The noise in the Inn was deafening. It was clear to anyone passing that every person inside was having a good time. At least almost everyone. The Barman Kerrik was running around like a headless chicken trying to keep up with orders. His barmaids weren’t much help as they kept getting waylaid by rowdy patrons or had other tasks to attend to like tidying up or stoking the fire. Kerrik was a rotund man in his mid forties. He had owned the Inn for most of his life, having inherited it off his father, and his father before him. Kerrik never wanted to do anything else with his life but work in the Inn which was called “The Bald Mans Boot”. It was nights like this however, when Kerrik wished he didn’t have to work, he wished he was a noble with land and a healthy income without having to lift a finger.
“What can I get you?” Kerrik asked the nearest patron to him at the bar.
“I’ll have... shome of your finesht ale pleashe shir. Hic!” was the reply. Kerrik knew the man had drank too much already, but he had no way of removing him from the bar, and if he did that to everyone in tonight who had drank too much, he would gain himself a lot of enemies and a lot less patrons.
Kerrik started to pour when he noticed a familiar face in the throng of people trying to get to the bar. He didn’t say anything at first, wishing to appear to have forgotten who the person was, at least for now anyway.
“This one is called Barruks Gall” He said as he handed over the flagon of ale to the man who ordered it. “It’s quite strong, but the flavours are inte....” he stopped mid sentence as the man had picked up the drink and downed it in one, spilling most upon the floor. He slammed the empty flagon down and turned away from Kerrik and made to walk off.
“HEY!” called Kerrik after him, “You haven’t paid for that!”
The man continued to walk.
“Hey, you have to pay the man.” Came a voice from the throng. The man walking away stopped and spun around, making himself seem larger to try and intimidate whoever it was. As he clapped eyes on the owner of the voice, the man’s face visibly blanched and he went white as a sheet. The person he was looking at was a mountain of a man. He had arms as thick as a normal mans thighs, and legs as thick as tree trunks.
“You have to pay the man for your drink” Repeated the mountain man, pointing back towards the bar. The whole Inn had gone quiet now, everyone sensing the tension building.
“Do I have to say it again?” he said, looking in the eyes of the man.
“N...n...no shir” stammered the man. He stumbled back to the bar, slammed down 3 gold coins and left the Inn, clearly wishing to hide himself before anyone else decided to stand up to him. As he left, the Inn returned to its previous noisy state.
“Ahh, Omrin! I could have handled that by myself you know!” Kerrik said to the mountain man.
“I’m sure you could have, but you are getting old. I would have felt terrible if something had happened and I had just stood there.” Omrin replied with a grin on his face.
“I wasn’t expecting you be here so soon, I heard Duril took quite a nasty blow. Clipped by a boulder wasn’t he?” Kerrik replied with a grim look on his face “Is he ok?”
“Yes, he is coping. Lord Castiel told me to come and have a rest and he would look after Duril. I argued at first, but he said *ahem* “That’s and order.” So I didn’t really have much choice in the matter.” Sighed Omrin.
“Ah, at least he is alive and in good hands now, the priests will look after him. Have a drink on the house” Kerrik said, slamming down a flagon of ale. “I won’t take no for an answer either.” He added, seeing Omrin open his mouth about to object.
“Fine. But it kind of defeats the point of me stopping that other guy, who I will most certainly be telling Lord Castiel about. We may have won the battle, but it doesn’t allow us to steal from those who offer us their hospitality. That would make us just as bad as those damn tech users!” He said in a low growl.
“Aye, that’s true.” Kerrik said “But ale makes people braver than they normally are, or at least make them think about doing things they wouldn’t normally do. Especially when consumed in vast quantities”
“I’m still going to report him, if he can’t handle his drink, he shouldn’t drink.”
The celebrations carried on into the night. One person after another leaving to retire to their homes and beds. They dribbled away into the streets, as rain water does off guttering into drains.
