"Also, I got some hair on the back of my hands that's standing up. And it smells kind of like popcorn. And my fingers are cold. Like really cold. Does anyone have some gloves?"
Dragore turns to Berz and his disposition changes, he becomes deadly serious and glares with piercing eyes at Berz. "Let's get a few MORE things straight: I am not some kind of bullshit egotripper. I am not useless. In fact, YOU are the one who hasn't done anything worthwhile in the fight, and now you expect that greatsword as a kind of reward for that? Or was that because of your verbal prowess? I suggest you think before putting your foot in your mouth again."[Intimidate roll] Dragore's posture returns to normal and he continues: "Let's be civil about this, alright? My name is Rantic Dragore. Who are you?" He looks, politely now, to Berz.
"Hey, bub. I'm not the one who thought it was a great idea to start this whole thing by calling some sort of hentacle rapey thing from the Elemental Plane of Squick. That's on you. And I didn't ask for this," Berz hefts the sword, "as a reward. I told you that if you want me come along, I'm taking it. And first dibs on babes and anything in a vial. If you don't like that, I'll be happy to tag along and keep the nasties off of every back but yours. "Now, then, about my cold hands...anyone?"
Ok, with that, the innkeeper comes back in. "Good, you did not wreck the place." He turns and whistles out he door. "They're alive!" Soon people start filing in. The body is removed, though you are not sure where it was taken. In a matter of minutes, the place looks like it did half an hour ago. The innkeeper approaches the party, still arguing by the door. "One, take it outside if your gonna kill each other now. Second, if you aint gonna off each other, you gonna get some rooms, or what??
"A master of stabbing I am indeed!" Hort gestures to his Rapier "I can never have too many blades either. I would love to take that other Rapier we found." Hort turns to the bartender after he speaks "I'll take a room kind sir! How much for the night?"
Swig stumps up to the human. "Fine, take the sword. Too big fer me, anyway. Jus' lemme take a look at it t'morrow. Might be magic 'n such, you'll wanna know that." He points toward the human's hands, whispering a word in Dwarven. A squarish rune briefly appears over his hands, causing them to sprout thick, bushy hair. "There. That'll keep 'em warm fer a bit." [Casting prestidigitation to make Berz's hands really, really hairy. Especially the palms. Obviously fake, but you take whatever gags you can get. It'll last for an hour.] Swig then turns on the innkeeper. "If we do get rooms, they's gonna be sep'rit. Got it?" He fishes around in a pocket, turning up a gold coin. "Gimme one room. Small bed. Jus' me." He only reluctantly supplies any more coin, and only if it's necessary.
Berz stares at his furry dukes. "Umm...what was that, 'Rune of Too Much Masturbation'? Haw. Haw. I'm funny. Thanks, shorty, but I'm no fool, I know this won't last. Hey, Hort, didn't I spot some gloves in that mutt's rucksack? Do you mind if I see whether they'll fit me?" "Oh, and inkeep, what's the cost for a room, dinner, breakfast, your eldest daughter, a bath, a second blanket, and your youngest daughter too? OK, maybe just a room and dinner. For now."
"Ok, it is a copper for a room, a silver for a good dinner. My daughter is not on the menu, since I don't have one. I do have three sons..." He laughs big and loud. "Anyway, I will go get some rooms together. You pay when you leave." He turns and goes into the back.
Hort looks to Berz "Uhhh yeah. There are some gloves in here. I say we leave everything in here with our good pal Swig until he gets a chance to... Uhhh... do whatever it is he's supposed to do with this stuff. I'm headed up to my room now, I think I've earned a goodnights rest." Hort walks over to Swig and hands him the bag "I'm sure I can trust you with this for safe keeping. Let us know what you've found out about the items once you've gotten a chance to look at them." Hort then follows the bartender to his room
Ok, as Hort goes to bed, Berz and Rantic go to the bar and sit down, talking rather intently. Swig, you going to bed?
Berz, talking to Rantic: "All right, I suppose I should answer your question from earlier, darky. Name's Berz. Berz Callindu Drowslayer. But I swear to God it's just a name, I got nothing against you people. An' for the record, I never said you were incompetent. Just self-important. It's kind of a racial trait with you people. Not that I have anything against you. "Barkeep, can I get a cup of soup to warm my hands on? They're still cold, even with the fur. Which I like." Berz nods at Swig. "Anyway, my story is simple: Mom kicked me outta the house at eleven because I ate too much, and I wandered around in the Everfree Jungle for a dozen years. Sometimes I'd camp with a tribe for a while, sometimes I'd just sit and watch a snake digest a possum for a few days. It was a good life, but I knew it wouldn't last. "Then, I got captured by a bastard who forced me to work out for a year. Literally. I did nothing but eat, drink, piss blood, and pump iron for thirteen lunar months. He said I'd make a good gladiator. I killed him with a dumbbell, took all his money and his favorite stuff, and walked all the way across the continent so the authorities didn't lock me up. Yeah, I grew up on the other coast. Good thing you still speak the same damn language here...mostly. "Anyway, I wandered into this deathtrap last Thursday -- the one y'all want to go down into. I didn't get far, but I did meet this really cool wizard who told me he'd enchant my shi---gear if I agreed to go in a little further and try to find his daughter's corpse and bring it out. I told him I'd give it a shot, so I was gonna do it regardless of if'n you crazy bastards come with me or not. Then the motherf---wizard guy (Sorry, I'm trying to learn not to swear as much.) went and got himself killed on the street by a punk with a knife. I guess even powerful-ass wizards can't do nothin' about something they don't see coming until it's bit'em. Whatever, if I find his daughter's corpse, I'll bury it next to him. "Anyway. "So, yeah. "No harm, no foul?" Berz forces an obviously awkward smile-like grimace, and after an equally awkward pause, asks, "Uh...oh, yeah...why are YOU here?"
Rantic sees the innkeeper come back, people talking about unimportant things, Hort handing Swig the bag. Dwarf trust. Funny how that works. He resumes his conversation with Berz, who has now introduced himself, and seems more likable already. "Well met Berz Drowslayer," a brief slight smile along the corner of his mouth and then serious again, "That's quite the story there." "I will answer your question. First though, we seem to have gone off to a bad start. It was not my attention to do so, I want you to know that. I hesitate, but as you spoke of the record, I must point out you did refer to me as being useless. If I recall correctly you said something like: 'Are you going to end up useless after half a day like these two?', where 'these two' referred to me and one of the dwarves." "I did not like that. Let me explain why I reacted the way I did, and this will at the same time be the answer to your question: I was born in the Underdark. My mother is not known to me and my father was deemed a traitor. He was a potent wizard and developed and embraced the idea that Lloth was not the right deity for him. That stigma made my early life... hellish. And then he got himself killed. Still, I did agree with my father, to a point. Lloth is bullshit, and we male drow should have a more equal share of the power. So, I turned my back to the Underdark and eventually escaped it's clutches." He pauses and clenches his teeth unconsciously. "What ties I had were cut then. Ever since I wandered. I found beauty in strange places. I had some nice fights. Knowledge is interesting. New things keep me going. Getting to know more about things, too. The feeling you're alive after a tough fight, you know? That's nice. The rest is bullshit. Social talk is bullshit, petty squabbles over gold are bullshit, the lives in general people lead are uninspired and pointless. So, I follow my own compass. I do what I like, go where I like. If something seems worthwhile, interesting, or has the potential to become a good memory, why not? This town, the dungeon. It seems a nice challenge. Something new. Something to make you feel you're alive. And it could lead to deeper understanding. But if someone or something diminishes my appreciation of the moment, I will react as I see fit. No one can stand above me. Equal, sure. But if someone thinks they can dismiss me or put me down again... I have been put down beyond imagining... I have been broken, tortured, beaten, my will destroyed." He swallows and his eyes seem to shoot fire, "And I will Never. Ever. Let. Anybody. Put. Me. Down. Again. Ever!" He takes a deeper breath and resumes normally. "So, yes, well. I think we can understand each other. It's only logical to combine our strengths if we're all going the same place anyway. I told you this because you told me your story, it's only fair. Let's be civil?" Rantic tries to smile friendly, but telling the story has affected him more than he'd like to admit.
"Oh yeah, you already said something like that. I... don't know why I forgot. No harm, no foul, agreed."
"Well...yeah. You're a wizard, right? I've never met a wizard yet that didn't run out of juice in a matter of a few hours of tough times. I mean, I've only met like four wizards, and three were technically apprentices, I suppose, but still...yeah. No offense intended. Mostly."
"Your ignorance is forgiven," says Rantic, and pats him on the shoulder with a smile. He stands up and walks to the bar, orders a strong drink and a room with a bed, nods goodbye to Berz and goes to his room.
[Sorry for not promptly answering. Emergencies arose. Y'know, the kind that result in hospital visits. Long story.] Swig brushes past Rantic with a fresh mug in each hand. Holding one out to Berz, he plops down in a stool, which protests a little. "Any wizard who runs outta juice quick is either new at the job, or sloppy. Trick is to layer stuff, have a plan." He takes a long pull from his mug. "Trick is, ya catch any wizard with 'is pants down, 'e's easy pickin's. Don't matter how long 'e's been at it, or 'ow good 'e is — if'n 'e ain't lookin', 'e's no harder den some shmo on the street. BUT! If'n he sees trouble comin', or knows what 'e's gettin' inta, ya might as well run face-first into a brick wall, 'cause ain't no one harder." The dwarf gives the human an appraising look, based — at least partially — on how much of the tankard has been emptied already. "I ain't one for long stories, if'n yer askin'. Got me degree in Mathemagic, so's I'm good at findin' stuff. Picked up a little Prometheanism, 'cause, really, any wiz' who can't fling an obvious fireball is in the wrong job. Even dabbled in Necronomiconomics. Never know whatch'll need." He gives his crossbow an affectionate pat. "Got this baby here, 'cause sometimes the best magic's a good sharp stick in the eye."
(I am really liking the talking everyone is doing. You should continue. The signal to continue will be everyone going to bed.)
"Well, I won't pretend to understand all that. But if wizards can be heroes -- which I'll admit, you two were pretty quick on your toes when the Twinklepup showed up -- I won't argue. Me, I never expected anyone to call me anything like that until that fancypants enchanter showed up and asked me to do something that made no sense to me at all. I mean, she's dead, right? But whatever, he magicked up my stuff for me, so I'm indebeted now. I gotta give it my best." Berz drains the rest of his drink and turns to Swig. "So you're a wizard, too, and you know a lot of big words. Why are you thinking about delving into the death-hole? What's in it for you?"
Swig takes his turn in emptying a tankard. "Profit, mostly. There's bound to be somethin' down there that's worth a bit o' coin." He gets up from the table, leaving some coin behind. "Feel free to use up the rest o' that. An' lemme see the sword first thing in the mornin', so I can give it the magic eyeball." Swig weaves his way through the regathering crowd, heading for the stairs. [DM: No guarantee that I can post again in time. I'll be doing my Ruin Exploring spell layout; if a copy of identify isn't on that list, please swap something out for it. I'll even go out and buy a pearl for it, if you want.]
