Just as the caster was about to make his explanation of what route we would take, Randylyl the Mad had the worst idea ever.
"I have the best idea ever!" He cried. We all looked to him with barely restrained intolerance. "Why don't we go to this Evil
Fortress, kick the crap out of this guy, and be back here in time for the Sunday brunch? We could get a group fare on one
of those gnomish flying machines."
Phil looked to him angrily. "You reprehensible fool! Even if your plan had any roots in logic or the laws of adventure,
no one knows if those mysterious airships are actually made by the Tranden gnomes."
Randylyl was defiant in his insanity. "And who else do you presume made them, the dwarves perhaps?"
Everyone laughed, except for S.W., who was too surly, and of course Crotch, who was supposed to be a dwarf. After the laughter
died down to a roar Pinecone pointed a burly finger at Crotch. "Dwarf stupid! Hahahaha!"
Crotch glared at him, holding his axe. "Suck me, pointy ears."
"What dwarf say?!" Roared Pinecone. Now we came to possess some very interesting knowledge about Pinecone. Whereas most
elves would die horribly in melee combat, Pinecone (though not very bright) could use a bow in ways that made Jackie Chan
look like Steven Hawking.
As the horrible beating continued the wizard spoke up. "No, it would be far too dangerous to attempt an open assault on
the evil fortress! There is evil there that only sleeps when it runs out of JoltŪ Cola! We must go north to seek the sage
advice of the elves in Skae'batel!"
Randylyl spoke out of turn once more. "We already have an elf to give us advice. He's currently using a bow in ways it's
not meant for."
The wizard turned an angry eye on Pinecone. "Pinecone! A longbow is not meant for penetration! It is at the very best a
bashing weapon! Take it out of there immediately!"
Pinecone continued to torture the unfortunate dwarf and it came time for Phil to prove why he was the undisputed leader
of our group. He yelled out a spell. "Throw apple!" He cried, taking a red delicious from the fruit basket that adorned the
middle of the table.
The spell worked. The apple splattered on the elven barbarian's chest and knocked him off his victim. Everyone was glad
the wizard had saved the dwarf's life with his spell.
Crotch muttered something like, "Ach, laddy. I never thought I'd see the day when I got ravaged by a barbarian posing for
an elf."
Phil retook his place at the table and then looked about. "Anyone still in favor of asking Pinecone for elven wisdom raise
your hands and be hit with an apple spell."
Not even Randylyl the Mad dared to utter any of his ill begotten advice and so the great sage laid out our course of action.
"We shall go north to Skae'batel! To get there we must pass through the Great Central Mountains, ford the River of Misery,
trek across the Unpleasant Swamp, and possibly the Mountains of Death!"
Randylyl jumped up and shouted. "Idiot! Why can't we take the Eastern Road? It's shorter and it'll save time and anguish."
Thus was the lack-wit counsel put forth by Randylyl the Mad.
Phil's voice boomed throughout the dining room. "Away with your zany ideas, fool! We dare not take the Eastern Road, it
is too perilous!"
Randylyl was indignant in his malaise. "Perilous? The Illythian Department of Path Maintenance has just planted wild flowers
along the side of it! We could stop by the House of Pleasure and Uninhibited Women on the way there. What the devil kind of
peril are you talking about?"
The wizard raised a brow, tolerating the fool's words impatiently. "Well..." He started off, pausing for a moment to think.
"The traffic! Yes, the traffic would be too perilous."
At this point Randylyl had one of his fits of insane rage and began screaming nameless profanities and trying to smite
the wizard with his flail. After the party held him down 'til he tired himself out, we decided it was time to set off for
our journey, which would be perilous, but not nearly so perilous as if we had taken the Eastern Road. Oh Gods help those who
take the Eastern Road!
