“By the All Father's hairy cock!!! Ye are such a
little girl Magnus.”
Arn looked
at the obviously drunk man lying face down and drooling on the wooden table.
The tavern known as the Blue Bottle Inn was the favorite gathering place of the
odd Warchild family of orphans. The Ale was good and the Stout was even better,
especially if you asked Arn.
“Ye have
only had three pints you little milk maid, now sit up and have another one with
me.” the young dwarf grumbled out. Arn's voice was like gravel crunching under
boots. He had already filled his drinking horn six times.
“I fink
iff 'ad enuff ta dreenk Arn, Arnold, Aaanuuuld...hehehehe,” Magnus mumbled
through his drool pooled in front of his slack mouth on the table.
Magnus
was a temperate sort and rarely drank, except when he was around Arn. The young
dwarf and human had been raised together in the temple by Father Mathias along
with all the other war children. After the Dread had swept across the vale and
fired the town Father Mathias had rescued almost two dozen children and hidden
them in the cellar of the temple. They had all spent days huddled together in
the cold cellar. Mathias kept them entertained with stories from his youth as
an adventurer and warrior of fortune in the famed 15th legion, the
Graveguard. Magnus grew up on tales of adventure and heroism and so when he was
old enough he began his martial training with the town watch and spiritual
training with Father Mathias. Magnus
spent hours learning the tenets of the Dragon Ascendant as well as hard labor
rebuilding portions of the temple destroyed during the sack of the town. All of
the Warchildren helped rebuild the temple but Magnus was always more pious than
the others. Father Mathias had to force him to go play with the other children
on numerous occasions. Magnus went to bed every night dreaming of joining the
15th and winning glory in far off lands fighting the enemies of the
Eternal Dragon. Magnus however, never learned to handle his booze.
“Ye lose
again Magnus, ye silly girl.” The dwarf got up from his seat and meandered over
to the bar. The tavern was busy tonight and the common room was a bit crowded.
The stout dwarf had to push and shove his way to the bar.
The
proprietor of the Blue Bottle was a bald man with a large gut who everyone just
called Hero. He was a collector of histories and beer recipes from all over the
vale and even a few outside the vale. He would talk to a patron at length about
anything and everything historical. During the summer months he would even
travel to the spire and dig around for old artifacts. He had yet to find his
way inside the spire but he has hundreds of theories about how he could get inside. Heronyius the Father of
Knowledge and Histories was his patron god. So what started out as the Son of
Heronyius, just got shortened to Hero. Hero had the largest collection of books
in the vale. He purchased every book from ever trader he could find. He loved
his beer almost as much as his books.
“Oi!!!
Hero! Pour me another horn full of the All Father's Milk again.” The dwarf
climbed up on his box, which put him at a height where he could see over the
bar. He handed over his drinking horn and grabbed a handful of nuts from the
bowl on the bar.
“You
always did like my nuts in your mouth Arn.” Hero chuckled and turned to tap the
keg. The two huge kegs filled the space behind the bar. They each had a sign.
One read “Ale” and the other read “Stout.” Hero took Arn's horn and placed it
under the spout of the keg marked “Stout.”
“That
never gets old Hero, just pour me that hells be damned piss water ye call a
stout and let me get back to drinking Magnus under the table.” The heavily
muscled dwarf laughed through a mouthful of
nuts, spewing half of them across the bar.
Hero
turned the tap-cock and poured a dark foul smelling brew into Arn's drinking
horn. He handed the horn back to the smiling dwarf and asked, “How much of
Magnus' money are you going to lose at bones tonight?”
“None!”
The Dwarf roared back grinning like a fool, “I will just tell Magnus someone
stole it while he was passed out. It will be a good lesson in the evils of drunkenness.
Are ye going to toss the dice with us tonight, eh Hero?”
Hells
no!!! The dice hate me! If I played I would probably lose the tavern by the end
of the night. No no no, I gave up dice a long time ago Arn. It is for the best,
trust me.” Hero turned back to wiping glasses out with the damp cloth thrown
over his big shoulders. “You go ahead Arn and win some silver to buy more Stout
with,” the big man said through a huge grin, “There is another book I want to
buy from the merchant who arrived yesterday before that damned hedge wizard
snatches it up.
“Since
Magnus was kind enough to donate the seed money, I am sure we will win big
tonight.” The dwarf wandered through the crowd and found Magnus right were he
left him. He liberated the coin purse from his friend's belt and wandered off
to find the dice game.
It was going to be a fun night.
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