[hr][center][img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/b3RmLjk2LmRkYTBkZC5VbUZ1YzI5dElFeGhZbVZzYkdVLC4y/golden-jewelry.regular.webp[/img][img]https://i.imgur.com/HvlcxJd.pngp[/img][/center][right][code] The Waystone Inn
Interactions: Eilrethiel [@Fernstone] Kel [@NoriWasHere]
Outfit: In retrospect, should've spent those 10g on Clothing, cold weather[/code][/right][hr]

Ransom felt a strange, unfamiliar feeling swell up inside of him as the goliath jumped to his call and helped him free up the lady from the snow. Saving a life wasn’t something completely unbeknownst to Ransom, it was just strange to be doing it for free. He watched as the big man laid his hands on the hurt woman to heal her without even trying to bargain for a reward. Ransom only ever did that if they were pretty, and this old lady had definitely looked better when she was buried beneath the dirty snow.  Ransom felt a warmth on his shoulder that shot down to his hand as the goliath clasped it and piped in some holy healing. Ransom rubbed his gloveless hand, glad to have the feeling back in his fingers. 

[color=f26522]"Thank you and agreed, although I am surprised by your help, as your previous actions show a disposition unlikely to act for others in kindness, however I am glad that I am wrong."[/color]

[color=plum]“What the fuck?”[/color] said Ransom to the old bat, watching the goliath bolt off to continue with the rescue effort. [color=plum]“Couldn’t have just stopped after ‘thank you’, could we?”[/color] 

If the apocalypse wasn’t happening, Ransom would’ve had to take off his other glove to protect his fragile and easily bruised honor. Latrom was lucky. Perhaps Ransom was, too. Whenever he had to challenge someone to a duel, he was always happier when they were smaller than him. Speaking of small things, Ransom shot a glance over his shoulder to make sure no gnome was sneaking up on him to slice his heels. Instead Ransom caught sight of an apparently asphyxiated yet still attractive elf (weren’t they all?) hollering and waving at him. Ransom cocked his head. Hands made for scooping? Was that code or…Ransom winced when he saw the webbed hands and realized Eil was probably being literal. He waved the sea elf off. Surely Ransom had already met some kind of savior quota. 

He felt something staring at him and turned to the old lady who was, for some reason, still by her side, [color=plum]“What?”[/color]

“What do I do now?” she whistled through the gaps around her tooth.

[color=plum]“How should I know?”[/color] said Ransom with a dismissive shrug as he moved away from her before she offered him hard candy and told him about how he looked like her grandson. [color=plum]“Whatever you were doing before you ended up buried alive, do the opposite.”[/color]

More people had responded to Ed’s call. Ransom wasn’t really surprised. Some of the nicest people he’d ever met were criminals. The exception to that sentiment had already climbed on top of the bar and was now directing traffic with the bard barking orders. The goliath had gotten back up from his little sister, and two cowards in the form of that tabaxi and that dragonborn were now out here trying to prove that they weren’t so yellow after all. Ransom, hand in pocket to keep it from getting a chill, settled next to the sea elf, took a gander of the ongoing rescue, glanced up at the arcane tower that was surely about to burst and vaporize all of them in the next couple of minutes, and then let out a sigh.

[color=plum]“Welp, looks like they’ve got this covered,”[/color] he said to Eli, giving him a pat on the back. [color=plum]“World’s ending, let’s get drunk. I bet you Rosa keeps the good stuff under the counter.”[/color]

Without waiting for an acceptance of the offer (because, clearly, the answer would have to be ‘fuck it, why not?’) Ransom started to head back inside. He towards Lairëcúma, the spotlight now on Cali and therefore away from the door, and given the circumstances Ransom was even able to avoid expressing his annoyance at her for focusing so heavily on the tiefling but failing to mention how the aasimar had already saved two, count ‘em, two whole people. Okay, well actually, a gnome and an old grandma probably only counted as like one and one fourth of a person in terms of usefulness but still, Ransom was up two bodies. Speaking of bodies, Ransom almost tripped over the man with the catawampus legs, stumbling to avoid given the wounded man even more grief.

[color=plum]“Oh, he’s fucked,”[/color] uttered Ransom.

His thoughtful words were mercifully drowned out by Lucky’s hollering. Yeah, he needed an undertaker. Lucky could’ve saved a cigarette and given the poor bastard a coup de grâce  instead. Would’ve been kinder than a slow death. Well, perhaps the bard would get the tiefling to put an arrow in him. Ransom was off duty. He slid past Lairëcúma, pushed through the sea of sad and battered faces taking shelter from the arcane storm, and sidled up to the bar—away from the side that Kel had hurled all over. Ransom drummed his fingers on the countertop for a moment, trying to remain casual and not consider how his imminent doom was just moments away because some limp-dicked wizard had to make up for their inadequacy by erecting a massive arcane tower, before hanging his head in shame.

[i]What the fuck am I doing?[/i]

They were all about to be torn into a million little fragments by a Prismatic Shitbang: drinks were free! Ransom planted his hands on the counter and hoisted himself over with one swift movement before landing on the Rosa side of the bar. Ransom couldn’t tell if the tremors had thrown everything back here to hell or if Rosa just ran an untidy operation, but he had to carefully wade through broken glass and spilled mugs as he investigated under the bar for something good instead of the Something Else. Tucked inside of one of the cabinets was an unmarked bottle of brown liquor. Jackpot.


Ransom wiped the dust off from around the cork with his cloak, grabbed a glass that hadn’t been cracked, and poured himself a generous three fingers. He lifted the booze up to his nose, sniffed, nearly fainted, and took another big whiff. Was this some kind of orcish hooch? A sip of this and he actually might grow some hair on his chest. As he lifted his final, unless he was fast, drink to his lips, Ransom made eye contact with Kel. Funny, if she had just come with him then at least one of them would be alive in the morning. He raised his glass to her, and then took a drink.

[i][center][sub]...oh...no...

...Death come quick...[/sub][/center][/i]
He spit out the drink in a brown mist. It was just his luck that Ransom had managed to find the lost bottle of Something Worse.

He took a second, smaller sip.