Badger, Wood Elf Druiddess's page

Blue dragon?... *BURP!*... JA, WE CAN SLAY A BLUE WYRM, RIGHT, BADGER!? I'LL BET ITS HEART, 'N TEETH, 'N EYEBALLS... *BELLLLCH!!*... YOU KNOW HOW YOU LOVE TO HARVEST... EVERY. PART. OF. EVERY. THING. WE. KILL!?... 'N ARE ALWAYS *BURP!!* WONDERING ALOUD TO THE HEAVENS ABOUT HOW MUCH THEY'RE WORTH??... WELL, I BET--

YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!! I GET WHERE YOU'RE GOING WITH THIS, YE DRUNKEN VIKING!! The dragon's parts will be worth a lot! But so will its hoard, you witless, mead-swilling, son-of-an-efreeti!

Damn you, Rumplestiltskin. Damn you straight to Hel!! I can't believe you aren't somehow the author of this betrayal! Earl Olaf grinds his teeth, knowing Rumplestiltskin was still too powerful for he and his companions to defeat in combat... Well, two are as good as still in our possession: my lord Duke of Gloucester is a worthy warden for the one. And who can begrudge Papa Kupferflügel if he wants one to raise? But the one in Murad's hands... That one we must recover!

Yes! At any risk, we must rescue our baby from that madman! The Turks are atrocious! They impale their enemies alive, skin them alive, saw them in half, bury them alive...

At that moment, the Company of the Beryllium Dragon are surprised by the sudden appearance out of thin air of their recently acquainted and somewhat antagonistic "career coach", Rumplestiltskin, gnome trickster archmage supreme!

I love to be the bearer of bad news! Hahahaha!! Guess what your not-so-motherly turquoise dragon friend Grossevapour has done with the precious eggs you worked so hard to conceive! HEEHEEHEEHEEEE!!!

Badger gasps and scowls in alarm at the gnome prankster... Curse ye, Rumplestiltskin! Ye come when you're not wanted, and can't be found when needed! What trick are you trying to play NOW, ye old billygoat!?

You will NOT eat our babies, Brutalitops, you savage! We're going to hatch them and raise them, you brute! Stinking barbarians... scoffs Badger, flinging a piece of demon jerky at her adventuring companion...

Lounging in the Catacombs under Istanbul and discussing their future with her companions, the wood elf druiddess Badger gnaws on some bitter, rancid-tasting nalfeshnee jerky she insisted on harvesting from the demon they killed on Brocken Peak during the Walpurgisnacht in the Harz Mountains...

Now we've got a clutch of three eggs, what to do with 'em, aye?