Alright, pull up a stool, grab a lukewarm ale, and let me tell you about the delightful evening I had. Just another night slinging drinks at the ol’ inn, and who should stumble in but our favourite band of slightly-less-than-merry adventurers. Fresh from… somewhere. Honestly, half the time I tune them out until they start waving coin at me.
Apparently, they'd been having a grand old squabble about their “equipment”. You know, the usual assortment of pointy things, slightly damp cloaks, and what someone eloquently described as the “putrid remains of a rat”. Surprisingly, no takers on that last one. You’d think someone would want a conversation starter like that.
The cloak situation was particularly riveting. Apparently, there was a plain old “cloak” and then a “hooded leather cloak” which prompted one of them to declare they were now “so cool”. Honestly, the bar for coolness gets lower every time these guys show up.
Then came the pressing issue of a “throwing axe”. Apparently, you can have one, but using it is a whole different kettle of fish involving something called “proficiency” and “levelling up”. Sounds like a lot of effort for something you just… throw. One of them even had the audacity to ask the weight. The DRAMA! It’s five pounds, apparently. Page 84, if you’re keeping score.
Oh, and speaking of carrying things, one of them, a charming fellow, mentioned he had 19 scalps in his backpack. NINETEEN. And they were getting wet. Lovely image for a pre-dinner chat. I swear, sometimes I think they just say these things to see my reaction. I mostly just try to look busy wiping down the same spot on the counter.
There was also a whole kerfuffle about an “ivory box”. Turns out it was like a piggy bank for the group, filled with a delightful mix of platinum, silver, copper, and some shiny rocks they called “carnelian”. Fancy. They also debated the merits of keeping some old spell books. Apparently, they’re mostly useless unless you’re a “magic user,” which most of this lot aren’t. Something about unique handwriting, you see. Though there’s a loophole for “jesters,” maybe? The rules change more often than my socks (and that’s saying something).
Then came the treasure hunt part. Seemed like they were double-checking if they’d pilfered everything, including some “onyxes” and a “small shovel”. Thrilling stuff. Oh, and two “whetstones”. Because apparently one just isn’t enough for a band of heroes.
They even brought back the horses they’d borrowed (or possibly just acquired). Named them “Durgga Grimstride” and “Butter Hoof,” if you can believe it. Honestly, the names these adventurers come up with. They haggled over the stable fee for a good five minutes. Cheapskates.
Then came the best part: dinner. Most of them went for the “plain dinner” – barley stew, hard cheese, the usual. But one of them, a Farro-sounding fellow, went all out with a “seven course dinner”. Small pickled herring, fancy broth, a roasted… “capon”? Honestly, the descriptions went on and on. Meanwhile, the rest of them were probably eyeing his plate with envy while gnawing on their dark rye bread.
After stuffing their faces, they got all philosophical about the rise of some “temple of elemental evil”. Sounds ominous. Apparently, they’re being sent off to investigate. Good riddance, I say. More room at the bar.
Oh, and the loot! Sweet merciful Pelor, the loot. They sold a mountain of stuff – gems, armour, swords, you name it – and walked away with fifteen THOUSAND, SIX HUNDRED AND NINETY-SIX gold pieces. You’d think they’d be buying the whole tavern a round, but no. They mostly just talked about experience points and “levelling up”. Apparently, that’s more exciting than sharing the wealth.
One of them even bought a +1 dagger off another. Thrilling. They couldn’t even agree on a name for it. I suggested “Stabby,” but no one appreciated my input.
And then there was some nonsense about one of them being a mystic and having to donate most of their newfound wealth because of some self-denial rule. Honestly, you couldn’t make this stuff up.
So, yeah, just another night with the heroes of… wherever. They’ll be back, no doubt, with more tales of giant rats (dead or alive), questionable loot, and endless debates about the proper way to swing an axe. Until then, at least it’ll be quiet enough to finally dust those top shelves.
No comments:
Post a Comment