Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

“Standard-issue old fashioned gang warfare, far as the news has reached yours truly,” Miirszyx opines from behind his cards before he slides a large marker into the middle of the table. “A delightful ingredient this cities flavor’s been missing, if my opinion interests you. You planning to call, then, darling, or is all this for me.”

“A fine choice. Now, then, the flop. As I was saying, time was you never knew where the next shiv was coming from in the Darkwoods. You’d see jaluks walking around with their cheeks stitched up from ear to ear, or half their face nearly melted off from the acid. Back in the Syndicate days - violence isn’t even the word for it… Well, I have to call that, don’t I? You’re not going to buy me out of the pot with whatever bunk you’ve got under there.”

“So in my judgment that’s all that happened. Some of those Har’ol gangsters finally decided to get serious, learned a little Darkwoods history and made their move like Zee would have done. Go out on their own. And what do we all hear? “Massacre in the Dens”. “Bodies stacked to the cavern ceiling.” It’s merely that the cities forgotten what action feels like, it’s nothing to get so worked up about. I applaud them, whoever did it. Restoring the feeling.”

“Well, you weren’t bluffing at all, were you. Perhaps you should have been, though, take a look at these. Yes, well, I’ll take that then. And here’s something for you then, dealer, keep the Aces coming if you don’t mind and I do prefer the Diamonds to the Hearts.”

Somewhere in Darkwoods...

Well, I’ve got a bag on the rivvil with half a tail then, you can see the spirit in her good eye. To place? No, to win, you tart, when have I ever bet a fighter to place.

As I was in the very midst of explaining, we were emerging luxuriously from the Broken Goblet and rather astonishingly it was raining which is when little orbs of water fall from the night above. So she says to me, “But Miir, the water will ruin my make up.”

How does a jaluk like me respond to such a thing, you might ponder to yourself? “Then walk between the rain drops, rivvil.”

Oh what, this old thing? My jacket? Yes of course it’s the same material as the scarf - are you blind or merely stupid? Well, I haven’t the first idea. He told me it was the fur of a werecrocodile - I didn’t have it made, I won it. In the Gate, naturally.

We were standing on this great big tower right in the heart of it overlooking the marketplace. Looks rather like ours if you cast Feebleminded on everyone. So we’re up on this brick tower, decent architecture for up there, I’ll admit, watching them race horses around the marketplace. Horses are a small breed of hairless dragon - oh you know what horses ‘actually’ look like congratulations why don’t you go get me a drink then while I finish this story.

So I’m there consulting with some old horticultural friends of mine and they said let’s watch the race. No, not the study of (germbag), you astonish me, who in the realm would go to the surface to study (germbag)? Get yourself some water and coffee, honestly. No, it’s the study of trees, fascinating, really, did you know if they get large enough they can eat an entire rivvil child? I won’t bore you with all that I learned about wooden boards, suffice to say I returned nearly as rich in knowledge as I did in new fur coats.

Yes, well I’m opening a sideline. I’ve got a few svirfs chained together in my basement and they’re going to mass produce me some slave bunkbeds out of trees. Studies by local (germbag)-ticulturalists show that a slave who sleeps on lumber can work three more hours than one who sleeps on stone. Think of the efficiency! So as soon as I get some of that red lumber down here, we’re getting right to work. Tell your friends, if any of you have any in the slave-owning class.

Yes, well, off with her head I must suppose. Probably would’ve fought better if she opened that other eye once or twice. Can’t win them all. Here’s your money.

((OOC: As a hint, (germbag) is the censorship of a brilliant, if the author says so themselves, wordplay on 'horticulturalist'))