See previous chapters. Oh and, the curses Mel uses are from the Victorian era, and very real. You're welcome. Cheers!
Colorful Euphemisms
"Shit." BANG. "Damn." BANG. "Fuck." BANG. "Shit."
The attacking forces were not letting up, and it seemed for every arrow Melusine released that found its mark, two more attackers took his place. Solas stood a few paces away, slinging his magicy magic all over the place while Melusine stood closest to Varric on higher ground, picking off any who tried to flank Cassandra, their only melee fighter in the group.
"Shit." BANG. "Shit, fuck." BANG BANG.
Melusine heard Varric's laugh even over the mayhem of battle, "Vary your language, Mel."
"Right." Melusine picked her next target. "Fucking flapdoodle." BANG. BANG. BANG. "Gibface." BANG. "Blast his balls." BANG BANG. "Hellish hornswoggler." BANG.
"On second thought," Varric laughed again, "maybe you should stick with the classics."
Solas yelled from his position, "Or we could focus on the fight and leave the colorful euphemisms at the tavern where they belong." He cast another spell, this one lighting up the field like an exploding Christmas tree.
"Spoilsport." Varric grumbled, taking out two attackers with one shot before wagging his eyebrows at Melusine.
"Show off." Melusine reloaded and picked her targets, "Pidgeon-livered ratbag." BANG. BANG. BANG. "Jolly jollocks." BANG. BANG. "Vazey wagtail." BANG.
"I haven't a clue what you're saying, Mel, but keep 'em coming."
Oh, she was just getting started.