Another Round
More hours passed into the waning night. What little commotion their was had died down to the gargling of drunkards in their own vomit. A great fist slammed into the table's top, rattling the drained mugs as the large warrior protested the bars service.
"Tales need mead," Kalot demanded. "Let us see another round, bar keep!" A mighty cheer followed the Avenger's seating, heralding the special import from Eastern lands. It was not for his cry, not for the stories to soon be told, not for the next round being on another's tab, not for his cease in speech, or even the drinks to be served. The cheer was for the lovely lady who was to serve the spirits. Easy was she on the wobbling eyes of the patrons. A great platter stacked with tankards balanced on her arm as she twirled between tables, delivering the drink in elegant steps.
"Ah, yes," the loathsome Bimblesnaff spoke to himself with toothful grin, "I likes me womens from theres. Their eyes, their faces, their... everything." The gentleman seated next to the leering goblin leaned over to whisper something to him. "What's that ya say? That's not her?" He whispered more. "She's over there?" And again. "So, what's that?" ... "I see. So it's made of what type of wood?" ... "Interesting. so, why are ya whispering to me?" ... "A psychiatrist, ya say?" The man handed the Lunatic a business card, which he accepted with thanks before devouring it. "Ah, yes, I likes me psychiatrist cards."
"Be quiet," Kalot politely asked, which to all else sounded like a thundering roar. "It is time to hear the tale of how I came to brave the treacherous Domain of Doom... ed Sitcoms." An annoyed grunt resounded from the goblin. "What are you complaining for? You have never heard this tale before!"
"Yeah, I know," the green skin agreed, "and I don't want to-" A wobbling spear, stuck dead in the wall, laid a finger's width from his head. "On second thought," he reconsidered, the tone in his voice sharply changed, "I've always wanted to hear that one."
"There I was," the Avenger started, "having just left the Village of Defenseless and Gullible Peasants after saving it from the clutches of an unspeakable evil... for a third time... that week... The nefarious dog whom had tried to abuse the well meaning people fled from my very sight, knowing he could not stand up to my power."
"I did not flee," disagreed the stinging voice Xech from out the far, darkened corner of the tavern. "I just... had a prior appointment." Doubting eyes fell upon the frail fiend. "I did! There were youths to be defiled." An odd silence and thought came upon those still coherent enough to think.
"When... when you say 'defile,' now," Kalot dared to venture, "you mean with your evil ways and not your-"
"Gah! Oh, bleah!" the Nemesis choked. "Yes! Of course I meant with my sinister ways. I would never- ack! Oh, man, who could even do that to a child? That's just sick, and I drink the blood of newborns. Why would you even think that? Nasty!"
"Eh, it's not that bad," Bimblesnaff commented, leaning back in his stool carelessly. No one had the nerves to venture further with the topic.
"So I had just saved the Village," the giant man continued abruptly and loudly, aiming to advert all attention away from the previous conversation, "when I noticed a small puppy slip into one of the many spontaneously opening dimensional portals of the land. Fearing for its life, I dove through the portal, not knowing where it could lead, risking my very life." All the female members of the pub became swooned with admiration, letting out an "aw" in unison, leaving the other half to silently mock his words.
"Emerging through the other side," Kalot told, now seated at a piano that had sprung from nowhere, hitting sour chords. "I found myself surrounded by half built rooms of atrocious colors and incessant laughing machines. I knew that his was no place for a poor puppy. I had to get it out of that hell hole. So, I kicked myself in the butt and started jumpin' 'round likes a monkey. Also likes a monkey, I started throwing my-"
"What by Hell are you doing?" demanded Kalot, staring down hard at the goblin, masked entirely in his wide shadow.
"Oh... heh, yeah," Bimblesnaff nervously stalled, cracking a weary smile. "I was just... ya know givin' 'em the other side of the story, what I saw."
"You weren't there!" the Avenger denied. "It was just the dog, me, and ... some two bit 'actors'." He placed particular stressing on the air quotes.
"I was there," Anph noted, but her words were drowned out by the argument. However, they would not have been heard even if the place was dead silent.
"Oh, but I was, my giant friend," swore the sickly kobold. "Do ya remember that dog? Think really hard, and remember who it really was." Giving in to the command, his thoughts began to drift back to that day. He pondered deeply on the nature of the canine, recalling every detail, when, then, it hit him.
"That dog," Kalot blurted startled, "It was ...... a chow. Nope, not you in the slightest."
"... damn, that sure was some fake suspense," the goblin whined. "And after I gave everyone suspense hats, too." The grouping by the table did not even notice the odd apparel placed onto their skulls.
"Wait, this? This isn't a hat, it's an egg shell," corrected Anph, pointing to the egg half on Madam Quae's head as she did not get one of her own. "Additionally, there's no such thing as a 'suspense hat'."
"Who are you?" Bimblesnaff inquired with a strained squint at the Vagabond.
"That stranger is right," Kalot agreed, "there is no such thing as a suspense hat."
"What? I can't believe that guy conned me," the goblin groaned. "That sure was the worse thousand gold coins I ever spent." Under his breath, he added, "Although there was that fat brothel..."
"What cowardly dastard was it who partook in such underhanded deeds?" asked Kalot, shaking the maniac from his current, disturbing thoughts.
"Well, I only know that he had blond hair stickin' straight out from the back of his head," expounded the green one. "I cunna see his face 'cuz he had all these bandages coverin' it." Turning and pointing, he made a note, "Kinda like Xech. He also had one this tattered brownish vest and rags wrapped on his legs." He pointed out again, "Kinda like Xech.
"Really?" Kalot sounded in a flat tone as his eyes honed in on the demonic figure perched on a back stool, counting a pile of one thousand gold coins.
"Yeah. And then, he had this mustache," the goblin finally noted," that kept sliding off his face.
"A mustache?" Kalot repeated in disbelieve. "Growing... over his face bandages?"
"Well, duh! C'mon, Kalot, get it together." The Avenger decided to stop pursuing the incident any further. He could get the money back, but he figured that it would not stop it from being squandered in another scam. At least this way it went to a swindler he knew.
