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Message: <blockquote data-quote="BoldItalic" data-source="post: 6852332" data-attributes="member: 6777052">Lol. I couldn't resist it ...[sblock="Sleep Spell?"]Portia sighed. "Are we safe here, from the orcs? I've wedged the door shut with my ten-foot pole.""Not quite, my dear," replied Sir Castalot, "and may I say you are looking particularly fetching tonight? Alas, I foresee that an orc is about to walk in through the other door. Fortunately, it is bringing one of those very relics we are seeking."Portia smiled at the compliment, knowing that the gentle elf would not have said it untruthfully. Sometimes, she reflected, a truth-telling companion can be a trusted friend, though at other times he can be an utter pain in the neck. Like that time when he told her ... that thing. Best forgotten, she reminded herself. "Should I suggest to the orc that it gives us the relic politely?" she wondered."You are far wiser than I, dear lady. But I am not fond of orcs myself. I have a notion that the moment the orc walks through the door I shall just happen to be casting an especially powerful Witch Bolt in its direction and I foresee that this '19' I happen to be holding will mysteriously fulfill its prophetic destiny. You might brace yourself for the lightning flash. It will be quite bright. As will the second, for the orc will not fall easily."Portia was suddenly alarmed. "No! You might damage the relic!" she cried. "We must not risk it!"Threetoes spoke up, as one of his hands quietly grew an invisible appendage. He didn't much like the elf's airs and graces but he could usually trick him into doing what he wanted anyway. "Don't worry, Portia, I'll be lifting the relic out of its pouch before it knows it." And into my own, he added to himself."A Sleep spell might be safer," suggested Manfred, poised alertly on his toes as he readied his shortsword in one hand and a wicked-looking scimitar in the other. "A swift one-two-follow-through never fails.""True."At that moment, their deliberations were suddenly cut short as, with a THUMPPPPP, the door crashed open ..[/sblock][sblock="Or maybe not ..."]The door crashed open, and a very small orc stood outside, wearing a pink dress. She couldn't have been more than about five years old, thought Portia, she still had her baby tusks."Are you guys looking for this?" asked Emily Orc, brandishing a complicated-looking object of brass and leather. "It does work, only some bandits came by yesterday and stole the handle. Daddy said they were really, really stupid, even for bandits. I mean, what use is a handle without the pump?""That's a pretty dress," remarked Castalot, trying to remember how to talk to children.Emily gave him a look. "Daddy told me not to talk to creepy old men."Portia tried again. "Do you know what happened to the bandits?""They met pussykins. He's really, really friendly and he just wants to give everyone a big lick but one of the bandits got scared and fell down dead, just like that. What a baby! Then the all ran away, except for the lady bandit. She went the other way and trod on a red stone. Daddy says you must never, ever tread on a red stone, it's really, really bad luck.""Shall I take the pump? It looks really, really heavy." offered Portia, who was beginning to latch on to the way the little orc was talking."No, it's not heavy. Only a few hunnyweight. It's full of air, silly."Portia took the pump and practically dropped it on the ground. It weighed more than she did. "I think some of the air must have fallen out," she said, by way of excuse."Thank you, little girl," said Manfred. "Is there anything you would like in exchange? Some copper pennies?""You mean, a swap?""If you like, yes.""Ooh, thank you. I'll take that toy scimitar you're holding. Daddy has one just like it, only bigger." So saying, Emily wrenched the weapon from his seemingly feeble grasp, glanced back over her shoulder and called "Gotta go. 'Bye!" as she ran off down the passage and disappeared.[/sblock]</blockquote>

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