Mugwumps, Excoriate, Suss
The rain came hard, a long steady downpour. It was cold outside, windy and wet and this evening that made for a great night at the Boar’s Head. The tavern was warm and well-lit, the music was loud and the wenches sassy.
Two tall mugs of ale slammed down on the table in front of Matthew Nelson, spraying foam and rocking the table. The girl gave him a tired smile, missing a few teeth and clucking at him. Read the rest of this entry