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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Krug" data-source="post: 1285461" data-attributes="member: 2141">[after a long wait.. part 4!]Shein thought to himself. How did a hobbit lassie end up as the owner of this… roughhouse joint? Beside him, an orc garbed in a spiky suit of chain mail spit into his glass of ale, stirred the mixture with his cracked fingernail and proceeded to gulp it down.“I’ve come with your… you sausage,” said Shein, reaching into his basket and plucking out a Knockwurst. The hobbit woman stared at him.“It’s f-fresh!” continued Shein, pointing the sausage at her. The whole bar proceeded to guffaw. Only the orcs, who would not know innuendo if it banged them on the head with an anvil, wondered what the laughing was about.“W-What?” asked Shein.The halfling lass slapped her head. “Tsk. Young hobbit. You have much to learn in terms of decorum. Pass me what we’ve ordered and sit down. Barvus, get him a pint and I’ll give him a receipt.”“Yer got any bangers for me, halfie?” shouted a grey-bearded dwarf at the bar, his battlebow propped up on his chair.Shein, red-faced, reached into his basket and extracted the dozen sausages he had been asked to deliver, shoving them on the bartop where Barvus, who eyed the others at the bar, plucked them away swiftly. He then shoved Shein a pint in an unclean, grimy mug.Shein lifted the pint. It would be the first drop he had in a long time. He drunk it down greedily. Foam dripped down the sides of his mouth onto the floor. The dwarf and Barvus exchanged glances, realized what they were doing and turned away. “Don’t drown yarself, halfie,” said the Dwarf, who gave Shein a hard slap on the back.Shein didn’t care. He just continued to quaff down the beer. The brew reminded him of his days back at the Shire, where he had no worries and the best of times was spent with his mates downing mead after the Harvest Festival. Every drop and every swallow offered brief recompense from the current state of affairs – dead broke; forced into slavery in an unfeeling city; a long way from home, hot baths, cider snaps and warm bread and hedgehog footcombs.“Yer not a bad drinker, halfie,” said the Dwarf. “I be Hargusha Boltshova, of the Iron Mountains.”Dwarves. They took the name of their craft or their weapons. Family mattered, but spiky pointy things that tore holes into their enemies mattered much more.“I be Shein… Shein McGee!” The halfling replied, trying to hold his voice steady. It was rare to find someone in the city who would exchange names with him. Most people called him twerp or runt, usually adding the prefix ‘Get-out-of-my-way!’“And a long way from home, I warrant. Just like me,” said the dwarf, smiling. “Barvus, another mead for my friend here! Give him some Old Grap’s Rock Ale!”There was gasps from the others at the bar. Above Shein, a creature that resembled a yellowish bat-winged lizard swooped down and landed on Shein’s shoulder. “Rock Ale uh? He won’t last half a puddle of that! Nyet!”Shein shivered slightly but tried not to show any fear. The talons of the creature bit into his flesh. “W..W..”“Never seen a fortune drake before have yee?” said the creature. “Get out of the way Ogmar,” said Hargusha, “and let the halfling show us if he can drink.. like a dwarf.”Hargusha shoved the mug of Rock Ale to Shein’s face. The froth seemed to bubble up incessantly as if the liquid within was boiling. Shein took the mug in his hands. The sides felt like deep cold stone. He hoisted the mug up and threw back his head, pouring the liquid down his throat. Hargusha gasped. The alcohol tasted like bland pieces of shale. It was truly drink only a dwarf would care for. Half the mug was empty when the alcohol hit Shein’s brain like a block of stone. He put the mug down. There was more than half left. The room was beginning to spin around him. “Pace yourself laddie! I’ve seen Ogres drink less!” said the dwarf. Ogmar stared at the halfling rather concernedly. It did not want Shein to pass out before having the chance to read his fortune.“Yes, let’s play a game so the alcohol,” said the drake. The creature fell back on revered and traditional methods of fortune-telling. “Pick a card, any card!” Ogmar said, as it eagerly held up a bunch of cards that mystically appeared in it's hands to Shein’s face.</blockquote>

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