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I Flying Kick
I Flying Kick
the Cutpurse.
Session: Episode 13 - Wednesday, Oct 03 2018 from 8:00 PM to 12:00 AM
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Epic!
Are you kidding me?
A wasted soul?! Are you kidding me? There is a lot of brass in passing that kind of judgement. Should we call you Lord God Baldomero? Lord God Baldemaro, Smarmicus Sanctimonious Superbus! How undignified...
Session: Episode 12 - Wednesday, Sep 26 2018 from 8:00 PM to 12:00 AM
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Slow Cooked
Dill waited for the slouching bugbear to doze off. As soon as his fat head and double chin slowly nodded to his chest, Dill screamed, “You fat sonofabitch!” The bugbear’s head snapped back up, eyes popping open. He made a deep short grunt, scratched his ass and bared his rotten teeth at Dill. Dill smirked and waited to do it again.

“The others mock you behind your back. When you’re asleep they wipe their balls across your fat face.” Dill was getting worked up, his voice becoming a shrill. “One time you tried to suckle the big one’s balls, they nearly woke you, giggling like some softheaded fairies.”
“He can’t understand you,” quipped Blair, irritated with the shouting. “I don’t care, he gets the idea,” Dill shot back, keeping his eyes fixed on their captor. “Your mama must have been the prettiest pig in the pen!” Dill then continued his lambasting by making pig snorting noises.

“All you’re going to do is piss him off,” rankled Hartmut. “Exactly,” Dill said sharply. “And then what?” Hartmut asked shaking his head. “I’m gonna get his fat hairy goblin ass to come over here, open that gate and then I’m gonna pummel him,” Dill snapped. “You’re going to get us all killed,” Hartmut said flatly. “Not all of us,” Dill muttered to himself.

That’s when they came for Garrick. Oh sure, they stood there, perusing which was going to make for a better meal. Deciding, they pulled him from the cage clawing and screaming, while the rest of the woebegone remained, dumbed and huddled in horror, thankful it wasn’t them.

The smell of Garrick’s flesh cooking on the spit wafted toward camp. It was intoxicating for those that had only eaten the pitiful slop the goblins served. But at the same time nauseating.

The fat bugbear sat in his chair focusing on the cage and when his eyes met Dill’s, he did his best impression of a smile, which came off more of a sneer, even better. Dill looked away quickly. Staring at the frozen ground, humiliated, his knotted fists uncurled, hanging limp by his sides.

The uncomfortable silence is finally broken when Blair turns to the other prisoners:
"Who has a plan?"
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Orn's thoughts
I commit these thoughts to writen words.
After many months with this group, and I cant imagine finer folk to be traveling down this road with. However I feel that I should be doing more. There are things that I vaguely remember from my childhood, taught to me by my detested father, while I called Norland home.
The ways of my kin say a mother who died giving birth is a noble hero, and she gave birth to a son at that. One would assume a man like my father would feel honored and blessed, instead of spiteful, and cruel.
I cant help but think back to that last beating I received from him, even if I did kind a earned it by sneaking on to his raiding boat as child. Blast that sea sickness. I can still remember the point when the raid fleet was attacked near Calimshan shores, and the ship sinking underneath me. I can recall awaking in the home of Fabron and his daughter Adela, and when I first met Wiltummil in Ormpur. But not once can I remember seeing my father's loving smile.
Ah but at last not to get carried away I need to train, maybe I should ask the others for assistance, maybe some sparring matches?
"Follow where I go" he says, and I follow twin tracks in the snow. Curving and banking past the evergreens, he turns, lighting fast, and shoots. Swift as a serpent through the air. And it thuds home, I cannot see where "stay on your toes!" he orders, and with a swish of fir branches, he is gone. I follow, tracking as I can, as if one could track a god; it is only that I know he wishes to be found that I have any hope.- excerpt of In Praise of Uller
Master of rain and torrents, son of the strength of the Mother Earth, I ask you to grant me that strength for myself.

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Epic!
Ruminations #2: The Audacity
The audacity! I know the Whore's Guild is under a lot stress given Leela's untimely end but for Madam Vobrey to kick me out onto the street when I was only trying to help... I may not pay her personnel for their advertised wares but they make plenty from us for their unadvertised knowledge. I guess those earnings go unreported.
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Epic × 2!