d20 Dog Soul Balok's Books of Banter Book 2 - Battle Cries.pdf - Dog Soul - R5700

Authors - Alana Abbott, Tom Abbott,

Andre Green, Steven A. Tinner

Line Developer - Deborah Balsam

Cover - Sean C. Frolich

Layout - Deborah Balsam

visit our website at: www.dogsoul.net

‘Balok’s Book of Banter : Battle Cries’

You are exhausted, and the only inn in the

small village where you have now arrived

seems to be in the midst of some sort of

raucous party. Hoping for a stiff drink, a

long bath, and some peace and quiet, you

open the door to see a host of dancers en-

tertaining a rowdy crowd, who show no

sign of tiring of their hooting and hollering.

This has not been your day.

Before you can answer, the hooded man

looks up. “Unless your specials include a

quiet room, I am afraid they are of no in-

terest to us,” he says. He seems to look up

at her from under his hood, but his face is

hidden in shadow. “But two full meals will

do, and I believe my friend could use a stiff

drink. Should it run dry, you are to bring

another, but you are not to ask how we

are and if everything is all right. The world

would have to change extraordinarily for

that to be a truth. Do we understand one

another?” His voice takes on a dangerously

low tone as his gloved had ﬂ icks the girl a

jewel of greater value than a week’s worth

of dinners at least.

You have always been a survivor. Where

others have failed, you have persevered,

continuing on battle after battle. You’ve

seen a great many conﬂ icts, survived a

great many conﬂ icts, and on a night like

tonight, after yet another difﬁ cult trial by

arms, all you really want is a little peace of

mind. One of the dancers swirls around you

as you enter, trying to draw you in, and your

eyes connect with a ﬁ gure near the back

of the room, at the only table that hasn’t

succumbed to rhythmic pounding of beer

mugs by patrons working their way into

a drunken stupor. You avoid the perform-

ers and make your way to the empty seat

where the ﬁ gure sits.

She vanishes quickly, eager to be away from

your eerie companion, who accepts your

thanks with a wave of his gloved hand. As

you offer to repay his generosity, he laughs,

and the sound of his voice in laughter is

more disturbing than his shadowed face.

“My friend,” he says cheerfully, “if you wish

to repay me, merely tell me of the battles

you have seen! One with as many scars as

you sport must have seen battle upon bat-

tle.” Before you can protest, he says, “Your

adventures are not important to me, but I

crave to hear the words of men charging

into battle, of heroes reclaiming lost loves.

Tell me of the cries of victory and defeat.”

From beneath his hood, the small man

gestures to the seat at his small table, then

scribbles into a thick, leather-bound jour-

nal. He seems satisﬁ ed that you will be a

quiet table-mate and makes no effort to

draw you into conversation. After short

moments, the waitress makes her way over,

dodging between a pair of halﬂ ings who

have left their drinks to join in the dancing

with abandon.

You feel your mouth open to deny his re-

quest when memories begin spilling from

your lips. As your dinner is placed before

you, you recall all of the screams you have

heard as you’ve headed into battle…

“Welcome!” she shouts over the music, grin-

ning at the volume of the establishment.

“Would you like to hear our specials?”

Last man to kill an orc is a rotten egg!

Last orc to kill a human will die screaming

I regret that you have but one life to give for

my country!

For God, Country, and My Sister’s Honor!

Five hundred of them vs. the three of us? That’s

hardly fair... for them.

For God, Country, and His Sister’s Honor!

For God, Country, and My Mother’s Pancakes.

Only thirty to go!

Bacon!

Legion One, advance. Legion Two, advance.

Legion three, advance. Legions 4-50, secure

the ﬂ anks...

Death before dishonor!

I’ll not share the same sun as the dogs of Wu!

I’ll take the thousand on the left, you take the

thousand on the right.

Give us back our chickens!

For the Treasure!

For Honor, glory, and immortality!

Screw glory. For the money!

I’m sorry. I had no idea the woman in question

was your wife, Never the less, you have im-

pugned my honor. Draw your weapon.

I have killed three score men with this blade.

Each of them was a master of his ﬁ ghting style.

Cry Havoc and let slip the war dogs!

It’s almost a disgrace to sully my sword with

your common blood.

Let loose the hogs of war!

I am reminded of the saga of Felix the Bold.

Fools beset him as well. Thus I quote him: ‘Look

to your gods. Make good your time.’

Let loose the puppies of war!

Release the dragon!

Not in the face!

Go go ﬁ endish bunny!

Just keep your blood off my new suit of armor

Celestial Badger, I choose you!

Let’s get this party started right!

Destroy the inﬁ -

dels!

Destroy the

ﬁ dels!

Never quote me the odds!

Destroy the

ﬁ ddles!

It’s 1 to 10 odds? You want to surrender?

I don’t care how tall you are. Step away from

the children or I will rend you limb from limb!

Five to one odds eh? I like my chances!

Rape the canoes and ride the women home!

There’s just one troll left! We outnumber him

two to one!

The world is mine!

By my dark powers, I shall turn you all into little

ﬂ uffy bunnies!

My knife will cut through you faster than I

could carve a pumpkin.

Kill them. Leave none standing.

I don’t care if you are the Dread Lord of the

Abyss. Threaten my family again and my blade

will be the last thing you see.

Kill them all... except for the one in the red shirt

carrying the axe. That’s my wife’s nephew. I’ll

never hear the end of it.

Half-breed though I be, I am still man enough

to deal with you.

My elven blood may be thin, but it will never

yield to orcish scum.

RUN AWAY!

They say that elves are ten times the ﬁ ghters

humans are. I’d say that still makes me ﬁ ve

times better than you.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Here we go again...

This is all your fault...

If at ﬁ rst you don’t succeed, get the heck out of

[insert name of town].

You can have as many arrows as you want... in

your belly!

Bring me my brown pants.

Taste cold steel, pig dog.

You have been weighed, measured, and found

wanting.

Hook them! Hammer them! Take out their

kneecaps!

First the stone goes in my sling, then the stone

goes in your head.

We’re ﬁ ghting ogres lads, get your climbing

gear ready!

I love the smell of bat guano and sulfur in the

morning. Smells like.... FIREBALL.

They might be twice our size, but they’ve only

half our brains!

d20 Dog Soul Balok's Books of Banter Book 2 - Battle Cries.pdf

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