Sir Zomberth is finishing recounting his latest dungeoneering exploits (maybe against a dragon?) to his former pal, Sir Kolf of the Isosceles. Gladly quaffing meads, he talks for about 9d20 hours before closing with the famous last words: "Anyway, I hope this was not too boring".
Only then he realizes that the whole "Crooked Armpit", proud watering hole for destitute adventurers, is completely silent, only a small rat running between the tables. All patrons, bored to death by Brave but Boring Sir Zomberth's incessant banter, have fled.
Only Sir Kolf was not so lucky. He shoulda have increased his Saving Throws versus Blather - a wise choice when your best friend, with a Charisma in the negative side, is about as charming as a pile of pig dung.
We have an officer like this on the force... no names will be mentioned but I know EXACTLY what that "bag-o-bones" feels like. Uh-Oh, here he comes now. Quick, act casual! (whistles innocently...) Later ~ Chris.
And to you, Lord Pappadhum, on occasion of presenting another fine and mirthful vignette, a toast! To ye and thy kin! Should thou ever venture down to these southern latitudes, there shall be a cold mead awaiting thee. Hazaar! (Yo man, like, come to Australia and I'll shout you a beer or two.)