Keia
I aim to misbehave
Thurgan - Init: +2; AC: 19; HP: 36/36; Atk: W-axe +8 (1d10+4), X-bow +5 (1d8+1)
Thurgan enjoyed the taste of the dwarven ale – it felt natural and smooth to his throat and stomach. He was certain that he’d never drink anything less again. He was surprised that he had made through the first round of the tournament as he was never much of a drinker. During the second round, Thurgan got a whiff of a strange scent (most likely the earlier mess) and almost choked – some of the whiskey sliding dow nthe wrong path. He swallowed it in before he was sick as well and continued the contest.
Thurgan smiled at Sturm, his ally and comrade in arms these last several weeks . . . or at least he though it was a smile. Thurgan felt himself waver several times before Sturm finally called out . . . and passed out. Thurgan didn’t even feel any emotion at all, his befuddled mind saw Sturm fall and somewhere he knew he had one but it didn’t register – until the slaps and slams of congratulations started.
Thurgan blinked several times as he tried to focus his eyes for the rune work. He had done this many times before such that it was almost automatic, though he had never been this drunk before – ever. Back in the recesses of his mind Thurgan remembered the drunken binges of Master Drewer and his poor attempts at craftsmanship when drunk. Thurgan focussed even hards and worked on added his name rune and mark to the chalice.
He didn’t remember the rest of the night . . . but he did remember the morning. “Owwwwww,” he muttered quietly, though it reverberated in his skull, “My head.”
Thurgan later tried to meet up with his companions, to see what other adventures they were interested in.
OOC: Well done, thanks Uriel. What a great read!
Thurgan enjoyed the taste of the dwarven ale – it felt natural and smooth to his throat and stomach. He was certain that he’d never drink anything less again. He was surprised that he had made through the first round of the tournament as he was never much of a drinker. During the second round, Thurgan got a whiff of a strange scent (most likely the earlier mess) and almost choked – some of the whiskey sliding dow nthe wrong path. He swallowed it in before he was sick as well and continued the contest.
Thurgan smiled at Sturm, his ally and comrade in arms these last several weeks . . . or at least he though it was a smile. Thurgan felt himself waver several times before Sturm finally called out . . . and passed out. Thurgan didn’t even feel any emotion at all, his befuddled mind saw Sturm fall and somewhere he knew he had one but it didn’t register – until the slaps and slams of congratulations started.
Thurgan blinked several times as he tried to focus his eyes for the rune work. He had done this many times before such that it was almost automatic, though he had never been this drunk before – ever. Back in the recesses of his mind Thurgan remembered the drunken binges of Master Drewer and his poor attempts at craftsmanship when drunk. Thurgan focussed even hards and worked on added his name rune and mark to the chalice.
He didn’t remember the rest of the night . . . but he did remember the morning. “Owwwwww,” he muttered quietly, though it reverberated in his skull, “My head.”
Thurgan later tried to meet up with his companions, to see what other adventures they were interested in.
OOC: Well done, thanks Uriel. What a great read!
