Inside the Tavern
A few minutes passed had passed since the departure of the drunk. Swollins took the opportunity to replace his barmaid with a more attractive wench, and drank more ales, which were now appearing as fast as he could drink them. He noticed that the dwarf and his reasonably sized human friend were in a bit of a heated discussion as they too continued to drink.
The door to the tavern opened once again as a warrior walked in. He was well armed and tall, though not so tall as Swollins or the dwarf’s companion. His blond hair was cropped short, his eyes blue as a summer sky. His stature and demeanor indicated a military man, no doubt well-disciplined and confident. The soldier crossed the room to the man eating cabbage and spoke to him in a low voice.
Opfor
He was followed by three obvious outsiders, most notably the Dragonborn, whose broad shoulders barely fit through the doorframe. His Half-Elven and Halfling friends made their way to a table near the back easily enough and signaled for drinks. Swollins eyed the newcomers with interest.
The soldier exited the Busted Pig immediately after talking to the man eating cabbage, stopping for a moment to pet the head of the Dragonborn’s massive dog. Swollins stood up suddenly, dropping the barmaid on his lap harshly to the floor. “Another round of ale on me!” Ztir and Skittlebrew exchanged a glance, wondering if it would come from their coin.
“Monstrous Pythons!? Ten gold says they’re nothing more than oversized garden snakes! I will crush them both with a single hand!” Swollins roared.
A collective cheer rose from the gathered crowd, save for a few of the adventurers. “You’re a fool…”
“Huh?” Swollins glanced around for the source of who had spoken.
A man stood at a nearby table. Slight of frame, with a shaved head and slanted eyes, the man had the look of those from the Far East. Surrounding him were a group of men of striking ugliness, his friends no doubt. “I said you’re a fool. What you have in obvious size you clearly lack in brains. You’re by far the least equipped, least capable and least ready man in this entire city to take on King Brady’s quest. The only thing you’re likely to kill is a barrel of ale,” the foreigner spat.
Swollins grinned. “Big talk from such a little man. Go bother the Dragonborn, he’s got a dog you can eat.”
The foreigner flushed with anger. “You fool! Don’t you know who I am!?”
“Mouthbreather McTwink, virgin lord of Frustrasia?”
“I AM KNOWN AS GOLAZO THE GREAT, FUFU THE FANTASTIC, ONETEAMINLONDON THE OMNIPOTENT,” the foreigner screamed, froth forming at the sides of his mouth.
“Omnipotent huh? No wonder you’re so frustrated.”
“FOOL! I HAVE THE POWER OF FORESIGHT AND I HAVE SEEN THE DOOM THAT AWAITS YOU. ALL WHO VENTURE FORTH HERE WITH YOU SHALL PERISH! I HAVE SEEN IT, AND MY VISIONS ARE NEVER WRONG!”
“I’m surprised you can see anything with those slanty eyes,” Swollins remarked.
Golazo roared in rage. His hands rose up, now ablaze with magic. A fireball four feet in diameter shot forth from his outstretched arms, darting forward towards Swollins. It sailed wide by a good six feet, flying harmlessly over the mostly sitting crowd who had the good sense to duck. The barkeep, however, did not.
The fireball hit the man directly in the chest with an audible thump and hiss. His clothes ignited instantly and he began to scream horribly in obvious agony. Whirling about, the flames began catching on the casks of ale behind the bar, as nearby patrons began to run to the door in a panic.
Dmaul
Still walking.
