Wind Dines With A Dwarf And Shoots the Breeze

I confess, I haven’t felt greater excitement or anticipation than when I received the invitation from my old friend Oric Bellode for a special dinner. The day and time didn’t concern me – though Oric’s flexibility was appreciated – I quickly responded by sending Otto with my first-hand acceptance. Oric is an old friend who escorted us through the treacherous passes, defended us against furry kobold foes, and welcomed us into his home as fast friends who are thick as thieves. The dwarf, though diminutive of stature, is giant of heart and a titan of gracious generosity. He evinced as much – reaffirming my initial sentiments – with heartwarming camaraderie, fellowship, fine foods and endless drink! The little people dined in Valhalla that night! Wine, women, and song – resounding bardic tales of a skald’s treachery-filled adventure! Ever the gentleman, Oric even had a special meal prepared for the Bismarck and rewarded Bennu’s furry disciple with hearty belly-scratches and affectionate chin-rubs. Now that is the character of a hero!

Oric and I talked well into the small hours, telling tales, sordid, tawdry, and bawdy. I even posed of him our confounding dilemma regarding the purloined dragon bones. We too, perhaps the greatest of diminutive detectives, of all time, were stymied with such a puzzling mystery. Nevertheless, we passed the time fondly and famously roaring with laughter and rattling the rafters with our belly-full bowls of jelly. The tallow’s marks burned through the eyes of the Gods’ own sieve and, even after considerable drink, try though I might, the dwarf would not be persuaded to entertain an evening of companionship and conquest of the busty Timothea; titillating, titanic, temptress –a vixen among men – called to my base, feral nature and incensed my gnomish loins to an aroused eudaemonic ire. I do believe my…“attentive” state elicited peals of raucous laughter from the bawdy belly of the dwarf. The brandy brought forth rich hues and heady aromas. The tobacco tasted of cinnamon and cardamom. The incense aroused our yarn-spinning yaw-spanning snippets and enhanced hyperbole-tall tales of adventure, misadventure, and joie de vivre! Oric truly shares my lust for life! Would that he had been born a gnome…

Ah, but one cannot choose one’s family. I am lucky to count Oric Bellode among my friends. One day, perhaps after I save the world, I should very much like to settle here in Avramstown, nestle into stewardship of my own Arcane Sundries Shoppe, and share the company of tall, true men like Oric.

Written by Tyvernos on the 2nd of Set, in the 68th Year of the Wolfen Empire.

Picture from Crafty Veteran Stocks.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.