Page 17
Ever a man of benevolence, you hold your hand up in a "just a moment, Maletas" gesture to Maletas and indicate that no drinking is to be done until your man can join the two of you. We`ll make a toast, you say, with actual ale, provided your comrade has brought enough money.
Sure enough, the jingle of a money pouch is among the sounds your man Himnasio brings with him as he staggers into the pub, looking well dressed as usual but carrying himself in a manner that shatters any pretense of elegance. Upon seeing you, he breaks into an "ah, there you are" smile, an expression you are quite used to seeing by now as when Himnasio is not with you he is surely looking for you. He turns his limp into a victorious stride in your direction, stumbles into a table and screams as the oaken edge drives into his hipbone, attracting the attention of anyone who hadn`t noticed his clumsy entrance.
"Ahh, Himnasio," you say. You would hate him for his near-psychotic devotion, but it would be like hating a blind, 1-legged dog. Plus, he serves his purposes.
"Master! I am parched, as you must be! Perhaps a potable for our poting pleasure?" And he is nothing if not reliable. You can`t think of a single time when he has let you down or inadvertently gotten you killed.
"Maletas and I were just waiting for you to join us. But as you can see, I have dropped my beverage," as you indicate your fallen stein with a sweep of your hand, "leaving Maletas with the only drink, which he was kind enough to offer to me .." it occurs to you that you are being honest, and this impresses you.
Alarm registers on the finely shaped, yet perpetually cut or bruised face of Himnasio, and he nervously scratches his eyepatch, which you notice bears the insignia of a lizard. "Nay, Master, beware of the drink that the hunchback doth offer, as on the previous occasion wherein I accepted a thirst-quashing beverage from him, it quashed not only my thirst, but my life as well."
You vaguely recall the event he is referring to. "Refresh me," as you furrow your brow, "was your death bloody?"
"`Twas not."
"Ah, now I remember."
"Allow me to buy you a non-potentially-lethal drink in its stead, Master." Without waiting for your reply, which he must know by now will be a polite refusal which turns into an acceptance after a single protest, he calls to the bartender for two drinks, and the bartender scowls, shakes his head and complies.
That bartender hates you.
"Now then," you announce to your two companions, tankards now in all 3 of your hands (that is to say, one tankard for each of the 3 of you, held in a single hand each .. you do not have 3 hands) "A toast. To the wonders of the world, that they may be given to us."
Himnasio nearly drops his mug in excitement at this. "My lord! It is funny that you should say such a thing!" He wants you to ask him why, but you want to consume your beverage and stop talking. You sigh and lower your untouched drink.
"Why?"
Go on to the next page.
Sure enough, the jingle of a money pouch is among the sounds your man Himnasio brings with him as he staggers into the pub, looking well dressed as usual but carrying himself in a manner that shatters any pretense of elegance. Upon seeing you, he breaks into an "ah, there you are" smile, an expression you are quite used to seeing by now as when Himnasio is not with you he is surely looking for you. He turns his limp into a victorious stride in your direction, stumbles into a table and screams as the oaken edge drives into his hipbone, attracting the attention of anyone who hadn`t noticed his clumsy entrance.
"Ahh, Himnasio," you say. You would hate him for his near-psychotic devotion, but it would be like hating a blind, 1-legged dog. Plus, he serves his purposes.
"Master! I am parched, as you must be! Perhaps a potable for our poting pleasure?" And he is nothing if not reliable. You can`t think of a single time when he has let you down or inadvertently gotten you killed.
"Maletas and I were just waiting for you to join us. But as you can see, I have dropped my beverage," as you indicate your fallen stein with a sweep of your hand, "leaving Maletas with the only drink, which he was kind enough to offer to me .." it occurs to you that you are being honest, and this impresses you.
Alarm registers on the finely shaped, yet perpetually cut or bruised face of Himnasio, and he nervously scratches his eyepatch, which you notice bears the insignia of a lizard. "Nay, Master, beware of the drink that the hunchback doth offer, as on the previous occasion wherein I accepted a thirst-quashing beverage from him, it quashed not only my thirst, but my life as well."
You vaguely recall the event he is referring to. "Refresh me," as you furrow your brow, "was your death bloody?"
"`Twas not."
"Ah, now I remember."
"Allow me to buy you a non-potentially-lethal drink in its stead, Master." Without waiting for your reply, which he must know by now will be a polite refusal which turns into an acceptance after a single protest, he calls to the bartender for two drinks, and the bartender scowls, shakes his head and complies.
That bartender hates you.
"Now then," you announce to your two companions, tankards now in all 3 of your hands (that is to say, one tankard for each of the 3 of you, held in a single hand each .. you do not have 3 hands) "A toast. To the wonders of the world, that they may be given to us."
Himnasio nearly drops his mug in excitement at this. "My lord! It is funny that you should say such a thing!" He wants you to ask him why, but you want to consume your beverage and stop talking. You sigh and lower your untouched drink.
"Why?"
Go on to the next page.
posted by bastardface | 7:39 AM
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