Earn a ridiculous amount of gold while saving the world from terrible enemies! Gryphons need not apply. All skill levels and backgrounds (excluding gryphons) are accepted!
Please apply to Sally Dildally, Boar's Snout tavern unless you are a STUPID DUMB GRYPHON.
I don't have chocolate so STOP ASKING
"They really don't like gryphons do they Honkers?" she said to her pet goose. Honkers hissed in reply.
"We're running pretty low on funds though, and with the macroeconomic situation of this stereotypical fantasy world being what it is, we can't afford not to follow up on any lucrative opportunity, however dangerous."
"Though, come to think of it, I think I might have seen a Night Mare.
Still, considering everything, Honkers was acting like he usually did -- that is to say, cheerfully homicidal.
How hard can it be?"
“Choo ever meet a owlbear in a blueberry patch afore?”
Honkers hissed, flapped his wings, and promptly plucked a hair from Florian's head. "Ow!" "Honk"
He had all the cynicism of her brother, though it appeared that he had turned to drink when her brother had turned to murder.
Deep in the dark citadel of Gor Nathal, sat King Reginald the Wrathful on his porcelain throne.
“Adventuring, no,” Lorelei clarified “Getting paid heaps of gold, yes.”
“I’d rather be a livin fella with some copper to spend than a dead fella with a pocket of gold, I reckon.”
Florian burst into laughter.
Sitting around a table was a man wearing a one-man-band instrument, a sour looking male dwarf, a halfling male with a pet Ankylosaur, a half-elf female with a dark cat curled at her feet. An assassin sat next to them, and a young human woman with a longsword. On the table, the man (apparently a bard) was spinning a rod around on the table apparently preparing to press the button at the person it spun to.
"been known to talk in the theater."
One of the cymbals on the one-man-band instrument made a crashing sound in protest.
It wasn’t as though the person who was coordinating this adventure was an evil villain who coordinated the demise of the other party so that we would inexplicably be hired, even though we aren’t really technically a group at all and we just got thrown together into this crazy adventure with really no reason other than the fact that we briefly met up and talked with each other before we went into the bar.
“Better yet, that stupid hat will have a fiery demise! There aren’t any downsides here.”
Honkers.
"You've answered well and honestly. What message would you like me to bring your family?"
I don’t like listening to dead people. They complain too much.
Lee suddenly snorted. “I hope you have a coat.”
Florian glared. “Why? Are you planning to burn that too?”
As long as Lorelei avoided the cemetery over there, there was no one around that would bother her.
"The whole thing smells like moldy carrots to me."
After all, what if there are penguins on them? Maybe Honkers might even find a new friend!
"Winged Male Postal Network? Not luxury? There's bound to be a Freedom Postal Service somewhere in town."
And when could she go home?
"Awh, go lick a unicorn you lot"
Florian glanced over to the dead elf and smiled, "And I turned that back around on him", then he held out a hand to Lee. Lee took it.
"I'm a labor organizer. I go around organizing workers and negotiate better pay and working conditions. Here's my card," the Jackalope said, handing him a card.
"Boba Bojangles, Head Organizer for the Workers Trade Federation," Florian read out loud, before turning to Mr. Bojangles. "WTF?"
"The Pig Star System"
“In my land, we had ‘ese places called hospitals with things like EKGs and defibrillators that could rival any of your magical trickeries and save people from heart attacks without any magic at all.”
Lorelei just lay in the wagon, staring at the necklace until Vanessa prodded her.
Spearmint wrote:Sitting around a table was a man wearing a one-man-band instrument, a sour looking male dwarf, a halfling male with a pet Ankylosaur, a half-elf female with a dark cat curled at her feet. An assassin sat next to them, and a young human woman with a longsword. On the table, the man (apparently a bard) was spinning a rod around on the table apparently preparing to press the button at the person it spun to.