Who: Mad Sweeney and OPEN What: Random interactions When: Sunday evening Where: Homebrew Rating: Language, TBD
Wednesday was dead. Granted, Shadow had said that he didn't believe the old one-eyed asshole was really dead, and Sweeney didn't blame him one bit. Grimnir was a trickster through and through, it was in his blood and very nature.
Sweeney wouldn't put it past the old man to have this be some elaborate scheme.
That, and apparently someone had gone into his Hoard to get the spear. It wasn't a very pleasant Hoard, and that was part of the reason Sweeney was so fond of it. He had had over 4000 years to perfect it and amass all sorts of different things here and there. Whoever had gone in there must've been pissing their pants.
At the bar, a bowl of stew almost untouched sat in front of him, though he was making headway with the drinking portion of the evening. Polishing off another in a long line of drinks, he motioned to the worker behind the bar, watching closely as they poured him another drink and set the glass back down in front of him. One slightly miffed look from the Leprechaun along with an eyebrow quirking at the sheer insult of having a half-full glass, the bartender sighed audibly and filled it to a more generous portion before moving back to the other end of the bar to help more customers.
One very satisfied smirk later, Sweeney picked up the glass and took a gulp, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand.