Sorry man, like, that was me. I had organic garbanzo bean salad and tofu for, like, dinner man. Sorry everybody, sorry, sorry. Like.

I will not wear pink until the generation that still associates pink with little girls are all dead. Think I might be dead by then too, so the question is therefore rendered moot.

Every time you post, I want to clean my glasses...why is that?

I'm with you, I can't imagine hands as big as mine being able to crochet. Mend a fishing net, maybe...

"My thanks, good Rathil! Good night to all, and Ifritius, I hope you will consider granting the boon that I have asked of you, if not to assuage my own curiosity, then that of my family's." With that Caracatus walks up the stairs to find his room.

"Then well met, have you accommodations for me as well?"

"Twisted, sweet hobbit? Never! Know you not that Druids are sworn to tell the truth at all times?" He gives her a wink.

"Calipe," says Caracatus, once you have finished with your dance, please be so kind as to fetch the key to your finest room for Lord Ifritius. And while you are at it, frtch the key to some broom closet for myself. I have slept sitting up for two nights now and would feign stretch out this night. There's a good hobbit."

Unfortunate for you, perhaps fortunate for me, if you consent to the boon that I have requested of you for my families sake. Be not troubled, Sir! Your wait can be made most pleasant here, for there is good company and fine accommodations to be had. Say you will tarry awhile with our merry band and you won't regret it."

"My Thanks." He replies absently, returning his attention to Ifritius.

"Quite true, Sir. I myself am of the Earth persuasion and indeed, none since before nor after your time among us has ever been aligned so." His brow furrows in thought, "Perhaps, since I have this opportunity before me, I might ask you the boon of casting a divination to determine why this has been so?"

Not I, sweet halfling, I was dozing by the hearth, tho' I did hear a ruckus after your departure for the festival."

Hearing Draven's words, Caracatus says cheerfully, "Perhaps our friend Azareak would be willing to part with a haunch of that fine dear for us to sup upon. As payment for the ease of her malaise?" He looks at the vampire and holds out his hand with the palm cupped in the universal sign of supplication.

Sensing the opening and closing of the back kitchen door, Cracatus sniffs the air and then calls out. "Caliope, please be so good as to fix us something more substantial to eat that the broth, excellent tho' it is. I for one have not eaten in two days. My thanks, little one." With this said he returns his attention back to Ifritius.

"Alas, Sir, twas not I that you remember, tho' I wish that it was. It was my great grandfather's sire, whom I'm told that I resemble somewhat. If we had met when I was a babe, I doubt not that the memory of it would be with me still. The aura that you project is unmistakable." He turns and raises his tankard to his old acquaintance RéAnna.

"I take it you are here for Barbus?" He asks of Ifritius. We do not know when he may return for his errand was of a perilous and urgent manner. Might we humble few attempt to divert you a while, until his return?" He waves towards the others, then sips the proffered drink. " I for one would feign hear of some of your adventures over the eons of you long and illustious career."

"My thanks O Ifritius, it is indeed an honor. I am Caracatus of the house of Gwrtheyrn. I believe you knew my family. We sheltered you for a time after you were expelled by your own kith and kin lo those many years ago."

Good evening, lady vampire. Although not usually disposed to do so, I will help your malaise. I can tell from the stench of your breath that the orc that you have consumed is even now fermenting inside of you. You will soon burst from within unless something is done." He reaches into his robes and withdraws a small amount of herbs. "Here, take these and chew until it is all pulp, swallow and then spit out the pulp and all will be well."
He sips his broth once again, looking at the Dark One.

Caracatus returns from the kitchen, blowing the steam from a hot bowl of broth. He nods to the ladies, "Good evening." Then he turns to the little creature at the bar. "And good evening to you, Dark One. We have not met but I know who you are from my studies and travels, only, it was said that you had finally met your end some time ago." He bows a little in respect.

The Druid opens one eye and looks sadly at the minotaur, "Blessed with size and strength though you are, my mighty friend, it's a pity that your wisdom does not equal it."
With a creak, the Druid leans forward and lets the front legs of his chair come down with a thump. He stretches and makes his way to the kitchen for some broth, showing no fear for the mighty beast-man who scowls at his passing form.