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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Systole" data-source="post: 5893698" data-attributes="member: 93930">Alvise nods enthusiastically. "Aye, puswampi ... puggampus ... what you said, that's exactly what I was gonna say!"  Alvise turns somewhat pale and begins edging away from Fae'shiel at this revelation. "Well, uh, that's ... nice," he says, trying to hold a grin on his face that desperately does not want to be there. "That's, uh, nice for you."  "Who's drunk?" Alvise says, not entirely convincingly. "And it ... it was a trap! We couldn't see the pit, okay? So it was a tarp, or leaves, or something. I don't know ... the horse fell, and the next thing we knew, the puff-wamfers was all over and we was running. I didn't exactly have time to sit down and look over what they put out for us. 'Ooh, this seems to be a triple-baited spring trap mechanism with a Foisty-Majeur camouflage array! What? Is a that a nightmare doggie poking a blade in me kidney? Ooh, that smarts a bit! What travails I must endure for science!' Yeah ... bugger that." Varga smacks Alvise in the back of the head. "More answering the question, less commentary," she says. To Mortar, she adds, "Oh, he will be assisting you to return the cargo, or he'll have me to deal with. And Alvise ... let me assure you I can be much, much more unpleasant than a pack of wee gremlins." The half-elf is unable to repress a shudder.   <img src="http://i1257.photobucket.com/albums/ii513/pnthffr/Varga_150.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " data-size="" style="" /> <img src="http://i1257.photobucket.com/albums/ii513/pnthffr/Alvise_150.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " data-size="" style="" /> ..... Varga Renlow ......... Alvise Biaggio ...</blockquote>

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