A Gnome Wednesday

This happened at the Harlingers post of the Merchants Guild in Everton Wells a day and a half back.

“Half-man.”

“Half-man indeed. He is at best a third.”

“Please gentlemen, let me address him. Uh-hem…Mr. Cain, the brothers have hired me to peruse their books. The books you have held sole custody of for the better of the past three years. It appears there are unexplained discrepancies. Items that do not reconcile. Entire investment funds misplaced. Gold missing. We’re just looking to clear the ledgers. Balance the sheets.”

“My brother said you were a wizard. You could make our books sing to the Baron. You were to finish his, and then do mine.”

“Hm. Are we talking about your books or your wife and sister? Cause pretty sure I put all three of them to bed this past week. Now don’t get all shitty-face, cause what I charged you wasn’t enough. And don’t sit in that chair, I tie that to my waste when she makes me go south. I mean either you’re endowed or missing in action cause I know what it’s like to play second string to an ogre, and you ain’t no fukin ogre. But if we’re talking about the money, it ain’t missing. Ya just had an ass-load of payable wages out there ya weren’t dealing with on any urgency, so we moved shit around.”

“You…You…YOU…”

“The wages were to be paid on a contingency. You knew this.”

“Contingency meanin’ I wasn’t to pay them. But I fukin did. An’ you fukin signed it, you brain dead golem. Now a bunch of smelly guildsmen collectively own pretty close to half your company, Babs. Don’t that suck a big fat dwarf cock?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“As for your ledgers, I put the straight set of books where you two goblin-eaters would see them every day, right in the shitter. An’ every day I see new pages ripped out. You dumb shits are wiping your asses with your books. But you’re keeping me around cause I wallow in daily disbelief as to how fukin stupid you can grow with every bad decision you morons knock each other out of the way to make before you’ve had your first goat-piss beer before the sun gets hot. Fukin precious and too fun not to watch.”

“You…you believe…you’re a simple spell caster and you think you frighten us? That you can stand up to us?”

“Oh, hades balls on a meat platter no. No way I can stand up to anything, even two ghouls that look just this side of ninety or their butter-face accountant that’s about to give birth to about a hundred hot meat pies, or the sphincter seeker brigade you call a house guard. But you know that dumbshit half-orc that hangs in the alley like a one-hinge sign? The one I give a copper each day without fail to piss on your porch seat before you get here every morning? Well I put a lightspell on his cock three days past and he’s been giddy as a fuking elf ever since. Pretty certain he’ll rip an arm off a shit-face like you for another glow stick he can take home to his horn-tooth bag of heart flutters.”

“You…you dare.”

“Hold yer licker, there’s more for you two duplicitous fuks. That extra two-hundred gold yer lookin’ for, sent it to the Baron in two installments. The first sent with a little note that said “Fer yer wife’s attentions. Sincerely Nards.” Cause to me that was funny.”

“My name is not Nards!”

“But this was even better. Babs, I sent another hundred gold in your name asking the lovely baron for an evening where you could come by with some wine and read him your poetry. And that shit just keeps me up at night.”

“You will die for this.”

“Yeah, blow me a new poem. I’m going to hang outside with Hector, who’s probably sitting naked on your porch waitin’ for my magic touch. Til then, don’t make me get all wizardry on your sad asses.”

Fun fact: Cain did not get his last paycheck.