A subpoena has imprisoned us in this burg for two more days — apparently, these plebeians are only content with murdering their fellow citizens after a thorough series of theatrics. The fact that they’ve given the brigands nothing to aspire to but strong-arms or field hands is lost on them. Even a modicum of real culture here could revolutionize their society. Perhaps I’ll abandon my lot and become Ulundo The Farter, Flatulist To The King. I’ve no doubt they would parade me about the kingdom as cultural touchstone.
While we we’re waiting, the party was able to take up a task for the Human and Dwarf’s aquaintance, who is colloquially known as “Painter;” though I’ve yet to see any of his artwork. I briefly asked him his opinions of the venerable works of Alceedo, only to be met with a blank stare. There’s a chance that his name is an ironic twist on his lack of artistic prowess, human humor is still lost on me.
We were to seek out an impromptu burial site for a decorated paladin. Much to my chagrin, we were not retrieving his remains for a proper funeral. Instead we were to loot his corpse and divide the wealth. Hurmph!
The halfling assisted in plotting our corse, and among the human, halfling and dwarf, I’d be reluctant to trust that they could trace the route betwixt their scrotum and their sphincter. The simple side quest had us waylaid by the undead and trudging through muddy, dense forests.
To his credit, when the dwarf isn’t inebriated or cursing, he’s a capable fighter and a scourge to the undead. If the hirsute race ever sobers up, we may have a real threat on our hands.