Stepping over towards Thelin, Femnal gagged again before shoving his face outside of the window and breathing deeply. Big mistake. Big, huge! The air just outside the tavern was not much better than the air within and with such a deep breath the poor man finally failed to hold onto what ever constitution he had left within him. It started in low and then it started to grow. The rumbling in his tummy; the burning churning bubbling brew within his gullet finally could no longer be held back and the dam of will power gave up.

Femnal lost it all. It started with this contorted look on his features, as if he was pondering the vastness of what the answer to life the universe and everything was and couldn’t understand the conclusion that it was indeed forty-two. Then he began grousing, which quickly turned into a scream; not just any scream, the scream of a man who was in the middle of death thralls. His face turned beet red, crimson and bulging. ”Don’t let it go man,’ he told himself but it was of no use. He tried beating on his chest like a deranged beast, Crewise rushing over to his old friend and from the other side of the window, grabbed his shoulders; trying to shake some sense into him. He didn’t know what was wrong with Femnal but he learned quickly that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Being in front of Femnal right then was the worst place to be.

The little man went silent for all of a second, locking eyes with the merchant; a look passing through them as if to say, ”I’m sorry for what is about to happen,” Femnals mouth opened and he horfed right into Cremwises face. The entire scene seemed to happen in slow motion. Cremwises grip on Femnals shoulders tightened uncontrollably and completely against his will. This was no small amout of spittle, this was a full emptying of stomach contents in one angry rush, Hurlacane Femnal hit category five. Remember being at the beach and seeing the waves crashing in to the cliffs and pushing through a small cave opening only to erupt on the other side? It was like that, only chunky.

Cremwise couldn’t move, he just held on for dear life as Femnals head began to whip around like a psychotic cobra. Cremwise tried to jerk his head to the side to keep the contents from going into his mouth. Femnal had never horfed like this and his eyes widened, as if trying to look away and study it at the same time as it continued to pour from his face portal. He had turned into Pukezilla, possessed by the continuous flow, his head nearly spinning off. The vomit volcano in which he had turned into needed a priest, an exorcism seemed to be needed as his head continued to whip this way and that.

Cremwise finally managed to spin his old friend around and away from him but it was too late. He was covered in alabaster chum, trails of it over the front of the tavern, the window sill and now within. As quickly as it started, it stopped and Femnal collapsed on the floor. Drenched in sweat and other body fluids as he leaned back against the wall, trying desperately not to take in another deep breath. Had he, it wouldn’t have mattered. He had horfed so completely anything he had eaten as a toddler was now on the floor and him and Cremwise and anyone else within ten feet.

“So that’s what it feels like to die,” Femnal said in a weakened state, Cremwise just standing there outside of the window and peering down at him, drips of vomit falling onto the tavern owns head.

“I think I would prefer battling Orcs….” Cremwise muttered as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief; trying desperately to whip away the half disgested stew and cheese from his face.