Quip

"Howfur oan earth is a'body expected tae survive surroondit by endless hordes o' shambling bodies, while squatting in th' squalor that is this man's shop?!" Quip was on another cleaning tirade. Freyd was off skulking about some dungeon or other, as usual, and Dingo was likely taking his third nap of the day. "A've hud it wi' this jobby. Dingo! a'm aff hoorin'. Dinnae gie th' entire inventory awa'. Speaking o' whilk, a'm taking this, that, 'n' whitevur th' hell this is suppose tae be. Freyd owes us some back pay." Grabbing a few loose items from amidst the seemingly piles of no

A muscled, heavily callused hand grabbed Elora from behind, covering her mouth and whipped the rest of her harshly down into the same muck that had suctioned her foot into the ground. What first resembled one of the shambling diseased humanoids that plague the thirteenth floor surprised her when it spoke. Or, at least, tried to through a set of pearly clenched teeth and Scottish brogue so thick that most could barely understand a word she was saying. "Urr ye trying tae bring doon hauf th' flair oan yersel'. Shut yer gob 'n' wifie up, or ye'r aff tae git us baith murdurred. Ye'r that l

"Look 'ere, ye juvenile smurf! Ah'ament yer buddy, 'n' ah'ament yer slave either!. Freyd, Dingo 'n' ah hae beeen spending all oor time 'ere fur ye, fur free! Freyd even supplied th' crafting respites 'n' used up yin o' they bloody event items fur ye. Sae stuff yer wit ye hink, 'n' if yi'll waant someone tae ca' a cheapskate, ah will sell ye a frikkin mirror!" ~Quip ____________________ name morag macleod age 26 gender f origin scotland (uk