“What kind of outfit is this?” Zyrtyl leapt to the top of the table and brandished his broadsword above their heads. “Will you  not stand and fight?”

“We can fight. We can kick butt, if you we need to,” Magerion, the Cleric, defended the band.

“Then, let us crush the enemy,” Zyrtyl thundered.

“Actually, we were looking for a diplomatic solution,” Magerion replied. “A drawn-out battle would take too long, and we have to have the entire campaign finished before lunch.”