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<blockquote data-quote="airwalkrr" data-source="post: 3768083" data-attributes="member: 12460"><p>The Drunken Dragon was as crowded and rowdy as you would expect in a city filled to the brim with rogues. Handsome wenches with bountiful bosoms bounced from table to table picking up dry mugs and replacing them with full ones whilst batting away the grubby paws of lecherous patrons and penny minstrels hawked their tunes for anyone who would listen in every corner. It was a raucous scene, one that Gedric and Padree were not used to, but their half-elf captor/savior maneuvered through the chaos with the adroit agility of an acrobat, launched them toward an open table in the back, and then seated himself. He whistled at a barmaid, a buxom woman with bright red hair and freckled breasts. Her red-painted lips were ample and pursed in a coy manner as she looked towards the attractive fellow's call. "A stout brandy for me. The young ones will have the mutton, and bring them a pint of beer to wash it down."</p><p></p><p>The two waifs looked haplessly at each other. Beer? Neither could remember ever having anything finer than water from a horse trough. Gedric had swiped a jug of watered-down wine once, but it had been sitting out to long and turned out to be acrid and foul. The scarlet-haired maid performed her duty at an admirably rapid pace. Soon Gedric and Padree were shoveling mutton into their mouths and washing it down with warm, frothy beer as quickly as their little hands could grab it off the plate. For them, it was a meal fit for a king, and in short time they were stuffed, their full bellies resting gently in satisfaction.</p><p></p><p>"That was quite a display," the half-elf said once they had finished, "I take it you don't come here often."</p><p></p><p>"No, sir," Padree replied, thinking it best to mind what little manners she had.</p><p></p><p>"We ain't never had fare like this before Mr. Elf," Gedric blurted out, then blushed and sat back. The half-elf just chuckled and cracked a grin at the boy's untoward remark. But then he quickly got down to business.</p><p></p><p>"I am actually only part elf my young friend, but I imagine since there are few elves in this part, you wouldn't know the difference. Anyway, I was bedazzled by your performance out there in the streets and couldn't help but notice what caused you to be reintroduced to your merchant friend in the most unfortunate of ways."</p><p></p><p>Gedric and Padree stared blankly at each other. The strange person sitting across from them wore funny clothes and talked even stranger.</p><p></p><p>"Pardon me, sir," Padree piped up, "but what in the Hells did you just say?"</p><p></p><p>The half-elf chuckled again, "Ah, you street-raised urchins really are quite ignorant." He smiled smugly as if he had just played a prank on them without their knowledge.</p><p></p><p>"I think he just insulted us, Pad," Gedric said, asking as much as stating fact. His companion just shrugged. She had no idea where this queer fellow with the pointed ears had come from or where he had learned to talk, but neither of them had the foggiest clue what he was saying them.</p><p></p><p>"What I mean to say," the half-elf began again, leaning over the table to look them closely in the eye, "is that you are very good thieves, at least for your age."</p><p></p><p>The two were struck by a moment of dawning comprehension. Gedric began to nod, then stating, "Oh! So that's what you said. You have a funny way of canting."</p><p></p><p>"That is because I'm not canting," the half-elf replied, "merely using proper language, something the two of you should have learned a long time ago but were unable to because of your heritage, er... upbringing."</p><p></p><p>"You mean we're street rats!" Padree seemed indignant.</p><p></p><p>"Well, in a manner of speaking, yes. But you two are really so much more than mere street rats. You are more like the clever wall mice who wait for just the right moment before making off with the cheese." The half-elf added a wink with that, a wink that said far more than any of his words had conveyed to the children. He had seen their entire heist, and was quite impressed.</p><p></p><p>"So you want us to cloy somethin' from someone in exchange for gettin' us outta that mess, huh?" Gedric said like he finally understood what was going on, "I guess that's fair."</p><p></p><p>The half-elf's grin turned into a slight sneer and he slapped the boy on the back of his head with a quick flick of his hand. Gedric didn't even see it coming. The half-elf was very fast. "That stings!" Gedric screamed. Padree was grinning from ear to ear; she even giggled a bit.</p><p></p><p>"You may have street smarts boy, but you aren't too quick on the uptake," the half-elf spouted with a wag of his finger.</p><p></p><p>"Hey! I'm plenty fast!" Gedric objected, missing the meaning of his tormentor's turn of phrase completely.</p><p></p><p>"Forget it," the half-elf said, laying the matter aside. He sat back up and stretched his arms before laying them back behind his head and reclining with his feet on the table. They didn't sit there long, for a wench delicately but firmly snatched them up and flicked them back to the ground with a very disapproving stare. The half-elf mocked her as she turned away and then rolled his eyes. "Before we go any further," he continued, "we ought to introduce ourselves. My name is Cymbelline."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="airwalkrr, post: 3768083, member: 12460"] The Drunken Dragon was as crowded and rowdy as you would expect in a city filled to the brim with rogues. Handsome wenches with bountiful bosoms bounced from table to table picking up dry mugs and replacing them with full ones whilst batting away the grubby paws of lecherous patrons and penny minstrels hawked their tunes for anyone who would listen in every corner. It was a raucous scene, one that Gedric and Padree were not used to, but their half-elf captor/savior maneuvered through the chaos with the adroit agility of an acrobat, launched them toward an open table in the back, and then seated himself. He whistled at a barmaid, a buxom woman with bright red hair and freckled breasts. Her red-painted lips were ample and pursed in a coy manner as she looked towards the attractive fellow's call. "A stout brandy for me. The young ones will have the mutton, and bring them a pint of beer to wash it down." The two waifs looked haplessly at each other. Beer? Neither could remember ever having anything finer than water from a horse trough. Gedric had swiped a jug of watered-down wine once, but it had been sitting out to long and turned out to be acrid and foul. The scarlet-haired maid performed her duty at an admirably rapid pace. Soon Gedric and Padree were shoveling mutton into their mouths and washing it down with warm, frothy beer as quickly as their little hands could grab it off the plate. For them, it was a meal fit for a king, and in short time they were stuffed, their full bellies resting gently in satisfaction. "That was quite a display," the half-elf said once they had finished, "I take it you don't come here often." "No, sir," Padree replied, thinking it best to mind what little manners she had. "We ain't never had fare like this before Mr. Elf," Gedric blurted out, then blushed and sat back. The half-elf just chuckled and cracked a grin at the boy's untoward remark. But then he quickly got down to business. "I am actually only part elf my young friend, but I imagine since there are few elves in this part, you wouldn't know the difference. Anyway, I was bedazzled by your performance out there in the streets and couldn't help but notice what caused you to be reintroduced to your merchant friend in the most unfortunate of ways." Gedric and Padree stared blankly at each other. The strange person sitting across from them wore funny clothes and talked even stranger. "Pardon me, sir," Padree piped up, "but what in the Hells did you just say?" The half-elf chuckled again, "Ah, you street-raised urchins really are quite ignorant." He smiled smugly as if he had just played a prank on them without their knowledge. "I think he just insulted us, Pad," Gedric said, asking as much as stating fact. His companion just shrugged. She had no idea where this queer fellow with the pointed ears had come from or where he had learned to talk, but neither of them had the foggiest clue what he was saying them. "What I mean to say," the half-elf began again, leaning over the table to look them closely in the eye, "is that you are very good thieves, at least for your age." The two were struck by a moment of dawning comprehension. Gedric began to nod, then stating, "Oh! So that's what you said. You have a funny way of canting." "That is because I'm not canting," the half-elf replied, "merely using proper language, something the two of you should have learned a long time ago but were unable to because of your heritage, er... upbringing." "You mean we're street rats!" Padree seemed indignant. "Well, in a manner of speaking, yes. But you two are really so much more than mere street rats. You are more like the clever wall mice who wait for just the right moment before making off with the cheese." The half-elf added a wink with that, a wink that said far more than any of his words had conveyed to the children. He had seen their entire heist, and was quite impressed. "So you want us to cloy somethin' from someone in exchange for gettin' us outta that mess, huh?" Gedric said like he finally understood what was going on, "I guess that's fair." The half-elf's grin turned into a slight sneer and he slapped the boy on the back of his head with a quick flick of his hand. Gedric didn't even see it coming. The half-elf was very fast. "That stings!" Gedric screamed. Padree was grinning from ear to ear; she even giggled a bit. "You may have street smarts boy, but you aren't too quick on the uptake," the half-elf spouted with a wag of his finger. "Hey! I'm plenty fast!" Gedric objected, missing the meaning of his tormentor's turn of phrase completely. "Forget it," the half-elf said, laying the matter aside. He sat back up and stretched his arms before laying them back behind his head and reclining with his feet on the table. They didn't sit there long, for a wench delicately but firmly snatched them up and flicked them back to the ground with a very disapproving stare. The half-elf mocked her as she turned away and then rolled his eyes. "Before we go any further," he continued, "we ought to introduce ourselves. My name is Cymbelline." [/QUOTE]
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