Men'Thar-The Lost Patriarch

[taitzu52]

Thromgril is quite unused to slayers such as himself being dismissed when his needs are genuine and his thirst is great. He turns and spits out, "Pah! Bunch of pansies, the lot o' ya! Don't call on me when yer incantations fail and trolls are beatin' at yer gates!!" After eyeing up the room, making sure nobody gets upity, he turns to Skarkus and says, "Well hell! If no one has enough respect ta treat a true warrior to a drink, then I'm a'buyin' one fer you, Skarkus! Whaddaya have?!?" He turns to the barkeep and says, "A pitcher of your strongest beer and a steak fer me, and whatever the Rider here wants. Oh, and I believe you have one last room open, aye? I'll be takin' that as well." Slapping his coin down on the bar and pointing to Skarkus, Thromgril says, "Ya ken give him the keys when you're done." He turns to Skarkus and quietly mentions, "One can never be sure if I'll be going to sleep at all on any given night. Where'd that little half-elf go? I'm curious to see if he can hold his liquor...." Thromgril scans the tavern to find the young rascal, hoping to get the silly lad drunk enough to swear oaths to a dwarf.

 

[Ferrix]

Sitting down opposite the sea-elf, Derrik raises his glass to his lips and pauses unnaturally, taking a deep breath over the glass, his nostrils flaring he stands up swiftly, "aye, I'll be back, they gave me the wrong drink."

Manuevering his way back to the bar he waves the bartender over and profers the glass under the bartender's nose and says "now does that smell like whiskey sir? I be think'n not, now could ya get me an unopened bottle of yer finest whiskey, a new glass and I'll be pourin' it myself."

OOC: whatever it costs

Returning to the table with the sea-elf he places the empty glass on the table, sets the bottle down beside it and sits with an appropriately smug smile upon his face. Pouring himself half of a glass to start, he'll toast the sea-elf and down the glass. "Alright lad, now we can chat a bit."

 

[taitzu52]

"Well hell! If no one has enough respect ta treat a true warrior to a drink, then I'm a'buyin' one fer you, Skarkus! Whaddaya have?!?" He turns to the barkeep and says, "A pitcher of your strongest beer and a steak fer me, and whatever the Rider here wants. Oh, and I believe you have one last room open, aye? I'll be takin' that as well." Slapping his coin down on the bar and pointing to Skarkus,

<OOC- I am quite aware that I only have 12gp to my name. If I do come up short, I guess I"ll be making some CHA vs. WIS rolls with my good buddy Skarkus! >

 

[Vendetta]

<OOC- I am quite aware that I only have 12gp to my name. If I do come up short, I guess I"ll be making some CHA vs. WIS rolls with my good buddy Skarkus! >

((OOC: Let's hope Zar doesn't figure this out... he'll pay but I think we all know what kind of an @$$ he is "A Dwarf without sense is a Dwarf without money." Or some such comment. hehe))

Zar-Vroxiar raises his glass with the Dwarf. "To Humans; May they always pour the right drink by the second round." Zar takes a smooth sip from his 56 Shandomier, savors the flavor for a moment then turns to the Dwarf. "Did I hear correctly? Are you a man of the forge? I've not dabbled in the art. Alas, my arms are not well suited for such arduous labors. But I appreciate a craftsman's work, none the less. Might you have a sample of your craft that I might enjoy?"

Just then, the two Elves on the stage finish their song. Zar stands, claps twice and says, "Hazzah, minstrels, hazzah." Zar tosses a gold coin onto the stage. "Might you know a song of the Chieftain of Skelandgrief and the fall of Amun?" Zar says, sitting back down and hoping the bards might know a historical song that retells the tale.

Zar leans close to the Dwarf. "If we are lucky, we may learn something. Not all the tales in song are tall."

 

[deadestdai]

Skarsus nodded in return to the elf's greeting and was about to offer a few words when he was slapped in the back, fully losing his wind and causing him to lean on the nearest table to regain his composure. As friendly as these folks mean to be they are starting to get on my nerves with all this prodding and slapping.

Looking up, it suddenly come to him that Thromgril had just payed for his room and a drink. O, I spoke too soon! Umm, thought! I THOUGHT too soon. He smiled at the dwarf and failed to react to the dwarf's words about his night-time troubles. Than..... k you....... But Thromgril had already turned his back and headed to where the others were sitting.

Once he had ordered his ale, he went to sit at their table and with a polite nod or smile to each of them, waited for the elven minstrels to start their tune.

 

[Ferrix]

"Did I hear correctly? Are you a man of the forge? I've not dabbled in the art. Alas, my arms are not well suited for such arduous labors. But I appreciate a craftsman's work, none the less. Might you have a sample of your craft that I might enjoy?"

Zar leans close to the Dwarf. "If we are lucky, we may learn something. Not all the tales in song are tall."

Perhaps he's got a grain of sense to his name if he can fathom that notion. Grinning, Derrik pours himself another glass of whiskey and is about to speak when the horseman sits at the table, changing his thought he says "eh lad, would ye care for a drink? I can get ye a glass and I shouldn't be drinkin' this 'ere bottle all by me lonesome."

Turning back to the sea-elf Derrik resumes his former thought, "aye, I'm a man of the forge for certain. An example, eh well, this very armor I wear is by me own hand, as well as this," he says hefting a warhammer of polished adamantine and resting it upon the tabletop with a dull thud.

 

[Vendetta]

As the Horseman steps up, Zar-Vroxiar says, "Well, now. Look who we have here, the wide eyed doe. Sit young Human, and have a drink of the Dwarf's whiskey. If that is too harsh for you, I shall favor you with a glass of my Shandomier." Zar turns back to the Dwarf. "May I?" He says. When Derrik nods, Zar lifts the hammer and examines it closely, running his fingers over the rune-like etchings.

Zar places the hammer before the Dwarf. "It is exceptional. Too heavy and unweildy for my tastes, as most Dwarven weaponry is, but it will be past down through dozens of generations to your grandest-children and they will say 'My father, Derrik, made this hammer.'"

 

[ferretguy]

As he moves throughout the room, Ackalons subconsiously notes where possible exits may be (habits of youth...)and with such a crowded inn works his way back to the table where the elf and others have found seats. Taking an open chair he nods to the others, leans the seat back propping his feat on the table (away from the drinks of course, that would be impolite). Turning to Skarsus he asks " So Skarsus, you wouldn't happen to know where exactly is this town we're questin for?...Or even in what part of your land it may lay?"

 

[deadestdai]

Annoyed once again, Skarsus arrogantly tells the elf that he can handle his drink well enough and then promtly puts the bottle to his lips and starts to gulp it down. After the fourth or fifth gulp, his system suddenly realises that it hasn't been conditioned to accept, nor to contain such strong alcohol and he runs to the door and down the stairs to vomit, obviously ignoring the half elf's words.

 

[ferretguy]

As he watches the humans face turn many colors after drinking the wine and then running for a open space to empty his stomach, Ackalon turns to the sea elf, "Well it would seem the master wizard picked a good leader after all. Strong of mind, heart, although his stomach could use a little tempering."