Chapter 2: Was this gate necessary?
The second stanza is especially popular among the bards of Bristlebane and his followers.
Malfay the druid stood beside his guild master with a dreamy look and a funny smile. It wasn't a matter of pride of being a part of this ceremony. Any brilliant and well-built druid could have single-handedly acquired the two important gate potions.
No he wasn't interested in this joint venture between rogues and druids. The rogues were to act as spies and if they return they would be properly compensated for the risk involved. These two were merely pawns in a big game.
The cause of his joy was the lovely and shapely Benni. The sweet cleric had accepted his offer of bog juice (produced no less by his own hand) and Benni had allowed him to escort her to Misty Thicket this very morning. He told her about how he was on the fast track to being a master baker, how fast he was going through levels, the challenges of finding new challenges- her odd human acquaintance had sigh loudly throughout Benni and his entire conversation. Probably sickly and in need of clerical healing, he thought to himself as he watch the brutish rogues take the gate potions. The downside of being a cleric, it seemed to him, had to deal with sick or dying people always whining for a cure, never realizing the cost in mana is saving their sorry pathetic lives.
The two high level shifty eyed rogues downed the gate potions. Malfay thought it showed ill manners on their part. However his high-minded attitude crashed suddenly when he realized that they remain firmly in their hometown. One wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Bog Juice" he grumbled and was about the sorry state of affairs in giving a brave soul bog juice when they face certain death. All rogues knew that the proper send off was something dwarven.
Of course the rogue never got started in that lesson in roguish manners because Malfay screamed like a little girl and turn into a wolf. As soon as four paws touch the ground, the druid was moving toward the tunnel leading to Misty Thicket. He knew that he would reach his beloved Benni before she drank the ill-fated gate potion.
Benni the cleric and her odd human acquaintance having reached the PoK book took a swig of the bog juice for good luck.
"That bog juice has a little more kick than usual." Said the tiny cleric eyeing the empty bottle.
"A good luck drink?" snapped the monk waving her arms in all directions. It gave odd impression she was trying to levitate without benefit of the spell. "Your boyfriend gave us gate potions. Look around."
The cleric looked around. The two of them were sitting on one of many islands in the middle of a dark and dreary swamp. It smelled funny and in the distance they look like giant bugs and dancing mushrooms.
Benni sighed, "A whole lot more kick than bog juice."
The second stanza is especially popular among the bards of Bristlebane and his followers.
Malfay the druid stood beside his guild master with a dreamy look and a funny smile. It wasn't a matter of pride of being a part of this ceremony. Any brilliant and well-built druid could have single-handedly acquired the two important gate potions.
No he wasn't interested in this joint venture between rogues and druids. The rogues were to act as spies and if they return they would be properly compensated for the risk involved. These two were merely pawns in a big game.
The cause of his joy was the lovely and shapely Benni. The sweet cleric had accepted his offer of bog juice (produced no less by his own hand) and Benni had allowed him to escort her to Misty Thicket this very morning. He told her about how he was on the fast track to being a master baker, how fast he was going through levels, the challenges of finding new challenges- her odd human acquaintance had sigh loudly throughout Benni and his entire conversation. Probably sickly and in need of clerical healing, he thought to himself as he watch the brutish rogues take the gate potions. The downside of being a cleric, it seemed to him, had to deal with sick or dying people always whining for a cure, never realizing the cost in mana is saving their sorry pathetic lives.
The two high level shifty eyed rogues downed the gate potions. Malfay thought it showed ill manners on their part. However his high-minded attitude crashed suddenly when he realized that they remain firmly in their hometown. One wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Bog Juice" he grumbled and was about the sorry state of affairs in giving a brave soul bog juice when they face certain death. All rogues knew that the proper send off was something dwarven.
Of course the rogue never got started in that lesson in roguish manners because Malfay screamed like a little girl and turn into a wolf. As soon as four paws touch the ground, the druid was moving toward the tunnel leading to Misty Thicket. He knew that he would reach his beloved Benni before she drank the ill-fated gate potion.
Benni the cleric and her odd human acquaintance having reached the PoK book took a swig of the bog juice for good luck.
"That bog juice has a little more kick than usual." Said the tiny cleric eyeing the empty bottle.
"A good luck drink?" snapped the monk waving her arms in all directions. It gave odd impression she was trying to levitate without benefit of the spell. "Your boyfriend gave us gate potions. Look around."
The cleric looked around. The two of them were sitting on one of many islands in the middle of a dark and dreary swamp. It smelled funny and in the distance they look like giant bugs and dancing mushrooms.
Benni sighed, "A whole lot more kick than bog juice."