gavin cardigan walked into Poor Yorick's Pub, shrugged off his sodden trench coat and placed it on a wooden peg, tossed his fedora on the adjacent peg, and stepped up to the bar.
"what's on the menu tonight, buddy?"
danny blake, Pub proprietor, filled a pint with Guinness and slid it over to him.
"Guinness-braised short ribs, alongside old-fashioned colcannon."
cardigan took a long sip, allowing the dark-brown malted stout to warm his insides, and nodded. "sounds perfect. i'll take a healthy portion, please. and by healthy, i mean anything but healthy."
he took his pint and headed for his regular table, already surrounded by his regular Pub companions.
"gavin!"
he felt his insides grow even warmer as foxy charles greeted him with a quick hug and peck on the cheek
"hey, foxy! what brings you here tonight?"
"i missed my sis, and you guys, too," she answered with a grin. "and i brought a date!"
"oh."
"hey, cardigan. long time, no see," said the stunning face that appeared from behind foxy.
"oh, hey Juliet. nice to see you again," cardigan replied with relief, glaring at sierra charles, who was snickering at him and her crossdressing brother. "a charles family reunion?"
the Mysterious Lurker appeared suddenly at the table, her sky blue hair blowing in an non-existing wind. "no, gavin. juliet is the lead in the touring producting of "Priscilla, Queen of the Dessert! they're in San Francisco for three weeks."
"i brought tickets for everyone," juliet extended her hand. "i hope you can make it. it's for saturday night."
"that sounds great, thanks juliet." cardigan took his seat at the table, noticing that marian elfman was uncommonly quiet as she poked at her laptop.
"''sup, marian?"
"oh, hi gavin. i'm trying to figure out which questions to answer in my column," replied the advice columnist. what do you guys think of this one?"
Dear Marian,
My first cousin on my mother's side is engaged to a wonderful woman. The problem is, she's my first cousin on my father's side! Now, obviously they are not related by blood, so there's nothing technically wrong with it, BUT IT'S WRONG! My first cousins are marrying each other! Eeewwww! how i can talk them out this? I don't even know if I'm supposed to sit on the groom's side or the bride's side. It's so awkward!''
Signed,
In-laws or Outlaws
"that is...well, a rather interesting question, isn't it?" sierra noted.
"yes, sierra, i agree," foxy nodded.
"marian, what do you think about it? it sounds like these people--or this person--really needs your advice," juliet added hurriedly.
marian looked at the three of them with a face of surprise. "really? it doesn't seem that complicated to me."
danny blake delivered a steaming plate of short ribs and colcannon in front of cardigan. "i wonder how often that situation occurs? i've never heard of it before, but on the other hand, it doesn't sound that outlandish."
"i don't see the problem," cardigan muttered around a mouthful of goodness.
"you not thinking from the author's perspective, cardigan," sierra argued. "to them--or her or him--that is, it has to be really weird. these are family members that they--or her or him-- grew up with."
"but different sides of the family. they wouldn't even be at the same family reunions or christmas parties, right?" the Lurker pointed out.
"but i can see how it must be awkward for, um, whoever wrote that letter," foxy indicated. "the couple seems to be rather selfish to get married without thinking of their--or his or her--feelings."
"sounds like great song material," tucker mused, strumming a chord.
she's my cousin's cousin
the birds are a' singin' and the bees are a' buzzin'
she's my cousin's cousin
we say we does though my cousin says we doesn't
"that's...awful, tucker."
"i've just started! wait until i finish this baby. it'll be great!" strum strum...
marian scowled. "they aren't breaking any laws, and love is love. whoever the author is, i think they--or he, or she--is the one being selfish. they--or he, or she--shouldn't be so melodramatic!"
as she proclaimed the matter settled with her signature tagline, the three charles family members gave a barely audible hmph.
cardigan, always the detective, noticed and raised his eyebrows. "hey. wait a minute--"
"gavin, you'll be my date to juliet's show on saturday, won't you?" foxy grabbed his arm and leaned in close. "we can get a limo, make a night of it. what do you say?"
"what? date? me? um, yeah, that....that sounds great." cardigan was suddenly flustered. "wait, a limo?"
"i know a guy with a limo!" the tuxedo-clad Lurker exclaimed. "i can drive."
"woohoo!"
danny delivered another round to the table. "something wrong, gavin?"
"no....no, i just...what?"
danny smirked, gathered the empty glasses, and shook his head as he headed back to the bar.
Saturday, December 1, 2018
Friday, November 9, 2018
Snapshots: We'll Always Have Cowtown
gavin cardigan was out of his element.
it wasn't just that it was hot, and it was certainly very hot. the sun was blazing and there wasn't a single cloud in the sky to soften it a whit. cardigan couldn't even find any shade. it was as if every building in Fort Worth was a reverse-vampire that worshiped sunlight and feasted on darkness instead of blood, sucking the shadows from all manner of people and objects.
and the wind.
it wasn't a refreshing breeze from off the bay, spritzing his cheeks. no, this was a steady gust of dry, hot air right in his face, no matter which direction he turned, carrying dust or ash or exhaust or the odor of cow manure with it.
oh, yeah. cows. they didn't have cattle round-ups every day in downtown san francisco, either.
"i want to go home," he muttered to nobody in particular but drawing the attention of several cowboy hats that were lingering nearby. he cursed to himself, pulled down his fedora, and stepped into The White Elephant Saloon.
he felt better immediately.
it was nothing like Poor Yorick's Pub, but it was familiar enough. it had a bar, and a bartender, and alcohol. he ordered a beer, took a sip, and sighed deeply.
"mr. cardigan?"
that voice...he turned around in surprise.
"ms. dupree? are you stalking me now?"
she laughed, ignoring his outstretched hand to instead lean in close and kiss him on the cheek. "maybe. depends on where you're going."
"i going to buy you a drink," he grinned. "what's your poison?"
"dark and stormy," she replied quickly.
"what's that?" he asked as he signaled the barkeeper.
"dark rum, ginger beer, and lime," the bartender informed him.
cardigan shoved his beer away.
"make it two. that sounds amazing."
cocktails in hand, they raised their glasses.
"to destiny, mr. cardigan!"
"it's gavin. or cardigan. and i thought you only believed in destiny when you're in san francisco, ms. dupree?"
she sipped, and considered her answer. "it's lily, and your memory for details is amazing. that must be what makes you a good detective."
"this is really refreshing," cardigan nodded at his drink with approval, then lifted his eyes toward hers. "i remember every detail. the Germans wore grey, you wore blue."
she laughed. "Casablanca." *clink* "here's looking at you, kid."
cardigan looked around the saloon, the old cowboy hats hanging on the walls and ceiling. "of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, you walk into...the one i'm in. what in heaven's name brought you to Fort Worth?"
"work. or at least, that's what i thought. seeing you here, though...it seems that destiny has taken a hand."
"we're going to run out of Casablanca quotes at some point."
"then we'll just drink too much and sing As Time Goes By all night."
cardigan tilted his head and considered. "do you think that's destiny had in mind for you here?"
lily stirred her drink, stalling. "i don't know. i've been thinking about you, cardigan."
"really?" he sat up straighter.
"yes. i was thinking of hiring you again."
"oh." he tried and failed to keep the disappointment out of his voice.
she noticed and smiled.
"i'm not your client yet, though. tell me, what are you doing in Fort Worth, cardigan?"
"suffering," he muttered. "until you showed up, that is. a client back in 'Frisco owns an art gallery. he discovered a new western artist here and wants to offer him a contact to be his exclusive dealer. but, having dealt with a lot of artists in his business, he knows that they can be a bit flaky and unreliable, so he wanted me to check out first. it's not the first case i've done for him. what kind of work brought you here?"
"there's a beautiful old episcopal church here called St. Nicholas on the Prairie. the original architect was from new orleans, and it has a unique french colonial style. the diocese brought me out for a consultation. i'm a restoration architect, specializing in church architecture."
"holy moly." cardigan cringed as he said it. "why churches? because you don't believe in destiny? or because you do?"
"dammit cardigan, you sound like my old priest," she laughed. "you are determined to get inside my head, aren't you?"
"to start," he winked.
"okay, now you sound nothing like my old priest!"
"was he more successful at getting answers out of you?"
"he would say no, but i think he understood me better than anyone. he was very perceptive, and a good listener, and had great instincts. just like you, really. he would have been a good detective, too. maybe you would be a good priest."
"i don't think priesthood is destiny. but, we weren't talking about my destiny, were we?"
"weren't we?" she signaled for another round. "this isn't just about me; it's about us."
"oh, we're an us, are we? pray, continue."
she gave him an exasperated look. "it was much easier to hire you over the phone last time."
"but far less fun, with far less rum." he finished his first drink just as the bartender delivered the second. "does this mean that you're hiring me again?"
"i don't know. i'm enjoying your company too much, and the...case...is not something i have ever talked about with anybody. not even my priest. it's something that happened a long time ago, that i ran away from. i have been thinking lately that maybe it's time to go back there...but i'm also afraid that maybe it's too late and it might do more harm than good."
"that's very mysterious. but that's not surprising. you're a mysterious woman. a living ghost, i believe was the description we agreed upon last time we met, the way you moved about the city as if you were on a different plane and in a different time than the rest of us. and you don't know the extent to which that symbolism has played out in san francisco since you left."
she raised an eyebrow. "now you're being mysterious. what are you talking about?"
"the fat man, Gutman, who took pictures of you and then used them as a model for his painting. i bought it, at a mutually beneficial discount with the owner," he grinned.
"you did not!"
"oh yes i did! but i gave it to my friend danny to hang at his Pub, since i spend more time there than i do anywhere else. but the painting made a much bigger impression on danny than i ever thought it would. he stares at it, straightens it when it doesn't need straightening. i've even seen him try to draw it himself on cocktail napkins. so, even in a painting your presence is haunting, like a ghost. but from what you're telling me, it sounds as if you're also haunted by something in your past."
"but your detective skills are even spookier! is this Pub the one you said has excellent food?"
"yes, Poor Yorick's Pub. it's kinda weird. danny doesn't have a menu. he just makes one thing every day. you never know what it's going to be, but you know it's going to be good."
"Poor Yorick's?" she looked startled. "i used to have a d---"
BBBRRRIIINNNGGG!!!! BBBRRRIIINNNGGG!!!
they both checked their phones, pressed a button, and turned them off.
"now that's spooky!"
"it was destined to happen," cardigan agreed.
"aarrgghh!! what am i going to do? i'm not used to being indecisive."
cardigan drained his drink. "it sounds like you're running from the truth, darlin'. truth is my business, and i've learned that while it hurts, it also heals."
"you sound like my priest again," she sighed and drained her drink. "i think i need to sleep on this some more."
cardigan straightened his imaginary tie.
"but not with my priest."
"hmph."
it wasn't just that it was hot, and it was certainly very hot. the sun was blazing and there wasn't a single cloud in the sky to soften it a whit. cardigan couldn't even find any shade. it was as if every building in Fort Worth was a reverse-vampire that worshiped sunlight and feasted on darkness instead of blood, sucking the shadows from all manner of people and objects.
and the wind.
it wasn't a refreshing breeze from off the bay, spritzing his cheeks. no, this was a steady gust of dry, hot air right in his face, no matter which direction he turned, carrying dust or ash or exhaust or the odor of cow manure with it.
oh, yeah. cows. they didn't have cattle round-ups every day in downtown san francisco, either.
"i want to go home," he muttered to nobody in particular but drawing the attention of several cowboy hats that were lingering nearby. he cursed to himself, pulled down his fedora, and stepped into The White Elephant Saloon.
he felt better immediately.
it was nothing like Poor Yorick's Pub, but it was familiar enough. it had a bar, and a bartender, and alcohol. he ordered a beer, took a sip, and sighed deeply.
"mr. cardigan?"
that voice...he turned around in surprise.
"ms. dupree? are you stalking me now?"
she laughed, ignoring his outstretched hand to instead lean in close and kiss him on the cheek. "maybe. depends on where you're going."
"i going to buy you a drink," he grinned. "what's your poison?"
"dark and stormy," she replied quickly.
"what's that?" he asked as he signaled the barkeeper.
"dark rum, ginger beer, and lime," the bartender informed him.
cardigan shoved his beer away.
"make it two. that sounds amazing."
cocktails in hand, they raised their glasses.
"to destiny, mr. cardigan!"
"it's gavin. or cardigan. and i thought you only believed in destiny when you're in san francisco, ms. dupree?"
she sipped, and considered her answer. "it's lily, and your memory for details is amazing. that must be what makes you a good detective."
"this is really refreshing," cardigan nodded at his drink with approval, then lifted his eyes toward hers. "i remember every detail. the Germans wore grey, you wore blue."
she laughed. "Casablanca." *clink* "here's looking at you, kid."
cardigan looked around the saloon, the old cowboy hats hanging on the walls and ceiling. "of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, you walk into...the one i'm in. what in heaven's name brought you to Fort Worth?"
"work. or at least, that's what i thought. seeing you here, though...it seems that destiny has taken a hand."
"we're going to run out of Casablanca quotes at some point."
"then we'll just drink too much and sing As Time Goes By all night."
cardigan tilted his head and considered. "do you think that's destiny had in mind for you here?"
lily stirred her drink, stalling. "i don't know. i've been thinking about you, cardigan."
"really?" he sat up straighter.
"yes. i was thinking of hiring you again."
"oh." he tried and failed to keep the disappointment out of his voice.
she noticed and smiled.
"i'm not your client yet, though. tell me, what are you doing in Fort Worth, cardigan?"
"suffering," he muttered. "until you showed up, that is. a client back in 'Frisco owns an art gallery. he discovered a new western artist here and wants to offer him a contact to be his exclusive dealer. but, having dealt with a lot of artists in his business, he knows that they can be a bit flaky and unreliable, so he wanted me to check out first. it's not the first case i've done for him. what kind of work brought you here?"
"there's a beautiful old episcopal church here called St. Nicholas on the Prairie. the original architect was from new orleans, and it has a unique french colonial style. the diocese brought me out for a consultation. i'm a restoration architect, specializing in church architecture."
"holy moly." cardigan cringed as he said it. "why churches? because you don't believe in destiny? or because you do?"
"dammit cardigan, you sound like my old priest," she laughed. "you are determined to get inside my head, aren't you?"
"to start," he winked.
"okay, now you sound nothing like my old priest!"
"was he more successful at getting answers out of you?"
"he would say no, but i think he understood me better than anyone. he was very perceptive, and a good listener, and had great instincts. just like you, really. he would have been a good detective, too. maybe you would be a good priest."
"i don't think priesthood is destiny. but, we weren't talking about my destiny, were we?"
"weren't we?" she signaled for another round. "this isn't just about me; it's about us."
"oh, we're an us, are we? pray, continue."
she gave him an exasperated look. "it was much easier to hire you over the phone last time."
"but far less fun, with far less rum." he finished his first drink just as the bartender delivered the second. "does this mean that you're hiring me again?"
"i don't know. i'm enjoying your company too much, and the...case...is not something i have ever talked about with anybody. not even my priest. it's something that happened a long time ago, that i ran away from. i have been thinking lately that maybe it's time to go back there...but i'm also afraid that maybe it's too late and it might do more harm than good."
"that's very mysterious. but that's not surprising. you're a mysterious woman. a living ghost, i believe was the description we agreed upon last time we met, the way you moved about the city as if you were on a different plane and in a different time than the rest of us. and you don't know the extent to which that symbolism has played out in san francisco since you left."
she raised an eyebrow. "now you're being mysterious. what are you talking about?"
"the fat man, Gutman, who took pictures of you and then used them as a model for his painting. i bought it, at a mutually beneficial discount with the owner," he grinned.
"you did not!"
"oh yes i did! but i gave it to my friend danny to hang at his Pub, since i spend more time there than i do anywhere else. but the painting made a much bigger impression on danny than i ever thought it would. he stares at it, straightens it when it doesn't need straightening. i've even seen him try to draw it himself on cocktail napkins. so, even in a painting your presence is haunting, like a ghost. but from what you're telling me, it sounds as if you're also haunted by something in your past."
"but your detective skills are even spookier! is this Pub the one you said has excellent food?"
"yes, Poor Yorick's Pub. it's kinda weird. danny doesn't have a menu. he just makes one thing every day. you never know what it's going to be, but you know it's going to be good."
"Poor Yorick's?" she looked startled. "i used to have a d---"
BBBRRRIIINNNGGG!!!! BBBRRRIIINNNGGG!!!
they both checked their phones, pressed a button, and turned them off.
"now that's spooky!"
"it was destined to happen," cardigan agreed.
"aarrgghh!! what am i going to do? i'm not used to being indecisive."
cardigan drained his drink. "it sounds like you're running from the truth, darlin'. truth is my business, and i've learned that while it hurts, it also heals."
"you sound like my priest again," she sighed and drained her drink. "i think i need to sleep on this some more."
cardigan straightened his imaginary tie.
"but not with my priest."
"hmph."
Saturday, March 3, 2018
DM it, marian!
gavin cardigan walked into the Pub, hanging his coat, fedora, and scarf on the wall.
"you're looking at a mighty hungry man tonight, danny. what've you got for me?"
danny blake poured him a pint of Guinness and replied, "chai boey."
"um...what's that?"
"a mustard greens stew, with pork belly."
cardigan nodded, taking a sip. "make it a very large bowl."
he walked towards the back, hesitated, and muttered a mild curse under his breath when he saw his friends gathered around marian in the back, a dungeon master screen in front of her.
okay, maybe it wasn't that mild.
his spirits brightened considerably when foxy charles patted the space next to her. "just in time!"
he grunted as he settled next to her. "can i have some armor or something? i'm getting tired of being taken out with one hit."
"you're a rogue, gavin!" marian admonished him. "rather, your character Garvin is a rogue, and they can't wear heavy armor. by the way, burkie has added a sidebar to the left to help everyone remember who is playing whom--"
"i think it's safe to say that he's playing us all."
marian scowled, it being one of her best and--in gavin's presence--most often used facial expressions. "shush! he also added a 'search' function to the blog which will be really useful."
"for what?"
"to whom?"
"new readers?"
"do we even have any old readers left?"
"we certainly don't have any young readers."
"maybe we have fictional readers."
"we have to have at least one reader or we wouldn't exist at all."
"we don't exist?!"
"stop it! now, ready? okay!" marian sounded like a cheerleader as she looked around at the assembled players. "you've survived the rather light skirmish at the graveyard and recovered a key. the dog has run off, seemingly having fulfilled his purpose."
"how do we know it's a him?"
"we never found out the dog's name!"
"um..." marian ruffled some papers, clearly flustered and unprepared for this.
jasper curled his bottom lip back between his teeth and let out a shrill "FWEET! FWEET!"
"here, doggy!" sierra called out.
"um....okay, guys, the dog just runs off," marian told them. "now--"
tucker strums a chord. "Trotter plays a happy chord on his guitar and casts a 'charm' spell to compel the dog to come back to us."
"guys, that's not part of the scenario. let's--"
"but we're roleplaying! the story has to adapt to how we react. isn't that how this is supposed to work?" the Lurker reasoned. "the dog comes trotting back and i cast 'tongues' to speak to it in dog language."
"there is no dog language--"
monte, the Pub's resident cardigan welsh corgi, gave an indignant bark from over by the fireplace.
"it's a she of the species! and her name is Stella von Ripperschnauzer," the Lurker informed them.
"invite her to join us! she'll probably be very useful."
"guys, rangers don't get an animal companion until 3rd Level, and i didn't prepare--"
"that's okay, Jinkster's a quick study and learns fast for a 1st Level," Seyarrah noted. "he went to the best schools!"
"okay, fine. Stella joins the party."
"yay!"
"huzzah!"
"woof!"
danny delivers cardigan's stew. "good call."
the Lurker's eyes go wide. "oh, Stella's hungry! she suddenly chases after an evil rabbit that just darted from behind a tombstone."
"wait, an evil rabbit?"
"i don't want to watch her eat an innocent, cute bunny. do you?"
"good point."
"guys, we need to get to the castle now," marian was scowling extra scowlingly now.
"wait, the poor thing is hungry! she's earned her reward by leading us to the key, don't you think?."
"while she eats, Garvin takes out the new throwing knives and start sharpening them against a whetstone while Stella eats the evil rabbit," gavin explains around a mouthful of stew.
"nice thinking, Garvin!" foxy beams at him. "and Malifox stars wiping the bone dust off of her swords, because bone dust can be poisonous."
"Trotter sits on a tombstone and tunes his guitar."
"Seyarrah points her hands at a pile of twigs to start a cook fire," sierra noted, "and starts heating up some leftover mustard green stew."
"guys, you have a quest to fulfill over at Castle Elsinore!"
"we need to eat, to keep our strength up," taylor told her, "so Russert pulls out a hot dog and places it on the end of a whittled-down stick and places it over the flames of the fire."
"i've got ale," Jinkster announces.
"hear, hear!" Garvin pulls out a mug. "and, um, here here."
"the Lurker wants a hot dog, too," the Lurker announced. "with mustard."
"guys, you don't have hot dogs or mustard or stew. you have trail rations and dried beef--"
"trail mix?! i need more than peanuts and raisins if i'm gonna storm a haunted castle."
"it's not trail mix; it's trail rations!"
"which is...?"
"um...dried fruit and, um...nuts, and...."
"trail mix. no thanks."
"FWOOSH!" the Lurked fwooshed with a flourish of hands. "s'mores!"
"yay!"
"no, no s'mores!!!!"
"mmmmmm, s'mores."
"nom nom nom"
"i'm gonna need a nap after this."
"hmph."
"you're looking at a mighty hungry man tonight, danny. what've you got for me?"
danny blake poured him a pint of Guinness and replied, "chai boey."
"um...what's that?"
"a mustard greens stew, with pork belly."
cardigan nodded, taking a sip. "make it a very large bowl."
he walked towards the back, hesitated, and muttered a mild curse under his breath when he saw his friends gathered around marian in the back, a dungeon master screen in front of her.
okay, maybe it wasn't that mild.
his spirits brightened considerably when foxy charles patted the space next to her. "just in time!"
he grunted as he settled next to her. "can i have some armor or something? i'm getting tired of being taken out with one hit."
"you're a rogue, gavin!" marian admonished him. "rather, your character Garvin is a rogue, and they can't wear heavy armor. by the way, burkie has added a sidebar to the left to help everyone remember who is playing whom--"
"i think it's safe to say that he's playing us all."
marian scowled, it being one of her best and--in gavin's presence--most often used facial expressions. "shush! he also added a 'search' function to the blog which will be really useful."
"for what?"
"to whom?"
"new readers?"
"do we even have any old readers left?"
"we certainly don't have any young readers."
"maybe we have fictional readers."
"we have to have at least one reader or we wouldn't exist at all."
"we don't exist?!"
"stop it! now, ready? okay!" marian sounded like a cheerleader as she looked around at the assembled players. "you've survived the rather light skirmish at the graveyard and recovered a key. the dog has run off, seemingly having fulfilled his purpose."
"how do we know it's a him?"
"we never found out the dog's name!"
"um..." marian ruffled some papers, clearly flustered and unprepared for this.
jasper curled his bottom lip back between his teeth and let out a shrill "FWEET! FWEET!"
"here, doggy!" sierra called out.
"um....okay, guys, the dog just runs off," marian told them. "now--"
tucker strums a chord. "Trotter plays a happy chord on his guitar and casts a 'charm' spell to compel the dog to come back to us."
"guys, that's not part of the scenario. let's--"
"but we're roleplaying! the story has to adapt to how we react. isn't that how this is supposed to work?" the Lurker reasoned. "the dog comes trotting back and i cast 'tongues' to speak to it in dog language."
"there is no dog language--"
monte, the Pub's resident cardigan welsh corgi, gave an indignant bark from over by the fireplace.
"it's a she of the species! and her name is Stella von Ripperschnauzer," the Lurker informed them.
"invite her to join us! she'll probably be very useful."
"guys, rangers don't get an animal companion until 3rd Level, and i didn't prepare--"
"that's okay, Jinkster's a quick study and learns fast for a 1st Level," Seyarrah noted. "he went to the best schools!"
"okay, fine. Stella joins the party."
"yay!"
"huzzah!"
"woof!"
danny delivers cardigan's stew. "good call."
the Lurker's eyes go wide. "oh, Stella's hungry! she suddenly chases after an evil rabbit that just darted from behind a tombstone."
"wait, an evil rabbit?"
"i don't want to watch her eat an innocent, cute bunny. do you?"
"good point."
"guys, we need to get to the castle now," marian was scowling extra scowlingly now.
"wait, the poor thing is hungry! she's earned her reward by leading us to the key, don't you think?."
"while she eats, Garvin takes out the new throwing knives and start sharpening them against a whetstone while Stella eats the evil rabbit," gavin explains around a mouthful of stew.
"nice thinking, Garvin!" foxy beams at him. "and Malifox stars wiping the bone dust off of her swords, because bone dust can be poisonous."
"Trotter sits on a tombstone and tunes his guitar."
"Seyarrah points her hands at a pile of twigs to start a cook fire," sierra noted, "and starts heating up some leftover mustard green stew."
"guys, you have a quest to fulfill over at Castle Elsinore!"
"we need to eat, to keep our strength up," taylor told her, "so Russert pulls out a hot dog and places it on the end of a whittled-down stick and places it over the flames of the fire."
"i've got ale," Jinkster announces.
"hear, hear!" Garvin pulls out a mug. "and, um, here here."
"the Lurker wants a hot dog, too," the Lurker announced. "with mustard."
"guys, you don't have hot dogs or mustard or stew. you have trail rations and dried beef--"
"trail mix?! i need more than peanuts and raisins if i'm gonna storm a haunted castle."
"it's not trail mix; it's trail rations!"
"which is...?"
"um...dried fruit and, um...nuts, and...."
"trail mix. no thanks."
"FWOOSH!" the Lurked fwooshed with a flourish of hands. "s'mores!"
"yay!"
"no, no s'mores!!!!"
"mmmmmm, s'mores."
"nom nom nom"
"i'm gonna need a nap after this."
"hmph."
Saturday, February 24, 2018
Hey, it's Poor Yorick's Pub. A graveyard scene was inevitable.
gavin cardigan walked into the Pub with a heavy sigh.
"danny boy, whaddya have for a hard-working man?"
"korean bbq yum yum rice bowl," his friend danny blake replied, sliding a ping of Guinness at him.
"sounds like just the thing, thanks." he lifts his pint in a toast, takes a sip, and heads back to join his friends who are already gathered around the tables that have been set up for D&D.
"have a seat, shorty," foxy charles scoots over to let him in.
"thanks, tall green and beautiful," he muttered good-naturedly (for gavin) as he settles in.
"awww, i'm shipping for Garvin and Malifox," marian grinned from behind the DM screen.
"wait, you're the DM. you can't ship for any of the player-characters--you have to be neutral," sierra charlie pointed out.
"what does 'shipping' mean in this context?" gavin asked suspiciously.
"shush!" marian scolded him. "now, let me remind our myriad of readers who everyone is, especially since burkie went back to change all the D&D names."
gavin cardigan: Garvin Sweaterbearer, a halfling rogue
foxy charles: Malifox, a half-orc fighter
sierra charles: Seyarrah of the Seven Seas, a human cleric
jasper ffoote: Jinkster Wildeffoote, a human ranger
taylor young: Russert de Lioncourt, a elven vampire...druid....kinda thing
Mysterious Lurker: Mysterious Lurker, a tiefling sorceress (tieflings are a half-demon race often charactrized by blue skin, a tail, and horns)
tucker: Trotter, a half-elf bard
cardigan bristles at the mention of their handome creator and takes another sip or two.
"at the end of our last adventure, the group of you--"
"wait, we need a name for our group!"
"Transylvanguards!"
"no."
"The Woody Guthries."
"no."
"Burkie's Castaways."
"hell, no."
"The Publicans," danny suggested as he delived cardigan's din din with yum yum sauce.
cardigan nodded. "i like it." he digs in. "i like this, too. yum....er, yum."
marian nodded. "okay, The Publicans started following the dog down the right-hand path to a cemetery, even though the left-hand path was supposed to lead to their intended destination. he eventually leads you into a very old graveyard. some stones are crumbled and faded, some are gone completely. some are covered up by vines and weeds. there is a big oak tree in the middle. the dog runs over with a bark and starts digging at the dirt in front of it. you approach, slowly, watching the dog. you hears his claws starts scratching against something that sounds like wood. he sits back, tongue hanging out, looking very pleased with himself. you see that he has uncovered a small chest."
"what a nice dog! let's see what's inside."
"wait!" Jinkster held up a hand. "it might be a trap."
"rogues are good at finding traps," Russert noted. "Garvin, why don't you go inspect it to make sure it's not a trap."
"um, right. okay," gavin swallowed a mouthful of korean bbq. "i...um...Garvin goes over to look at the box and, um, it looks okay."
marian shook her head. "no, you have to roll a Perception Check to see if you can perceive a trap. roll a d20,than add your dexterity modifier and your skill ranks."
"um...okay." gavin picks through his dice to find the 20-sided one and rolls it, winces, refers to his character sheet. "um....2 plus...um...okay. 9?"
"Garvin doesn't detect any traps," marian announces.
gavin nods. "right, so Garvin lifts the box out of the hole and opens it."
marian shakes her head. "as Garvin attempts to open the box, a greenish mist puffs out toward his face and is instantly paralyzed."
"WHAT?! you said there wasn't a trap!"
"no, i said you didn't perceive the trap. your perception roll was too low."
"#&%$!"
"gavin!"
"at that moment, you hear what sounds like bones clacking and look behind you. there are three skeletons approaching. the two on either side are carrying long, jagged swords. the one in the middle is taller, wearing a crown, and hand has a chain around its neck with something mall dangling on it. roll for initiative!"
they reach for the d20 and roll. dice are scrambling around the table, followed a series of cheers and groans, and one scolding.
"gavin, you don't roll. Garvin is paralyzed!"
the players let marian know what their initiative roll was and she jots down the order of attack.
"Lurker, you rolled highest, so you're first."
the Lurker stands, her hair going from red to light blue right before their eyes. "I extend my left hand toward the skeleton on the left and curl back all but the middle finger, which emits a beam of light blue light straight at him and yell, 'Ray of Frost, you bag of bones!'"
"yay!" marian clapped. "make an attack roll. a d20 and add your modifiers."
the Lurker rolls and squeals. "a 20!"
"that's a critical role!" marian exclaimed. "roll a d8 for damage, add your modifiers, then double it."
the Lurker picks up her orange 8-sided die, her hair turns orange to match. the rubs the die on her hair and rolls.
"thats...good! and with modiefiers...doubled....that's an 18!"
marian rubs her hands together. "the spell streaks from your middle finger and strikes the fragile skeleton, encasing it in a film of ice. the force of the spell knocks him down and his skeleton frame shatters into a thousand pieces of ice shards."
the Lurker blows on her finger. "yeah, i'm bad."
"Russert, you're up!"
"right!" taylor stands and pulls his arm up across his face. "i pull the top of my cape over the front of my face and stare down the skeleton on the right and hypnotize him."
marian rolled her eyes and said, "okay, make a persuasion check and add your charisma modifier."
"taylor rolled his d20 off the table, and they all had to help him find it, then rolled it again. "12."
marian shook her head. "his dead, so he is immune to your attempts to hypnotize him."
"hmph."
"Trotter?"
"ah, yes. well, i'm going to cast Inspire Courage on our new friend Jinkster to increase his attack and damage rolls," tucker explained, then strummed a chord.
he knocks an arrow, straight and true
and aims it as his foe
the shaft will fly without a sound
and down his foe will go
uh huh
uh huh
and down his foe will go
hey!
"ah, thanks Trotter." Jinkster looks pleased and rises, holding his left arm start out and pulling an imaginary bowstring back to his right ear, squinting one eye to fix his gaze. "i have the boney bastard in my sights and let fly!"
he rolls a d20 and adds his dexterity modifier. "18!"
"that hits! roll for attack!"
jasper rolls a d8, adds his modifier and Trotter's inspiration. "13."
"just enough," marian nods. "the arrow strikes the sternum, shattering it, and causing the bones connected to it to disengage, and the chain reaction reduced the entire skeleton into a heap of useless bones upon the ground."
"nice shot, Jinkster!" Seyarrah praised him.
"oh! i'm going to ship Jinkster and Seyarrah, too!" marian looked at them and grinned, then made a serious face. "it's the Boss Skeleton's turn. he raised his hands and sends a red bolt of fire straight at Garvin's supine form."
she rolls a d20. "what's Garvin's armor class?"
"um, 14."
"the fire bolts slam into Garvin's defenseless body and deals..." she rolls a die and calculates. "12 damage."
"dammit! how 'come nobody else gets attacked?"
"you're paralyzed! of course he's going to attack you. it's not personal. Seyarrah, you're up."
"heal me!"
"no, this guy is undead. cleric's are awesome against undead," sierra grinned and rose. "i cast Cure Wounds!"she rolls a d20. "21 with modiefier."
"that hits! roll for damage."
sierra rolled and frown. "4."
"my turn!" foxy stands." Malifox rushes forward, twirling two swords in her hands, screaming an orcish curse at the skeleton and drive both blades into his chest!"
"okay, roll for the first blade."
"23!"
"okay, roll for attack. a d10 plus your strength."
"13!"
"now roll for the second sword."
"19?"
"that'll work. damage?"
"11."
marian looks at her and grins. "the stage is yours!"
"um...what?"
"that's my catchphrase for when you defeat a boss! when i say, 'the stage is yours,' it means you have defeated the boss and you may describe the kill."
"that's cool! macabre, but cool! okay, let's see. i leap from about 6 feet away and hurls myself with both blades extended before me straight into the skeleton's ribcage, driving him back and pinning him to the ground as i land with my full weight onto his pelvis, crushing his bones into harmless pieces."
the table applauds and foxy bows.
"can i get some goddamned healing over here?"
"hush, you can't talk!" poke.
"i guess we should heal him."
"he hasn't been much help. maybe we should leave him here and save the potions and healing spells for someone more useful?"
cardigan glared as he lifted his pint, and cursed to find it empty. "danny, another pint!"
"Malifox has a Cure Poison potion," foxy takes her own pint glass and places it against cardigan's mouth. "drink, Garvin. this will make you feel 4 foot tall!"
gavin glares and sips.
"i'm going to loot the big guy," Jinkster announces and goes over to pull the chain off from around his neck. "there's a key here. it's a...wait for it....wait for it..."
they waited for it.
"a skeleton key." they groaned and he placed it in his pocket. "i'm sure it will come in handy later."
"okay, everyone back away from the hole in the ground," the Lurker told them. "i'm going to conjure Mage Hand and, as the spectral, floating hand comes into being i send it over to the box and open it, letting the poisoin gas float harmlessly out. the Mage Hand brings the box halfway over and carfeully dumps the context onto the ground, then places the box back in the hole again. "much better than endangering our halfling."
Russert walks over to inspect the contents on the ground. "20 gold pieces, a cure poison potion, a healing potion, and a couple of throwing knives."
"give Garvin the knives. halflings are good at throwing things," Seyarrah suggested, then ducked as a coaster is flung at her head. "usually, anyway."
"hmph."
"danny boy, whaddya have for a hard-working man?"
"korean bbq yum yum rice bowl," his friend danny blake replied, sliding a ping of Guinness at him.
"sounds like just the thing, thanks." he lifts his pint in a toast, takes a sip, and heads back to join his friends who are already gathered around the tables that have been set up for D&D.
"have a seat, shorty," foxy charles scoots over to let him in.
"thanks, tall green and beautiful," he muttered good-naturedly (for gavin) as he settles in.
"awww, i'm shipping for Garvin and Malifox," marian grinned from behind the DM screen.
"wait, you're the DM. you can't ship for any of the player-characters--you have to be neutral," sierra charlie pointed out.
"what does 'shipping' mean in this context?" gavin asked suspiciously.
"shush!" marian scolded him. "now, let me remind our myriad of readers who everyone is, especially since burkie went back to change all the D&D names."
gavin cardigan: Garvin Sweaterbearer, a halfling rogue
foxy charles: Malifox, a half-orc fighter
sierra charles: Seyarrah of the Seven Seas, a human cleric
jasper ffoote: Jinkster Wildeffoote, a human ranger
taylor young: Russert de Lioncourt, a elven vampire...druid....kinda thing
Mysterious Lurker: Mysterious Lurker, a tiefling sorceress (tieflings are a half-demon race often charactrized by blue skin, a tail, and horns)
tucker: Trotter, a half-elf bard
cardigan bristles at the mention of their handome creator and takes another sip or two.
"at the end of our last adventure, the group of you--"
"wait, we need a name for our group!"
"Transylvanguards!"
"no."
"The Woody Guthries."
"no."
"Burkie's Castaways."
"hell, no."
"The Publicans," danny suggested as he delived cardigan's din din with yum yum sauce.
cardigan nodded. "i like it." he digs in. "i like this, too. yum....er, yum."
marian nodded. "okay, The Publicans started following the dog down the right-hand path to a cemetery, even though the left-hand path was supposed to lead to their intended destination. he eventually leads you into a very old graveyard. some stones are crumbled and faded, some are gone completely. some are covered up by vines and weeds. there is a big oak tree in the middle. the dog runs over with a bark and starts digging at the dirt in front of it. you approach, slowly, watching the dog. you hears his claws starts scratching against something that sounds like wood. he sits back, tongue hanging out, looking very pleased with himself. you see that he has uncovered a small chest."
"what a nice dog! let's see what's inside."
"wait!" Jinkster held up a hand. "it might be a trap."
"rogues are good at finding traps," Russert noted. "Garvin, why don't you go inspect it to make sure it's not a trap."
"um, right. okay," gavin swallowed a mouthful of korean bbq. "i...um...Garvin goes over to look at the box and, um, it looks okay."
marian shook her head. "no, you have to roll a Perception Check to see if you can perceive a trap. roll a d20,than add your dexterity modifier and your skill ranks."
"um...okay." gavin picks through his dice to find the 20-sided one and rolls it, winces, refers to his character sheet. "um....2 plus...um...okay. 9?"
"Garvin doesn't detect any traps," marian announces.
gavin nods. "right, so Garvin lifts the box out of the hole and opens it."
marian shakes her head. "as Garvin attempts to open the box, a greenish mist puffs out toward his face and is instantly paralyzed."
"WHAT?! you said there wasn't a trap!"
"no, i said you didn't perceive the trap. your perception roll was too low."
"#&%$!"
"gavin!"
"at that moment, you hear what sounds like bones clacking and look behind you. there are three skeletons approaching. the two on either side are carrying long, jagged swords. the one in the middle is taller, wearing a crown, and hand has a chain around its neck with something mall dangling on it. roll for initiative!"
they reach for the d20 and roll. dice are scrambling around the table, followed a series of cheers and groans, and one scolding.
"gavin, you don't roll. Garvin is paralyzed!"
the players let marian know what their initiative roll was and she jots down the order of attack.
"Lurker, you rolled highest, so you're first."
the Lurker stands, her hair going from red to light blue right before their eyes. "I extend my left hand toward the skeleton on the left and curl back all but the middle finger, which emits a beam of light blue light straight at him and yell, 'Ray of Frost, you bag of bones!'"
"yay!" marian clapped. "make an attack roll. a d20 and add your modifiers."
the Lurker rolls and squeals. "a 20!"
"that's a critical role!" marian exclaimed. "roll a d8 for damage, add your modifiers, then double it."
the Lurker picks up her orange 8-sided die, her hair turns orange to match. the rubs the die on her hair and rolls.
"thats...good! and with modiefiers...doubled....that's an 18!"
marian rubs her hands together. "the spell streaks from your middle finger and strikes the fragile skeleton, encasing it in a film of ice. the force of the spell knocks him down and his skeleton frame shatters into a thousand pieces of ice shards."
the Lurker blows on her finger. "yeah, i'm bad."
"Russert, you're up!"
"right!" taylor stands and pulls his arm up across his face. "i pull the top of my cape over the front of my face and stare down the skeleton on the right and hypnotize him."
marian rolled her eyes and said, "okay, make a persuasion check and add your charisma modifier."
"taylor rolled his d20 off the table, and they all had to help him find it, then rolled it again. "12."
marian shook her head. "his dead, so he is immune to your attempts to hypnotize him."
"hmph."
"Trotter?"
"ah, yes. well, i'm going to cast Inspire Courage on our new friend Jinkster to increase his attack and damage rolls," tucker explained, then strummed a chord.
he knocks an arrow, straight and true
and aims it as his foe
the shaft will fly without a sound
and down his foe will go
uh huh
uh huh
and down his foe will go
hey!
"ah, thanks Trotter." Jinkster looks pleased and rises, holding his left arm start out and pulling an imaginary bowstring back to his right ear, squinting one eye to fix his gaze. "i have the boney bastard in my sights and let fly!"
he rolls a d20 and adds his dexterity modifier. "18!"
"that hits! roll for attack!"
jasper rolls a d8, adds his modifier and Trotter's inspiration. "13."
"just enough," marian nods. "the arrow strikes the sternum, shattering it, and causing the bones connected to it to disengage, and the chain reaction reduced the entire skeleton into a heap of useless bones upon the ground."
"nice shot, Jinkster!" Seyarrah praised him.
"oh! i'm going to ship Jinkster and Seyarrah, too!" marian looked at them and grinned, then made a serious face. "it's the Boss Skeleton's turn. he raised his hands and sends a red bolt of fire straight at Garvin's supine form."
she rolls a d20. "what's Garvin's armor class?"
"um, 14."
"the fire bolts slam into Garvin's defenseless body and deals..." she rolls a die and calculates. "12 damage."
"dammit! how 'come nobody else gets attacked?"
"you're paralyzed! of course he's going to attack you. it's not personal. Seyarrah, you're up."
"heal me!"
"no, this guy is undead. cleric's are awesome against undead," sierra grinned and rose. "i cast Cure Wounds!"she rolls a d20. "21 with modiefier."
"that hits! roll for damage."
sierra rolled and frown. "4."
"my turn!" foxy stands." Malifox rushes forward, twirling two swords in her hands, screaming an orcish curse at the skeleton and drive both blades into his chest!"
"okay, roll for the first blade."
"23!"
"okay, roll for attack. a d10 plus your strength."
"13!"
"now roll for the second sword."
"19?"
"that'll work. damage?"
"11."
marian looks at her and grins. "the stage is yours!"
"um...what?"
"that's my catchphrase for when you defeat a boss! when i say, 'the stage is yours,' it means you have defeated the boss and you may describe the kill."
"that's cool! macabre, but cool! okay, let's see. i leap from about 6 feet away and hurls myself with both blades extended before me straight into the skeleton's ribcage, driving him back and pinning him to the ground as i land with my full weight onto his pelvis, crushing his bones into harmless pieces."
the table applauds and foxy bows.
"can i get some goddamned healing over here?"
"hush, you can't talk!" poke.
"i guess we should heal him."
"he hasn't been much help. maybe we should leave him here and save the potions and healing spells for someone more useful?"
cardigan glared as he lifted his pint, and cursed to find it empty. "danny, another pint!"
"Malifox has a Cure Poison potion," foxy takes her own pint glass and places it against cardigan's mouth. "drink, Garvin. this will make you feel 4 foot tall!"
gavin glares and sips.
"i'm going to loot the big guy," Jinkster announces and goes over to pull the chain off from around his neck. "there's a key here. it's a...wait for it....wait for it..."
they waited for it.
"a skeleton key." they groaned and he placed it in his pocket. "i'm sure it will come in handy later."
"okay, everyone back away from the hole in the ground," the Lurker told them. "i'm going to conjure Mage Hand and, as the spectral, floating hand comes into being i send it over to the box and open it, letting the poisoin gas float harmlessly out. the Mage Hand brings the box halfway over and carfeully dumps the context onto the ground, then places the box back in the hole again. "much better than endangering our halfling."
Russert walks over to inspect the contents on the ground. "20 gold pieces, a cure poison potion, a healing potion, and a couple of throwing knives."
"give Garvin the knives. halflings are good at throwing things," Seyarrah suggested, then ducked as a coaster is flung at her head. "usually, anyway."
"hmph."
Tuesday, February 13, 2018
Be Nice To Dog
gavin cardigan walked into the Pub, shaking off the cold, scattering it all over the floor.
"hey, danny! what's on the menu tonight?"
danny blake handed him a pint of Bass and said, "kimchi fried rice."
gavin nodded his approval as he picked up the beer, lifting it to toast the Pub proprietor, and turns to walk back to join the regulars. he groans as he sees the Dungeon Master screen spread before marian, the others sitting around her.
"Dungeons & Dragons again?! i thought that chapter was over."
marian pointed at his chair with authority. "sit! we didn't do anything last time! all we did was introduce the characters. you start your adventure tonight!"
he settled in between the sisters charles. "okay, let's get this over with. who do i kill?"
"shush!" marian shushed him. "now, Lord Beardhead has final instructions for you."
she cleared her throat, then squinted her eyes, puffed out her cheeks, and crunched her lips up right under her nose. in a gruff yet lifting voice she said, "adventurers, you have a perilous quest before you. succeed and bring the Bludhammer to me, and i will reward you handsomely. fail, and...well, die." she looked at them individually, holding each in her gaze for an almost uncomfortable period before moving to the next. "one last piece of advice before you go: be nice to dog."
with that, Lord Beardhead gives a sign and the great oaken doors of his manor slam shut, leaving them outside.
"wait...what?"
"'be nice to dog?!' what the hell does that mean?"
"why wouldn't i be nice to dogs? why would anyone not be nice to dogs?"
"well, there are dogs...and then there are dogs."
"spoken like a cat person!"
"let's just get going, shall we?" gavin grumbled.
marian poked him with a telescopic backscratcher with a clawed hand on the end. "you're a halfling! you need to speak with a higher voice. roleplay!"
"ow! put that thing away!"
poke.
"dammit--"
poke.
Malifox pulls on his arm and grows deeply. "this way, puny!"
sierra giggled and gavin was about to say something inappropriate when danny placed a steaming bowl of kimchi fried rice in front of him. "eat up, bilbo. you'll need your strength."
before he could retort Jinkster said, "hey, chaps. with my keen hunter senses, i...um...sense a fork in the road ahead and a large shaggy dog standing before it."
"a dog, you say?" Trotter said, putting his hand above his eyes to look ahead. "i am blessed with keen eyesight from my elven kin. the dog is black, with splotches of white. friendly looking."
marian beamed at him. "good, good! now you're into the spirit of it. now, you approach the dog and see him standing in the middle of the path, right before it splits into two directions. a sign behind has an arrow pointing to the left with the word 'Elsinore.' the arrow to the right says 'Cemetery.'"
gavin stops shoveling fried rice into his mouth just long enough to gesture to the left with his chopsticks. "to the left. let's go."
marian scowls at him and rolls a die. she looks at the result, consults her papers, rolls two more dice, shakes her head, then says "as you start to walk down the left-hand path, the dog leaps and snaps at your throat, gashing it open, your blood gushing out fiercely. you gasp, press your fingers against the wound, but it splatters out about them. you take 25 points of damage."
"WHAT?!" gavin drops his sticks and foxy grabs his arms instinctively. the others look at gavin, petrified. "i only have 12 hit points!"
"what's your constitution?"
"um....14."
marian softens her voice. "Garvin Sweaterbearer is unconscious and barely alive. all of you suddenly realize just how perilous this adventure is. this is no walking party through hobbiton. it is serious business! now, be very careful with your next actions. think!"
"wtf?!"
"okay, okay everyone. calm down. we can figure this out," Mysterious Lurker emits a calming, light blue mist around them.
"i'm a cleric, i'll heal him," Seyarrah of the Seven Seas informed them. "um...." she raises one of gavin's chopsticks into the air. "Septima, i call upon your grace to restore the health of this tempestuous halfling...and perhaps bump up his charisma stats a little bit while you're at it."
gavin glared at her and snatched his chopstick from her hand.
"good call, Seyarrah," marian praised her. "now, roll 3d6."
"what's that mean?"
"roll three 6-sided dice, then add up the result. that will be the amount of points that you heal Garvin."
"oh, got it." Seyarrah nodded and rolled her 3d6. "yay, 14!"
"good! that restores Garvin to consciousness, but he's still in bad shape."
"give me a healing potion, dammit!"
"3d4."
gavin grumbles, picking around the funny dice to find three of the pyramid-shaped ones and rolls. "um....7. that's better. why'd that dog bite me?!"
"the dwarf--he said 'be nice to dog,' remember?" Mysterious Lurker pointed out. "You started walking off without acknowledging him."
foxy lowers her voice and says, "Malifox reaches down into her bag and pulls out a thick, raw steak and tosses it to the dog. 'here you go, buddy. this will taste a lot better than hobbit.'"
gavin glared while marian nodded and told Malifox to make a persuasion roll and add her charisma score to it. Malifox rolls her d20 and says, "15!"
marian starts making nom nom noises. "the dog tears into the steak, wolfing it down."
"shouldn't he be dogging it down? he's not a wolf, right?"
marian looks at taylor and growls until he raises his hands defensively. "sorry, just a little humor."
"the dog wags his tail happily, barks once, and trots down the right-hand path. he stops after about 10 feet and looks back at them expectantly." as she says this, marian looks at the others expectantly.
"guess the nice thing to do would be to follow the dog, huh?"
Trotter takes his Martin backpacker guitar and strums a chord.
follow the dog
follow him right
into the fog
into the night
follow him now
follow him true
be nice to him
whatever you do!
"hmph."
"hey, danny! what's on the menu tonight?"
danny blake handed him a pint of Bass and said, "kimchi fried rice."
gavin nodded his approval as he picked up the beer, lifting it to toast the Pub proprietor, and turns to walk back to join the regulars. he groans as he sees the Dungeon Master screen spread before marian, the others sitting around her.
"Dungeons & Dragons again?! i thought that chapter was over."
marian pointed at his chair with authority. "sit! we didn't do anything last time! all we did was introduce the characters. you start your adventure tonight!"
he settled in between the sisters charles. "okay, let's get this over with. who do i kill?"
"shush!" marian shushed him. "now, Lord Beardhead has final instructions for you."
she cleared her throat, then squinted her eyes, puffed out her cheeks, and crunched her lips up right under her nose. in a gruff yet lifting voice she said, "adventurers, you have a perilous quest before you. succeed and bring the Bludhammer to me, and i will reward you handsomely. fail, and...well, die." she looked at them individually, holding each in her gaze for an almost uncomfortable period before moving to the next. "one last piece of advice before you go: be nice to dog."
with that, Lord Beardhead gives a sign and the great oaken doors of his manor slam shut, leaving them outside.
"wait...what?"
"'be nice to dog?!' what the hell does that mean?"
"why wouldn't i be nice to dogs? why would anyone not be nice to dogs?"
"well, there are dogs...and then there are dogs."
"spoken like a cat person!"
"let's just get going, shall we?" gavin grumbled.
marian poked him with a telescopic backscratcher with a clawed hand on the end. "you're a halfling! you need to speak with a higher voice. roleplay!"
"ow! put that thing away!"
poke.
"dammit--"
poke.
Malifox pulls on his arm and grows deeply. "this way, puny!"
sierra giggled and gavin was about to say something inappropriate when danny placed a steaming bowl of kimchi fried rice in front of him. "eat up, bilbo. you'll need your strength."
before he could retort Jinkster said, "hey, chaps. with my keen hunter senses, i...um...sense a fork in the road ahead and a large shaggy dog standing before it."
"a dog, you say?" Trotter said, putting his hand above his eyes to look ahead. "i am blessed with keen eyesight from my elven kin. the dog is black, with splotches of white. friendly looking."
marian beamed at him. "good, good! now you're into the spirit of it. now, you approach the dog and see him standing in the middle of the path, right before it splits into two directions. a sign behind has an arrow pointing to the left with the word 'Elsinore.' the arrow to the right says 'Cemetery.'"
gavin stops shoveling fried rice into his mouth just long enough to gesture to the left with his chopsticks. "to the left. let's go."
marian scowls at him and rolls a die. she looks at the result, consults her papers, rolls two more dice, shakes her head, then says "as you start to walk down the left-hand path, the dog leaps and snaps at your throat, gashing it open, your blood gushing out fiercely. you gasp, press your fingers against the wound, but it splatters out about them. you take 25 points of damage."
"WHAT?!" gavin drops his sticks and foxy grabs his arms instinctively. the others look at gavin, petrified. "i only have 12 hit points!"
"what's your constitution?"
"um....14."
marian softens her voice. "Garvin Sweaterbearer is unconscious and barely alive. all of you suddenly realize just how perilous this adventure is. this is no walking party through hobbiton. it is serious business! now, be very careful with your next actions. think!"
"wtf?!"
"okay, okay everyone. calm down. we can figure this out," Mysterious Lurker emits a calming, light blue mist around them.
"i'm a cleric, i'll heal him," Seyarrah of the Seven Seas informed them. "um...." she raises one of gavin's chopsticks into the air. "Septima, i call upon your grace to restore the health of this tempestuous halfling...and perhaps bump up his charisma stats a little bit while you're at it."
gavin glared at her and snatched his chopstick from her hand.
"good call, Seyarrah," marian praised her. "now, roll 3d6."
"what's that mean?"
"roll three 6-sided dice, then add up the result. that will be the amount of points that you heal Garvin."
"oh, got it." Seyarrah nodded and rolled her 3d6. "yay, 14!"
"good! that restores Garvin to consciousness, but he's still in bad shape."
"give me a healing potion, dammit!"
"3d4."
gavin grumbles, picking around the funny dice to find three of the pyramid-shaped ones and rolls. "um....7. that's better. why'd that dog bite me?!"
"the dwarf--he said 'be nice to dog,' remember?" Mysterious Lurker pointed out. "You started walking off without acknowledging him."
foxy lowers her voice and says, "Malifox reaches down into her bag and pulls out a thick, raw steak and tosses it to the dog. 'here you go, buddy. this will taste a lot better than hobbit.'"
gavin glared while marian nodded and told Malifox to make a persuasion roll and add her charisma score to it. Malifox rolls her d20 and says, "15!"
marian starts making nom nom noises. "the dog tears into the steak, wolfing it down."
"shouldn't he be dogging it down? he's not a wolf, right?"
marian looks at taylor and growls until he raises his hands defensively. "sorry, just a little humor."
"the dog wags his tail happily, barks once, and trots down the right-hand path. he stops after about 10 feet and looks back at them expectantly." as she says this, marian looks at the others expectantly.
"guess the nice thing to do would be to follow the dog, huh?"
Trotter takes his Martin backpacker guitar and strums a chord.
follow the dog
follow him right
into the fog
into the night
follow him now
follow him true
be nice to him
whatever you do!
"hmph."
Sunday, February 11, 2018
+6 to Dexterity (or, as some call it, Manipulation)
gavin cardigan walked into the Pub and hung his raincoat and fedora on the wooden pegs next to the door.
"danny, tell me you've got something fantastic that will make me forget all about this soggy weather," he said to his good friend and bartender and chef.
"i've got just the thing," danny blake told him as he pulled a pint of guinness for his best customer. "a pho-rench dip. 50% pho, 50% french dip sandwich, 200% awesomesauce."
"awesomesauce? that sounds like a marian word, but sounds totes delish. wait, totes?! now i'm doing it!"
he tilts the side of his head and pounds lightly as if to dump out excess marian-ness from his brain and walks back to join the regulars. he finds several tables pushed together and marian herself sitting at the head with a 1-foot tall, tri-panel screen in front of her. the others are sitting around with pencils, paper, and odd-looking dice.
his pace slows as realization sets in.
"don't tell me you're all playing dungeons & dragons," he groaned.
"so are you, cardigan," sierra charlie pats the chair next to her. "we've already created a character for you. a rogue!"
"i'm not play--"
cardigan is interrupted by the running approach of a breathless foxy charles, who gives gavin a quick peck on the cheek as she settles into place.
"you haven't started yet, have you? i'm so excited!" she turns to gavin. "i'm going to be a fighter! what are you playing?"
"i...uh...," gavin stammers and grabs at the paper that jasper ffoote slides over to him with a wink. "a...a rogue. you know, 'cause i'm used to working in the shadows and uncovering secrets."
"okay, okay, everyone listen up!" marian raps on the table with her pencil. "i'll be the DM tonight. this adventure is called 'Peril in Elsinore,' in honor of our friend shakespeare's setting for Hamlet. all of you have been invited to a special dinner with Lord Beardhead, the Dwarven Lord of the Kronen Fjords."
"Beardhead? shouldn't it be Beardface or Beardchin or something like that?"
"shush!" marian scowled and continued. "you have never met one another before, but you each have your own reason to answer a summons from Lord Beardhead. after a lavish dinner, you sit around drinking tea, ale, or brandy, nibbling on cheese and nuts. he tells you that he had finally deciphered the runes of an ancient manuscript that reveals that the Bludhammer, long-lost symbol of House Beardhead, lies hidden in a chamber beneath the ruins of Castle Elsinore to the north. however, the castle has been abandoned and haunted for centuries. it will take a mighty party of warriors to retrieve it, which is why he has summoned you. with your combination of skills and abilities, he is certain that you can achieve success. plus, you are the only people he can trust not to betray him. he will give you gold and let you equip yourselves with the best armor and weaponry he can provide."
marian looked at each of them with a grin.
"now, introduce yourselves to each other. taylor, you go first."
taylor darts his eyes suspicoiusly around the group assembled. "i am Count Russert de Lioncourt, an elven vampire from the east."
"taylor, vampire is not a class in D&D!" marian scolded him.
"i'm over 1200 years old," taylor continues, undaunted. "my elven blood allows me to be active in daylight, unlike others of my kind. i can turn into either a wolf or a bat as needed. my fangs are indestructible, and i also carry a rapier. my cloak grants me invisibility and was a gift from Lord Beardhead. it is beyond price."
"okay, i'll treat you like a druid," marian decided. "tucker?"
the lanky folksinger strummed a chord. "i am a half-elven bard named Trotter. i can sing songs and recite verses that will either inspire or heal my comrades-in-arms or confound our enemies."
"the latter i can definitely believe," gavin muttered as danny delivered the mouth-watering sandwich.
"Lord Beardhead is a Patron of the Arts and provided me with funds so i could hone my craft. i'm also handy with a crossbow."
"i am the Mysterious Lurker," said a mysterious voice from the figure lurking behind a purple mist in front of one of the chairs. "i am a half-demon tiefling sorceress. i can cast illusions that will leave you questioning your senses, and can also use magic as a weapon. Lord Beardhead protected my family from the locals when we moved to this land, and we owe him a debt of gratitude."
"yay!" marian applauded. "you're a natural roleplayer! sierra, who are you?"
"i am Seyarrah of the Seven Seas, a human cleric who has sailed the...um....seven seas, serving Septima, the Goddess of the...um...Seven Seas," sierra read from her script, arching an eyebrow at marian who nodded at her encouragingly. "our ship was recently besieged by vicious pirates and we would have been slaughtered had not a flotilla of warships commissioned by Lord Beardhead not come to our rescue, so now i serve Septima and Lord Beardhead."
"and i am Jinkster Wildffoote," the tallish lad next to sierra. "i am a human ranger of the wild, an expert hunter and tracker. my parents were haunted and driven insane by spirits from the beyond, and i have devoted my life to studying their ways and ridding this land of their presence. since Castle Elsinore is full of these foul undead creatures," he casts a bright yet distrustful eye at the vampire, "Lord Beardhead knows that i need no other motivation to fulfill my part in this quest."
sierra nodded admirably at her decidedly normally hue-skinned beau, then turned to her sister. "what about you, foxy?"
foxy stood tall and straight and fixed every with an evil glare. "i am Malifox. my last name is unimportant. i am an half-orc--"
gavin bit his tongue and swore. "a half-orc?!"
she fixed him with a playful stare. "and don't you forget it! i am a fighter, very strong and almost 7-feet tall, my greenish-grey skin covered with the scars of many battles. i do not trust elves or half-elves, and barely tolerate humans. dwarves i detest, but i will fulfill my role in this...affair. the reason why is of no concern to anyone but Beardhead and myself. as for halflings...i only notice them when i step on them."
this earned a few guffaws around the table.
"what?" gavin asked, wiping his drippy chin.
"your turn," marian poked him. "introduce yourself."
he picked up the paper and started reading. "i am, um, Garvin Sweaterbearer, a halfling rogue--wait, a halfling?! i don't think so!"
"gavin, you have to be! you were last and there has to be a halfling. plus, they make great rogues because of their bonus to dexterity."
"i am not a hobbit!"
"nobody said you were a hobbit, gavin! it's just a game. come on, roleplaying is fun. rogues are very mysterious and can do all kinds of cool things," foxy coaxed him.
"okay, okay," he said resignedly. "i, uh, am an accomplished thief and good at detecting traps. i got good at it because once i failed to detect a trap and was poisoned. Lord Beardhead alone has the antidote, and i must return to him once a month for a dosage or i will die. however, it has made me immune to other poisons. i carry several daggers, included one that is dipped in poison, and a shortbow--"
"very short," taylor shickered.
gavin glared at him. "and a quiver of arrows, some of which are tipped with poison and other substances, like holy water."
taylor gulped and accidently knocked over his beer glass which, fortunately, was almost empty and he was able to sop up the mess with a cocktail napkin.
"this is gonna be so cool!"
"this might be cool."
"doesn't anyone play chess anymore?"
"danny, tell me you've got something fantastic that will make me forget all about this soggy weather," he said to his good friend and bartender and chef.
"i've got just the thing," danny blake told him as he pulled a pint of guinness for his best customer. "a pho-rench dip. 50% pho, 50% french dip sandwich, 200% awesomesauce."
"awesomesauce? that sounds like a marian word, but sounds totes delish. wait, totes?! now i'm doing it!"
he tilts the side of his head and pounds lightly as if to dump out excess marian-ness from his brain and walks back to join the regulars. he finds several tables pushed together and marian herself sitting at the head with a 1-foot tall, tri-panel screen in front of her. the others are sitting around with pencils, paper, and odd-looking dice.
his pace slows as realization sets in.
"don't tell me you're all playing dungeons & dragons," he groaned.
"so are you, cardigan," sierra charlie pats the chair next to her. "we've already created a character for you. a rogue!"
"i'm not play--"
cardigan is interrupted by the running approach of a breathless foxy charles, who gives gavin a quick peck on the cheek as she settles into place.
"you haven't started yet, have you? i'm so excited!" she turns to gavin. "i'm going to be a fighter! what are you playing?"
"i...uh...," gavin stammers and grabs at the paper that jasper ffoote slides over to him with a wink. "a...a rogue. you know, 'cause i'm used to working in the shadows and uncovering secrets."
"okay, okay, everyone listen up!" marian raps on the table with her pencil. "i'll be the DM tonight. this adventure is called 'Peril in Elsinore,' in honor of our friend shakespeare's setting for Hamlet. all of you have been invited to a special dinner with Lord Beardhead, the Dwarven Lord of the Kronen Fjords."
"Beardhead? shouldn't it be Beardface or Beardchin or something like that?"
"shush!" marian scowled and continued. "you have never met one another before, but you each have your own reason to answer a summons from Lord Beardhead. after a lavish dinner, you sit around drinking tea, ale, or brandy, nibbling on cheese and nuts. he tells you that he had finally deciphered the runes of an ancient manuscript that reveals that the Bludhammer, long-lost symbol of House Beardhead, lies hidden in a chamber beneath the ruins of Castle Elsinore to the north. however, the castle has been abandoned and haunted for centuries. it will take a mighty party of warriors to retrieve it, which is why he has summoned you. with your combination of skills and abilities, he is certain that you can achieve success. plus, you are the only people he can trust not to betray him. he will give you gold and let you equip yourselves with the best armor and weaponry he can provide."
marian looked at each of them with a grin.
"now, introduce yourselves to each other. taylor, you go first."
taylor darts his eyes suspicoiusly around the group assembled. "i am Count Russert de Lioncourt, an elven vampire from the east."
"taylor, vampire is not a class in D&D!" marian scolded him.
"i'm over 1200 years old," taylor continues, undaunted. "my elven blood allows me to be active in daylight, unlike others of my kind. i can turn into either a wolf or a bat as needed. my fangs are indestructible, and i also carry a rapier. my cloak grants me invisibility and was a gift from Lord Beardhead. it is beyond price."
"okay, i'll treat you like a druid," marian decided. "tucker?"
the lanky folksinger strummed a chord. "i am a half-elven bard named Trotter. i can sing songs and recite verses that will either inspire or heal my comrades-in-arms or confound our enemies."
"the latter i can definitely believe," gavin muttered as danny delivered the mouth-watering sandwich.
"Lord Beardhead is a Patron of the Arts and provided me with funds so i could hone my craft. i'm also handy with a crossbow."
"i am the Mysterious Lurker," said a mysterious voice from the figure lurking behind a purple mist in front of one of the chairs. "i am a half-demon tiefling sorceress. i can cast illusions that will leave you questioning your senses, and can also use magic as a weapon. Lord Beardhead protected my family from the locals when we moved to this land, and we owe him a debt of gratitude."
"yay!" marian applauded. "you're a natural roleplayer! sierra, who are you?"
"i am Seyarrah of the Seven Seas, a human cleric who has sailed the...um....seven seas, serving Septima, the Goddess of the...um...Seven Seas," sierra read from her script, arching an eyebrow at marian who nodded at her encouragingly. "our ship was recently besieged by vicious pirates and we would have been slaughtered had not a flotilla of warships commissioned by Lord Beardhead not come to our rescue, so now i serve Septima and Lord Beardhead."
"and i am Jinkster Wildffoote," the tallish lad next to sierra. "i am a human ranger of the wild, an expert hunter and tracker. my parents were haunted and driven insane by spirits from the beyond, and i have devoted my life to studying their ways and ridding this land of their presence. since Castle Elsinore is full of these foul undead creatures," he casts a bright yet distrustful eye at the vampire, "Lord Beardhead knows that i need no other motivation to fulfill my part in this quest."
sierra nodded admirably at her decidedly normally hue-skinned beau, then turned to her sister. "what about you, foxy?"
foxy stood tall and straight and fixed every with an evil glare. "i am Malifox. my last name is unimportant. i am an half-orc--"
gavin bit his tongue and swore. "a half-orc?!"
she fixed him with a playful stare. "and don't you forget it! i am a fighter, very strong and almost 7-feet tall, my greenish-grey skin covered with the scars of many battles. i do not trust elves or half-elves, and barely tolerate humans. dwarves i detest, but i will fulfill my role in this...affair. the reason why is of no concern to anyone but Beardhead and myself. as for halflings...i only notice them when i step on them."
this earned a few guffaws around the table.
"what?" gavin asked, wiping his drippy chin.
"your turn," marian poked him. "introduce yourself."
he picked up the paper and started reading. "i am, um, Garvin Sweaterbearer, a halfling rogue--wait, a halfling?! i don't think so!"
"gavin, you have to be! you were last and there has to be a halfling. plus, they make great rogues because of their bonus to dexterity."
"i am not a hobbit!"
"nobody said you were a hobbit, gavin! it's just a game. come on, roleplaying is fun. rogues are very mysterious and can do all kinds of cool things," foxy coaxed him.
"okay, okay," he said resignedly. "i, uh, am an accomplished thief and good at detecting traps. i got good at it because once i failed to detect a trap and was poisoned. Lord Beardhead alone has the antidote, and i must return to him once a month for a dosage or i will die. however, it has made me immune to other poisons. i carry several daggers, included one that is dipped in poison, and a shortbow--"
"very short," taylor shickered.
gavin glared at him. "and a quiver of arrows, some of which are tipped with poison and other substances, like holy water."
taylor gulped and accidently knocked over his beer glass which, fortunately, was almost empty and he was able to sop up the mess with a cocktail napkin.
"this is gonna be so cool!"
"this might be cool."
"doesn't anyone play chess anymore?"
Monday, June 13, 2016
all about the benjamin
gavin cardigan walked into the Pub, hung his fedora on the wall, and greeted his old friend behind the bar.
"danny, my old friend behind the bar! what's for supper?"
danny blake looked up from behind the bar and replied, "a greasy, cheesy plate of enchiladas. how's that grab ya?"
"like a long lost lover, my old friend," cardigan reached for the ale that his old friend danny just poured. "what's going on tonight?"
danny nodded to the table in the back. "go on back. they'll fill you in."
cardigan hmph'd at the lack of an answer and made his way back to join the Pub regulars. "what's going on here tonight?"
"gavin, the Pub is premiering a brand-new show before it goes to broadway!" marian elfman exlaimed, exclamation mark and all. "it's very exciting!!!"
cardigan raised a quizzical eyebrow. "oh, yeah? what kind of show?"
"you know about that show, 'hamilton,' that's captured broadway, right?" sierra quizzed him.
"mmhmm."
"well, it seems that one of your friends here took some exception to the story, so he has apparently written his own show," a long-legged fellow next to sierra informed him.
cardigan's other eyebrow raised even more quizzically then the first. "why would tucker take exception to that story? and, pardon me, but who are you, exactly?"
"oh, of course. we haven't met. sierra has told me so much about you that i feel like i've known you forever, mate. the name's ffoote. jasper ffoote." the newby extended a hand and shook cardigan's. "and it's not tucker, it's--"
"i'm not late, am i?" a nearly breathless foxy charles came rushing in, giving gavin a quick peck on the cheek and jasper a quick hug. '
"late for what? and hey, foxy lady."
"for that," danny pointed at the stage as a familiar potbellied, silver-haired founding father took the stage as he delivered cardigan's enchiladas.
cardigan rolled his eyes as benjamin franklin started to rap:
in west philadelphia born and raised
on the playground is where i spent most of my days
"wasn't he born in boston?" sierra asked, rhetorically, since the notoriously detail-oriented cage dancer knew details of that sort.
"so charles, how do you and jasper--"
"shhh, gavin!"
ham tried to be respectable
but i invented spectacles
"this show isn't going to be 3-hours long, is it? even benjamin franklin isn't that interesting."
"gavin, hush! you're starting to sound like burkie." the Mysterious Lurker admonished him before drawing sierra's attention to the now shirtless patriot. "girl, look at that body!"
i work out
"tucker, as the only professional musician among us, what do you think of all this?"
"ah, well," tucker looked slightly abashed. "it's not really my genre, so i can't judge."
his girlfriend, linda nulo, leaned over and bashed him again, with slightly more bash this time.
i am the very model of
a mod postmaster general
cardigan groaned. "he went there."
marian stared daggers at him to the point where he thought he was going to bleed.
whenever folks be feelin' whack
they look into my almanack
"say," gavin looked around as if it were the first time he'd been in the Pub for years. "does anybody else feel like rip van winkle here?"
two schuyler girls go
'round the outside
'round the outside
'round the outside
cardigan looked down at his surprisingly empty plate of enchiladas just in time to see sierra drop a cheese-coated fork onto it.
"you dropped your fork, cardigan."
ham claimed i made his stomach turn
and i said, "yo homes, feel the burrn!"
"you sure this is going to broadway? which broadway?"
"shush, gavin. this is history!"
you think ham made history?
then kiss my electricity!
cardigan chuckled. "that was actually pretty good. he should end with that."
a twenty ain't but ten 'n ten
i'm all about the benjamins!
cardigan signaled danny and pointed at his empty pint glass, holding up 3 fingers.
"it's gonna be a long night."
"shush!"
"danny, my old friend behind the bar! what's for supper?"
danny blake looked up from behind the bar and replied, "a greasy, cheesy plate of enchiladas. how's that grab ya?"
"like a long lost lover, my old friend," cardigan reached for the ale that his old friend danny just poured. "what's going on tonight?"
danny nodded to the table in the back. "go on back. they'll fill you in."
cardigan hmph'd at the lack of an answer and made his way back to join the Pub regulars. "what's going on here tonight?"
"gavin, the Pub is premiering a brand-new show before it goes to broadway!" marian elfman exlaimed, exclamation mark and all. "it's very exciting!!!"
cardigan raised a quizzical eyebrow. "oh, yeah? what kind of show?"
"you know about that show, 'hamilton,' that's captured broadway, right?" sierra quizzed him.
"mmhmm."
"well, it seems that one of your friends here took some exception to the story, so he has apparently written his own show," a long-legged fellow next to sierra informed him.
cardigan's other eyebrow raised even more quizzically then the first. "why would tucker take exception to that story? and, pardon me, but who are you, exactly?"
"oh, of course. we haven't met. sierra has told me so much about you that i feel like i've known you forever, mate. the name's ffoote. jasper ffoote." the newby extended a hand and shook cardigan's. "and it's not tucker, it's--"
"i'm not late, am i?" a nearly breathless foxy charles came rushing in, giving gavin a quick peck on the cheek and jasper a quick hug. '
"late for what? and hey, foxy lady."
"for that," danny pointed at the stage as a familiar potbellied, silver-haired founding father took the stage as he delivered cardigan's enchiladas.
cardigan rolled his eyes as benjamin franklin started to rap:
in west philadelphia born and raised
on the playground is where i spent most of my days
"wasn't he born in boston?" sierra asked, rhetorically, since the notoriously detail-oriented cage dancer knew details of that sort.
"so charles, how do you and jasper--"
"shhh, gavin!"
ham tried to be respectable
but i invented spectacles
"this show isn't going to be 3-hours long, is it? even benjamin franklin isn't that interesting."
"gavin, hush! you're starting to sound like burkie." the Mysterious Lurker admonished him before drawing sierra's attention to the now shirtless patriot. "girl, look at that body!"
i work out
"tucker, as the only professional musician among us, what do you think of all this?"
"ah, well," tucker looked slightly abashed. "it's not really my genre, so i can't judge."
his girlfriend, linda nulo, leaned over and bashed him again, with slightly more bash this time.
i am the very model of
a mod postmaster general
cardigan groaned. "he went there."
marian stared daggers at him to the point where he thought he was going to bleed.
whenever folks be feelin' whack
they look into my almanack
"say," gavin looked around as if it were the first time he'd been in the Pub for years. "does anybody else feel like rip van winkle here?"
two schuyler girls go
'round the outside
'round the outside
'round the outside
cardigan looked down at his surprisingly empty plate of enchiladas just in time to see sierra drop a cheese-coated fork onto it.
"you dropped your fork, cardigan."
ham claimed i made his stomach turn
and i said, "yo homes, feel the burrn!"
"you sure this is going to broadway? which broadway?"
"shush, gavin. this is history!"
you think ham made history?
then kiss my electricity!
cardigan chuckled. "that was actually pretty good. he should end with that."
a twenty ain't but ten 'n ten
i'm all about the benjamins!
cardigan signaled danny and pointed at his empty pint glass, holding up 3 fingers.
"it's gonna be a long night."
"shush!"
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