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Yvandel finds little in the way of inspiration amongst the tap rooms inhabitants. A strange feeling in his stomache tells him to even try and pierce the gloomy melonchaly would be a disservice of some sort to those who've fallen. Not just today, but in all the battles that have brought the Citadel to it's current days. It's a somber thought, one which doesn't settle well with him.

"Cheer up Master Yvandel." The the deep voice of DOLO says, as the puppet hanging from Yvandels neck seems to stretch as though coming awake from a long sleep. Yvandel removes the safety tie and holds the puppet in front of him so they might appear to be speaking with each other. For those curious enough to look over, or happen to note in passing~ Yvandels lips don't budge and inch as Dolo speaks. One might incidently posit the puppet to be alive, were such a notion not so ludacris.

DOLO continues: "After all, we've not had to hear Volo's voice for nearly an entire day!" The dour half-face of DOLO winks it's eye in a rare show of humor.

Not to be outdone, VOLO speaks up in retort: "Of course, we haven't heard you pratteling on about your most recent theories on the weight of light either... so all in all, I'd say Dolo might actually be right Master~ Reasons for cheer are aplenty!"

A snort from DOLO mingles with the infectious laughter of VOLO... and at the same time, Yvandels' lips begin moving as his own voice talks over the twitterings of the pair: "You two might have been more help out there today, instead of mere dead weight around my neck you know." For those who can hear, or are now paying attention, the remarkable feat of Yvandel speaking over those other two sounds is a testament to his skill.

"But Master, were we to have participated in the battle royale we would have missed out on the notable improvement in your aim." is DOLO's quick and monotone response, though it sounds more excuse than reason.

VOLO picks right up where Dolo left off~ "Indeed! You nearly hit the broadside of that creature... if only it weren't winter and it's stomache weren't so shrivled from a limited diet... you might have!" More laughter ensues from Volo at his witty barb on Yvandel, the innuendo so simple that even an eight year old wouldn't have thought it nearly as funny as VOLO did.

"Well maybe next time I'll let you try, and I'LL be the observer?" Yvandel suggests his smile curling into a smirk.

VOLO holds up his colorfully sleeved arm, and shows his hand. The wooden hand is solid and flat; And only grooves and a darker shade of laquer serve to show a definition where fingers would be. "Words to the wise then, you might want to give us some actual fingers... and maybe an opposable thumb before leaving your life in our hands."

"Wise?" DOLO responds, as though suddenly paying attention for the first time in awhile. "What about the wise? Surely not young Yvandel... which leaves... me? Are you still pratteling?" DOLO looks at Volo's upraised hand, then at Yvandel, then back at the hand. The Black and white colored arm raises next to Volo's more colorful one. "Good lord, you never gave us opposable thumbs?!" Shock is readily heard in DOLO's voice.

"Of course he didn't sill, he knew how heartbroken you'd be if ever I defeated you in a True Battle of Will and Cunning." VOLO replies again with a laugh.

"Thumbs? Who needs thumbs, we could just lash a punching dagger to each of our wrists..." DOLO suggests matter-of-factly.

"I meant Thumb Wresteling you sanctimonious braggart." VOLO says in a fluster. DOLO is quick to ask: "Do you even know what sanctimonious means?!"

All three laugh for a few seconds before going silent.

"Do you really think my aim is getting better?" Yvandel asks the pair, a seemingly sincere question. The puppets head nods enthusiastically. "Well that's something at least. The Umber Hulk shrugged off the Phantasmal Assailants like they weren't even there. My contributions seem to be waning..."

"Oh, I saw that as well. Quite sloppy that. But I've got something better for you to try next time..." DOLO says, a hint of determination to his voice. "It's a higher order spell, but I think you might be about ready for it now..."

"Next time?" VOLO gulps. "You mean we're not done with this silly business yet? Don't get me wrong, it's fun and I do love seeing new idiots... erm places and people I mean... but it's awfully dangerous. Can't we go home?"

"Well..." Yvandel begins, before DOLO cuts him off. "No you twit. We've got things to to. Lives to save and all of that what not."

DOLO and VOLO look up in tandem with Yvandel when the toast is raised nearby.

Yvandel, DOLO, and VOLO all repeat the toast in answer simultaneously and solemly(which might seem a bit creepy truth be told): "To our friends, and to those whom we have lost along the way!" Yvandel raises up his water flask with his other hand and takes a deep drink to punctuate the salute.

As Yvandel starts to make his puppet talk, a number of people, dwarves and humans alike, slowly gather around, and conversation nearby dies as people strain to hear. Laughter breaks out as the jokes are made, and despite the size of the room, a sizeable group end up gathering around the party's table. Lucretia and Vaslin, sitting on a different table a little way away turn to see what the commotion is, and can just see Yvandel and his puppet through the gathering crowd.

"Ye have a rare skill me lad!" exclaims one bald headed dwarf as Yvandel winds down his act. "I'll certainly buy ye a drink fer that impressive show!" he says. He waves over to the innkeeper and in moments, a large foaming pitcher of ale appears, which he shoves over towards the young puppeteer. "Wet yer whistle with that!" he grins through his beard.

Thinking the show over, many of the others who had gathered start to drift back to their tables, offering congratulations and toasts in parting.

"Don'ta forget us." Dorn piped up after he finished his first drink. "Me and Larz."

The dwarf grins at Dorn and Larz. "I ain't forgotten yer!" he says. "I just ain't buying yer a beer 'cause yer ain't earned it - not like this young'un!" He slaps Yvandel on the back, almost knocking the puppeteer off his bench.

"So, what brings yer to Citadel Felbarr?" asks the dwarf to the table generally, taking a long pull from his own brew.

"We're just passing through" says Blondung, answering the dwarf's question. The older wizard, still looking sour faced at having to have endure another one of Yvandel's embarrassing performances shakes his head and then looks over towards the bar, impatiently awaiting the food he had ordered.

"Passing through?!" exclaims the dwarf, misunderstanding which direction the party had been travelling. "Where in hells could yer be passing to?" There's nothing beyond here 'cept wilderness! Filled with barbarians and orcs!"

Yvandel's own answer is quickly doused in favour of the much wiser Blondung's. Yvandel dubiously eyes the offered drink, and hefts it to take a careful sniff. Whatever reaction he might have had for the pungent alcohol is prevented by the slap on his back which not only threatens to unseat him, but also causes the young magician to nearly drop the tankard. Luckily he manages to stabilize both the drink, and himself, without inadvertently dropping his puppet. Once settled, he sets the drink down and goes about re-securing the puppet to his neck. Then hefts the tankard again. "Many thanks, though as Blondung says we were passing through..." The stranger can easily tell that Yvandel is clearly deferring to Blondung in this, and might or might not have said something different were he alone when asked. "Barbarians, Orcs, Umberhulks... and countless other creatures besides. Good people too mind, as those mercenaries we stumbled upon seemed to be." The young puppeteers tone likely makes him come across as a little bit naive.

The dwarf looks first from Yvandel and then to Blondung, and then back again before shrugging. "Ack well, if yer want t' keep yer business t' yerself, then that's yer business, I was only askin' t' be friendly..."

He takes a long draught from his own ale before wiping his mouth with the back of his calloused hand. "How was the trail from Sundarbar?" he asks. "It can be a rough trail unless yer travellin' in force, and I don't recall a caravan being scheduled to arrive t'day..." He raises an eyebrow as he eyes the pair of wizards, turning his head to take in the others at the table as well.