Ten minutes or so later, Moltar and Astredian dragged themselves into the guild hall, and slumped into the nearest chairs that they could find. Both men were exhausted, stinking with sweat, and bruised in more places than just their egos.
“ELIIIIISE!” the old ranger called as she strode into the guild hall behind her two victims. “Bring your old lady some water, won’t you?”
As if on cue, the troubadour pushed a wheeled trolley out from the dining hall and into the main hall, pulling to a stop by the seating area where the two guild leaders were currently doing their best impression of the living dead. Their groans were most piteous.
Elise’s cart had a full pitcher of water with cucumbers in, several tall glasses, and a bucket full of a pungent gel-like substance.
“Strip down to your skivvies, ……
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