This Effin’ GM
Hero
Gnorth made his way to the stables, considering the current mission. An espionage story, for sure, though whether tales of this would be told in taverns in the coming years, Gnorth did not know. He chuckled to himself, remembering that what he and the others did, they did for the good of the realm and Queenie, not for the glory. Glory may or may not come, his father had told him, but the work must always be done.
His flask was seeming a little dry. One sip or so left in it, he had forgotten after the confrontation (misunderstanding, really) with the dwarves to top it off. Nice fellows, really, once some sense had been knocked into them. Gnorth pulled out the flask and was about to take a swig, when he heard Castilo from near the stables. Good kid, that Costilo.
"For you, Dead eyes," Gnorth headed towards him, using a strange term he had learned for expert marksmen, "a thousand sips." He offered his flask out, while turning to the others. "No horse, no problem? Me used to walking."
His flask was seeming a little dry. One sip or so left in it, he had forgotten after the confrontation (misunderstanding, really) with the dwarves to top it off. Nice fellows, really, once some sense had been knocked into them. Gnorth pulled out the flask and was about to take a swig, when he heard Castilo from near the stables. Good kid, that Costilo.
"For you, Dead eyes," Gnorth headed towards him, using a strange term he had learned for expert marksmen, "a thousand sips." He offered his flask out, while turning to the others. "No horse, no problem? Me used to walking."