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Message: <blockquote data-quote="BoldItalic" data-source="post: 7389331" data-attributes="member: 6777052">... the Scarecrow’s straw tummy was rumbling…... a condition that was soon to be remedied in the dining hall of a quaint olde-worlde inn called The Dolphin Arms. The landlord was a genial gnome called Burgel Aleslosh who kept an excellent kitchen and the food was good, too. Tim joined them for dinner and recommended duck-and-bean stew with roast turnips, not because they were particularly tasty but because he could pronounce all the words. Dawn had three helpings and mellowed considerably after the first two.Meanwhile, Nam-Draz'il was still screaming quietly out in the stable yard where he had been dumped, so Burgel sent for Psychic Meg, the town witch, to try to calm him down. Meg took one look at him and saw immediately what was wrong. "It's what we witches call Bimble's Auto-Reflexitive Kataleptonia," she announced with an air of great erudition, "or B.A.R.K., as in the phrase 'Barking Mad'. He needs very careful and delicate handling, viz. a good sharp bang on the head." This, she adminstered with great skill and a small wooden cudgel (1d4 Damage) that she produced from somewhere inside her pointy hat. The wizard looked unfocussed for a brief moment, then came to himself. Well, almost. It became apparent a little later that he no longer knew any spells at all and would have to learn them all over again. Also, he was forever after terrified of mirrors. But at least he stopped screaming which was a definite plus because it had been getting on everyone's nerves.Back indoors, over a generous helping of apricot pudding with brandy sauce, ClaW asked Tim about the three frozen corpses and the circumstances of their mysterious deaths. "Well," began Tim, "first 'ere was young 'omas, found not 'ree yards from his own 'reshold and him not 'irteen 'is 'ursday last. 'en 'ere was Henri 'e apple-seller, frozen stiff and all his Blenheim apples missing. And now ...""Excuse me," interrupted Claw, "but Henri was the very man we came here to see. We desperately need his Blenheim apples to make sauce for the royal banquet."This was definitely the wrong thing to say. ClaW realised it when he was halfway through the sentence but the sentence stubbornly said itself anyway. At the mention of 'royal banquet', Tim stiffened and his face went a whiter shade of puce. Rage and Anger took turns to cloud his brows as he jumped up and headed straight for the door without another word."That went well," remarked Tara from inside her bag. "Fortunately for you ..."</blockquote>

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