Toad scrunched his face. “It doesn’t smell that horrid, honestly,” he said, offended.”It’s the taste that’ll knock you out. Imagine the worst beer you’ve ever had. My poison tastes at least a thousand times worse.” He made it sound as though he were proud of the fact, which, well, he was, though it certainly did not smell like “shite,” and if he could hear the knights thoughts he would have stopped helping him altogether.
“Drink it all in one go.” He pinched his bulbous nose. “And if you can’t stomach it, hold onto your nose like this.” He let go of it. “I read it in a book once that people rely more on smell to taste things than their actual tongue. Not surely if it’s completely true or not, but it’ll help.”
Toad turned his attention back to the door where the healer had gone through.
“…you know where her jars are?” He asked. “I’ll need at least one of ‘em.”
♘—» “Lovely,” he breathed, wiping the sweat off his brow with the crook of his elbow. It actually did not smell that bad. More like something mossy and earthen, yet sharp like ginger. It was likely the strange mix of it that made his stomach churn, but now the knowledge that the taste was actually very much like shite…well–
"Jars,“ Leo echoed. "I’ve ne'er been here ‘fore but…I’ve a wineskin she gave me. filled with water. S'it satisfactory?” The knight fumbled for the knot that held the wineskin to his belt, untied it, and held it it up for the goblin to see. “If not I reckon she keeps dried herbs 'round here in jars."
He started to breathe a little easier now that the pull of the spell had subsided. Of course it would come and go; it would likely wait for him to regenerate enough energy, squeeze more out of him before it lead to his slow and painful death. He would appreciate the reprieve while it lasted. Take advantage of it if he could.
