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Wormsnacks: An Age of Worms story hour (updated 9/4)
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<blockquote data-quote="dungeon blaster" data-source="post: 2849986" data-attributes="member: 30575"><p><strong>I'll get you my pretty, and your little dog too!</strong></p><p></p><p>Back at Diamond Lake, Ehrune ran off to go see his master, Allustan, while Etherik ambled over to the Feral Dog, a local pub of some repute (but none of it good). Ferros skulked away, magical ring still on hand.</p><p></p><p>The Feral Dog was the kind of pub you visit when you just want to relax, unwind, and maybe stab someone over a game of dragon ante. Mostly miners frequented the establishment, drinking away their hard-earned coppers in a haze of self-pity and depression. Fights were common, be they dog fights in the ring or just a couple of locals going at it. All in all, the place was a complete dump, run by dishonest thieves and frequented by unwashed yokels. It was Etherik's kind of place.</p><p></p><p>He took a seat at the bar, as usual. You see, he didn't really have any friends, except for Shag the Gentleman Quaggoth back at the Emporium, and so he couldn't really take a table all to himself, nor was he going to share space with some dirty miner who would probably recognize him as one of the 'Emporium freaks'. Besides, the bar offered some good seating to watch the dog fights that occurred on the lower floor. A large hole with a short wood rail allowed tavern patrons to watch the fight without falling in. Luckily for Etherik, there would be just such a fight that night.</p><p></p><p>He was on his third drink, the dog fight had just begun, and he was starting to feel good when Lindingar appeared beside him. The little halfling clearly was uncomfortable with the concept of two animals tearing each other to bits for the enjoyment of the spectators, but there was obviously little he could do about it. Lindingar grimaced, but remained silent.</p><p></p><p>The fight didn't last long; the resident champion 'Killer' proved his namesake true. Money changed hands and more drinks were ordered. An argument between two miners over a bet escalated into a fight, and then into an all-out bar room brawl with Etherik and Lindingar caught right in the middle! Fists, chairs, and mugs flying, the two attempted to extricate themselves from the mess. However, once one of the drunks fell into the pit, Lindingar realized that his unique skills could save the man's life and he leapt into the pit. 'Killer' had already begun to savage the poor guy, who could only shield his face with his arms and cry out for help. Lindingar slowly approached the feral dog, calling out to it with soothing words....goood doggy...nice doggy. His words, assisted with the magic of a charm animal spell, did the job. After healing the wrecked man, Lindingar, along with his new animal friend, bolted up the stairs to the main floor and headed towards the front door. Unbeknownst to the halfling, bets had been placed on the dog versus the drunk, and Lindingar’s interference wasn’t looked on kindly. He realized that he had done something wrong when the large albino half-orc at the end of the bar stood up and began moving straight towards him, scowling and clenching his fists in an ‘i’m gonna pummel you into halfling paste’ kind of way. Behind the half-orc followed a couple of toughs, one a wiry looking goon with matted hair and a sickly complexion, the other a burly warrior with large, meaty arms. The half-orc’s name was Kullen and he was notoriously violent. He and the other two were local toughs in the employ of one of the mine managers, Balabar Smenk. No one messed with these guys, except maybe forces from the Garrison, and even they didn’t tangle with Smenk.</p><p></p><p>Etherik saw the impending disaster and moved to assist his companion. The two (and ‘Killer’) fled the tavern, hiding behind the church of St. Cuthbert until the coast was clear. For Etherik, hiding behind a church was the closest he had ever come to a "religious experience".</p><p></p><p>‘what should I call him?’ Lindingar asked?</p><p></p><p>‘what?’</p><p></p><p>‘my dog! What should I call him?’</p><p></p><p>‘uh…kujo?’</p><p></p><p>‘….how about Feral?’</p><p></p><p>‘sure, whatever. Just make sure you keep him in check. That charm spell won’t last forever.’</p><p>Lindingar nuzzled up to the mangy dog, its fur still matted in human and dog blood. ‘yes, you’re a good Feral, aren’t you? Yes you are!’ Feral licked him with a wet, bloody tongue.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="dungeon blaster, post: 2849986, member: 30575"] [b]I'll get you my pretty, and your little dog too![/b] Back at Diamond Lake, Ehrune ran off to go see his master, Allustan, while Etherik ambled over to the Feral Dog, a local pub of some repute (but none of it good). Ferros skulked away, magical ring still on hand. The Feral Dog was the kind of pub you visit when you just want to relax, unwind, and maybe stab someone over a game of dragon ante. Mostly miners frequented the establishment, drinking away their hard-earned coppers in a haze of self-pity and depression. Fights were common, be they dog fights in the ring or just a couple of locals going at it. All in all, the place was a complete dump, run by dishonest thieves and frequented by unwashed yokels. It was Etherik's kind of place. He took a seat at the bar, as usual. You see, he didn't really have any friends, except for Shag the Gentleman Quaggoth back at the Emporium, and so he couldn't really take a table all to himself, nor was he going to share space with some dirty miner who would probably recognize him as one of the 'Emporium freaks'. Besides, the bar offered some good seating to watch the dog fights that occurred on the lower floor. A large hole with a short wood rail allowed tavern patrons to watch the fight without falling in. Luckily for Etherik, there would be just such a fight that night. He was on his third drink, the dog fight had just begun, and he was starting to feel good when Lindingar appeared beside him. The little halfling clearly was uncomfortable with the concept of two animals tearing each other to bits for the enjoyment of the spectators, but there was obviously little he could do about it. Lindingar grimaced, but remained silent. The fight didn't last long; the resident champion 'Killer' proved his namesake true. Money changed hands and more drinks were ordered. An argument between two miners over a bet escalated into a fight, and then into an all-out bar room brawl with Etherik and Lindingar caught right in the middle! Fists, chairs, and mugs flying, the two attempted to extricate themselves from the mess. However, once one of the drunks fell into the pit, Lindingar realized that his unique skills could save the man's life and he leapt into the pit. 'Killer' had already begun to savage the poor guy, who could only shield his face with his arms and cry out for help. Lindingar slowly approached the feral dog, calling out to it with soothing words....goood doggy...nice doggy. His words, assisted with the magic of a charm animal spell, did the job. After healing the wrecked man, Lindingar, along with his new animal friend, bolted up the stairs to the main floor and headed towards the front door. Unbeknownst to the halfling, bets had been placed on the dog versus the drunk, and Lindingar’s interference wasn’t looked on kindly. He realized that he had done something wrong when the large albino half-orc at the end of the bar stood up and began moving straight towards him, scowling and clenching his fists in an ‘i’m gonna pummel you into halfling paste’ kind of way. Behind the half-orc followed a couple of toughs, one a wiry looking goon with matted hair and a sickly complexion, the other a burly warrior with large, meaty arms. The half-orc’s name was Kullen and he was notoriously violent. He and the other two were local toughs in the employ of one of the mine managers, Balabar Smenk. No one messed with these guys, except maybe forces from the Garrison, and even they didn’t tangle with Smenk. Etherik saw the impending disaster and moved to assist his companion. The two (and ‘Killer’) fled the tavern, hiding behind the church of St. Cuthbert until the coast was clear. For Etherik, hiding behind a church was the closest he had ever come to a "religious experience". ‘what should I call him?’ Lindingar asked? ‘what?’ ‘my dog! What should I call him?’ ‘uh…kujo?’ ‘….how about Feral?’ ‘sure, whatever. Just make sure you keep him in check. That charm spell won’t last forever.’ Lindingar nuzzled up to the mangy dog, its fur still matted in human and dog blood. ‘yes, you’re a good Feral, aren’t you? Yes you are!’ Feral licked him with a wet, bloody tongue. [/QUOTE]
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