At the "Gasping Pufferfish," you drank your fill and gave it everything you had—either you woke up bright and early the next day to pan for gold in the swamp, or you ended up sprawled at the "Flipping Trout" down the road. Either way, everyone had to end up somewhere.
It was a joke that adventurers who spent most of their time in Trout Town often made to each other. Right now, it was a perfect way to describe the Stone Crow Marauders.
This team, widely recognized as the strongest in Stone Raven Town and famous for taking on high-difficulty quests, had been laid up at the "Flipping Trout" inn for five whole days.
The second-floor room reeked of a strange mixture of herbal salve and cheap alcohol.
A dwarf named Dorick Stonebeard lay on the bed, his chest wrapped in thick bandages. One foot was propped up on a stack of blankets at the head of the bed, wrapped in bandages too. He looked badly injured.
He'd just tipped the last few drops from a small keg into his mouth. Smacking his lips in satisfaction, he looked toward another dwarf sitting on a stool by the door.
"Brendan, how much longer do you think I have to keep pretending in this place? If I lie here any longer, mushrooms are gonna start growing on my ass."
Brendan Stonebeard had an extraordinarily thick beard.
Just how thick was it?
Well, at that moment, he was sweeping his beard along his cheeks and around his ears, weaving it together with his hair into two thick braids tied into ponytails.
He did this so he could string the teeth of the monsters he'd defeated onto each crossing in his braids, one tooth at a time.
It was a custom passed down among