Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: andsol@is.rice.edu (Andrew J. Solberg) Subject: [KQ] Verdigren: [ScrRam]: Yo Mama Message-ID: <1992Jul14.182230.18856@rice.edu> Date: Tue, 14 Jul 1992 18:22:30 GMT Colin Silvertree makes a play for Verdigren's help: > "Information, as you know, is a very valuable commodity. But we ARE >prepared to make a most handsome offer; one that will be worth your while." > There is a slight clonk as he sets the small pouch down and opens it, with- >drawing a ruby cut in a cubic shape, brilliantly faceted...and nearly three >inches on a side. Verdigren's eyes widen. Colin keeps the stone low on the >table, so as to lessen the chances that the other tables might see it. > "VERY worth your while," finishes Colin from underneath hooded brows... Verdigren's eyes glint a little bit, but his broad smiles stays as jacked-up as before. "A bribe! How sweet. I haven't had a bribe in ages. This is like a proposal to me. It...it brings a tear to my eye........." WHAM! Verdigren brings his fist down on the table. Leaning over the table at Colin, the diminutive warrior is suddenly hissingly angry. "Listen to me, you FUCK, I don't like your attitude, I don't like your flash, and I certainly don't like your company. Stick that ruby where the sun don't shine, ace, or I'll be glad to help it along." Behind Verdigren, the Bannery Brothers can be heard talking: "Today *I* get the bardiche, eh?" "No way, eh? *You* got the bardiche *last* time. *I* get the bardiche, eh?" "Okay, but I get the morningstar." "You always want the morningstar." "You can't have BOTH the bardiche AND the morningstar!" "Okay! Chill, eh?....... gimme back my hand axe...." "No way, eh?......" Verdigren stops spraying and smirks. "Heh...." he says, "some of my regulars get a little anxious, sometimes.....they draw conclusions.....heh....." Verdigren grabs chair. In the awkward lull, Thk begins his chug contest with Queriche, and the crowd focussed its attention on the local favorite: >QUE-RICHE!!! QUE-RICHE!!! QUE-RICHE!!! QUE-RICHE!!! QUE-RICHE!!! >CHUG!!! CHUG!!! CHUG!!! CHUG!!! CHUG!!! CHUG!!! CHUG!!! CHUG!!! >Thk watches in fascination for second or so, until Queriche reaches the >halfway point. Then he scoops up his own tankard, opens his maw as wide >as possible, and tosses the entire contents into his throat with one >smooth motion. The beer doesn't actually go down his esophagus, because >he constricts both his throat and epiglottis, thereby diverting the fluid >into the two wide passages leading past his gill slits. The beer sprays >out the openings in his neck to run down his sides in gushing rivulets, >adding fresh stains to his already disgusting toga. >The tavern is suddenly silent, except for the sounds of Queriche finishing >up his beer. Thk sets his tankard down and leans forward to flick the >raw squid into his mouth. He swallows without chewing (beak and all), just >as Queriche slams down his mug with a cry of triumph. The cheering crowd's noise dies down to a sullen silence. The only sound is made by Verdigren: "HEY!! NO!! Oh, GROSS!! YOU DAMN FORKER!! Who's gonna clean this mess up, huh? You think Mopboy Marux works here or something? Huh? Yeccch!" Verdigren pokes the towering lizardman in the belly. "You. That was no chug. Chugged beer winds up in the stomach, not on the floor. It's an unwritten rule. You cheated. "Queriche! Get this forker a mop, and then find him some dishes. Bunky, that's gonna be the most expensive squid you ever ate." Over in the nook under the stairs, Moriarty carefully refills and lights his pipe. "Hell's Wardens", he thinks, "another brawl. And I just got my tunic cleaned. I wish somebody would paint Verdigren into a corner one of these days, if only so I can discharge my debt of honor. This joint really sucks." Moriarty uses the match to light the wick of a miniature etna burner and arrays his powders where he can get at them. No sense being caught with your pants down.... -- Andrew Solberg |"If I were your wife I'd poison your tea!" Undying University Mooch| Anon. Outraged British Woman andsol@owlnet.rice.edu |"And if I were your husband I'd drink it!" Phone:713-529-8627 | Winston Churchill