The night sky had settled over the town of Jastrey, causing the refletions in the lake to look like a wide bed of twinkling candles. The figure of a goblin could be seen, propped up against a tree with several bottles of assorted liquors sprawled around him. He finished the contents of one before sending it tumbling off over the lake where it ended in a loud "Splash" before sinking to its depths. The goblin was almost erily quiet, devoid of his usual ramblings. He just sat watching the tree line aross the lake as if he expected something to appear over the horizon or to leap from the lake to him. The goblin sighed, keeping a reserved, almost contemplative look on his face as he grabbed another bottle from the many that lay beside him. He took another long drink before settling back yet again.
Nahser shot the angori an irritated look. "Nasher already has free drinks. Nasher needs no helps getting them. And Nasher was as much Horney Heads "Friend" as Nasher is friend with the worm in the mud pits Nasher bathes in. Horney Head weak and Nasher has no time for Horney Head nor his talkings." The goblin popped another bottle of cheap mead and just held it beside him as the goblin stared back out across the lake.
Zwey chuckles, "I dunno Nasher, with the amount of time you spend in the mud, I would not be suprised if you had afew worm friends." Zwey walks over and plops himself down next to the goblin. "What troubles you, King Nasher. What will your people say when the crown is in unrest?"
Nasher stood up disgusted the ANgori sat beside him. "They's will say Nasher was strong and they's will not give tales of Horney Head. Horney Head has'd yous chance. Horney Head proved weak and has no spot in Nasher's court. Nasher told you's Nasher was fed up. Nasher's doesnt lie. Now's Nasher is very busy," the goblin said with a very irritated voice. He angrily snatched up as many bottles as he could and stomped off a full 20 yard down to the next tree, where he plopped right back down, grumbling in the process.
The goblin popped another cork on a bottle of wine this time, spitting the cork into the mud beofre taking a long draw from it. He had already mostly forgotten the Angori sitting just a few yards away as he sat back and went back to his studying of the horizon. One could tell the goblin was deep in thought about something.
A rusting and the combined sounds of metal on metal, and that of glass on glass can be heard coming from the woods towards the lake. Zwey, holding a torch in one hand and a basket full of a dark wine in the other, walks the waters edge, glacing at the goblin on the way. "Brought your favorite from the Crack of Noon." The bottles bear Leofrick's family crest.