(no subject)
No, lass, I’m not hurt and the limp is not new. I’ve had it as long as you’ve known me. 'Tis a wooden leg you see. I was smuggling crackers into Waterdeep several years back. The Council had outlawed them due to near constant cracker-related debauchery, you see... I couldn’t let THAT pass. The Council had sealed off all ports and mobilized the army to stop all cracker entry. The city was shut down, martial law was declared and people huddled in their homes for fear and want of crackers. I could not stand idly by while such persecution was visited on the somewhat innocent peoples of Waterdeep. So I smuggled crackers. Salted, unsalted, and herb-riddled alike, it mattered not. All came in and all were consumed in secret orgies of cracker-related tomfoolery. Then came the unpleasant business with the hanging. I hadn’t seen Picklefeather’s eyes bulge like that since that Wyvern kicked him in the ba... (Oops! Innocent lass, have to watch the tongue) uh... in the arm. (Yes, that will do.) The moral of the story is, you reap what you sow. I still own a warehouse full of saltines. I send a box each year to all my friends. Seem to have fewer friends each year as a result, but that's to be expected.