Are
Even though hacking away at the worn post, practicing discipline more than anything, at least was better than slamming one's head into the paper wall that was a musty old tome on the ort of stonecutting, it didn't help breaking the monotony of the everyday rut. Not that drowning the growing sense of impending doom in a tankard or six of ale would make it go away tough. Probably would only make it grow even stronger as soon as it returned. 'Probably' was enough of a chance that things would be all fine and dandy to at least give it a shot. So as the last rays of daylight touched his workbench he got out of hus grubby workwear and into something that would at least not get him kicked out for smelling like tannery, and into a flask to get him well started on the evenings festivities.
Already properly sloshed, Are stumbled through the door as carefully as one would expect a drunk bear to. Aided by enough liquid courage and poor judgement to shout a greeting the whole Rathskeller and not worry about the grumbled replies. A ship set sail on rough seas, slowly making it's way towards the lit beacon singing promises of ale for a throat left parched by a flask ran out half way from home. Peering through the crowd returned only dismissive faces, Are wasn't keen on drinking with neighbors he barely got along with as is, further bothering them seemed a tad foolish, even for the clueless cobbler.
A familiar figure caught his eye just as the tankard ran dry, and after replenishing the stores the ship set out again. This time almost running aground on a bard and a game of dice. "Heill, friend!" he bellowed as he fell into a chair opposite the hero. "You seem mighty somber for such a night, trouble?" voice lowering as he leaned in and tried to keep from blowing out Roana's ears.
Already properly sloshed, Are stumbled through the door as carefully as one would expect a drunk bear to. Aided by enough liquid courage and poor judgement to shout a greeting the whole Rathskeller and not worry about the grumbled replies. A ship set sail on rough seas, slowly making it's way towards the lit beacon singing promises of ale for a throat left parched by a flask ran out half way from home. Peering through the crowd returned only dismissive faces, Are wasn't keen on drinking with neighbors he barely got along with as is, further bothering them seemed a tad foolish, even for the clueless cobbler.
A familiar figure caught his eye just as the tankard ran dry, and after replenishing the stores the ship set out again. This time almost running aground on a bard and a game of dice. "Heill, friend!" he bellowed as he fell into a chair opposite the hero. "You seem mighty somber for such a night, trouble?" voice lowering as he leaned in and tried to keep from blowing out Roana's ears.
