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Watch For Falling Meteors [4E KotS] Updated Weekdays!
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<blockquote data-quote="Xorn" data-source="post: 4305392" data-attributes="member: 61231"><p>“Pershy the dragonshlayer!” the halfling called out over the assembled crowd as he hoisted his mug into the air, spilling a bit of foam which twirled down to the floor before splashing into the growing puddle on the already stained and worn boards. The people gathered around the halfling answered with a hearty hoorah and joined the rogue in another toast to himself.</p><p></p><p>In the corner of the room, with a good view of the spectacle, but far enough from the commotion to not be caught up in it, the rest of the group watched Percy celebrating how great he was. “Were we in the same lair?” asked Daichot sardonically.</p><p></p><p>“Pershy, kobold shcourge of Fallcrest!”</p><p>“Hoorah!”</p><p></p><p>Omar chuckled lightly to himself, tugging on his long pipe with amusement at the halfling. “Well, about two pints ago it sounded like I was a’least helpin’ the lad slay that lizard!” The dwarf turned his chair back to the table and took another draw from his ale, finishing off the mug and romping it back down on the table loudly as he wiped the moisture from his erratic beard with the back of his arm. “I must say ahm glad he’was there, all tha same. For a runt he was good inna fight!”</p><p></p><p>Oleaf, sitting across from Omar, her back to the corner of the tavern with a good view of the entire establishment, and the concealment of the dim shadows, nodded in agreement as she returned a fancy glass flute filled with clear liquid. Daichot was sipping a cup of ale of his own, though at a much slower pace than the dwarf, who was waving to a server for a third now.</p><p></p><p>“I’m just trying to figure out was even present on this expedition!” Daichot swept his arm out to illustrate all three of them were at the table. “Ya shoulda sheen Omar crushh thoshe nashty koboldsh with hish maul,” the tiefling mimicked Percy’s drunken accent, “an’ then Oleaves shoddem wid an arrow!” he mockingly pulled an imaginary bowstring back, “But then!” he stood up, wobbling as if he was about to topple over, “I shlew the dragon!” with that the warlord jabbed his thumb at his chest triumphantly and dropped into his chair heavily. He waved a dismissing hand at the halfling as he heard calls to retell the story of their fight with the dragon.</p><p></p><p>“Ye’ve a fine head fer battle, Daichot,” Omar said reassuringly, “and a presence on the battlefield that’s palpable. Ayd follow ya inta—“ Omar hiccupped and burped simultaneously, making an excruciating noise that seemed to end in a sensation of relief, “Ayd follow ya inta—“ another convulsion and inflated cheeks left Omar waiting to see if he was going to vomit, eventually, he decided he wasn’t. “Whew… that’s fine ale.” He waited another moment before trying to talk again. “Ayd follow ye inta any battle yer leadin’ me… well… inta.”</p><p></p><p>Daichot held the dwarf’s gaze through his compliment and then for a moment longer before nodding, sincerely. “Thank you. I can’t think of a better person to fight next to, either.” As he finished speaking the clamor of Percy falling off the table as he tried to act out Omar getting hit with a poisoned dart from a trap in the old tombs they explored preceded a roar of laughter and cheering. He drained the last of his cup and shook his head to decline a refill as a barmaid who was giving their table extra attention began to move his way.</p><p></p><p>Omar noticed and commented, “Aye, this is a strong brew—some of the best I’ll ever have the pleasure of waking up in a pool of! Doesn’t quite taste dwarven though!”</p><p></p><p>Daichot smiled and pointed to Percy, who climbed up onto the table and leapt off of it, acting out their jump down onto the kobold shaman that was the leader of the tribe. “Halfling.” At Omar’s confusion, Daichot spoke up, leaning closer. “I said that’s a halfling brew! I’ve lived here most of my life, and the brewmaster at this tavern is a halfling—makes the best spirits in the city, maybe the land.”</p><p></p><p>Omar looked into the depths of the fresh mug that was set before him by their server, as if on cue. He smiled heartily and slurped heavily at the ready-to-spill tankard. “Halfling, ye’say? Amazing.” He noticed Oleaf returning her half empty wine glass to the table—she had not yet had a single glass full, and they had been in the tavern long enough to eat, get the dwarf drunk, and for Percy to be on his fourth telling of their adventure. “I’ve never seen clear wine before, not even elven!”</p><p></p><p>“You still haven’t,” answered the elf with a coy smile, “this is water.”</p><p></p><p>“Then I ran up the red guysh back, and shtabbed a pair of koboldsh!” Percy amazingly performed a round-off of the table even while stumbling drunk, landing on the balls of his feet with a crouch and lancing his arms out with a pair of daggers represented by spoons. Oleaf chuckled, a musical sound unlike any noise either Omar or Daichot had ever heard.</p><p></p><p>“What’s funny?”</p><p>“You made it into the story,” she replied with a smile and a glint in her eyes, before taking another sip of her water, as she noticed the spoons go into Percy’s pockets, rather than back to the table.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Xorn, post: 4305392, member: 61231"] “Pershy the dragonshlayer!” the halfling called out over the assembled crowd as he hoisted his mug into the air, spilling a bit of foam which twirled down to the floor before splashing into the growing puddle on the already stained and worn boards. The people gathered around the halfling answered with a hearty hoorah and joined the rogue in another toast to himself. In the corner of the room, with a good view of the spectacle, but far enough from the commotion to not be caught up in it, the rest of the group watched Percy celebrating how great he was. “Were we in the same lair?” asked Daichot sardonically. “Pershy, kobold shcourge of Fallcrest!” “Hoorah!” Omar chuckled lightly to himself, tugging on his long pipe with amusement at the halfling. “Well, about two pints ago it sounded like I was a’least helpin’ the lad slay that lizard!” The dwarf turned his chair back to the table and took another draw from his ale, finishing off the mug and romping it back down on the table loudly as he wiped the moisture from his erratic beard with the back of his arm. “I must say ahm glad he’was there, all tha same. For a runt he was good inna fight!” Oleaf, sitting across from Omar, her back to the corner of the tavern with a good view of the entire establishment, and the concealment of the dim shadows, nodded in agreement as she returned a fancy glass flute filled with clear liquid. Daichot was sipping a cup of ale of his own, though at a much slower pace than the dwarf, who was waving to a server for a third now. “I’m just trying to figure out was even present on this expedition!” Daichot swept his arm out to illustrate all three of them were at the table. “Ya shoulda sheen Omar crushh thoshe nashty koboldsh with hish maul,” the tiefling mimicked Percy’s drunken accent, “an’ then Oleaves shoddem wid an arrow!” he mockingly pulled an imaginary bowstring back, “But then!” he stood up, wobbling as if he was about to topple over, “I shlew the dragon!” with that the warlord jabbed his thumb at his chest triumphantly and dropped into his chair heavily. He waved a dismissing hand at the halfling as he heard calls to retell the story of their fight with the dragon. “Ye’ve a fine head fer battle, Daichot,” Omar said reassuringly, “and a presence on the battlefield that’s palpable. Ayd follow ya inta—“ Omar hiccupped and burped simultaneously, making an excruciating noise that seemed to end in a sensation of relief, “Ayd follow ya inta—“ another convulsion and inflated cheeks left Omar waiting to see if he was going to vomit, eventually, he decided he wasn’t. “Whew… that’s fine ale.” He waited another moment before trying to talk again. “Ayd follow ye inta any battle yer leadin’ me… well… inta.” Daichot held the dwarf’s gaze through his compliment and then for a moment longer before nodding, sincerely. “Thank you. I can’t think of a better person to fight next to, either.” As he finished speaking the clamor of Percy falling off the table as he tried to act out Omar getting hit with a poisoned dart from a trap in the old tombs they explored preceded a roar of laughter and cheering. He drained the last of his cup and shook his head to decline a refill as a barmaid who was giving their table extra attention began to move his way. Omar noticed and commented, “Aye, this is a strong brew—some of the best I’ll ever have the pleasure of waking up in a pool of! Doesn’t quite taste dwarven though!” Daichot smiled and pointed to Percy, who climbed up onto the table and leapt off of it, acting out their jump down onto the kobold shaman that was the leader of the tribe. “Halfling.” At Omar’s confusion, Daichot spoke up, leaning closer. “I said that’s a halfling brew! I’ve lived here most of my life, and the brewmaster at this tavern is a halfling—makes the best spirits in the city, maybe the land.” Omar looked into the depths of the fresh mug that was set before him by their server, as if on cue. He smiled heartily and slurped heavily at the ready-to-spill tankard. “Halfling, ye’say? Amazing.” He noticed Oleaf returning her half empty wine glass to the table—she had not yet had a single glass full, and they had been in the tavern long enough to eat, get the dwarf drunk, and for Percy to be on his fourth telling of their adventure. “I’ve never seen clear wine before, not even elven!” “You still haven’t,” answered the elf with a coy smile, “this is water.” “Then I ran up the red guysh back, and shtabbed a pair of koboldsh!” Percy amazingly performed a round-off of the table even while stumbling drunk, landing on the balls of his feet with a crouch and lancing his arms out with a pair of daggers represented by spoons. Oleaf chuckled, a musical sound unlike any noise either Omar or Daichot had ever heard. “What’s funny?” “You made it into the story,” she replied with a smile and a glint in her eyes, before taking another sip of her water, as she noticed the spoons go into Percy’s pockets, rather than back to the table. [/QUOTE]
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