<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/PAl5eEo.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Drip Hazelfuff (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2536081)<br/><strong>HP:</strong>21/21 -<strong>AC:</strong>15<strong>Spells:</strong>lv.1 - 4/4  lv.2 - 1/2<strong>BI:</strong>2/3<br/><strong>Effects:</strong><br/><strong>Actions:</strong><br/><hr/><br/>Drip was still adjusting his clothes back in place when the trio emerged back onto the scene. It seemed that whatever the three had gotten up to, it had been just the thing to mellow out the high-strung satyr. His concerns about being discovered seemed to be forgotten, or he was simply too deep in the afterglow to care. With a sage clarity he started helping out with the makeshift tavern set up.<br/><br/>This feeling of sated calmness was suddenly flipped turn upside down when they found themselves jumped back into the Crossroads, his stomach doing donuts inside his belly. He was dangerously close to throwing up (which would be extra bad considering what his last meal had been), but he just managed to keep it down, "ughh...fucking kill me..." he muttered, finding a table to set his head down at.<br/><br/>"Well, it took some doing, but here you are. One tavernkeeper, and a whole mess of staff to boot" Drip said, head still resting on the table, "Money please now..."