The tavern!

(( This is after all a tavern! Not a story telling place mowhahah! So let's RP! ))



*Burlok takes a deep breath and peers around the tavern. Nothing in particular catches his interest. The dwarf makes a quick drum-roll on his knees as he gets up*

"Ah! 'Ere's nothin' like a quite inn on a day like 'dis. I'm jus' gonna order meself ye finest brew an' kick of me boots and lean back with some tobacoo!"

*Burlok takes up his leather pouch with a sly smirk. But the confident on his face quickly dissapares as he notice the only few remaning coins are a few buckly copper coins*

"... Oh. Horsenaggers."

*Burlok sighs*

(( Now feel free too spin away with the true purpose of this forum mowhahaha!! ))

*Iritian taps Burlok's shoulder*

That better be Off-duty drinking *he says with a smile*

*He then gives Burlok two golden coins*

(( :3 ))

*Burlok quickly snatches the coins and glares at the man behind him.*

Hah! Wha' if i drink te keep meself from fallin' asleep! I'll be better of drunk 'den in a bed don' ye think?

*Burlok sighs*

... I hate calm days like these ones...

*Turns too the counter with an extreamly bored look upon his face*

Two please...

Dagren comes in with a troubled look on his face. He nervously looks around him. He orders some moonberry juice from the bartender and quickly makes his way out again. On the way out he weakly smiles at Burlok and Iritian.

Dascombe walks into the bar almost bumping into Dagren who was making a hastey get-away.
He wanders casually up to the bar and nods lightly to the barman who slides to shots of Sulfuron Slammer across the bar to Dascombe who glances idley around the rest of the room.

*Burlok gazes up too Dascombé*

A slammer...

*Burlok looks down at the ground and laughs too himself. Burlok then jumps up on the counter and points at Dascombé with an burning look in his eyes.*

Drinkin' dwarven brews, are we?! Wha'n insult, ye can' even chug 'at one half way down! 'Dis calls for an drinkin' competition!!

*Burloks face remains confident as he stands point at the counter while the rest of the inn peers at him.*

(( Näemen vad är detta? En tävligt som handlar om att dricka? Får man vara med, med sin flaska Absolut Vodka citron??? ))

*Dascombe briefly glances up from the shotglass to see a rather ragged looking Dwarf stood on the bar, he coughs quietly*

Errm...whats wrong, Snowtrail?

*He returns to his drink, finishing it off in one gulp as his eye twitches from the burning sensation in his mouth*

*Iritian notices that his friend called "Melvron" is pestering the birds outside with throwing pebbles at them, he shrugs and pokes a dead rat that is lying on the Inn floor with his toetip*

Euch... Why is it here?

*He then notices that it've been stabbed*

Damn it Melvron.

*he sighs and bows his head*

*Glares down at Dascombé*

Are ye mockin' me ye son o' an weasel!
I challanged ye into the ultimate challange, A Drinkin' competition! Well drink too the bitter end!

*Jumps towards Dascombé, holding the paladins shoulderpads and suporting his feets against his chest armor. He gives Dascombé the evil glare of doom*

Or are ye an... chicken?

*Burlok smirks slyly*

*Glances up from his drink with an expressionless look and stares directly to the Dwarf, turning his head around to aquire the barman's attention whilst Burlok was still clung to him like a bad un-goro disease*

A drinking challange eh?

*Two shots of sulfuron slammer along with two tankards of Molasses firewater came speeding down the bartop*

Then I accept

*Dascombe unclipped his shoulderpads, causing Burlok to fall to the floor with a large "THUD" and he reached for the tankard, gulping it down as fast as he can*

*Leaning against a far wall, a human sized mug of Dwarven Stout in her hand, Pinny snickers and sips on her drink enjoying the show presented to the rest of the tavern*

Ah lovely, feels just like Menethil all over again... Now should I get involved or not, would love t'show up that dwarf I would...

*Swimming in her own arrogance, so to speak, she gulps down the last of her mug of dwarven stout, clears her throat and speaks up*

Oi! You two drinkers! Room for one more in your contest?

His face still in the middle of drinking, Dascombe turned around with the mug still to his face and glances through the bottom of the clear empy pint to see a blurry yet recognisable gnome.

He lurched forward in suprise, coughing up his entire drink at recognising it as Pinny, then suddenly realising he lost he glared over to Burlok

*Burlok flies up onto the counter again to make himself in hieght with his bitter drinking rival, but his attention turns too the gnome who just made her apparance.*

A gnome? A gnome lass, challangein' me? Bah! It's so silly i 'ave te accept!

*Burlok then notice that Dascombé is chuging down his drink.*

Oi! Oi! Ooooi! 'At's cheatin'! We start on the same time!
Waiter! Hand me three slammers, an' keep em comein' in rounds o' three!
Le' 'dis competition begin!

*Continues chugging down slammer after slammer, his face turning a bright red almost in identical colouration with his ginger hair*

Barkeep! Another four slammers! I won't be beaten!

*Another four slammers slide their way over to Dascombè as he continues drinking shot after shot of sulfuron slammer he reaches over to pick up another one----

*Iritian ponders their contest, he shrugs and starts to drink but the suddenly a dead bird hits him in the back of his head!*

glug! *spits* What the?! MELVRON!

*he wipes the mead off his face*

For light's sake man...

*Burlok glares up at Dascombé as he alredy has being too chug his slammers. Burloks snaps his finger too the bartender and his shots keeps comeing and Burloks starts drinking*

Yer cheeks are alredy red as a rose, ye really think ye can keep up with me, lad?

*With his nose pressed into the oak surfaced bartop Dascombe only gave out a low groaning sound, crowning his head with a beermug and singing a slurred song of two murlocs in a rowboat*

Bleerghhh, theerrrr waaashhhhhhh ann oarrrr fer thaaaee twoooo of thum....

*And as suddenly he began singing, he stopped, only to fall off his barstool onto the floor in a drunken heap, sounds of carefully timed laughter emenated from around the bar with a clearly un-amused Dascombe glancing around*

(( Tsk, you guys post faster than I expected :< ))

Already chugging down her own, Dwarf sized, mugs of the slamming goodness she takes a short break from chugging and grins at Dascombe, her beer stained breath reeking as she speaks. "Well lad, I expected you wouldn't be such a lightweight after seein' you at Brewfest." then finishes off her next drink, her face starting to turn red with one watchful eye always on Burlok to try and find out how he is handling his drink.

Finishing off her drink, she slams the mug on the table and picks up the next one immediately afterwards. "Ah well, at least I know Dwarves can put up a fight in these 'ere competitions."

*Slowly Dascombe pulls himself back up using a barstool as a means of support only to end up cackling manically*

Issssnot over 'till ahh'm unconshush!

*With that, Dascombe reached his hand over the bar, shot glasses continue sliding his way across the polished oak bartop to meet with his hand and then his mouth*

C'maaahn Buuuurlok, yecan'tbethatmuchofffadrinkaifyecan'tbeatme!.....

...Hic!

*Iritian tickles his own goatee watching them, he makes a sudden turn with his head to check if Melvron is near-by*

Mhm...

*he pats his kitten while watching them*

Seems we've got us some entertainment, Mr. Schnukums.

((007 Villian for the win.))

*Melvron peeks around the corner with Narrowed eyes*

Gulping down another Slammer and slamming it on the table, Pinny reacts in the only way possible for Dascombe and his drunken stubborness.

/facepalm

*Slowly crawling across the floor like a pathetic crippled little Murloc, Dascombe made his way towards a stool in the corner to sit on it, clearly still under the influences of the countless number of shots of Slammer he began to hum the Lordaeron National anthem, unaware of the eyes of many glancing at him quizzicaly as he continued his way through his happy little melody*

*Burlok holds a mug at his mouth but never puts it down. As mysterious as the dwarf is, his sly eyes gazes around the room. Burlok puts the mug down slowly... It's stil full.*

*Burlok falls from the chair down on his back, bursting out in laughter and points at Dascombé*

Bowhahahah! Ye fell for it! Yer half dead drinkin' yer own wither in booze, me lad! Oh yer 'ead's gonna me like if the mountaints 'emself danced the hula! Mwohahaha!!.. Hic!.. Ops. Guess those few first one stil got too me... Bowhahahaha!!!!!! I can' belive he fell for it!

*Iritian twirls his goatee*

Interesting...