I have to hand it to him: Spending years raising a huge dangerous animal just to insult someone takes a lot of courage and hard work. Then again, he's asking me to do the difficult part. This is supposed to be an insult against Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, but I have a feeling I'm getting the worst of it.
I wade out into the muck and begin stomping on toads. Eight messy croaking deaths later...
Lobelia the toad appears.
Come on girl, back into your cage. This way. That's right. That's a good girl. Yeah. come here. Don't worry. I won't hurt-
Ow! Hey! What the hell? Okay. I take it back. I am totally going to hurt you now.
Lobelia might be scared of these tiny little toads, but she's not worried about me. She hops over and starts a scuffle.
This is bad. If I kill the toad, will Milo still pay up?
Thankfully, a few good smacks is all it takes to get Lobelia to back down and return to her cage. Milo pays up and I am once again unemployed.
Nobody else is hiring. Apparently being smelly and damp all day doesn't produce the kind of economic juggernaut necessary for hiring adventurers. Employment-wise, this place is a dry hole.
A deep muddy swamp is the worst place, methinks,
for the finding of stuff to put in our drinks.
But in the town of Frogmorten, that's just what they serve.
You can try it yourself. (If you've got the nerve.)
The barkeep is famous for his boggy old brew.
The patrons are asking, "Does this taste froggy to you?"
"Why did I come here?" I find myself grieving.
Well, I came to get paid. Which I did. So I'm leaving.
Next Time: Anywhere but here...