I'm going to have to step down from this campaign unfortunately.
thanks carbide, for the opportunity, and good luck to you guys with the rest of the story.
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Hops snorts mightily and sits down, his gaze moving between each as they speak. "He doesn't seem to like the idea. I'm not much for underground either, but I'm used enough to tunnel vision that maybe I won't mind... Speaking of which, any of you lot got a real drink on ya?" The gnome smiles diplomatically.
Ive been flagged for the dubious honor of jury duty tomorrow. I'll update if I can.
"Hard to argue with that... We're on a bit of an odd errand, actually." Imizael says. "I for one am not inclined to be out and about in such hostile and unpleasant circumstances... but duty calls."
Hops lays in to the wolfoid with hasted attacks, drawing blood.
Imizael loads his sling, takes aim and launches a stone at the bear
Hastened, and strengthened, Hops bolts forward, squealing with all his porcine fury, lunging at the approaching bear with his jagged tusks.
"I'm not much for screaming. Or dying." The little gnome begins to chant, throwing his arms to the skys, then pulling them down dramatically. He does so again, and a thick fog descends around the companions.
"Go get'em, Hops."
"What now? Any ideas? Fight, run, die screaming, pretend to be friends?" Imizael looks around at each of his new companions in turn, more than a little panic evident on his face.
"So we get to play at being... reality-hopping heroes, and save the universe from utter annihilation?" Imizael plays at scratching his chin, an exaggerated expression of deep thought on his face. Hops snorts, and plops down onto the floor. "Sounds like a laugh!" he says, leaping to his feet and assuming a heroic pose. "I'm in! So's Hops." The pig, paying no attention to much of anything, lets out an excruciatingly loud belch. Imizael grins manically. "That's Warthog for Yes."
"Fine food and drink dull any perceived impoliteness on your part, good sir. Please, tell us what it was you summoned us for exactly."
"Not a clue, really." Imizael said with a shrug, passing Duncan the mug of his brew. "Imizael Borlavor," The warthog waddles over to the dwarf, easily eye level. It sniffs at him for a moment as it stares with its beady little eyes. "And, Hops. Don't mind him, he just likes Dwarves."
"Imizael Borlavor," he nods, then indicates the pig, who is currently lapping away at Imizael's beer. "Hops. Mind his business end." What exactly constitutes the warthog's business end is unclear. One hopes it is in reference to the tusks jutting from its maw, considering what the other end's business is.
Imizael finds a glass, and pours his most recent brew into it. He raises it and nods to the newcomer. "Well met, friend!" he drinks deeply and lets out a contented sigh. "Food for eating, drink for drinking, seats for sitting! What more could you ask for?" He idly begins to throw hard boiled eggs at Hops, who catches them out of the air happily.
"Talking walls, eh? These city-folk." Imizael says, grinning at Hops. They enter, and take a seat, and Imizael picks away at the proffered food, splitting it evenly with his porcine companion.
Imizael spent the majority of his voyage to Absalom testing out his theory that there is a exact level of inebriation that can counter-act the swaying of a ship at sea. Which is to say, he spent the voyage clinging to a railing, and emptying his stomach into the sea. "Well, it was worth a try. Y'know, for science." he said, wiping his mouth. Hops just regarded him with his non-committal, piggy expression. "Stop judging me, you walking bacon rasher." Arriving in Absalom reminded Imizael that as little as he enjoyed a sea voyage, he enjoyed cities much, much less. He sighed as he stepped onto the dock. "Well, this Gallowsmith and his end of the world can't wait, can they?" he asked the pig before they trod off into the city. |