The dwarf wanders into the town and makes a bee line towards the nearest pub. “Mebbe an ale or two would help out with the adventure” The barkeep looks down on the dwarf and says “What can I do for you?” Hiram replies “Gimme yer strongest ale” “Don’t give me any of the watered down stuff, I’ll know the difference” The hammer give to the dwarf during the fight sits in front of him. Engraved upon the head is an inscription in the dwarven language.
“Thunderpoot” Hiram has had no practice with it but is knowledgeable in its use. The silver gray head resonates with power and hums with anticipation for the next battle. Hiram is ignorant of the power as he downs many ales in succession. Still barely conscious, Hiram yells to the barkeep. Do you have rooms here? Me and my friend need a place to stay for the night. The barkeep replies with a sardonic smile “Of course, my dwarven customer. What would you like? Do you like some extra entertainment? We have halfling nekkid dancers who could visit you anonymously of course." Hiram looks at his empty mug and chortles to himself. “I’ll not be doin the nasty with those theivin’ mongrels. Jus give me the key to a room and we’ll pay when we leave.
With the key firmly in Hiram’s hand he stumbles out to where he thought Dragonmage might be but she is nowhere to be found. Hiram glances left and right but sees no one. “Hic, mebbe if I jus wait here, she will find me.”
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"I know that you believe you understand what you think I said, but I'm not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant."
-Robert McCloskey
- Token lackwit of HADB
- Sycophant to the Wolf of Azure Hue
- Long lost brother of DragonMage
- Bearer of a work of art created by Sazerac
- Jeg burde blive gennembanket for min flatulens.[/list]
[This message has been edited by Hiram Sedai (edited 10-18-2001).]