"Are you kiddin'?! I was born ready for this!" Jip got up from his chair and, while he didn't draw the human sized short sword that he wore across his back like a great sword, he brandished an imaginary sword and lunged at an equally imaginary foe, obviously skewering his opponent.

He carefully placed his invisible weapon down and then lifted his mug of ale in a toast. "We'll kill them gobs dead, Pidge!" Then took a large swig.

Vhik-Clik punched the air, "Yeah! Adventure!" and her red eyes lit up with excitement. Finally, a chance to stretch her legs, test out her new bombs, and meet new people. Hopefully they'd all stumble upon some great inventor, or some incredible wizard who could turn her into a gnome. There was just one little nagging detail;

"Wait, we're fighting goblins?" she asked, showing an inkling of reluctance

No sooner had the words left her mouth did the horror of her situation dawn on her. Oh shoots! They'll notice me being sympathetic and think I'm a goblin! Quickly! Act cool!

"Ummm, not like that's a problem or anything. Yeah! Team Goblin slayers! I'm ready!" she said quickly, her heart racing with the lie.

Alright, now act casual. With that she went back to drinking her ale through a straw, confident that no-one was any the wiser and desperately trying not to react to her ever-eager companion's relish

Old Keebs raised a thick eyebrow at Jip and his buffoonery, and the mug of ale that was comparatively enormous compared to the rest of his body connected to his lips out of a habit of drinking whenever things got kooky. I mean, he would´ve probably turned himself into a drunken mess either way, but his companions were speeding up the process. Maybe.

"Oi, a real gnome´s gotta learn to fight with his fists just as well as when he´s got a sword!" Keebler proclaimed, with his fat head wobbling steadily in a circle. The small man attempted to climb onto the table but remembered his height and simply elected to fling his overweight body onto its surface, plopping onto the wood with a thud that made him seem like a sack of potatoes. A sack of disheveled, alcoholic potatoes. He stood up and spread his arms gloriously.

"Watch this! Hyaah!!"

Keebler threw himself down towards the ground in a body slam. Or more accurately, he attempted to but lost his balance and was slapped down by the forces of gravity and whatever gods were watching him from the skies, pointing and laughing. After a long pause of not moving or speaking, the other gnomes had realized that he had knocked himself unconscious.

Focusing on blending in as she was, Vhik-Click was caught relatively unawares by the old gnome's performance. She was practically engulfed by a small tidal wave as he sent almost all the drinks flying. The Not-a-Goblin came back up spluttering, red-faced and smelling awfully of ale; "Shoots!" she cried, looking for the silly Keebler, "I've a mind to knock you on the head-" her cursing was caught short when she noticed he'd done quite a good enough job of that himself.

There was a tangible moment when all gazed at the prone form of Mr. Hearth, expecting it to be a joke or something, but he remained quite still. "Is he dead?" Vee-See ventured, looking around for a stick to poke him with.

Thankfully Selci Dazzlecraft had the idea to throw an ale in his face, See how he likes it! Vee-See thought with vindication. Although she couldn't help but wonder why Selci hadn't just cast a spell, the Dazzlecraft name being famous amongst gnomes and synonymous with impressive arcane feats. Vee-See mentally shrugged, she'd never know how bardlings worked

There truly was no better solution to waking Keebler up than dousing him in alcohol. It was like a reminder aimed at his subconscious that it existed and was currently the only thing keeping him alive. He awoke in a mess of sputtering and grumbling, greedily licking his lips to take as much of it in as possible before his mind could even start forming coherent sentences again. It was a shame AA meetings didn´t exist in this world, as Keebler´s liver had reached the point where it could probably kill a dragon if one decided to eat him.

"Hngh... I´m alive... this ain´t hell?" mumbled Keebler. He wiped his face with his hands, realized what he was doing, and then proceeded to lick them. "That sure knocked me out for a wink, this body ain´t what it used to be."

He stood up and wobbled back towards his original seat. With luck, the other gnomes would simply not realize that he had failed in his attempt to show off. In his mind, this was a valid and intelligent strategy, and he even let out a self-congratulatory smirk. It ain´t easy bein´ the brains of this operation, he thought.

The Not-Goblin leapt up with haste, sparing not a single thought to the welfare of the barkeep or whoever might need to stay behind. It was fairly easy to keep pace with Pidge, given to Vee-See's scrawnier and ganglier legs, no scrubbing the floor for me!

Vhik-Clik ran straight into the street and was hit by a sudden chilly blast, made worse by her sodden clothes. Thank Molrok, the Goblin god of luck, she had chosen to wear a jumper today and not just her shirt. She put some consideration into lighting a bomb to warm herself up, but the last time she'd done that they'd gotten a guard afterwards to follow her around for 3 weeks until he got lost.

Instead she turned to her companion, "The name's Vhik-Clik Not-a-Goblin, and you must be Pidge, right?" Vee-See made as if to hug a greeting to the slightly shorter Gnome, hoping to steal a bit of body heat in the process

Jip quickly drained the rest of his drink, slammed the empty mug down on the table and hurried after the others, excited to get down to the business of slaying goblins.

"Alright ladies," Jip said to Pidge and Vee-See. "These gobs gotta have a lair somewheres, right? Anyone got tracking skills? I say we hit 'em in the middle of the day when they're mostly sleeping."

He brushed his hands together, as if the job was already done.

Keebler´s underdeveloped and decaying brain registered the tavernkeep´s hostility and jolted his pathetic excuse of a body awake with the power of misplaced anger. Why was the man so keen on shouting up a storm when Keebler, in a move of efficiency and intelligence, had licked up most of the spilled ale? In the time it took him to formulate this rationalization for his never-ending rage, however, the rest of the gnomes had left him in the dust to deal with the mess. His thick eyebrows crumpled into an angry mess.

"Why I oughtta!..." he wasn´t sure what he would do exactly, but it sure felt good to scream. He ran off as well, despite the keep´s raging in the background. In times like this, it was like his body had a separate energy reserve for escaping from the consequences of his poor decisions, and the man was out of the tavern in a wink, like a blurry blob of fat and hatred.

He noticed the others were far ahead of him, and to make matters worse, more physically inclined. Or to be more accurate, they were just less physically disadvantaged than he was. His fury turned to desperation as he realized he´d need their help.

"Oi!"

"Wait up!!!"