Try Saying That to His Face

The day before we're putting Ganelon in to the gladiator arena to fight some summoned monsters, we are having dinner in the inn when a stranger approaches us. He introduces himself as '... Youvegototbekiddingme'.

'That's a curious name, sir. Is it Orcish?'

'No, I'm, uh, Mantrithor Thrax', he says, stumbling over his name again but at least getting it right. 'I will be your opponent tomorrow. I just wanted you to see who you'd be up against. But, please, don't let me interrupt your last meal.'

'Oh, tish and pish', I say. 'It's only the paladin's last meal.'

'No, we can give him a piece of fruit or something in the arena', says Brennan, trying to put Thrax at ease.

Ganelon seems okay with this plan. 'Yep. I will cast protection from evil and stand around chomping through an apple.' I think he fancies himself as the next Kirk. Either way, we invite Thrax to join us for a drink. 'Yes, have a lemonade.'

'Are you calling him a shandy drinker?', I ask, 'because that's not a particularly friendly welcome'.

'What? I hope the rest of you aren't drinking', Ganelon says, genuinely taken aback that we may be consuming alcohol in a fantasy inn.

'We've been happily drinking around you for the past six levels', says Brennan, getting a little ahead of himself for a 5th level character. But his point is made.

Thrax joins us for a drink, makes some smalltalk, then leaves us alone for the evening. 'Well, he seemed nice', says Afutavere.

The rest of us, however, succeed in sense motive checks and realise Thrax was being contemptuous. 'He clearly thinks he's going to win and only came here to rub our noses in what he sees as our inevitable defeat.'

'Well that's where you're wrong, pal, because we're going to dismiss your summoned creatures with an ease like they are our own spells!', says Ganelon, with l'esprit d'escalier in full effect.

'Yeah. He's gone, Ganelon.'

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