Snippet #1836970

The goblin shook his head, putting his newly obtained holy trinket on his stand. If anything, maybe someone passing by might buy it off him for SOMETHING. He had been turned down on sales before, and shake downs as well. But never before had Gryt been so dumbfounded by a marks ignorance that he gave up on even trying to get at the money in their purse.

His moment of silent frustration over his failed sales attempts was cut short as he caught a glimpse of another potential customer approaching. The snarl on his face quickly shifted to a smirk, and his hands clapped together as the man got closer.
"Ah! Yessir, yessir! I see y'have an eye for the extanomical! A true officionado o' brews." The goblin paused, gesturing to his wares on the stand. "Or perhaps word of m'work has reached you from'a distant land! A pilgrim comin' to a holy fount of mystical goblin brew! Religious in y'travels, an' righteous in y'quest! Well worry not anymore, good sir! You have reached y'final destination! You've reached your holy grail! Your pot of gold! Your rainbows! Your fish sticks!"

The goblin paused once more, confused by his own statement, but only for a moment. "Do you like fish sticks sir? Do you like them in your mouth?"