So it's the end of the week and I'm down my local enjoying company of the tavern wench. I make gratuitous remarks about the size of her ale jugs and she makes assertion's on the size of my blackjac... Read more
So it's the end of the week and I'm down my local enjoying company of the tavern wench. I make gratuitous remarks about the size of her ale jugs and she makes assertion's on the size of my blackjack... I was all set to seal the deal when some taffer in a drunken stupor managed to knock ale all over my companion. My blackjack and I would be sleeping alone that night.
Rather than waste the rest of the evening I convinced taffer boy the next round was on him. Several ale's later It transpired that there was a builder outpost just outside town, in which it was rumored the builders kept a holy relic called 'The Caduceus of St Alban'... My drinking buddy had recently attempted to raid said outpost, but the stupid taffer almost got caught.
By way of compensation he said the job was mine for the taking as he didn't fancy trying his luck a second time. Well all the loot he didn't steal plus that holy relic should fetch a tidy sum down the local pawnshop... Its lickely the builders will have blocked off his previous method of entry, so I'll make my way in via hay cart. But I'd better dress warm, the winds up there are sharp enough to rip your ears off...
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