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Jerron looked at the scrawny tin-can of a man with a bit of shock, and shook his head. "It's Jerron Sirc, I'll thank you. Mashter Wizard. And the den of dentistry is clearly at 42 Shmaug Wood, Riverlane Libary. Jusht by the bakery." He motioned over his shoulder with his thumb, accenting...

Jerron winces at the strength behind the pat on his back, his grip tightening on his staff to stop himself from falling over. He sidesteps to get out of Sergei's reach in the future, and brings himself up to standing. He takes a moment to survey the entire group, except for Xedris while his...

Leaning heavily on his staff, and fighting back some heaving at having seen the skeleton face of Xedris, Jerron turned to the rest of the group and finally spewed forth vomit, and a freezing ray of cold, in the direction of the fire. "BLAAAARGH! Ugh... should warn someone 'bout that!" he...

Jerron watched the scene before him with an incredulous expression on his face, mixed with drunken stupor. "D'ya shurvive a burnin' buildin' fallin' on yoush? Wassa alla'bout? D'ya drink shomsin' good?"

Jerron winced at the bellowing giant near him, he eyed the flask in hand, briefly considering tossing it at him, but thought better of that idea. "Oy! S'no need to shout, I'm right 'ere... 'sides. Whyn't ya use magics on the campfire here, eh?"

Jerron found himself leaning heavily on his staff as he watched the burning building before him. The words of Balthazar still ringing in his ears. Idly, he reached into his robe and removed a small flask, taking a drink from it. "I think you may be right... shame the invitation never...