Night-ish, 9th of Alturiak: Riff and Torin start drinkin'

Riff pondered his meager wardrobe with a level of wistful nostalgia for things gone past. Not nessicarily for the heights of extravagance that it once held, but more that what he had only just bought over the last few days almost entirely mirrored what he once ran away from home with to begin his bardic training with Getafic the Wild.

"Okay...so. I've got three shirts, one pair of boots, and a terrifying lack of accessories. Great. Well I suppose I can go low-key tonight. See what I can do what I have... I guess... Yeah... I guess"

The irritation of the last few weeks once again began to creep up on Riff. It wasn't so much even the fact that Baron Darscus overreacted in the way he did. It wasn't even the fact that he had Riff dropped off in some ridiculously far-flung corner of the map that he'd never even heard about. It was mostly all about the fact that Riff had made a successful go of life, finally of his own accord, and now it had been ripped away from him and he had to start entirely anew yet again.

"Hmmm...on the plus side, at least this time I don't have to spend two years with some smelly ex-druid in the woods learning how to tell a story the RIGHT way. Ugh...you'd think he could learn about the place of soap in the natural order of things."

Laughing more at his misfortune to actually have to share a room with old Getafic the Wild for those two years than at his former teacher's stubborn refusal to accept even basic hygenic standards Riff tossed on the brilliantly scarlet red shirt he'd bought the other day and fastened his belt around his waist and marched downstairs, his typically amused bouncing gait leading the way.

Seeing Torin in the barroom of the inn Riff decided it was time to start making inroads with people in his newfound social circle. Remembering some of Getafic's more suprisingly lucid words of wisdom, he sat next to the dwarf at the bar.

"Don't EVER forget this Riffington Alexander robbitypobbity von Ulm! If you can manage to get the most blatantly angry person in the room laughing and enjoying your company, the rest of the room is going to follow along in short order."

Riff stifled a chuckle at remembering Getafic's adopted version of his family name. Laughing to yourself before you talk to someone when you are trying to get friendly with people tends to make them trust you even less.

"So, Torin! Whatta ya say we give half if not most all the ales, pilsners, lagers, stouts, ciders, bitters, and lambics in this place and see if they actually have something that doesn't taste like watered down...um...(damn...what kind of animals are common around these parts again?)...monkey urine! Barman, lets set em' up here!!!"

Torin once again pondered his situation. How had HE of all dwarves ended up here? He hated it out here. He belonged underground where the people were shorter and the sky wasn't so blasted big.

Still he was here. He had a mission. A mission his Elders claimed came from the Morndinsamman. Wasn't sure he believed that. Made no blasted sense. His job, his PURPOSE was to protect dwarves. Why in Gorm's name would the Morndinsamman send him where there were no dwarves? Made no sense.

He hadn't been out of the mountains long, and already he was having culture shock. He'd met a few humans, but he wasn't sure what to make of them... Some seemed decent fellows... but others?? So far it's only been a few days, but he's seen men broken of all spirit, Owned and abused by other men. He's been attacked from people he'd been trying to protect... Nope, he didn't like it out here.


"So, Torin! Whatta ya say we give half if not most all the ales, pilsners, lagers, stouts, ciders, bitters, and lambics in this place and see if they actually have something that doesn't taste like watered down...um...(damn...what kind of animals are common around these parts again?)...monkey urine! Barman, lets set em' up here!!!"

Torin looked up form his drink. This one especially confused him. Seemed a decent sort, had a name that bespoke of dwarven pride. Perhaps not dwarven sense though... He had obviously trusted him enough to share his lineage with a strange dwarf, and how did he reply? Torin of the Dwarves? Or was it just Torin? It was a blur now. Most conversations with this "Riff" seemed to make his head spin. Regardless however he'd done it, he knew it was considered rude amongst his kind. Though these human's didn't seem to recognize it. Probably for the best. He wasn't actively trying to offend, but human's had a reputation...

"Hmmm." He grunted in acknowledgement. "I'm not familiar with these 'monkey's ye speak of, but urine could be an apt description..."

Barthelew shook his head. He appreciated that his brother's trouble with women brought more people into the bar, but when they were so busy, it made it difficult for them. He had to take care of customers while his "poor" brother had to go to the "crime scene" and see the story that elf made up. "Three or four men took her out of here and down the river where they had a boat waiting." Right. More likely she thought better of it and married some rich guy from the city. He didn't know why she went out with him in the first place, she was obviously out of his league.

...monkey urine! Barman, lets set em' up here!!!"

Just great, a loud one. Got to make em happy or the whole place could turn on you. If that happened, then grandpa would wake up before his evening repast was ready and may the gods help them all if that happened. Barthelew had heard something about monkey urine, and was sitting with the dwarf, so he got out the special stuff. The stuff they usually reserved for when Old Grizzler conned someone into buying him the good stuff. That dwarf was not hard to please, but he knew what was really good. This stuff was usually enough to pound someone into the ground by the time they reached for the second glass.

He slid three of the glasses in between the two and said "Monkey urine, here ya go. Third one is on the house. There is more where that came from, just holler, and I will keep 'em coming."

"Oh yeah...monkeys. Weird little critters. Two legs, tail, thumbs, hairier than...um...I'mmmm gonna say THAT guy over there." Riff said indicating an elderly drunk with a startlingly profuse amount of beard, moustache and sideburn.

"Not to mention they're lazy little things. So. Damn. Lazy."

Riff pulled back on his mental reins. Suddenly he came to realize that he was about to, yet again, regurgitate the story of his first and ONLY attempt to use some of Getafic's druidic spells. Which yielded a most unpleasant effect upon himself, and half the populace of a small village somewhere in the vicinity of Highmoon in the Deepingdale lands.

Taking the first mug of what he hoped was to be a long string of quality, structured ales, or at least a lager, Riff turned his attention directly towards Torin.

"So tell me Torin, what is a dazzlingly armored living engine of destruction like yourself doing in a rustic setting like this?"

Riff took a mighty pull on his lager only to suprisingly find out that it wasn't at all what he expected it to be at all. Choking back a smile as well as a full mouthful of whatever beverage had managed to find its way into his mug. Riff began a mental checklist of what it could possibly be, and how could he manage to find a way to replicate it's incredible flavor.

"Wow...not at all what I expected! Not the best I've had, but it's got some potential. Huh."

The loud man was right. He'd certainly had better, but compared to the first mug this wasn't half bad. Tobar would probably even like it! Of course that dwarf would drink melted metal if the mood struck him.

"I'm out seeing what the world is like." Torin stated simply. Engine of Destruction? Was that considered a compliment around here or a challenge? The human didn't seem to be antagonistic toward him, but he'd be keeping an eye on him just in case...

He had no intention of getting too friendly with anyone till he knew a little better what they were about. He knew the humans old of old were conniving, greedy things... You can't trust 'em, he'd always been told. Still he had his mission, and that undoubtably involved conversation.

"How 'bout yer'self?" The dwarf inquired peacefully. "What put yer boots to the road? Ain't ye got a home or nuthin'?"

"Me? A home? Ohhhh not on your life. Well...at least not anymore. See, I had a GREAT life going for myself back in Aglahond. Thats in the Vilhon Reach, mind you. Seeing as you're just getting out in the big crazy world thats where I'm most recently from."

Riff took another slow, careful and experimental pull from his, what he was going to call for lack of a better term at the moment, ale.

"What IS that flavor? Extra hops? Possibly a rice beer? Wait...do they even have rice around here?" he thought to himself.

"No, I had a run-in with a rather unsympathetic and humorless noble who never quite got around to taking a shine to the fact I was actually stationed in the Duke of Aglahond's court for entertainment purposes. SO, he being whom he is, he took to subterfuge, clocked me on the head when I was having a nicely made steak in the kitchen one night, and then tied me up and had me put on a boat to...well...here I guess."

He paused at this...letting the memory of the pain wash over, around, and through him and found himself actually getting angry about what had happened yet again. More profoundly this time, but not in such a way that was uncontrolable.

"Yeah, I had LOADS of fun on the boat ride over. Almost every time I woke up, they just knocked me out again." said Riff with a intense roll of his eyes.

"We had some great conversations..."Hey guys! OOOF!" "How you doing? GHA!" "Say where are going again? UGH!" "Doesn't your hitting arm ever get tired? F'NUH!"...it was after that last one that I wound up tied to a tree in the middle of the woods in...well...wherever here actually is."

Taking another drink, Riff started to feel himself loosen up. He was beginning to approach what he typically referred to as his performance buzz.

"The strange part is, I'm STILL not entirely sure just how I got loose. I mean it may just have been the lack of food and water, possibly the long and glowing string of concussions, but all I can vaguely remember is growing a third arm to work at untying some of my bonds, and then quite possibly the friendliest badger I'd ever met...I'm still pretty sure his name was Jahoolie...or something like that. Anyways, thats me then. Backstabbed, starved, kicked out of a great job, and left to start over again...story of my life."

Riff then started, and rolled with it, making his mild suprise into a fully scaled, full-body double take. As if he noticed Torin's armor for the very first time in all the days they had been traveling together so far.

"You know...not to put too fine a point on it or anything, but you seem awfully heavily armoured for just seeing what the world is like. I mean, I'll understand if you don't want to bring it up, just I've known more dwarves in my time than you might think I'll have known, and let me tell you, it's NOT just because I can tell a story either....though I'm not half bad at that when it comes to it. Typically most of the dwarves I've known to come venturing out into more...shall we say sunny skies for the sake of wandering about don't always get so heavily outfitted."

Torin listened with rapt attention as Riff went on and on... and on about his past. The story depressed him. More examples of man's distain and abuse for his fellow man. The world was turning out to be exactly what he'd expected.

The dwarf shook his head slightly in surprise when he realized that he'd been asked a question! One thing he was noticing with this Riff, was that they could 'talk' for hours and Torin never had to say much at all. Which suited the surly dwarf just fine. He was here to learn about the humans, not tell them about the dwarves.

Looking down at his splint mail he was a bit confused. Dwarves wandering around without armor? That didn't seem prudent. He knew it was unusual to wear it at home in the mountains... but how could anyone see wandering this blasted world as anything but a battle waiting to happen? He didn't know how to respond to Riff so he just shrugged shoulders.

"Different dwarves do different things... I guess." he said noncommitally. "I wear armor." Truth be told, his armor was a second skin to him. It wasn't just for protection, it was for identification. It was who he was. Priests of Gorm wouldn't imagine being seen without armor anymore than others would go without pants.

Well... maybe Tobar.....

"Well sure you wear armor. What self-respecting dwarf wouldn't wear it up here. But you're a...BIT more heavily outfitted than most who would come up into this particular brand of sweltering humidity."

Riff realized that he was teetering on the very edge of getting the dwarf to open up and actually say something about himself that wasn't anything about the fact he was 'just there to see what the world was like', and his head practically swam with dizzy anticipation. Or was that the ale(?) he was drinking? He hadn't drank anything this strong since his dad, uncle, and brother and him tried to make that new line of dwarven-strength porter stout years ago for the Taark Laufkren from out of Luruar. Realizing that he was most of the way out of his mug, he decided it was time to bellow for another round.

"Hey, how's your drink doin' there? Need a reload yet? I'm thinkin' I MAY just need another somewhere on this side of soon-ish."

Torin fingered the pitiful amount of money he had left. If this mission they were on didn't pay up soon, he'd be finding himself in a most uncomfortable position. Bad enough he was sleeping in the common room with a bunch of strangers, he couldn't justify spending the last of his money on 'kind of adequate' ale. Besides... he had to keep his head about him. Who knew what the night would bring.

"Nope... Be thinkin' I'm just 'bout done here. Whistle's adequetly wetted. From the sounds of the others, it'll be 'nother early mornin' too. They seem dead set on this 'barge' thing..." The dwarf bristled at the word. He knew he wasn't going to enjoy this experience either... he just hoped he didn't embarass himself and his people.

"I suppose then...if you're off, then you're off. Look, if you want, I have a few spare coins on me. I could always bump you up to one of the private rooms if you wanted. I remember when my uncle's friend Taark Laufkren brought one of his cousins along on a trip to my...dad's...um... Well look, doesn't matter. Point is, Taark's friend had never managed to leave the mines underneath of Citadel Adbar, and was pretty much freaked out by things up here, and it seems to me that you're in a fairly similar position right now. I figure spending the night crammed in a room with a whole bunch of drunk hum...um...
us-es, wouldn't really do much to help you rest up and prepare for an early morning and what I'm guessing is probably going to be one ridiculously long day on a barge in the hot sun trying to guard our chest, as well as look for this missing girl."

Riff drew out some of the last few meager silver coins from his belt pouch and laid them on the counter and gestured for Barthelew to come over to give Torin a room key for a private room.

"Take the room key. It's not gonna be fancy, but it'll let you get some half-decent rest, a chance to step out of your armor and at least loosen that 24 hour death grip you seem to keep on your warhammer there. Go get some sleep for gods sake! I've got some work to do down here anyways. I need to start talking to the natives here and find the lay of the land so I can make some money of my own accord. Good ales, pilsners, lagers, stouts, ciders, bitters, and lambics rarely if ever buy themselves and I plan on picking up some decent research on the local stuff as long as I'm here."

With that Riff swiveled in his chair and began to look for signs of anyone who may actually not be fully intoxicated to actually start learning what this new land he found himself in was like. 'I do NOT want another repeat of what happened when I moved into Esmeltaran.' he thought to himself. 'Always learn what stories and what jokes are going to go over well BEFORE you start to tell them...there's a lesson Getafic didn't bother to teach me.'

The dwarf eyed the key with suspicion. Was he being set up? This human seemed like a good sort, and claimed to know a few dwarves... but to offer charity?!? What kind of dwarves are they over at Adabar. He'd never met any of course... Nuradar Stronghold is self sufficient, but he imagined they were kin on some level...

"Keep yer silver, I ain't havin' none of it!" He said in tone that might be considered offended. Truth is the young dwarf was still trying to decide if he was offended or not. They weren't kin, and even if they were he'd have to be pretty hard up to put himself in anothers debt.

"If I wanted a room, don't ye be doubtin' I'd have me a room... And don't ye be thinkin' I won't be able to pull me own weight tomorrow either!" If it had been another dwarf who had offered these things, the proper response would have been a punch in the eye. It would have been expected... Somehow Torin couldn't shake the feeling, that Riff's heart was actually in the right place... So he didn't punch him. Instead he walked off in a huff and found himself a quieter place in the room and prepared for a long night. He knew his mind was going to be going over these strange developments in his mission for most the night. Didn't matter. He still needed sleep, but someday... perhaps not. He'd known other Barakor who had gone Days without sleep at all...