone loot the fallen! I want to know who's to blame for spoiling the festivities, and where in the brewer’s yeast is Saul? And will somebody, ANYBODY, fetch me a tall, frothy drink?!”
Tvaliss narrows his eyes as he is in disbelief the thug could with stand his arcane might, he tries again but shakes his head as the same result happens, the thug just shakes off the tingle of magic in his body.
The thug confronting the elf turns and begins to dash away, its harder for him though as there are so many folks on the floor blocking his path. The last thug halts his attack on Chadwilt and breaks for the main entrance. "Coraline my darling, 'save the rum and ale'! Chadwilt points excitedly at the thug who is politely trying his best not to waste any more of Tvaliss’ time and spells and is thus fleeing into the crowd gambling blindly, er, I mean blinded gamblers.
Realizing that these are not the type of men who read long prose Chadwilt hastily adds “Which means we will kill you if you run cretins !”
Chadwilt presses his advantage and launches another attack at the wizard while pointing to ‘the lady’ (patched eyed freak) and shouts “Yummy!” to Coraline.
Coraline bee lines to the eye patched freak of a bard for a tastey chomp 23 !!
"The night favors us Coraline, I may stay a little longer than planned. And may finally have that third drink now... hmm where are those barmaids? You my girl can take a little rest now, no use in both of us staying up, let's find me a drink and you a corner to sleep in." Chadwilt looks for a cozy corner for Coraline to sleep in, looking over the whole gambling hall. That, and to get an idea of how the other participants seem to be faring. A thousand gold, now that's a lot of drinking money !
"Well Saul certainly has a flair for the ... clueless. But you can't blame a berk for trying now, can you?" Chadwilt says to the air in front of him. A little bitter because he is painfully sober so late in the day, he waits for an oportune time when there is no clump of people at the chip dealer. After ascertaining that the paper he is signing is simply a harmless bit of fun, Chadwilt uses the non de plum ‘J Walker Black’ as his signature on the ‘quaint’ gimmick of a parchment. He gently explains to the Goblin’s bouncers that he has been a guest of the establishment and has made arrangements with Saul to keep his foil on his person, he is after all a gentleman of leisure of the city (and more importantly it cost more than a month’s worth of alcohol). Chadwilt gives 2 silver coins to the chip dealer "for your troubles", and then very gingerly and quietly and discreetly exchanges 88 in gold, 88 in silver and 88 in copper for chips to use in the nights drinking. And gambling perhaps … After placing the chips in many different pockets the half elf looks down at his red mastiff, “Come Coraline my girl, let’s bounder over there and catch a game of, eh, bounder.”
“You’re the veritable eye of the hurricane, eh Saul ?" "Busy, busy bees everywhere and it’s barely three or four hours the time of day I should be awake. “And the floors of your guest chambers are not half bad, although the company in said chambers are a tad wanting.” Remembering the morning’s ordeal the half elf added, “And perhaps you should look into getting proper ventilation in those rooms as well.” “So now, more importantly and to salvage how this day started, who do I have to … impose on, to get some” Chadwilt paused as he looked at Coraline dutifully guarding his back. “Get some hair of the dog in your fine establishment?” he finished, using the quick turn to further discreetly scan the room.
Seeing Chadwilt try and stifle his laughter, the ale soiled dwarf refocused his eyes from Chadwilt to the large red mastiff, then finally to the room he was in and came to the realization that if there indeed was a fire, niether he nor his prized beard were in any immediate danger. He then cursed in Dwarven, followed those curses with even more elaborate curses in Taldan, and finally said words that could only have been described as the Alchoholics Cant. He then smiled, pleased with himself, let out the most exquisite and prolonged burp and fell head first back onto the bed. Before Chadwilt could utter a single word or even raise an eyebrow the dwarf passed gas again. And again. That was well enough for the the war hound and his master. Chadwilt made for the door and with great effort gagged the word "Coraline" but it was unnecessary because the mastiff overtook him the moment he had opened the door. Out of breath, both half elf and his 'stalwart' companion found themselves in what seemed to be a stairway above a large room that was being set up for some special event. Quite a number of gambling tables were easily visible and nearly a score of men and women darted about in various stages of preparation. Chadwilt eyed a couple of women who seemed to be trying on somewhat elaborate demonic costumes. A worried thought crossed his mind as he hastely checked his many pockets and pouches to see if he had spent any of his money on those gambling tables or those women the night before. After a minute of rough math he breathed a sigh of relief and refocused his eyes on the two ladies adjusting their costumes. After he let his eyes rest on the women for a moment or five he redirected his attention to the rest of the scene below. The circus of activity seemed to have a rather interesting ringmaster: A short, balding human in aged but somewhat respectable finery was directing the elaborate preparations. What drew Chadwilts attention was one of the man's hands seemed to have been replaced by a golden key stump.
“I don’t suppose he’s with us eh, Coraline ?” he said quietly as he patted the red mastiff. Chadwilt delicately pulled himself up from the floor, surprised that his bones did not creak and ache from sleeping on such an unforgiving surface. ‘Must still be a bit numb from the from last night’s drinking … excellent!’ he thought as he gave the dwarf on the bed another look. A very dim, very sloshed, half memory from the night before came to him. “Gravin ?” he said. There was no response from the dwarf, who from the looks of thing’s, could very well have been dead. Early the night before, as he was hitting his second watering hole of the evening, he had encountered a group of dwarves drinking quite heavily who were making boasts about each others capacity for putting ale away. Of course Chadwilt did what came natural to him; he called over to them and proceeded to join them. Since the dwarves were already well into it, and he himself had only had five drinks since supper, the half elf vigorously downed two ales for every one the Bearded Folk consumed. That’s when his memory got even more foggy. He remembered the self proclaimed leader of the dwarves being called Gravin Goldhammer. The rotund dwarf had parted his ash grey beard down the center and styled his beard by pulling the ends apart at an angle as if to show that his beard covered greater width than it actually did. What was dwarves and beard size issues anyways ? At length the company of dwarves either begged off or passed out and it was Chadwilt and Gravin left; they must have made it … here. He was certain that this was the same said dwarf, despite the fact that whatever they had been drinking over the course of the evening had added no less than six matted new colors in the most hostile of patterns on the dwarf's beard. He called out ‘Gravin’ again, this time with more gusto that it caused him to cough from the effort. He got the most sublime of responses. The body of the dwarf on the bed *simultaneously* let out a snore and a fart. At his side, Coraline, who was trained in the art of war, left her master's side and retreated to the end of the room as she let out a pained whimper. Wrinkling his nose and gagging Chadwilt braced himself against a wall. “I was not aware that was even possible. Ugh!” A minute or five later, he regained his composure; he cracked his neck, and decided on a new course of action. He walked over to the head of bed where the Gravin lay and steadied himself and shouted: “Fire! Fire! FIRE!” The dwarf leapt up with speed that would shame a starving halfling diving for a birthday banquet, all the while beating his chest and beard multiple times with enough force to have flattened a raging hobgoblin twice over.
Chadwilt woke up to a massive tongue savaging his face. Attempting to get his bearings he so ever gingerly turned his head slowly in either direction, first to the left, then to the right. Since this was well over the hundredth time he had done this in about just as many days he quickly realized he was in a cramp, austere room face up towards the ceiling about three feet away from the bed. Coraline, his 110 pound red coated mastiff, had been dutifully licking away at his face letting him know it was well past noon and she had better get some food in both there bellies. He carefully sat up, both relishing and resenting the pounding in his head that at least told him he was still alive, albeit, with enough alcohol in his blood stream to stop a dwarf. That’s when he noticed the slumped body of a dwarf face down on the bed. While no words left Chadwilt's lips there was the distinct mouthing of "Uh Oh" as the pounding in his head decided to accentuate the situation. |
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