A wizard, an elf, and a dwarf walk into a tavern. The elf says...

This is my entry for Bruce Bethke's Friday Challenge for 8/15/08 which this week, is a chance to participate in one of the challenges I missed . Share and enjoy.


A wizard, an elf, and a dwarf walk into a tavern. The elf says, "Good barkeep, my parched tongue would celebrate one of your fine ales. Furthermore, my coin purse stands open for my thirsty companions."

The round-faced barkeep frowned and humphed at such flowery prose, but grabbed three wooden tankards from a shelf and went to work filling them with a suspicious brown liquid.

"Sandy is the name," the elf extended a thin hand across the bar. "Pecan Sandy. And I thank thee for allowing us shelter from the tempest brewing outside. What might thee be called, my good man?"

The barkeep didn't look up from from his work. "Wilford," he mumbled through ample lips.

"Wilford! 'Tis a perfect name for a man of class such as thyself." He turned and gestured toward his two companions. "Allow me to introduce my noble party of adventurers. The clever looking wizard is called Guff. He hails from the village of Rove. And this short, but powerful fighter was named Skont by his parents, they--"

"Shut it, elf!" the barkeep put eyes on him for the first time. "Drink your ale and then get your friends out of my tavern. It's not safe."

"Not safe?" Sandy glanced around and was startled to notice a particularly ugly orc sitting in the dark corner to his left. She seemed to be in some sort of distress. The sound of sliding metal from behind said that Skont had also spotted her. He turned back to Wilford.

"Good sir, you allow monsters of this sort refuge in your establishment? T'is no secret that orcs are unclean!"

"I don't have no choice in the matter." Wilford growled. "Law says I had to let them in."

"Them?" Sandy drew his own short sword and stepped away from the bar. "Perhaps t'will take a brave band of adventurers to deal with the intrusion, since thou doth seem to lack the courage."

"Don't do it," Wilford warned.

Heedless of the danger, Sandy, Guff, and Skont swaggered to the far end of the bar, ready, nay, anticipating confrontation. The dwarf growled deeply and stepped to the front of the party. The wizard intoned words to himself which caused a fireball to wink into existence. It hovered over his wiry hand, awaiting his command.

"Far be it for me to harm a female," Skont said, sword raised high, "But you have no place in this tavern, foul beast."

Suddenly, the orc let out a terrible scream and collapsed onto the bar. That, and the sound of liquid splashing onto the floor caused the party to take an involuntary step backward. The fireball vanished along with the wizard's courage. The three adventurers glanced at one another nervously.

A moment later, the head of a lizard man appeared from underneath the bar. He stood, dripping in a thick orangish ooze, and let out a deafening screech. Then he threw back his head and laughed triumphantly.

"It is done!" he shouted in a gleeful, but shrill tone. "The old wizard said that an orc and a lizard man could never produce an offspring. We have proved him wrong! Behold my daughter!" The lizard man lifted a small, naked orange creature over his head. The offspring had its mother's figure and its father's teeth.

"I shall teach her the ways of sword. And one day, 'though it take a thousand years, she shall rule the quasi-free world! And I shall call her...(wait for it)... HILLARY!"

With the first known utterance of the name, lightning flashed outside, setting afire the thatch roof of the tavern. The patrons screamed and scattered as a deafening thunder shook the structure to its foundation. The barkeep tried in vain to extinguish the flames with the tankards of brown ale. By the time the rains came, it was too late.

The elf, the wizard, and the dwarf stood shocked in the drenching downpour as they stared at the ruin of the tavern. The elf says, "I got a bad feeling about this."