Taverns; Nothing good comes from them, or at least nothing good that is not digested. Gaellin doesn’t have the strongest stomach for ale, but what he does ingest goes straight to his head. I almost don’t blame the men for laughing. A lalafell of his size claiming he was the strongest man in this tavern would seem almost ridiculous. While I believe the claims of him being the best hunter to be false it didn’t stop him from making them.
And that was all it took a pint of ale and strongly said words and Gaellin had bet the rest of our paltry sum of gil on a race. The race was to track and slay the mighty Monarch Ogrefly. It was said to be the biggest Damselfly in the entirety of the Black Shroud. I am not quite sure how I got wrapped up in all this, but it was my gil.
We gathered some information and heard that the Ogrefly was recently seen near some cliff sides deep in the Southern Shroud and that often it only came out at night. So we set up camp and ate bad dry food and waited tracked the monarch for days. I was ready to give up and lose my gil, Gaellin was determined to prove his honor of the bet he hardly remembered making at that point.
One night slightly past when the moon was in the middle of the sky we spotted our prey. I jumped for joy and the loud noise of my excitement spooked the fly into attacking us. It actually wasn’t too much trouble as we had caught it off guard. We quickly dispatched of it and Gaellin made his way back to the tavern with his trophy. The men apologized that they’d spent their side of the betting gil on hunting the thing in the first place.
That was that, all of our time wasted and not a gil to fill our coffers for it. I tried to explain to Gaellin it was what he deserved for running his mouth, but my words fell of deft ears. He had a new fire in his eyes and he said “Do you think there are more Beasts for us to hunt out there?”