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This is a little toast us halflings like to use when around you tall folks. Here is up to you when it comes you way and you can not do it send it our way because we are use to it.... Cyrdak nods sagely. "Fear not, my friends! He is not as think as you drunk he is!" Cyrdak winks at Cade.
"Hah! Haha... *cough* *ahem*..." Cyrdak begins closely examining the chandelier above.
Cyrdak looks at the two people he came in with, and snaps his finders. With a nod the two put down their food and produce instruments; on pulls out a fiddle while the other produces a tambourine. They begin playing and the dancing continues once more.
"My dear lady, will you favor me with a dance? You may consider it your audition to perform in my next play!" he grins with a twinkle in his eye.
"Yes, we've met. Hello my friends! I heard a rumor that you went and had another adventure! Slayed the 'Lord of the Spiders' out in the hills. I shall need details, naturally." Cyrdak looks around the room. "So we are waiting for Lord Scarnetti then?" He looks at the party. "He likes to make everyone wait for him, to show how important he is." Cyrdak winks.
Turning back to Cyrdak he shrugs. "The ones I've seen--from a distance mind you--cook their food. Didn't stick around to see anything else after they killed a Zagresh Bull." Fearing he's said too much, he gets tight-lipped after that, refusing to answer any questions about the bulls or where such creatures are from. "Ah, I see what you mean! Ha!" He mulls that idea over while he drinks his ale. "I'm not sure that qualifies as 'nature' though. Dragons are as intelligent as us. Often moreso. And there are so many unnatural abilities possessed by Dragons that I would hesitate to call them a part of 'nature.' They are magical creatures, far removed beyond the realm of plants and animals. That's why they make great villains!"
"What's that?" Cyrdak perks up. "Dragons can spice up any story. Have you ever dealt with one? The tricky thing is that they are hard to portray on stage."
Cyrdak watches the interplay carefully. "Daviren spent his younger years protecting Sandpoint from goblins. He roamed the area eliminating goblin threats and keeping watch for goblin attacks. So he's one of Sandpoint's goblin experts, you could say." "It's not a terrible story," Cyrdak winks at Daviren. "But it gets a little tedious after a while. Daviren, if you have just rescued some noble lady, and married her, that would have made a great ending! Rather than just retiring. Boooooo-ring! Ha ha!"
Cyrdak watches the interplay carefully. "Daviren spent his younger years protecting Sandpoint from goblins.
"It's not a terrible story," Cyrdak winks at Daviren. "But it gets a little tedious after a while. Daviren, if you have just rescued some noble lady, and married her, that would have made a great ending! Rather than just retiring. Boooooo-ring! Ha ha!"
I would ask a favor that the artistic license be limited...please. "Oh, come now. All my historical dramas are perfectly accurate! Sure, there are some trivial things, but it doesn't matter that the actor fakes left when you actually faked right. It is the of the event that matters. My job is to give the truth " Cyrdak gestures widely with his arms, as if describing a massive fish he has caught.
"...you may be hunting a naughty goat!" Cyrdak Drokkus slaps his knee with mirth. "'The Sandpoint Six and the Naughty Goat.' That, my friend, would be an entirely different kind of play." Cyrdak winks at Rig and laughs again. "...Then, finally, they will finish you off, tearing flesh from bones and sucking marrow..." Cyrdak sobers up. "A chilling tale. But... the Sandpoint devil is probably not a worg. Very unlikely. So not to worry, then, eh?" He sips at his ale quietly for a moment.
"So, lot's of words to say that you don't know anything." "Well, I'll be the first to admit the damn thing is elusive. Enough people have heard it though. But it's the story that matters, the presentation. For all we know it could turn out to just be a rabid cockatrice or a worg with a glandular problem." "But I don't think so. It's never that easy. And people have been hearing it for, oh, around ten years now. If it were something commonplace someone would have lain eyes on it by now."
"Well, I'm sure the truth will turn out to be... whatever story is the most entertaining! As always! Ha ha!"
"Ah, so our brave heroes are on a quest already! How marvellous! I can tell you that I've heard many stories of that dread beast." He steps up and begins to pantomime with grand gestures. "It prowls the Lost Coast on moonless nights, when the mist and sea fog is thick. No one sees it come and go, though it has been said to be a thief of livestock, small children, and lonely travelers on the Lost Coast Road. All that is found remaining are bloody patches of skin. They say to see it it to be stuck blind, with blood running from your eyes. No one is sure what it looks like, but many have heard its baying on the moors, or coming from the islands in the fog offshore." Cyrdak leans close and speaks quietly to the party. "They say there was a witch who lived nearby that made a bargain with a devil. But she tried to go back on her word. Not wise to do that with a devil. So she was cursed, and gave birth to this horrible monster - The devil bit off her arms and legs, but kept her in its lair and now keeps her alive with offerings from its bloody kills."
Cyrdak deftly pulls a mug of ale off a serving wench's tray as she walks by. "To the Sandpoint Six indeed!" He drinks deeply from the mug, and then rubs his chin. Catchy. That might do for a title!"
A handsome and elaborately dressed blond man comes in the front, looking around.
He strides up to the table where the party is gathered. "Do I have the pleasure of addressing the group of strangers that turned the goblin raid into a rout?" He grins. "Word is already spreading, you see. But allow me to introduce myself. am master thespian, and if I do say so myself, the , and also the most humble, I might add." Cyrdak doffs his hat and bows deeply and floridly. "It would be my to join you tonight and hear the tales of your exploits, and I wish to offer my for your deeds today. Such deeds are an inspiration to me, as I seek to portray the of heroes in their for and " "I may in fact write a play concerning today's events. It is certain to be a hit!" |
