This is a Rooster Teeth production.

Compliments to all you Kirin, hover your way into the stinky dragon and quaff our latest

coffee, orce to be reckoned with.

It's a mixture of legendary berries, sacred fire, sugar cubes, cavalry cold brew, half

and hoof topped with cropped whipped cream and sprigs of smite.

One swig of the swill will have you tumping at the bit of the beyond.

Previously, our adventures were bombarded with the reality that blood is thicker than water

and none more than the horrendous hemoglobin.

However, a harrowing row with our heroes freed a winded weaser trapped inside the gory

gaudy to top it off, chip down a fresh fanny pack note from his lost lover, Carol.

Bring over a brew and buckle up for this bedtime tale.

You're showing your American by pronouncing it row.

It's a row.

It's what it's what them British people call a fight.

A row.

They say lots of words wrong.

I'm not going to listen to them.

Hello, everyone.

My name is Gustavus Rola.

I'm your dungeon master.

They need to learn how to speak English in England.

I'm your dungeon master of our putrid party.

...