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Well it was that or buy one from this guy. "Sausage-inna-bun™? Today, only three silver." says the man holding a curious tray full of the things. "And I'm practically cuttin' me own throat sellin' 'em for that, I tell ya. Cuttin' me own throat."
"None that I know of, nudge-nudge! But seriously - or rather, Siriusly - I breezy well ought be familiar to you! Don't you remember when you and I helped pull Baba-Ali's Forty-Cake Caper???" "Er, no."
"Half! But I'm cutting me own throat already! It is affront to my merchant's principles!"
"Over Why I'll have you know, sir, that these sausages are 105% offal-free! *koff* Give or take 10%. And that I, sir, am practically--"
"Not to worry, dear. We were just haggling over the cost of my weenier. But old Dibbler's got enough for all. Care for a Sausage-inna-bun™?" the man says holding an approximation of what he just offered to Jurmo up for her to see. "DIBBLER! It's been ages! Still trying to make an honest living, I see...tsk, tsk, tsk." Dibbler seems taken aback by the stranger's over-familiarity but recovers quickly and says "Well, ya know, I thought it would be nice fer a change." "Say, do you have a sister by any chance? You seem familiar." He turns away quickly to what are likely paying customers. "Scuse me. On the job you know." "I'll take a sausage, if its pig or goat, or at least mostly so," he said, turning into the alleyway. "Thank you for your patronage, sir. It's hard to make both ends meat these days if ya know what I mean. Every little bit helps as they say. As it is, I'm practically cuttin' me own throat sellin' 'em for this price. Ahh mustard? Relish?" "But you have to make change for a gol' piece." "Oh.... Well if I must. But you know, I'm cuttin' me own throat out here."
"Sausage-inna-bun™? Today, only three silver." says the man holding a curious tray full of the things. "And I'm practically cuttin' me own throat sellin' 'em for that, I tell ya. Cuttin' me own throat."
"Oh, the Sliverhacks! Yeah, yeah. Excuse me fellows." He excuses himself from the table and walks over to the cloak room. He finds and dons his overcoat, but instead of stepping out into Daggermark's rain-soaked streets he reaches into one of the cloak's pockets and pulls a placard on a chain and drapes it over his neck. It reads: Ancient Accoutrements - Magic Items for Sale! "There now. Everything the modern adventurer needs in one coat!" He says rubbing his hands together. "How about something for those long lonely nights in camp. I have love philters! They come in Overly-Studious Wizard, Overly-pious Cleric and Damsel in Distress. Or maybe the legendary, one-of-a-kind Sword in the Stone. It has a +2 rating from JD Power Cabal! It's all the rage, and right now we're running a special. I swear, I'm cutting my own throat on this deal. And of course no adventure is complete without dried Sausage-Inna-Bun™ iron rations!" Round 1! (Final Boss Battle (lyrics) / Magic Shop Theme ♬ (concert)
Dibbler looks at the farm impliment curiously. "What? You want a scythe?" The very idea of 'customer credit' seems abhorrent to him and the others at the table. They all sudder.
"Strictly hypothetically speaking, how are you at delousing straw pallets?"
Later at a place whose hastily painted sign reads: C.M.O.T.D. Bed and Breakfast - 3 pieces of silver "You mean 'free'?" the flop house owner says to Durgan as if the word were foreign. "And insult the servant of the very God of Commerce himself. I wouldn't sleep at night. Oh no sir, it's full price or not at all. My mother would spin in her grave if I did that. Nothing is too expensive--I mean posh, for those who serve the Lord of the Vault, sir. Why it would be cutting me own throat to do otherwise." The place seems to have once been a collection of storage, and livestock sheds all bundled together into one ramshackle two-story building. "Those be the lofts up there." he explains. "Quite popular with the kids these days."
"Oh hey! Wanna buy a tabbard?"
Squinting at the man, he shakes his head. "No. Morals no can b bought...." "That's not what the city aldermen say." Monterey walks by the man without much of a word. Street urchins, just gotta ignore them. "Bloody stoic."
Scholars, sages, mentors, merchants, yogi, camels and their sweaty drovers all mill about the dry flagstones of the market square. Out of the crowd one of them makes eye contact with the party. "Philosophy! Get your philosophy! 'Ay sirs, wanna buy a moral code? Like I always says: if you don't stand for somethin', you'll fall fer anythin'. So howzabout it then? Howzabout this cute little pedigreed dogma, aye?" says the peddler waving a brochure. With him is a pushcart containing all sorts of treaties, pamphlets and codices, and a number of lukewarm food items named by the signage as: Sausage-inna-Bun™ - 3 sp. Behind him the Blakros Museum squats between the towers of learning like a shaded mushroom amid tall grass.
"It was fiasco. One that I'll never forget. I stained my last good shirt in that mob...." Dibbler stops. It as if a magical lantern is lit above Dibbler's head. He rushes over to were Teag tossed his sign-painting supplies and grabs a brush and some paint. Very carefully and up-side-down he paints the message: 'I survived Teag's take-over!' on the front of his shirt. A villager walks by and says: "That's pretty nice." To which Dibbler offers to paint him one for a small fee. The man accepts and Dibbler paints the same message on the man's shirt. "It's sort of commemorative. To remember your amnesia with." After several other people ask for the same, and Dibbler has painted their shirts, the initial man's wife arrives and ask for one of her own. "I want mine to say: 'I'm with stupid'." "Custom job. That'll be extra." says Dibbler.
"Sausage-inna-bun? Today, only three silver."
"DIBBLER! Ride your carriage through this crowd and come get us! They'll speak of your deed and your sausage-inna-bun from here to the Lands of the Linnorm Kings!" "AND RUN OVER MY CUSTOMERS?!"
"Sausage-inna-bun, sir!?" Dibbler shouts over the mob to Tawner, without apparent recognition. "It's red hot! And not red for any other reason--like inflammation or anything. Oh! And get a little pamphlet-thingy too! You can't tell a heretic from a priest without a pamphlet!"
"Sausage-in-a-bun! Get your warm sausage-in-a-bun!" Dibbler wanders by with his tray of nominally meaty sausages, and crusty, old buns.
"I usually just let mine read: 'meat'. It's more of a surprise that way."
The Big Sausage a big, spicy meat sausage served on a stick. 3 sp "That's infringement!"
"Dibbler's the name! I'm a conveyor of fine foods the people who eat them. Sausage-inna-bun officer?"
Dibbler pulls the carriage around. "Done?"
"I really didn't pack for more than a three hour tour. Oh yeah, and she would be extra." Dibbler turns to Ulisha. "Pardon my asking, but how much is the price? On your head I mean." Ulisha gives everyone present a withering look.
"But ma'am, Gralton is a three-day carriage ride."
"Sure thing! Sure thing! But before we go would you like a picture to commemorate your experience here as rendered by someone else? Maybe get you all, the person you were mugging, the cave, and one of my signs on the frame? I call them Someone Elsies™. We--err, I even customize them with a bit of fancy calligraphy saying stuff like 'Cave of the Unknown! Wish you were here!'" Dibbler says. He has on a painter's smock and holds a bundle of art supplies under one arm.
"Sausage in a bun?" Offers a weaselly-looking fellow holding a tray full of them.
"Sausage in a bun?" Offers a weaselly-looking fellow holding a tray full of them.
Dibbler redoubles his efforts and shortly thereafter he pulls to a stop on the edge of the road and points the party in the direction of a rolling set of lightly wooded hills. "If you are so inclined, I have a collection of genuine, authentic, treasure maps back at the office that I could make available to you for a small sum."
And then you bit onto them, and learned once again that Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler could find a use for bits of an animal that the animal didn't know it had got. Dibbler had worked out that with enough fried onions and mustard people would eat anything. Dibbler went about hitching up four old nags to a carriage covered in pasted on notices advertising such things as sausage-in-a-bun, mail order Fong Shooey lessons, pies with personality, and music with rocks innit. "Right! We're off!" And with, a slight jerk, the party was. A mile outside of town the Dibbler pulls off the road to re-don his apron and tray, and offer the party some nominally priced on-road refreshments in the form of sausages in buns, and genuine 150% natural spring water.
"Hey, why not a carriage'?" "'Why not a carriage'? Enough room fer a double date, and eventually the modern family. Why I could could give you a deal on this little number right over here. Go ahead kick those wheels--not so hard. Ahem, This royal conveyance was once owned by the Prince of Jalmeray who only ever used it on religious holidays."
"Oh! A ride! Sure!" The barker says staring at Lucy's coinage the way most other men stare at Lucy herself. "Sausage in a bun?"
"Horses fer sale! Horses! Horses fer sale! Hey there fella, you look like you could use a horse!" Says a man in front of a stable holding a tray full of hot sausages and little buns.
"Sausage while ya look 'round?" |
