Snippet #1517460

"I beg your pardon, Madam!" growled Secru. "I am a poet. One thing I do not do is babble!" he turned to the wizard. "Mind you, Miss Bones-as-a-fashion-statement here does have a point, of sorts. It's not exactly considered polite to hurl lightning bolts, or whatever it was, at innocent travelers who knock openly and peacefully at one's door. Particularly when - in my case at least - they've come a long way, through many perils and hardships to see you.

"Now, I don't know this young lady beside me too well, since we just met - but it's my guess that if you anger her any more, she'll be at you with that blade, and - providing those massive udders of hers don't get in the way, and she doesn't trip over her own ego - she'll very soon be trying to slice bits off you. Which means either she'll succeed, or you'll shoot another of those theatrical-looking firebolts at her. Either way, one of you will end up dead. And that would be such a shame, since I strongly suspect our interests coincide.

"So may I suggest, Mr Wizard, that you at least give us a chance to show you we mean no harm? For one thing, you might have noticed that I've already unbuckled my sword-belt, and handed it to the charming Elven-lady who answered the door. One wouldn't have to be a high-mage to have worked out that's hardly the way an assassin operates. And whatever this rather mouthy lady's intent - well, I've been stalked by her, and I can guarantee she moves about as silently as the average thunderstorm. She isn't exactly an ice-cold model of efficiency. Save your sorcery for the Yugile..." (he spat on the ground at the word), or for poetry-critics!" (he spat, even more forcefully).

While he'd been speaking, Secru was subtly but efficiently moving to interpose himself between the wizard and the stalker, effectively shielding both of them from the others attack. Now, he deliberately turned his back on the wizard.

"And you, fair lady, might start by sheathing that thing. One can hardly expect him to give you a fair hearing when you're mouthing insults at him and waving a weapon around!" He looked down at her waist, at the top of the leather pants which had slipped almost comically low during her pratfall. "And for the land's sake, pull your pants up. Thrusting your butt-crack at him's not exactly going to charm him, either!"