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The Island of Thain :: Forums :: In Character Discussion
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The Pink Hair Incident - a Hin's Chagrin

LAN_402 LAN_403
12:56:25 am GMT 01/24/14
Zhymm Registered Member #191 Joined: 2:06:27 pm GMT 07/31/04
Posts: 389
It was getting dark. Shadows grew in Raven's Watch. The hin spotted a lit window ahead, below it a placard. "Raven's Eyrie" was painted on the rough wood surface of the placard.

"'Eyrie'? What the devils is an 'Eyrie'" thought the hin "ravens would ha' an aerie, one would think". The hin pushed open the door to the 'eyrie' and entered.

"You there! Halfing!" the doorman grunted. "Han' oaffer yer weapons!" The doorman nodded to a sheet of parchment tacked near the inside of the door 'Chek all yur weppons at the door. This meens you!' signed 'Brashen, barkeep and boss'. As the hin pulled a multitude of daggers and shivs from here and there about his body the doorman asked "Whut's yer name, so's I can tag yer steel?"

"Zhymm. Zhymm Grasscobble" answered the halfling. The doorman tagged the weapons and placed them in a slot beneath his stand. Other's tagged weapons filled many of the remaining slots.

Zhymm walked over to the bar "A pint o' yer best ale, barkeep!"

"That'll be 1 gold piece Mister Hin" said Brashen as he pushed a foamy mug over to Zhymm.

Zhymm flipped a coin to the barkeep, hefted the mug and headed for a nearby table.

It didn't take long for a couple of the 'upstairs' ladies to approach Zhymm's table. "A couple o' longleggers" thought the hin, refocusing his attention to the mug before him.

"Hello, there" one of the 'ladies' spoke with a husky, seductive voice "looking for some fun?" The other slipped into a chair next to the halfling, snuggled close and began to wind one of Zhymm's dreadlocks around her finger.

"Sorry, lasses. Ye not be 'right-sized', if ye get me drift." Looking at the larger of the two 'ladies', Zhymm added " 'ell, I might fall in, disappear an' never be seen again!"

The larger of the two 'ladies' rose with a huff and left the table. Husky-voice followed, snorting as she left "We have an old gnome hag upstairs. We'll send her down. Maybe she's 'right-sized' for you."

Unseen by Zhymm, Brashen nodded to a couple of seedy looking patrons seated at a table in the back corner of the tavern.

After a couple more pints and a few meat-pies, Zhymm was feeling pretty good. And no gnome hags. One of the 'seedy' patrons got up from the corner table and approached. "Mind if I join you, Master Hin?"

"Suit yerself" said Zhymm and nodded to an empty chair. "If'n ye want to contract me services" added the hin " ye'll haf to wait 'til mornin'. Not in a biz-ness mood at the moment."

"No, no business" said the man, "just want to talk about events of the day, rumors, chit-chat, what not ... " His voice trailed off.

Zhymm's eyes narrowed as he gave the human a stern look, followed by a loud burp projected in the man's direction.

The man waved at the air in front of his face, muttering something about rancid meat-pies. "How about I get you another pint? On me."

Zhymm perked up at the offer of a free drink. "Sure, we can talk ... some. Jus' keep the ale flowin' and I'll talk all night."

The second 'seedy' patron came from the bar with 3 pints, one for each of them. After a second round of pints the chit-chat had devolved into humorous anecdotes, bawdy jokes and vulgar limericks with a few riddles interspersed. As Zhymm took a swallow from the last pint, he noticed a slight bitter edge to the ale. "This hain't aged enuff" slurred Zhymm. "Brashen! Whut ye tryin' to pull, 'ere!?!" Then his eyes rolled back followed by his whole body rolling back off the chair and onto the floor with a thud.

The two 'seedy' patrons looked at each other and smiled. The first reached down and loosened the halfling's purse from his belt. They repaired to the bar, dumped the contents of the purse on the bar and began to separate it into three piles. Brashen took one pile and the 'patrons' each took one of the remaining piles of coins. "That hin is sure going to have a surprise when he wakes up," said Brashen "serves him right for brushin' off my girls."
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3:05:52 am GMT 01/24/14
Zhymm Registered Member #191 Joined: 2:06:27 pm GMT 07/31/04
Posts: 389
Snoring. Loud snoring. Painfully loud snoring.

A thud. The snoring abruptly stopped but was replaced by an annoyingly loud shout "HEY! WHAT THE WHAT!"

Loud talking. "Get your ugly bum out from under that table, ya smelly lout! I gotta sweep up before my working girls come down for lunch. Get yer arse off my floor and out the door! On with ya, now git! Or I'll kick ya some more!"

Zhymm groggily raised up to his feet. Bits of sawdust, soaked in spilled beer and retch, dotted the side of his head. And his clothing. He started to bend down to brush himself off, but the effort made his head hurt. "Maybe I'll just start at the top" he thought and began to brush the tavern's detritus off of his face.

Brashen caught sight of him. "You, too ... hin! Collect yer weapons at the door and get out! Tha bar's closed!"

The barkeep started to chortle as Zhymm passed, then stopped when the hin gave him a quick look. The doorman gave the halfling a wide-eyed stare as he handed over the Zhymm's weapons "Haf a gude day, sur."

Zhymm stumbled outside. "My gods, I dinnae have that much to drink" he thought. Then he noticed the missing purse. He shrugged, then tapped at his breeches. Feeling a reassuring bulge he knew his 'real' purse was intact. "What's the loss of a few coins for a good time" he said to himself.

He spotted a well water-pump aways off and strode towards it. High pitched laughter burst out behind him. Zhymm turned to see the two 'ladies' from last night on the tavern balcony. They pointed at him and began to laugh in earnest. Zhymm gave them a rude gesture and turned back toward the pump.

A young lass, kind of rough looking for a human, was just finishing filling her pail at the pump as Zhymm walked up. She looked up at the sound of his footsteps. Her eyes went wide and she nearly dropped her pail as she caught sight of the halfling. Stifling a giggle with her hand she said "Scuse me, sir" and hastily walked away. Zhymm watched her recede. Were her shoulders shaking? Then the lass let out a loud "buwahaha" as she ran off, nearly spilling the contents of her pail.

"Longleggers" muttered Zhymm. Grabbing a pail laying near the pump he set it down under the spout. The pail's interior was coated with slimey algae. "Meh, it'll do" said the hin to no one in particular. The pump handle was a bit stiff to operate but Zhymm got the pail filled. He pulled it to one side of the pump, immersed his head and vigorously scrubbed the tavern floor's 'souvenirs' from his face.

Refreshed, he looked around. The sun was up. "Looks like a nice day" thought the hin to himself. The remaining water in the pail slowly stilled, becoming mirror-like. Zhymm glanced down, observing his reflection in the water's surface. "What? What's that?" He looked closer at his reflection. "What's in me hair?" He pulled one of his longer dreads around to where he could see it directly. It was PINK! Not your lovely, soft pink like that of a rose. But the eye-piercing bright pink of a beholder's underbelly. Or the arse end of a baboon. "WHAT IN THE NINE HELLS?" he shouted.

Zhymm ran up to the window of a nearby house, standing on tip-toe whilst trying to use the glass as a mirror. A female half-orc flung open the window, knocking Zhymm flat on his backside. "Git yer filthy halfling arse away from me winder!" she shouted. "And where'd ya get that hair?" The window slammed shut and Zhymm could hear loud guffaws coming from inside.

He started pulling his daggers and shivs from their hidey holes in his garments. "Here, this one .. its blade is shiny enough" he thought. Holding it up before him, rocking the blade back and forth, he could see his head reflected in the dagger's polished surface.
His shoulders slumped, the hand with the blade dropping to his side. All of his beautiful red hair, all of it on his head, was now the brightest pink he'd ever seen.
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4:31:04 am GMT 01/25/14
Zhymm Registered Member #191 Joined: 2:06:27 pm GMT 07/31/04
Posts: 389
"The Eyrie!" thought Zhymm. "Those two longshanks what drank wit' me mus' be behint this!" Zhymm stomped off toward the tavern.

He pushed at the door to the "Eyrie", but it did not budge. Zhymm began to kick the door and pound on it with the hilt of a dagger. "OPEN UP! YE SCOUNDRELS! OPEN THIS DOOR!"

From the other side of the door came the sound of a chair scraping the floor. A small window in the door flipped open and Zhymm saw the nose and eyes of the doorman peer out. "OPEN UP!" shouted the hin. The little window slammed shut and he heard the voice of the doorman shout "Boss!"

After a moment the door window flipped open again, but this time it was Brashen looking out. "Hin, I told you the tavern's closed! We open at three. Ya can comeback then. Now go away!"

Zhymm looked up at the opening, "What about my hair!" he shouted. "Those fellows of yours had a hand in this! Now let me in!"

Brashen looked down at the hin, a snear coming to his lips. "My fellows? They hain't my fellows. Yer drunk yet, hin!" he said. "As for that nice hair job ya got there, I don't know how ya got it. It sure is pretty, though."

Zhymm knew Brashen must be lieing. "You're gonna fix this, barkeep! It happened in your tavern! Now open up!" The hin kicked the door again, for good measure.

"Yer daft an' drunk, ya crazy hin! No one in 'ere touched yer hair!" growled Brashen. "Go see Rhakir the cleric over to tha Ebon Trade. He might have a potion what can fix that hair job." The door window slammed shut. Footsteps could be heard receding from the door.

"Well, I'll be back at three" muttered the halfling, "then there'll be 'ell to pay." He looked to the sun. "Gah, three's hours away!" Zhymm thought. "Maybe I should go see this cleric." Zhymm headed down the slope towards the Ebon Trading Post.
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2:37:26 pm GMT 01/25/14
Zhymm Registered Member #191 Joined: 2:06:27 pm GMT 07/31/04
Posts: 389
Zhymm made his way into the Ebon Trading Post. The Board had its usual array of messages, announcements, requests for goods or services, bounties for some ne'er-do-wells and the odd scraps of graffiti. The hin never liked this place, too many evil lookin' types seen coming and going. To the left was the entry to the clerical supply shop.

The halfling entered the shop. Rhakir, the cleric/shopkeep was standing behind the counter. He looked up at the sound of Zhymm's footsteps. "Aah, sir .... what can I get you for .... err, get for you today?"

"Hain't it obvious?" Zhymm pointed to his hair.

Rhakir replied "Now see here , I'm never one to question a customer's fashion sense ..... and believe me, I've seen all sorts of fashion pass through here. Besides, your hair is quite eye-catching. Are you a performer of some sort? Maybe a jester?"

"I ain't no dang clown!" spat back the hin. "An' I can't be sneakin' up on anyone with this beacon on me head."

"Well, then ... I have a nice array of helmets and hats ... maybe a cowl? Something like that to cover your hair?" asked the cleric.

"I don't want no damn cowl! Them an' helms block me sight and ears. An' besides that, I doubt you have anythin' 'right-sized'. Yer gear's prolly made for longleggers an' such. I'd look silly with some big pot wobblin' on me head."

"I have a few hats made for children. One of them might do." Rhakir held up a small, brightly colored cap shaped like a bowl. "This one even has a spinner on top." He gave the propeller on the top of the cap a quick flick of his finger to demonstrate.

"No! No hats! I need sumpin' that will take away tha pink ... restore me hair to its proper color. Ye have any potions or elixirs what might do that?"

"Aaah! A restoration potion? Yes, I have a few. Step closer, now. Let me have a look at your hair so I can tell how strong a potion it will take." The cleric moved to the end of the counter and stepped around into the shop. He motioned for Zhymm to approach. Rhakir leaned over and began to delicately touch the hin's hair. "Hmm ... a few bugs ... a good bath would take care of those. But this color ... hrmm" The cleric pulled an odd looking lens from among his robes and peered through it at the hin's hair. "Oh, I say! There's some strong magic here ... I don't know if I have anything with that power ... maybe in my old stock." Rhakir went back behind the counter and bent down out of the halfling's sight. Zhymm heard a cupboard door open followed by the clinking of glass. "Ah hah, here we go!" The cleric stood up and set small bottle sealed with black wax on the counter. It contained a murky, viscous, green colored liquid. "My stongest restoration potion. It should suffice" said the cleric. "That'll be 20,000 gold pieces." Rhakir smiled down at the hin.

"Twenty thou' gold!" blurted Zhymm. "Tha's too much! I hain't got that kind o' cash on me. That's a month's worth of pilferin' through tha goblin warrens. Ye got anything else?"

Rhakir's lips tightened. "Nothing else is strong enough, master hin. 20,000 gold. Take it or leave it."

"I'm leavin' it!." The halfling turned and left the shop. Once outside Zhymm walked over to a nearby tree and plopped down next to the trunk. "Twenty thou' gold .... meh. That shyster of a cleric ain't takin' me for no twenty thou'. Come three o'clock there'll be 'ell to pay .... twenty thou' worth o' hell. An' Brashen an' his lots payin' it."
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10:53:47 pm GMT 01/25/14
Zhymm Registered Member #191 Joined: 2:06:27 pm GMT 07/31/04
Posts: 389
The morning wore on. The sun passed it's zenith, now casting shadows eastward. Zhymm dozed as he sat under the tree. Clouds began rolling in from over the sea to the east of the Isle. Soon the sun was blocked from view. The sky became a featureless, blank canvas of grey as the clouds thickened. A steady drizzle, nimbostratus born, began to fall. The hin stirred, looked at the sky and cursed, then tented his cloak above his head and shoulders to ward the rain.

"It's got to be three by now" muttered the pink tressed halfling. "Time to pay some 'ell." He stood, rearranged his cloak and began trudging up the slope to the Eyrie, avoiding the rain spawned puddles along his way. He spotted a cowled and robed figure, wood staff in hand, exiting the tavern. "Aaah, it's open now, alright." The hin picked up his stride. The robed figure went off north then turned and disappeared from view 'round the corner of the building. Zhymm approached the door to the Eyrie, gave it a push and entered.

The doorman spoke "Han' oaffer yer" ...

Zhymm spit "I ain't handin' over nothin', ya big lug", then darted past the doorman and made for the bar. Brashen was by the bar, his back to the door, wiping off one of the high stools that lined the rail.

"Hey! Boss!' yelled the doorman, "It's tha' crazy hin!" Brashen turned to see Zhymm, dagger in hand, approaching.

"Ye're gonna fix me hair! Now!" Zhymm pointed his dagger in Brashen's direction and stepped closer.

The barkeep, keeping an eye on the halfling, reached back to the bar with one hand to grab something and swing it around towards Zhymm. "Now hold on, hin!" He jabbed the spiked end of a nasty looking shillelagh at the halfling.

Zhymm stopped up short and leaned back to avoid having one of the spikes pierce the end of his nose. "Is that rust or dried blood?" wondered the hin after crossing his eyes to look down the length of the spike.

The doorman grabbed Zhymm from behind, pinning the hin's arms to his sides, and lifted him off the floor. "Got 'im, boss!"

"Let go o' me, ya big, mouth breathin' oaf!!" Zhymm started to kick and squirm, trying to break free. The doorman squeezed and the hin dropped his dagger. "Oi! Me blade!" It clattered on the floorboards below. A tirade of curses sprang from the halfling's mouth, "Ye lieing sack o' dung! Yer arse scratchin' hand's in this, Brashen!"

Brashen raised the end of the club up to Zhymm's chin. "I had nothin' to do with yer hair!" lied the barkeep. "Now, you be civil and bite your tongue! I run a polite establishment, 'ere! There'll be no shoutin' of curse words and vulgarities!" The doorman rolled his eyes.

The halfling relaxed and sagged, but the doorman maintained his grip. Zhymm looked like a forlorn puppy being squeezed by its child-owner as the child raises it to show to a nearby adult.

"Didn't tha cleric have a potion to deal with yer hair?" asked the barkeep.

"Nothin' less than twenty thousand gold" squeaked the hin. He was having some difficulty breathing.

Brashen whistled. "Twenty thousand ... whoa." The barkeep nodded his head, then he smiled. "Say, maybe you should talk to Dez. The tattoo lady. I rent her a spot at the far end of the tavern. I think she does hair jobs, too. Tattoos and hair-do's." Brashen nodded to the doorman. "Set him down."

The doorman dropped the hin to the floor. Zhymm collapsed in a heap, coughed a bit, then took a couple deep breaths. "Han' oaffer yer weapons. Sir."
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3:41:25 pm GMT 01/26/14
Zhymm Registered Member #191 Joined: 2:06:27 pm GMT 07/31/04
Posts: 389
Zhymm reluctantly passed his assortment of daggers and shivs to the doorman. "See Dez? At the far end of the room?"

Brashen lifted the shillelagh and used it to point the way. "On over there. Dez should be settin' up shop pretty soon."

Humbled, the halfling turned and shuffled off in the direction Brashen's extended arm and club indicated. As the hin rounded the wall and walked northward to the end of the room he could see what appeared to be a fountain with a large sink next to it. In front of the sink was a sort of chair or bed that had a reclining mechanism. It looked like one could lie on the chair with their head in the sink. Next to the sink was a high desk with small jars full of various needles, combs and scissors. Above the desk on the wall were shelves. The shelves held a multitude of small bottles. The bottles contained a rainbow of colored liquids, each bottle holding a unique color. A tall, slim (well, slim for one of her breed) female half-orc was seated on a tall stool in front of the desk. She appeared to be cleaning some needles with some scraps of cloth. "Are you Dez?" asked Zhymm as he walked up.

The half-orc turned and greeted Zhymm, "Aye, I be Dez. Dez Kinslayer, at yer service!" Tattoo needle in hand, she pointed to an array of parchments tacked to the wall above the sink. On the parchments were crude, cartoon-like sketches of various objects and figures - spider webs, lightning bolts, bloody daggers, coiled serpents, arcane runes and such. "Can I int'rest ya in a tattoo, today?" She leaned forward and looked closer at the hin. "How about a nice flower to match yer hair, eh?"

"I don't want no flowery tattoo! I want this pink hair set back to its proper color!" growled Zhymm.

"Ye sure? I'm runnin' a special on tats, today. Only 100 gold pieces. Your choice." Dez paused in cleaning the needle in hand and used it to pick at a bit of food stuck in her teeth. She sucked the freed morsel off of the needle, then dropped the needle into one of the jars on the desk. "Dye jobs on hair are 250 gold." She gave the hin another look over. "Ye have that much?"

"I gots the gold! But this pink hair is Brashen's doin'. So, collect yer price from him." growled Zhymm.

"Ah ah! I don' work for Brashen. If ye wants me to do yer hair, you pay me. Up front" replied Dez.

Zhymm thought about confronting the barkeep weaponless, then grumbled and started to count out the coins, pulling them one by one from somewhere down in his breeches. "Here ya go." He handed them over.

Dez wrinkled her nose at the profferred coins, then shrugged, took them from the hin and dumped them into a drawer of the desk. "Climb 'ere on the chair an' let's have a look."

Zhymm clambered onto the chair and lay down, head near the sink.

Dez started to spread the hin's tresses apart, revealing his scalp. "I can tell what yer nat'rul color be from the roots. Hmm, this color goes all the way to the scalp. Turn on yer side a moment." The halfling complied. Dez continued "Now, hair's thickest 'ere on the back of yer head an' a dye job never gets to the roots back 'ere." She pulled apart Zhymm's hair above the nape of his neck. "Huh? It's the same 'ere, too! Ye sure pink's not yer nat'rul color?"

" 'ell no! Me hair should be red! That's me right color! R - E - D, red!" the hin replied.

"What about the rest of yer hair?" asked Dez.

Zhymm stared at the half-orc a moment then reached for his left boot. He tugged it off and raised his foot. PINK! The hin-hair on the top of his foot was pink! "Oh, no" muttered the halfling as he tugged at the other boot. Off it flew to reveal lovely, pink hin-foot hair there, as well. "By the Nine Hells!" cursed the hin.

"What about that ... uh ... other place?" said Dez as she looked at a spot of the hin's breeches below his waist.

Zhymm turned away from the half-orc while pulling the top of his breeches away from his belly so he could look down 'there'. He quickly crushed the top of his breeches against his mid-section. With closed eyes and a tight lipped, strained look on his face he said "Pink. It's systemic."
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8:52:31 pm GMT 01/27/14
Zhymm Registered Member #191 Joined: 2:06:27 pm GMT 07/31/04
Posts: 389
Zhymm lay back on the chair, "what can I do? Am I gonna ha' pink hair the rest o' me life?" He stifled a sob.

"It's not as bad as ya think. Maybe we can dye tha hair on yer head to yer nat'rul color. An the other hair is covered up alla time .... right?" Dez tried to comfort the crestfallen hin. "No problems, then .... unless .... ya don't frequent public baths, do ya?"

"No, no baths ... I try to avoid baths as much as possible." Zhymm turned on his side and looked at Dez "so, ye gots a red dye what can cover this pink?"

"Sure do!" Dez collected a few bottles from the shelving. "Lookit these ones. Pick the one ya think best matches what ya want."

Zhymm sat up and studied the bottles, finally picking one with an auburn-red colored liquid inside. "This one looks right."

"OK, lay back, now. Put yer head in tha sink." directed Dez. "First, we get out all the grime and bugs." Dez poured some water from a pitcher over Zhymm's tresses, wetting them thoroughly. Then she retrieved a large jug from under the desk and began to pour a milky white liquid from it onto the hin's head.

"YEOW!" Up sat the hin with a yelp. "That burns! Wha' the devil ye doing?"

"It's my special cleanin' mixture, ta get out the bugs and remove the grime what's in yer hair" replied the half-orc. "Now lay back down so's I can scrub an' rinse before yer hair starts fallin' out."

"Well, it burns! Hurry up with it!" growled the halfling. "what's in that mixture, anyhow?"

"Some turpentine. And some lye. And a bit of fire beetle belly juice. And some secret ingred'ents." Dez worked the mixture through the hin's hair. "Now be still, I have to make the final rinse wit' boiling hot water." Dez stepped over to a nearby brazier and, towel in hand, carefully picked up a large copper kettle setting on the coals. She then poured the steaming water from the kettle onto the hin's foaming hair.

"Nnnnyyyynnnggaaaahhhharrrrggggllllugugugugugug!!!" the hin struggled not to scream, biting his lower lip so hard it bled.

Dez scraped some dead arthropods from a screen in the drain of the sink. She tossed the bugs into a nearby pot. "There we go, clean as clean can be. Now we put on the dye." She unstoppered the bottle of dye and poured a liberal amount of its contents onto the hin's head. Dez then took what looked to be a tanned cow's bladder and inserted her hand so it was covered. Using her bladder-mittened hand she worked the dye into and throughout Zhymm's hair. Then she quickly covered his head with a warm, damp towel. "We best put a little bit o' dye on yer eyebrows. Don't think ya be wantin' pink eyebrows now, do ya?" Dez applied a little bit of the remaining dye on the bladder to the halfling's brows. "Now we wait a bit so's the dye can soak in." She turned and rinsed off the bladder using the remaining hot water from the kettle and set both aside. Dez started whistling and walked away.

"Hey!" shouted the hin, "where ye be going?"

"There's no need ta shout" replied Dez. "I's going ta get my dinner. Ya want some?"

"I don't want no orc dinner! What about me hair?"

"I toldja it has to set. Now just be still. Take a nap or sumpin." Dez turned and walked away.

Zhymm stared up at the ceiling. His stomach rumbled. "Orc dinner sounds kinda good" he thought.
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3:46:22 am GMT 01/28/14
Zhymm Registered Member #191 Joined: 2:06:27 pm GMT 07/31/04
Posts: 389
Gina: "Oh, Zhymm ... you are THE hin daddy! Come to mama!"

Nina: "Ah ah, Zhymmie-kins is all mine. Gimme some lovin', Zhymmie-kins!"

Tina: "No no no, teh Zhymm-meister is teh Mastah Halflin'. Oh oh, spank me Mastah, spank me!"

Red, bloodshot eyes. Greenish skin. Fangs. Drool: "Wake up, youse!"

"Aaaaaah!!" Zhymm jolts awake with a start. "What the .... don't do that!"

Dez smiles. "Har-har, you was sleepin'. Must a been good, too. You were grinnin' like a knoll on feast day! Har!!"

Zhymm sat up. A towel end falls across his face. "Son of a gnome courtesan! Get this off me face!" He starts pulling and twisting on the towel.

"Hold on!, Hold on! Let me get it! Now jus' set still, ya crazy hin!" chortled Dez. "I unfas'en the pin here and unwind the towel. Then we see what a good job I do for you."

"How long was I asleep?" ask the halfling.

"Hmmm, 'bout an hour or so ... plenty long enough for the dye to set." Dez added "I have to give yer hair one more rinse to remove any residues. Jus' warm water this time."

"Oh, thank goodness!" Zhymm lay back in the chair with his head over the sink.

"Here we go, now." Dez began pouring water from the kettle over the hin's head. The sink fills with an auburn-red solution. "Uh oh."

"What?! Uh oh what?!" Zhymm pulls a longer tress into eyeshot. PINK! "AAAARRRRRGGGGHHH!!! IT DIDN"T WORK! YE SHYSTER!" He begins to pummel Dez about the arms.

The half-orc knocks the hin to the floor and steps on his throat. "Now you stop that, right now! Look at yer hair, it's not that bad!" Dez pulls a polished metal flat from the desk and holds it above the hin.

Zhymm can see his reflection in the metal. His hair is still bright pink. But now it is shinier and has a nice healthy lustre. He tries to speak, but only a garbled croak issues from his mouth. He motions to Dez's foot, still on his throat.

"Oh, sorry." Dez removes her foot from the hin's neck.

"But it's still pink!" he cries. "Ye failed! I want me 250 gold back!"

Dez points to a small sign, barely visible, tacked to the side of her desk. "No gar-yaun-tis ... Dez, propriar ... porpertu ... OWNER". She folds her arms and looks down at the hin. "No returns."

"Aaaaaaaaaaayyyyeeeeeeaaaaahhh! This has been the worst day, ever!" The hin jumps to his feet and runs back towards the bar-end of the tavern. "BRASHEN! Yer gonna PAY, ye bastid!"

The commotion alerts those at the south end of the tavern. A waitress drops a tray of empty mugs in Zhymm's path and as he dances to the side of the scattered mugs he collides with the bent leg of the waiting doorman. The doorman's knee catches the hin in the diaphragm and knocks the wind out of him. He picks Zhymm up by the back of his collar and the hin's belt. "What ya want to do wit' him, boss?"

Brashen walks to the door and opens it. He gives the doorman a nod.

The doorman approaches the open exit, swings the halfling back then forward, releasing his grip at the end of the swing. The hin flies through the door and lands in a puddle in the path outside. Zhymm looks up just in time to get splashed in the face by his bundle of weapons tossed out behind him.

"Yer henceforth banned from me tavern, ya crazy hin! Now git!" spat Brashen. Then the door slammed shut.

"Tossin' hin easier than tossin' dwarf, boss."
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