#bard things

So the evening goes like this:

Random Tavern Person: sing burn butcher burn!

Jaskier: *looks nervously Geralt* actually uuuh...

RTP 2: no give us the one about sliding down the mountain regretting your life choices!

Jaskier: errrr only vintage bard tonight guys.

RTP 3: what about that white haired son-of-a-bitch?

RTP 4: witchers are mean and I'm alone?

RTP 5: it wasn't my fault the mean witch dumped you?

Jaskier: *visibly sweating* these could be about anyone...

RTP 6: no no, Geralt of Rivia can suck my cock!

The entire tavern then erupts in agreement and soon everyone is chanting:

Geralt of Rivia can suck my cock, Geralt of Rivia can suck my cock!

or just tell me shit. What are your favorite video games? What do you wish you saw on the internet? Do you just need someone to listen?

Me too, fam 

Anyway whether it’s Shakarian discourse or fandom stuff or Star Trek I just want to answer things right now so thanks to all of you for following and enjoying my little posts, but double thanks to anyone for saying hi <3

Spending some time with the daughters before papa goes to war again. 

We (a druid, a bard, a ranger, and a monk) are in combat with a group of ghouls after a very bad streak of luck my usually drunk tiefling bard has thrown her sword across the room. I am very frustrated at this point.

DM: You are unarmed, because you crit failed and threw your sword across the room. What do you want to do?

Me: I use my tail to pull the ghoul down and then curb stomp it.

Druid: Can she do that?

Me: I don't see why not I have a tail and I'm wearing boots.

DM: I'll allow it, but you have beat a strength check of 15.

Me: 16.

Monk: No way.

DM: Roll to hit.

Me: 17. I do three damge.

*silence settles over the table*

DM: You curb stomp the ghoul to death, you drunk maniac.

Me: I celebrate with a drink.

Ranger: We are still in combat. You will not be drinking at a time like this.

“That’s the problem,” she replied with a grimace, “I am listening.”

The local talent tonight was, in a word, abysmal. The bard’s lute was so dreadfully out of tune that each note was almost a physical pain to hear, and Alyx was beginning to wonder if the man himself was actually singing a completely different song than the one he attempted to play.

“Can’t you stop him?” Alyx quietly asked her companion, whose ears twitched as she squinted back.

“Stop him? What are you suggesting I do exactly?”

“I don’t know,” Alyx said, “I’m not well versed in”–she gestured vaguely with one hand–“….bard things.”

“Bard things?” Aoife repeated, and smirked. “What, like some code of conduct for getting somebody terrible to shut up?”

Alyx shrugged.

Aoife’s brows lowered tauntingly as she sat back in her chair. “If only somebody here could turn him into a frog.”