Sailing with Three Sheets to the Wind:
The Tale of One Halfling’s Trials and Tribulations Through Norrath’s Transcendent Taverns
By: Tarquin “Tiggy” Neusbickle, III
…when all of the sudden Ol’ Marty Blanketstain comes barelling around the corner, huffing and puffing; demanding that I owe him another flagon of ale on account of the one he spilled on his brother, Woolert.
So that’s when everyone turned to me and asked exactly how the goblin got stuck inside the dumbwaiter. Of course, having no real experience working in the business end of a kitchen, I hadn’t a clue that what they were speaking of was in fact a mechanical food delivery device and not the dish-washing ogre who was clearing a table behind me….and so I told him, in my sternest of stern voices, “Sir, I don’t know what sort of name Constable is, but I can assure you, your jurisdiction here at this table is nill!”
That was about the time the guards showed up with the manacles.
Across his back he wore cloak made of shimmering scales, white as snow and tough as iron. Hide from a white dragon it must have been for I had never seen anything else like it. As he began to speak those strange words of magic I know so little about I saw his breath form in the air as if he were speaking out in the winter’s cold, yet we were inside Marthrop’s cozy inn. Suffice to say, the would-be coin thief took his hand away from the wizard’s coin purse immediately and was out the door in seconds flat. I never did get a chance to ask that wizard where he got his fancy cloak. I sure would have liked one myself!