[Tavern] Tower's Shard 2011

[TheWalrus]

A middle-aged man with a rough look about him, and worn clothing, enters the tavern and walks up to the bar. "Name's Alador. A pint o' rum, and make it quick," he says to the bartender. Once he has his drink he takes a large gulp, then proceeds to find a seat in a secluded corner of the tavern. There he watches the other patrons without another word.

OOC: TheWalrus here, freshly submitted Human Wizard lv4. I'd like to join you with Pentius and GROMkill if you have room, Son of Meepo. If not then I can wait.

 

[GROMkill]

The young elf flinches out of surprise as Canus pokes him with his elbow. Scowling at hearing Canus' remark, the elf looks him up and down. Before making an off-hand comment about the man's seemingly only weapon, a rod, the elf thinks back to the couple of times in Sharn that he had been thrown to the street, bloody and beaten for a few insulting words. Biting his tongue for his own safety, the elf instead tries a less dangerous approach than he is used to.

"The name is Belanaar. Toughness, you say? It takes damn near an ogre's strength to pull this bowstring back, yet I can do it with ease." Belanaar says, twisting his torso so Canus can see his greatbow, while pointing at it with his thumb.

 

[Pentius]

Looking up from the notice, Canus responds dryly, "I'm not worried about whether you can pull back the string on that holy symbol of over-compensation you call a bow, I'm worried about whether you'll be pulling your hair back as those drinks come up in an hour or two. This is a new coat, I don't want elf vomit on it."

 

[GROMkill]

Sensing the unimpressed tone of the stranger, Belanaar's confidence fades a tad.

A little nervousness sets in as he ponders his tolerance to alcohol, which was none at all. However, feeling a bit of challenge from the man, the young elf disregards his worries and his arrogant, young confidence sets in again.

"Bartender, pass those drinks over here!" he shouts, and turns to Canus. "I hope you know what you're in for, stranger. he says, bluffing, having had not a single experience with alcohol.

 

[Pentius]

Canus laughs heartily, and gives Belanaar a slap on the back. "This one has a pulse yet!" he says, and thinks "And for a few more hours, so do I. Time to make the most of it." Canus sets down the notice on the bar and starts on his drink. "Brew? I'll have a plate of that Herring, too!"

 

[GROMkill]

Taking the drink from the bartender, Belanaar examines it with an anxious look, a pit forming deep in his stomach. Looking to Canus, and back to his drink, the young elf finally grabs it with both hands, before slowly lifting it up to his mouth.

"Ulllgghh..." He gargles through chugging it. The burn of alcohol fires down Belanaar's mouth as he grimaces and finishes the drink in two short gulps.

Looking up from his drink with a truly sickened face, the young elf coughs and wipes his mouth with his cuff. Squinting for a few seconds, and then burping, the elf finally musters the urge to turn to Canus, searching for even the slightest look of acceptance.

 

[Pentius]

Canus bursts out laughing, almost spraying his drink all over the room. "Looks like your first step into manhood was more of a stumble, eh? Maybe try it again with something a bit more mellow. Brews! Get the boy a shot of bourbon in a tall mug of hot milk. That oughta go well with this bedtime story we have here." He picks up the notice again, looking about to read it.

 

[GROMkill]

With spirits injured by Canus' cruel jokes, Belanaar sighs angrily and waves Brews over for another McGuffin. After taking the drink from the bartender, Belanaar steadies his nerves for another round of the terrible, acid-like drink that he is about to finish off.

Pouring it down his throat in one gulp this time, Belanaar slams the glass down dramatically and feels well about himself for a second, before he coughs and hacks violently. Weezing and swishing his tongue around his mouth in pain, the young elf begins to feel a bit of the alcohol finally take effect on him.

"Looks like you're up now," he says, his eyes locked on Canus' with a tense look, before he coughs again and holds his stomach in pain.

 

[Pentius]

Canus sighs as the young elf struggles with another drink. He orders his third, knowing full well his metabolism will slow and stop long before the booze can really take effect. "Look, you don't have to beat yourself up about it. You'll be a better drinker when you're grown up, and for now there's no reason to make yourself sick. Just relax. Besides, whoever posted this notice probably isn't looking for a sickie to do the job. Gotta look your best." As he says it, Canus waves the notice. He looks ready to read it, for the hundredth time, but Brews brings his drink and his Herring. Canus sets the notice down and takes a bite of grilled fish. It practically melts in his mouth. "You should try the fish. It's great. And it probably won't make you sick to your stomach." He takes a drink of his McGuffin and another bite of fish, savoring them.

 

[TheWalrus]

Alador chuckles a bit to himself at the sight of the young elf trying to prove himself. "Ha! He's going to get himself killed if he keeps it up, what an idiot." he thinks to himself before yelling "Bartender, more rum!"