“How the fuck does he do it?” Gerkyn steamed.

“How the fuck should I know?” Werdle The Lesser snapped. “All I know is if you don’t get your shit together and move some quests, Smurggins is going to have your ass.”

“And what am I supposed to do? It’s a shitty quest. You’d get fucked by dragons before you dragged your dick out of Labyr Wood. What the fuck does Smurg expect?” He addressed Werdle, but glared across the inn at Forbin The Green. Forbin was oily in his expensive robes, waving a 45,000-Crowns wand to levitate another round of drinks for the Western Field Division.

Meanwhile, Werdle said, “Your ass, Ger, he’ll have your fucking ass. You know Grimshaw is banging the new oracle?”

“Geases,” Gerkyn said. “Fucking son of a bitch is using geases to compel suckers. What? Grimshaw and the new girl?”

“You hadn’t heard? Some fuckers have all the luck.”

“I’m gonna fuck that fucker to fucking hell,” Gerkyn said, nodding at Forbin. Forbin saw him and waved. “Right to fucking hell.” He waved back.