In the patchwork kingdoms where spellwork tangles with cobblestone roads, every letter matters—and no delivery is too dangerous for the most unlikely couriers in the realm.
A hobbit with an unshakable belief in the sacred oath of the Post: nothing stops the delivery. At his side looms Olaf, an ogre of immense size and surprising patience, sworn bodyguard, shield wall, and occasional problem-solver whose solutions usually involve lifting, smashing, or politely intimidating anything that threatens the route. Olaf's trusty stuffed bear Teddy is always with him as backup.
Together they guide a creaking postal wagon pulled by stubborn draft beasts across fae-haunted forests, cursed moors, goblin toll roads, and cities stacked high with intrigue. By day, Slappy sorts letters that whisper secrets, glow with unstable magic, or occasionally bite. By night, Olaf stands watch, sharpening his ax and offering simple, earnest advice that’s often wiser than it sounds.
And sometimes, for "extra postage", some of those letters make unintended stops for prying eyes who might be interested in the news of some wealthy lord or politician. If they are lucky, these brief detours of the mail are uneventful, but sometimes, they can lead to unplanned additional adventures, close calls and other entanglements with the local authorities the postal hobbit would rather avoid.
Each delivery is a story waiting to happen: love letters that spark duels, royal decrees that can start wars, misaddressed packages that summon demons, and lost mail that might change the fate of kingdoms.
It was just another day on the delivery route when Olaf and Slappy discovered a stowaway in their wagon, an explorer curious to see the world above. And so begins their adventures across the lands, making their way along the treacherous roads as their caravan thunders onward.
This is a private fantasy adventure. This roleplay is invite only and we are not accepting any other players. If you have not been invited to participate, DO NOT POST HERE.
A hobbit with an unshakable belief in the sacred oath of the Post: nothing stops the delivery. At his side looms Olaf, an ogre of immense size and surprising patience, sworn bodyguard, shield wall, and occasional problem-solver whose solutions usually involve lifting, smashing, or politely intimidating anything that threatens the route. Olaf's trusty stuffed bear Teddy is always with him as backup.
Together they guide a creaking postal wagon pulled by stubborn draft beasts across fae-haunted forests, cursed moors, goblin toll roads, and cities stacked high with intrigue. By day, Slappy sorts letters that whisper secrets, glow with unstable magic, or occasionally bite. By night, Olaf stands watch, sharpening his ax and offering simple, earnest advice that’s often wiser than it sounds.
And sometimes, for "extra postage", some of those letters make unintended stops for prying eyes who might be interested in the news of some wealthy lord or politician. If they are lucky, these brief detours of the mail are uneventful, but sometimes, they can lead to unplanned additional adventures, close calls and other entanglements with the local authorities the postal hobbit would rather avoid.
Each delivery is a story waiting to happen: love letters that spark duels, royal decrees that can start wars, misaddressed packages that summon demons, and lost mail that might change the fate of kingdoms.
It was just another day on the delivery route when Olaf and Slappy discovered a stowaway in their wagon, an explorer curious to see the world above. And so begins their adventures across the lands, making their way along the treacherous roads as their caravan thunders onward.
This is a private fantasy adventure. This roleplay is invite only and we are not accepting any other players. If you have not been invited to participate, DO NOT POST HERE.
The Bent Coin tavern hummed with low laughter, clinking mugs, and the smoky smell of cheap pipeweed. At a scarred oak table near the hearth sat Slappy Underbough, a halfling with muddy boots dangling well above the floor and a grin that suggested he knew something everyone else didn’t.
Cards slapped down in a tight circle of rough hands—human, dwarf, and one suspiciously scarred half-orc. Silver coins piled and shifted with each deal. Slappy’s eyes flicked from the cards to the pot and back again, quick as minnows in a stream. His fingers, small and nimble, moved constantly—scratching his chin, tugging his sleeve, straightening the edge of the table. Entirely innocent motions. Entirely.
“Funny thing,” rumbled the half-orc at last, narrowing his eyes. “I’ve lost five hands in a row, and you ain’t even lookin’ surprised.”
The table went quiet. A card slid from Slappy’s sleeve and fluttered to the floor like a dying moth.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then chairs scraped back. Hands curled into fists. A dagger appeared where a mug had been. The friendly tavern glow seemed to dim, shadows stretching long and sharp across the table.
Slappy looked up slowly, his grin fading into something more calculating. “Now, now,” he said, raising his hands just a little, “let’s not do anything we can’t laugh about later.”
No one laughed.
And in that moment, Slappy realized two very important truths: first, his luck may have finally run out and second, the nearest exit was much farther away than he remembered.
Cards slapped down in a tight circle of rough hands—human, dwarf, and one suspiciously scarred half-orc. Silver coins piled and shifted with each deal. Slappy’s eyes flicked from the cards to the pot and back again, quick as minnows in a stream. His fingers, small and nimble, moved constantly—scratching his chin, tugging his sleeve, straightening the edge of the table. Entirely innocent motions. Entirely.
“Funny thing,” rumbled the half-orc at last, narrowing his eyes. “I’ve lost five hands in a row, and you ain’t even lookin’ surprised.”
The table went quiet. A card slid from Slappy’s sleeve and fluttered to the floor like a dying moth.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then chairs scraped back. Hands curled into fists. A dagger appeared where a mug had been. The friendly tavern glow seemed to dim, shadows stretching long and sharp across the table.
Slappy looked up slowly, his grin fading into something more calculating. “Now, now,” he said, raising his hands just a little, “let’s not do anything we can’t laugh about later.”
No one laughed.
And in that moment, Slappy realized two very important truths: first, his luck may have finally run out and second, the nearest exit was much farther away than he remembered.
Outside the Bent Coin, a human toddler appeared to be rifling through a bin of miscellaneous refuse. Bins are noted to have high likelihood of FREE and tasty viddles.
There come a few odd looks but generally no one interrupts the child’s trash hunt.
As they reach deeper into the bin their little hood falls back to reveal a shaggy mane brimmed mushroom cap instead of a small human head! Several passersby have a gander but move on when it seems the child is actually a Myconid who has located something exciting! They dance in a little circle after examining a slightly damp half of a sandwich, a large chunk of boiled egg with shell bits, and a peach with a potential worm friend and miscellaneous food debris stuck to it.
There seems to be a brief but agreeable negotiation with the worm as the Myconid takes their bounty behind a cart to settle down for dinner. A jagged, jack-o-lantern style mouth opens to receive the chunk of egg, shell and all, greedily mashing the soft treat like a felt puppet might…
Two small and stubby fungus hands split the peach remains and deposit a quarter into a small glass jar with soil. They gently pluck the worm from the other portion and deposit them into the jar with their dinner. Two dark eyes, sparkling like labradorite, fix on the rest of the slightly mushed fruit before gobbling it up; coffee grounds, egg shell, and all!
Satisfied, they wrap their half sandwich of questionable freshness in a waxy cloth wrap and stow it inside their small traveler’s pack.
There come a few odd looks but generally no one interrupts the child’s trash hunt.
As they reach deeper into the bin their little hood falls back to reveal a shaggy mane brimmed mushroom cap instead of a small human head! Several passersby have a gander but move on when it seems the child is actually a Myconid who has located something exciting! They dance in a little circle after examining a slightly damp half of a sandwich, a large chunk of boiled egg with shell bits, and a peach with a potential worm friend and miscellaneous food debris stuck to it.
There seems to be a brief but agreeable negotiation with the worm as the Myconid takes their bounty behind a cart to settle down for dinner. A jagged, jack-o-lantern style mouth opens to receive the chunk of egg, shell and all, greedily mashing the soft treat like a felt puppet might…
Two small and stubby fungus hands split the peach remains and deposit a quarter into a small glass jar with soil. They gently pluck the worm from the other portion and deposit them into the jar with their dinner. Two dark eyes, sparkling like labradorite, fix on the rest of the slightly mushed fruit before gobbling it up; coffee grounds, egg shell, and all!
Satisfied, they wrap their half sandwich of questionable freshness in a waxy cloth wrap and stow it inside their small traveler’s pack.
Slappy’s mind raced.
“Right,” he said, as his feet swung uselessly. “This looks bad.”
The dwarf snorted. “Aye. That’s because it is bad.”
The human who had stabbed the dagger blade down into the table yanked it free and raised it threateningly. "What are you trying to pull on us, peck?"
The half-orc loomed closer, towering over the table. “You cheat me,” he growled, tapping the table where the coins lay. “You cheat us.”
Slappy swallowed, then let his shoulders sag. The calculating look slipped away, replaced by something smaller, almost sheepish. “All right,” he said quietly. “I might’ve… encouraged fortune a touch.”
The dagger flashed closer.
“But!” Slappy continued quickly, eyes brightening, “before anyone does anything regrettable—like murder, which is famously bad for business—might I suggest a compromise?”
"You ain't talkin' your way out of this one," The dwarf replied angrily.
"Hold everything," Slappy exclaimed suddenly as if distracted. He got a curious look and narrowed his eyes, pointed at the dwarf's cards. "Will you look at that..."
"What," The dwarf demanded. He cut his eyes down to his hand lying face down in front of his chair. The others were momentarily distracted. All eyes went to the cards in question.
No one spoke, but no one stabbed him either. The half-orc hesitated. The dwarf scratched his beard. Tension hung like a drawn bowstring.
"Fold," Slappy cried as he dove under the table. He pulled out a signal whistle hanging on a cord around his neck. A shrill pitch filled the bar as Slappy attempted to tumble out of the way from under the table, dodge any attempt to grab him and skedaddle for the door.
“HALFLING!” roared the half-orc.
Roll 1d6:
1. Slappy fails epically and is immediately caught.
2. He rolls the wrong way—no one grabs him immediately but he's further from the door and cornered
3. Slappy is hit in the back by a dagger thrown by one of the card players
4. Slappy makes a break for it but trips, falls, and is prone
5. Slappy manages to get out from under the table, break for the door but his escape is blocked
6. He gets out from under the table and makes a break for the door, but the others are in hot pursuit and gaining
“Right,” he said, as his feet swung uselessly. “This looks bad.”
The dwarf snorted. “Aye. That’s because it is bad.”
The human who had stabbed the dagger blade down into the table yanked it free and raised it threateningly. "What are you trying to pull on us, peck?"
The half-orc loomed closer, towering over the table. “You cheat me,” he growled, tapping the table where the coins lay. “You cheat us.”
Slappy swallowed, then let his shoulders sag. The calculating look slipped away, replaced by something smaller, almost sheepish. “All right,” he said quietly. “I might’ve… encouraged fortune a touch.”
The dagger flashed closer.
“But!” Slappy continued quickly, eyes brightening, “before anyone does anything regrettable—like murder, which is famously bad for business—might I suggest a compromise?”
"You ain't talkin' your way out of this one," The dwarf replied angrily.
"Hold everything," Slappy exclaimed suddenly as if distracted. He got a curious look and narrowed his eyes, pointed at the dwarf's cards. "Will you look at that..."
"What," The dwarf demanded. He cut his eyes down to his hand lying face down in front of his chair. The others were momentarily distracted. All eyes went to the cards in question.
No one spoke, but no one stabbed him either. The half-orc hesitated. The dwarf scratched his beard. Tension hung like a drawn bowstring.
"Fold," Slappy cried as he dove under the table. He pulled out a signal whistle hanging on a cord around his neck. A shrill pitch filled the bar as Slappy attempted to tumble out of the way from under the table, dodge any attempt to grab him and skedaddle for the door.
“HALFLING!” roared the half-orc.
Roll 1d6:
1. Slappy fails epically and is immediately caught.
2. He rolls the wrong way—no one grabs him immediately but he's further from the door and cornered
3. Slappy is hit in the back by a dagger thrown by one of the card players
4. Slappy makes a break for it but trips, falls, and is prone
5. Slappy manages to get out from under the table, break for the door but his escape is blocked
6. He gets out from under the table and makes a break for the door, but the others are in hot pursuit and gaining
rolled 1d6 and got a natural 1.
Note: What happens to the halfling?
Further down the road from The Bent Coin was a stable. There, a large ogre was feeding two oxen. The great beasts grazed on feed in their stalls. The ogre, wearing all leather with a great ax strapped to his back and a stuffed bear hanging from his belt stroked the animals gently. Carefully, he removed the bear from his belt and held it out. Olaf took the bear's paw and had it gently repeat the gesture he'd made with his own hand.
"Be gentle, Teddy," Olaf instructed. "They may be big, but they can be easily startled. The ox paid no attention as the ogre's teddy bear rubbed its back. Just then a shrill, high pitched tone split the night for a moment before going silent. Olaf raised the stuffed bear to his face.
"Did you hear that, Teddy," Olaf asked the bear. He used the index finger of the hand he was using to hold the bear up to make its head nod. "It sounds like Slappy is in trouble."
He then turned to the oxen. "Unfortunately, dinner will have to wait."
Olaf placed Teddy back on his belt and quickly grabbed the reigns of the beasts and moved them to the postal wagon. It was a square, box type wagon with a bench-style seat for the halfling up front on the roof. The wheels were solid round circles lacking spokes. A human could sit in it, but it would be a tight fit. The wagon itself was all wooden with a hard top. Two hinged doors on the rear with a latch on the outside secured them.
It took Olaf a moment to get the animals in position and connect them to the wagon's yoke. The whistle did not sound again. That likely meant the boss was in trouble and may not be able to give a second signal. Olaf knew that one very long, loud burst meant the halfling was in trouble. After several moments that felt like an eternity, Olaf lead the oxen and the wagon down the street as fast as he and the beasts could move toward The Bent Coin Tavern.
As they got closer, it was clear there was some sort of hub-bub going on inside. Although he wasn't smart, the ogre was pretty positive the hobbit was in the middle of whatever was going on and it likely had to do with a card game. Olaf hoped he was not too late. He placed the reigns in the driver seat, secured them and without missing a beat, shoved the doors to the tavern open and pulled his battle ax. The oxen immediately stopped, looked at each other and sat there awaiting their driver.
"Be gentle, Teddy," Olaf instructed. "They may be big, but they can be easily startled. The ox paid no attention as the ogre's teddy bear rubbed its back. Just then a shrill, high pitched tone split the night for a moment before going silent. Olaf raised the stuffed bear to his face.
"Did you hear that, Teddy," Olaf asked the bear. He used the index finger of the hand he was using to hold the bear up to make its head nod. "It sounds like Slappy is in trouble."
He then turned to the oxen. "Unfortunately, dinner will have to wait."
Olaf placed Teddy back on his belt and quickly grabbed the reigns of the beasts and moved them to the postal wagon. It was a square, box type wagon with a bench-style seat for the halfling up front on the roof. The wheels were solid round circles lacking spokes. A human could sit in it, but it would be a tight fit. The wagon itself was all wooden with a hard top. Two hinged doors on the rear with a latch on the outside secured them.
It took Olaf a moment to get the animals in position and connect them to the wagon's yoke. The whistle did not sound again. That likely meant the boss was in trouble and may not be able to give a second signal. Olaf knew that one very long, loud burst meant the halfling was in trouble. After several moments that felt like an eternity, Olaf lead the oxen and the wagon down the street as fast as he and the beasts could move toward The Bent Coin Tavern.
As they got closer, it was clear there was some sort of hub-bub going on inside. Although he wasn't smart, the ogre was pretty positive the hobbit was in the middle of whatever was going on and it likely had to do with a card game. Olaf hoped he was not too late. He placed the reigns in the driver seat, secured them and without missing a beat, shoved the doors to the tavern open and pulled his battle ax. The oxen immediately stopped, looked at each other and sat there awaiting their driver.
Even with relatively limited knowledge on varied humanoid-customs, they knew sudden, shrill sounds were not typically a marker of “fun”. If shouting (displeased or joyous) rang out among gatherings it was often a good indication that something interesting occurred. Our full-bellied mushroom stood to sate another appetite; intense curiosity.
The call of a whistle only added intrigue!
The appearance of a cart was a rather convenient opportunity which the mushroom-being chalked up to a “blessed” coincidence! They knew flesh-beings spent considerable time inside the big boxes with glowing ports; perhaps there was time to get a good look & make a few notes! This evening was really rounding out!
The curious Myconid took care to avoid oxen mouths and hooves by lingering at the back end of the cart. There, they began to calculate a climbing route with the aid of environmental surroundings. There was a perfect spot up above at one of the glowing view-portals.
Tenacity remained intact while they made their way, slowly, up toward the window with the help of a bench, a planter, and the cart. What they saw inside was truly astounding!
A furious scribbling of notes and court-room-worthy doodles painted a rather epic version of the scenario at hand with the added bonus of zero context.
The call of a whistle only added intrigue!
The appearance of a cart was a rather convenient opportunity which the mushroom-being chalked up to a “blessed” coincidence! They knew flesh-beings spent considerable time inside the big boxes with glowing ports; perhaps there was time to get a good look & make a few notes! This evening was really rounding out!
The curious Myconid took care to avoid oxen mouths and hooves by lingering at the back end of the cart. There, they began to calculate a climbing route with the aid of environmental surroundings. There was a perfect spot up above at one of the glowing view-portals.
Tenacity remained intact while they made their way, slowly, up toward the window with the help of a bench, a planter, and the cart. What they saw inside was truly astounding!
A furious scribbling of notes and court-room-worthy doodles painted a rather epic version of the scenario at hand with the added bonus of zero context.
As Slappy dove under the table, he put the signal whistle to his lips as he rolled out from under it. Unfortunately for him, one of his fellow card players was waiting as he made his exit and immediately scooped him off the floor by his neck and held him at eye level. As soon as the hobbit was face to face with the man, he released the whistle from his lips and the shrill tone stopped. An awkward silence fell over the room for several tense moments.
"Well, now, peck," The human holding him said menacingly as he enunciated each word. "Planning to cheat us and cut out with our money?"
"Don't be silly," The halfling replied. "The money is all on the table still." He forced a laugh and pointed behind him. Since he was facing the wrong direction, he couldn't actually see the table and only pointed vaguely over his shoulder in that direction.
"Oh this is funny to you is it," The dwarf demanded, coming around his human counterpart to face Slappy.
"Well, er, um... it was intended to be," Slappy tried to explain letting out another forced chuckle. "Let me explain. The plan was I was going to win the pot, pretend to abscond with it and instead of fleeing, I was going to go to the bar and buy all of you a round of drinks and split the money. It was an ill conceived attempt to lighten the mood. We're all friends. I mean... I'm your postal hobbit and the emperor would frown upon the murder of a postal carrier. It's against the law, you know..."
"You not fool us," The half-orc roared. "You plan to take money and run."
"Don't be ridiculous," Slappy protested. "You saw how far I got. I had no chance of making it to the door had I planned to do so. Even if I did, then what? Let's be reasonable here. I deliver all of your parcels and letters!"
Roll 1d6 to see what happens when Olaf enters:
1. A fight breaks out, Olaf and Slappy are arrested and taken to the constable's office and spend the night in jail.
2. After a tense stand off, Olaf has to attack and the fight ends with them fleeing and taking off of on the postal wagon.
3. The ogre bursts in, there is a moment of confusion and Slappy manages to get free and run for the door.
4. Olaf bursts in and they release him when ogre tells them to drop him. They walk away without a fight.
5. The barkeep intervenes and demands they release the hobbit. Things end peacefully. Olaf stands down.
6. The human drops Slappy and the room bursts into laughter as he's slapped on the back. The situation deescalates a moment before Olaf enters.
"Well, now, peck," The human holding him said menacingly as he enunciated each word. "Planning to cheat us and cut out with our money?"
"Don't be silly," The halfling replied. "The money is all on the table still." He forced a laugh and pointed behind him. Since he was facing the wrong direction, he couldn't actually see the table and only pointed vaguely over his shoulder in that direction.
"Oh this is funny to you is it," The dwarf demanded, coming around his human counterpart to face Slappy.
"Well, er, um... it was intended to be," Slappy tried to explain letting out another forced chuckle. "Let me explain. The plan was I was going to win the pot, pretend to abscond with it and instead of fleeing, I was going to go to the bar and buy all of you a round of drinks and split the money. It was an ill conceived attempt to lighten the mood. We're all friends. I mean... I'm your postal hobbit and the emperor would frown upon the murder of a postal carrier. It's against the law, you know..."
"You not fool us," The half-orc roared. "You plan to take money and run."
"Don't be ridiculous," Slappy protested. "You saw how far I got. I had no chance of making it to the door had I planned to do so. Even if I did, then what? Let's be reasonable here. I deliver all of your parcels and letters!"
Roll 1d6 to see what happens when Olaf enters:
1. A fight breaks out, Olaf and Slappy are arrested and taken to the constable's office and spend the night in jail.
2. After a tense stand off, Olaf has to attack and the fight ends with them fleeing and taking off of on the postal wagon.
3. The ogre bursts in, there is a moment of confusion and Slappy manages to get free and run for the door.
4. Olaf bursts in and they release him when ogre tells them to drop him. They walk away without a fight.
5. The barkeep intervenes and demands they release the hobbit. Things end peacefully. Olaf stands down.
6. The human drops Slappy and the room bursts into laughter as he's slapped on the back. The situation deescalates a moment before Olaf enters.
rolled 1d6 and got a natural 3.
Note: What happens to the halfling?
Olaf threw the doors open, battle ax in hand. Suddenly, all eyes shifted to the ogre who towered over everyone in the room, including the half orc. The tavern fell dead silent. Olaf took one step inside. The floor groaned. His eyes searched the room before his gaze fell on the halfling currently being held like a sack of potatoes.
Olaf’s voice was low and heavy, like a boulder rolling downhill.
“Excuse me,” he said politely, each word thick with calm menace, “you have my friend there and I'd appreciate it if you put him down.”
The one holding the hobbit swallowed hard. He debated whether he should comply or use his hostage as leverage and order the ogre to back off.
“This doesn’t concern you, ogre,” the dwarf snapped, raising his chin. “He cheated.”
Slappy tried to wave from inside the man’s grip. He tried to greet Olaf, but his voice came out more like a choking flutter.
Olaf’s nostrils flared. He sniffed the air like a hound catching a trail slowly making his way forward. The floor boards creaked with each step.
Olaf took another step and a defensive stance with the ax and slowly made his way to the table. The card players raised their weapons and Slappy struggled some more, upsetting the man's balance slightly. The man released his grip on the halfling who hit the floor roughly with a thud. Without missing a beat, Slappy bolted for the door as soon as he got to his feet and didn't look back.
The ogre paused a few steps short of the man who had just dropped the hobbit. He seemed to relax his stance and rubbed his chin for a moment before he looked back up at the men. "He couldn't have stolen your money. It's all right there," Olaf stated calmly.
The ogre pointed to the pile of coins on the table surrounded by the hands of abandoned playing cards at each seat.
"He have card in sleeve. He win 10 times in a row," The half-orc argued.
The human mercenary who had released the halfling stepped forward raising his weapon now that Slappy had fled. “You’re gonna fight the whole tavern over a halfling cheat, ogre?”
Olaf turned his head to look at the mercenary directly and smiled. "My name is Olaf and there is no need to fight anyone. Take the coins and start the game over," the ogre said casually raising his ax again ever so slightly. "I would hate for things to get messy and my halfling friend will donate his share of the winnings to the pot."
"You let us keep the peck's money," The half-orc questioned.
Olaf nodded and turned to the bar keeper. "Please get my friends at the card table around of drinks on me," he instructed and dropped some coins on the counter to cover the tab as he turned to walk out. He paused at the door and looked back for a moment. "We'll see you all again next time we pass through here with your mail! Happy gaming and good luck everyone!"
The men at the table stared after the ogre but seemed to settle down. Olaf gave a friendly wave and exited the establishment. The card players put their weapons away when the door slammed shut and retook their seats. Only the halfling's remained empty. The human mercenary used his blade to scoot all of the piles of coins on the table into the center and began to count them out one coin at a time to each player. The dwarf, whose turn it was to be the dealer gathered the cards and scattered them face up so everyone in the game could see them, organizing the cards by suit. Once he had the full deck matched and laid out face up, he allowed the gamblers to inspect them to show there were no duplicates to be found, and stacked them together and shuffled.
One of the men grabbed the extra card from the floor that had fallen from the halfling's sleeve and tore it in half and tossed it into the fireplace in the corner. The paper card halves crinkled into an orange glowing ball before shriveling into gray ash among the fire's logs.
"3 Dragon ante," the dwarf declared and began to deal. The other patrons turned their attention back to their companions and things resumed as if nothing had ever happened inside The Bent Coin Tavern.
Olaf’s voice was low and heavy, like a boulder rolling downhill.
“Excuse me,” he said politely, each word thick with calm menace, “you have my friend there and I'd appreciate it if you put him down.”
The one holding the hobbit swallowed hard. He debated whether he should comply or use his hostage as leverage and order the ogre to back off.
“This doesn’t concern you, ogre,” the dwarf snapped, raising his chin. “He cheated.”
Slappy tried to wave from inside the man’s grip. He tried to greet Olaf, but his voice came out more like a choking flutter.
Olaf’s nostrils flared. He sniffed the air like a hound catching a trail slowly making his way forward. The floor boards creaked with each step.
Olaf took another step and a defensive stance with the ax and slowly made his way to the table. The card players raised their weapons and Slappy struggled some more, upsetting the man's balance slightly. The man released his grip on the halfling who hit the floor roughly with a thud. Without missing a beat, Slappy bolted for the door as soon as he got to his feet and didn't look back.
The ogre paused a few steps short of the man who had just dropped the hobbit. He seemed to relax his stance and rubbed his chin for a moment before he looked back up at the men. "He couldn't have stolen your money. It's all right there," Olaf stated calmly.
The ogre pointed to the pile of coins on the table surrounded by the hands of abandoned playing cards at each seat.
"He have card in sleeve. He win 10 times in a row," The half-orc argued.
The human mercenary who had released the halfling stepped forward raising his weapon now that Slappy had fled. “You’re gonna fight the whole tavern over a halfling cheat, ogre?”
Olaf turned his head to look at the mercenary directly and smiled. "My name is Olaf and there is no need to fight anyone. Take the coins and start the game over," the ogre said casually raising his ax again ever so slightly. "I would hate for things to get messy and my halfling friend will donate his share of the winnings to the pot."
"You let us keep the peck's money," The half-orc questioned.
Olaf nodded and turned to the bar keeper. "Please get my friends at the card table around of drinks on me," he instructed and dropped some coins on the counter to cover the tab as he turned to walk out. He paused at the door and looked back for a moment. "We'll see you all again next time we pass through here with your mail! Happy gaming and good luck everyone!"
The men at the table stared after the ogre but seemed to settle down. Olaf gave a friendly wave and exited the establishment. The card players put their weapons away when the door slammed shut and retook their seats. Only the halfling's remained empty. The human mercenary used his blade to scoot all of the piles of coins on the table into the center and began to count them out one coin at a time to each player. The dwarf, whose turn it was to be the dealer gathered the cards and scattered them face up so everyone in the game could see them, organizing the cards by suit. Once he had the full deck matched and laid out face up, he allowed the gamblers to inspect them to show there were no duplicates to be found, and stacked them together and shuffled.
One of the men grabbed the extra card from the floor that had fallen from the halfling's sleeve and tore it in half and tossed it into the fireplace in the corner. The paper card halves crinkled into an orange glowing ball before shriveling into gray ash among the fire's logs.
"3 Dragon ante," the dwarf declared and began to deal. The other patrons turned their attention back to their companions and things resumed as if nothing had ever happened inside The Bent Coin Tavern.
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