Greetings fellow adventurers, Freldo the Bard here once again!
Don't mind my semi-transparentness, I seem to have stumbled upon death and now I must meditate to atone for my errors.
... someone shouts: "Is this how you meditate?" ...
No, this is how I commit bigger mistakes to cast shadows on my previous ones.
By the way folks, if you ever see me on the street and want to talk to me, please don't hesitate to, I'm a much better talker than I am with enlarged metallic toothpicks (rapiers) and longbows and, unless something important is going on, which is rare, I'll stop for a nice chat. Come to think of it, I chat much, much more than I explore - a shame it doesn't pay well, if it did, I'd be the richest man in all Hlint!
Let me just take the oportunity to thank each of you for the feedback, it makes my job well worth it. It may not give me bed and bread but if it puts a smile on your faces, I'm a very happy bard.
So... Now that it's out of the way, let me tell you a story based on my recent experiences that truly happened to me when I was a lad.
One day, as a lad, I walked by the docks in Leilon one day and I saw a old fisherman, staring sadly out to sea. Curious, I sat down next to him and asked, "Hey old timer, why the long face?"
The old man man looked at him and pointed to the big docks nearby, "See that dock there? I built that dock with my own two hands, plank by plank, nail by nail, but do they call me Simon the dockbuilder? No, no."
The old man continued, "And see that ship out there? I've been fishing these waters for going on thirty-five years! but do they call me Simon the fisherman? No, no."
The old man paused, sighed and started to cry, "But you have sex with one goat..."
Poor Simon, it's been years since I've seen him.
...
I heard this tale a few months ago but I don't know if it's real or not but I'll retell it here...
Yolan, Grundeck, Migmaw and Mordicai, four aged dwarven veterns, are in the middle of a round of beer when a funeral carrige passes the building. Just as he's about to throw down another pint, Yolan notices the procession through the window.
He stands up, removed his drinking helm, bowed his head and shut his eyes. After a brief moment of silent contemplation he returned to the table threw down his pint.
"Well, well," said Migmaw, "I didn't know you were spiritual."
"Yes", Yolan shrugged, "we were married for 20 years."
... round of applause from the dwarves ...
Masters, you're only applauding because your wifes are at home!
That's it for tonight fair patrons!
I bid you all good night.
