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I felt like my mind had been split into fragments and put into small bags, which people then repeatedly stamped on.
As I had gotten up to leave, I felt a subtle pinch of resistance at the edge of my coat. The faun who had just called me an asshole for levelling the playing field with the Kobolds suddenly reacted to my getting up, reaching out under the table to clamp on to the drakescale plated fabric. Her serious eyes betrayed her firm body language, and without saying a word I could see her telling me not to go. There couldn't have been more than a thumb and a forefinger holding that corner, but I was anchored to the spot, such was the power of her hold over my feelings. My golden eyes swung to her and I took a moment to consider my position. I could have made a point by sulking like a child and storming off, but all that would have done was put distance between me and my best friend whilst utterly degrading my own character.
Quietly, I sat down again, pulling the chair back in. I went to great lengths to ensure that it only looked to Jake as if I were adjusting my seat for comfort; the last thing I needed was everyone to see Shinsou Vaan Osiris and Philomel van der Aart having a public tiff shortly after the rucus.
Turning my attention back to the elf, Jake, I took a sip of my ale and indulged the possibility of the crystal swords having called us together. At first it seemed plausible, with four of the sword's owners present and accounted for in once place, but after a while I dismissed it as a co-incidence. I didn't even carry The Goat with me anymore, such was its obseletion, and in any case what possible reason would their collective higher power have for "getting the gang back together?".
"I doubt it," I eventually piped up, "But you look like a man with something on your mind. If you want to share, then by all means..."
I gestured to one of the chairs that Philomel's man hoard had vacated earlier.
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Yvonne happily took Storm's crowns with black-fingered finesse, firstly smacking the grabby hands of the nearest kobold. "Hey! These be paying for that drink ye got. Ye trying ta buy yer next drink with what I already earned? Hands off greedy," she chastised. With basic sleight of hand she appeared to scratch an itch, instead tucking coins down her corset with each scratch. The remaining payment she swept into a drawer below the counter, before any other kobolds decided they liked shiny things and made their move too.
The runty drow penciled a few sentences on a piece of paper, swiftly scrawling her message, folding the note in half and handing it to Storm as though it was his receipt. Message delivered she switched her attention to refilling glasses, the row of glass far more bendy and curving than earlier as the kobolds couldn't for the life of them set their empties down in a straight line. She walked along the bar once more, draining another bottle-worth of honey mead so they could all have another go at inebriation.
"Pour drinkss fasster... black-skin sslave!" Gru'Hal commanded, losing his patience. Yvonne could tell that the red cap mushroom was doing its work - the kobold general seemed to be floating in and out of awareness - but he wasn't as relaxed as she had expected him to be by now. The apothecary was beginning to think it wasn't going to be enough to put the lizard down for the night. Gru'Hal was a tougher, more muscular kobold than his cohorts.
"Gru'Hal drink more than any kobold! Need bigger glasss! Thiss one not big enough!" He tossed his glass over his shoulder with his one good hand dismissively. It shattered loudly on the floorboards a few seconds later. It wasn't clear to Yvonne whether kobolds were capable of regeneration, but as the minutes ticked by Gru'Hal was definitely regaining his strength - if not his hand. They would need to do more to keep the situation in check.
Yvonne wasn't entirely certain of the kind of man Storm Veritas was, but she'd gleaned a reasonable idea this evening already. She was taking a risk on him because he was obviously more subtle than his friend. The dwarf hybrid mentally crossed her fingers while she entertained the guests, hoping he was as underhanded as she was - that he wouldn't just rat her out.
The message: Nice be no fun. Distract them for me and I'll drug that overgrown skink again before he makes another scene.
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Distractions? Hell, distractions are easy!
Storm stood tall before the angry, drinking Kobolds, again fixing his hair and rolling his sleeves into tight knots around his sinewy forearms. Opening his palms, long fingers danced in the air before the annoyed little lizard men, who seemed offput regardless of how many rounds he had bought them. Another toothy grin was forced upon them as he stifled a honey-whiskey hiccup.
"Time for a challenge, my diminutive friends! Here in Ettermire, it's customary to treat your guests with a trick or challenge. I will submit to you that I am the most skillful drinker in all of Alerar! Barkeep, fill my stein with your most popular beer, and let's liven things up a notch!" With a grin, he pointed to the iron-rimmed glasses hanging from a series of hooks aside the bar.
The clever little bartender followed him implicitly, filling a cup to the brim with the frothy golden liquid. The pour was smooth and easy, with a series of small and surly soldiers gazing at her as though they'd never seen fluid flow in any form before. Raising the glass, Storm immediately caught a sense for the balance of weight within the glass, sensing the iron ring at the top being the point of balance and manipulation. Taking a quick sip, he got a sense for the flavor - it was fortunately mild, and would serve his trick well. To begin the display, Storm raised the stein over the bar, addressing the on-looking soldiers.
"Welcome to Ettermire, warriors! A toast - to our wives and our girlfriends - may they never meet!"
Ugh, SO old. Brutal.
Maintaining his smile through the laughter of little serpentine simpletons who lacked any presence of humor, Storm feigned dropping the stein. His eyes wide, he moved quick to catch it with his left hand, and again dropped it to catch the thick glass between two fingers on his right hand. This was of course obfuscation; the weight of the glass was entirely suspended by the wizard manipulating an electromagnetic field about the iron stein. A third drop, and he caught the stein upon the tip of his left index finger, the stein wobbling as he controlled it completely. The illusion of danger filled the room with a blanket of silence, broken only by small gasps. The electromancer had them at his call as he stared at the stein, feigning concern that he could possibly drop the thing.
"Quiet please; everything is under control. From a fingertip to deep liver, I am the conqueror of hops!"
Without further explanation, Storm lifted the stein, wiggling a finger to allow it to "fall" into his mouth. There was a deluge of liquid that he had prepared for, opening his throat and allowing the beer to pour down his throat, a trick years of borderline alcoholism had afforded him. A great cheer erupted as not a drip poured upon his face or neck, and the mage pinched the bottom of the empty stein between two fingers to display the empty cup to the awestruck fools before him. Twisting his fingers, he made the impression he was spinning the cup with incredible dexterity, erstwhile the field produced effortlessly spun the cup before them with the speed of a top. With a flick of the wrist, the stein was suddenly tumbling through the air, high in the bar and back towards Veritas, who dropped his eye level to the Kobolds, who looked at him with horror. He didn't look, but reached behind him with his left hand, his witchcraft correcting the difference and pulling the cup back into his hand.
The bar erupted in croaks and laughs at the display as the wizard smashed the stein down upon the bar, winking at the barkeep who had quite clearly finished her efforts.
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Yvonne smiled upon her handiwork in afterthought, a hint of smugness to her expression. She'd swiftly concocted another drink specifically for him, with the biggest glass she could find (a punch bowl). It was everything the kobold commander had demanded. Well, truth be told there might have been an ingredient or two he wasn't expecting, but - in her defence - Gru'Hal hadn't asked for a specific kind of drink. That meant the half-dwarven bartender was allowed complete creative licence over what passed down his scaly croaker. Let's face it, he'd put anything in his mouth she wanted at this point, especially with heady froth at the surface ever so inviting.
A sleeping potion potent enough ta bed an ogre, laced with honey whiskey. Lavender, passionflower, crushed valerian sprigs and powdered verdant root, tha herbs masked with whiskey, tha whiskey softened with honey.
"Here ye be, Gru'Hal honey! I've made ye a drink worthy of yer impending conquest! Only tha most mighty of kobolds could handle this drink, but I bet ye'll chug this one down like it was lolly water! Go ahead! Impress yer friends." Yvonne gently placed the punch-bowl in front of him, grinning up to him encouragingly. "Impress me," she challenged him provocatively, batting her eyelashes.
"Gru'Hal show you what it means to be the mightiest kobold of all," he bragged, grabbing the punch bowl with both hands and lifting the drink high over his head. His minions roared their shrieking excitement in unison, proud of their commander. When he looked to her one last time to make certain she was watching, Yvonne nodded her approval, her expression wide-eyed enthusiasm, plain as day.
Gru'Hal took a deep breath and guzzled down the entire bowl, taking copious gulps one after another. His thirty kobold minions cheered him on, squealing drink, drink, drink in time, like a heartbeat. He had the attention of the whole room. The world was his oyster.
Yvonne turned away, concealing the fact that she was rolling her eyes and snickering to herself. They'd done very well. Storm Veritas had distracted the little beasts admirably while she concentrated her full efforts on creating the knockout potion. They'd each played their unscrupulous part and would reap the rewards. A comatose general and a wasted army was no threat at all. They'd bought Ettermire some time, at least from this regiment.
A sip of that would put me ta sleep. A punch bowl? I'd probably never wake up again! Should knock tha brute into tha land of forty winks for tha night and those minions of his won't know what ta do next. One thing I do know about war - ye cut off tha head of tha snake, tha rest of tha problem will die right off.
Gru'Hal was snoring before he hit the floor, still in his chair it clattered to the floorboards with him. The punch bowl bounced and rolled away, remaining in tact. Maybe a bruised noggin in the morning but he'd be fine. He was sleeping soundly, his snoring rather loud.
"What happen to General?" a kobold questioned, looking down at him.
"Don't know," another kobold replied, sipping his honey whiskey contently.
"What we do now?!" a third kobold cried out, starting to freak out.
"Have more drinkss from nice lady," a fourth kobold decided for him, calm and collected.
"That'ss good idea," the third kobold agreed, settling down.
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This thread is now CLOSED and being submitted for judgement, as stated in the terms at the beginning of this thread and in the post for recruitment.
For those who want to continue ... Part two will be continued HERE.
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No Judgement: Monthly Event 1.5x added.
Philomel receives:
1216 EXP
83 GP
Storm Veritas receives:
1437 EXP
83 GP
Yvonne receives:
726 EXP
99 GP
Shinsou Vaan Osiris receives:
1216 EXP
83 GP
Jake Narmolanya receives:
561 EXP
50 GP
Rewards to be added soon.
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