“This is absurd. We are bargaining with liars and thieves. We should not be here at all.”
Morgan spun around, fuming. He stomped across the taproom and pointed a calloused stump of a finger up at Bokkamaki, who had just spoken. Despite the fact the Goliath was sitting one of the benches, he still towered over the dwarf.
“I’m tired of hearing your bellyachin’! Have you come up with a plan? A suggestion? An idea of any sort? Huh? Didn’t think so. Shut it.”
“Plan? My plan was to not be here at all—”
“Yeah you just said that. Thanks for comin out.”
Bokkamaki’s brow furrowed deeply. His gravelly voice rumbled on, grating with irritation.
“—as none of you should be either! There is no Zehir cult in this pit of a city.”
Bokkamaki shifted, and an ominous creak emanated from the bench below him. He tipped over precariously as the legs buckled, and bent, but then held.
The bench next to the huge golaith, unfortunately, did not fare as well. In trying to regain his balance, Bokkamaki reached for the aforementioned adjacent bench. His clumsy grab punched a hole straight through the seating plank.
Meanwhile, at the bar, Gwydion had finally attracted the attention of the drow innkeeper. With an obvious lack of enthusiasm, he made his way over to the eladrin.
“Yes, thank you, my good man. I was just wondering, would I be able to peruse your menu of rare fermentatious vintages?” Gwydion received a nonplussed look. “Ah. Quite. I mean to say, ah, the wine list.”
The barkeep smiled coldly. With a deft flick, he pulled a sheet of parchment from below the bar and placed in front of Gwydion. The eladrin tapped his fingers together excitedly.
“Indeed! Well, let’s have a look see, shall we?”
Bokkamaki mournfully regarded the crumpled plank in his hand. He shook it off, and, with a sigh, glanced around the common room. Kord’s Deliverance was gathered in various spots in the mostly empty room, having had the run of the inn since they arrived. Not a single guest had remained an hour after they been lead to the inn.. One of what was likely several reasons the staff was less than overwhelmed with their patronage.
Not that he was any happier to be here himself. The group had been arguing all morning over an offer that had been put forth by their ‘host’, Sulra. A drow opportunist who had invited the party to join him in a visit to his city. Bokkamaki almost smiled at a thought: if anyone was worse off than they at this moment, it was probably Sulra. No doubt he had underestimated the negative effect the presence of surface dwellers was going to have amongst the Houses and their Matron Mothers.
At any rate, the party now found themselves with a shady drow business proposition—is there any other kind, the goliath sourly thought—the shady details over which the party had been debating since they awoke. To kill, not to kill, how much money, do we take any money, what demands—the dwarf was correct in one thing, the goliath was not a planner. His brain was beginning to ache. Mostly, however, from outrage.
“Kord is not happy with us,” he muttered to himself.
Morgan stopped, mid glare. His lips formed a perfect, surprised ‘O’, with matching gables of upraised eyebrows. But only for a moment.
“Whaaat do you just say!?”
Bokkamaki blinked, taking a moment to register the dwarf. He thought for a moment, then spoke up louder.
“I said Kord is not happy. He’s not happy with you, or you, or any of us.”
Morgan, already annoyed, became angry. Volume adjusted accordingly.
“You, rockhead, what do you know of Kord’s teachings?! What do you know?! Yer gonna to sit there, like the lump of stone you are, and deign to tell ME what MY God thinks, of us, his FOLLOWERS??? You know nothing of our ways, of our tenets. NO-THING.”
The dwarf punctuated his rant with sharp jabs to the goliath’s forehead. Bok, bok, bok.
Gwydion was in the midst of yet another question regarding aftertaste, when he caught the rising of Morgan’s bellow, coupled with the barkeep’s widening eyes. “Right. Perhaps we could finish this, uh, later….”
Ghesh and Sly were now gathered by the table, glancing at each other, unsure. Gwydion appeared, out of nowhere, beside them. Morgan was still jabbing at Bokkamaki’s forehead, the taciturn goliath doing nothing to stop him. The goliath’s eyes glittered, hard.
Bok, bok, bok. Bok, bok, bok.
“Uh, fellows—“Gwydion started.
Bokkamaki began to rise, steadily, but surely. Morgan kept jabbing until the goliath’s head was out of reach. He paused a moment. Bokkamaki stared down at him. then, infuriatingly, Morgan began to jab Bokkamaki again, at his midsection. Slowly. Deliberately.
Again, the goliath did nothing. Then he spoke.
Morgan halted, finger poised. The others glanced at each other, still unsure.
The goliath nodded once, then repeated, “You’re right. You are right, dwarf. I know nothing of your god’s teachings.”
He leaned down, his angry glare now inches from the dwarf.
“Especially after watching YOU.”
With the last word, he poked a hard finger directly onto Morgan’s Holy Symbol of Kord.
The roar began somewhere just below the dwarf’s boots. It ended, some ten seconds later, along with copious amounts of spittle, resounding off every available surface within 20 feet of the furious cleric’s howling mouth. Morgan flailed the goliath’s hand aside, and crouched, arms cocked, fists clenched, vibrating.
“YOU APOLOG—I WANT—I DEMAND—DID YOU JUST HEAR WHAT HE—YOU!!” Morgan’s fury knew no boundaries. A small cloud of dust remained where was once the barkeep.
“I’m sorry, THAT YOU’RE SUCH AN IDIOT!!”
Ash: I roll for initiative.