EQ6 - 2004 - The Holy Harbringer

The bars of Thurgadin were always crowded. All along the high street, each of them would always have a full
compliment of moderately drunk dwarves within, whatever time of day it was.

Tonight was a little special however, in the Holy Harbringer, tonight there was a real celebration going on.

Allies of the Coldain had broken into the evil sorcerer, Velkators Laboratory, deep in the caverns of the Great
Divide and put the insane giant to the sword!

Tonight the drink was on the house, courtesy of the Dain himself and everyone was drinking themselves into a
stupor, with toast after toast in honour of the brave outlander heroes who had dared such a dangerous mission.

Some of the clerics from the nearby temple were also here, and they reflected on the various outlander races
that were gathered here tonight.

'Arr these are strange times.' said the first cleric after he had drained is flagon

'Aye, you could take your pick of any corner of Norrath tonight Daragor.' came the reply.

The third and final priest sagely nodded and said,

'Aye, Yori, here we have long-shanks from Qeynos and Freeport,' and he gestured to the to men by the bar, one dressed
in green-grey mail, the other in a suit of red field plate armour. They were having an animated discussion of the
battle the night before.

'And elves and even ... wimmins.', and with this he gestured to the slim elvin figures talking to the tall woman
dressed in leather. The dwarves didn't know what to make of a long-shanks woman who looked like she could chop
bricks in half with a single calculated strike.

'And the darkies..', said Daragor, 'There are some over there.' He raised his mug to the Erudins that had caught
his gaze across the room. Three tall dark figures dressed in robes, dangerous fire dancing behind their eyes.

'Aye,', said the first finally, 'And Butcherblock dwarves, halfpins, ... and whatever that robed creature is,..
quite a collection.'

There was suddenly a ruckus from the other room and coming through the door, on their knees because of thier
height, came three laughing and very drunk barbarians.
As they came through the door each one seemed to be bigger than the next, making the eyebrows of the dwarves
creep further and further up their brows.

'Some of them are nearly giants themselves!', exclaimed Yori.

The three barbarians were greeted by the rest of the company with cries of 'Well met!' and someone caused a huge
burst of mirth and laughter by addressing the biggest of the barbarians by saying innocently
'Ah! Just a coffee for you then Edihag?'

The dwarves looked on in utter confusion as the huge barbarian playfully cast around in search of the offender until
he slammed his fist down on the table by which the group of Erudins were sat.
'If you were a man I would beat you Azzamanya!'
The pretty Erudin woman performed a small sweeping bow on behalf of her friends, causing another round of laughter.

Someone handed Edihag a huge flagon of ale and he drained it off in three gigantic gulps getting another round of
cheers and applause from the audience.

The dwarves didn't understand the joke, but they did understand drinking and slammed their fists on the table and
cheered in appreciation of the heroic portion that had just been imbibed.

The dwarven clerics, who were meant to be at the temple for a mass in another half hour silently agreed between
themselves that they could maybe stay a little longer, After all, half the congregation were in here tonight anyway.

As the night wore on, the bar was drunk dry and the pot boys were sent out to get more ale and fine spirits sent from
the royal supplies. A brewers cart arrived, pulled by wolves, and the laughing drunks helped unload the barrels and
swiftly had them open.

The night grew louder and the sound of revelry could be heard all the way to the city gates. A troop of guardsmen were
sent to check up on things, but it was such a good natured event, and seemed to include a good many of what might
be considered coldain high society, that nothing was done.
The guardsmen scratched their heads and moved on, they would have gladly have joined the drinking, but they would be
on shift until the next day.

The three dwarven clerics however, had not had such a good time in years, and had not drunk so much either.
They were soon the best of friends with the rest of the company, drink breaking down the social barriers as it so
often does. Toasts were drunk, dances were danced and songs were sung well into the morning.
Half of the revellers were local dwarves, males and maidens, while the other half were the band of heroes. The
differences in height made some of the larger reels much more entertaining. A man could easily sweep a dwarven maid
off her feet in a dance of the 'Dashing White Gnoll Commander' and a dwarven lad would sometimes have a hard time
keeping up with his chosen, more longer legged companion, in a dance of the 'Gay Gorgons'.
The most fun was when groups of eight would dance 'Drops of Kalish' which would inevitably end in carnage and
broken furniture as people were reeled every which way.

One by one people began to either slip into a drunken stupor or have to go round the back to be violently ill and
the inn began to thin out a bit. As dawn arrived only the hardened drinkers, and dwarves of course, remained.

Breakfast was served of thick sausage and potato soup, with hard crusty bread and wolves butter. Those that could
keep it down gained a second wind and continued drinking.


..

At some point later that evening, as he came off his watch the guards captain decided to pop his head in the door of
the Holy Harbringer to see how things were going.

Opening the door he let out a small gasp at the scenes of devastation. Not a single table remained upright and many
of the chairs were broken. In fact one lay in flinders, smashed to smithereens by the figure of a barbarian that
had fallen on it and lay there still.
The barman was passed out on the counter, and strewn across the floor and lying atop each other in many cases were
the slumbering bodies of humans, dwarves, erudites, elves and many other races. Not all of them were fully
clothed.

Looking up, the guardsman could see the snoring body of Daragor, a well respected figure in the church, asleep in the
chandelier. Most likely he had been tossed up there.

'There will be some tough hangovers today I expect.', the guard muttered to himself has he gently closed the door
and walked away. He had a home to go to now, besides if a smashed up bar was all that it required to get rid of
such a scourge as the evil Sorcerer Velkator then it was a small price to pay.

...

Roztov woke up with a grunt then propping himself up from the floor he looked around in bemusement for a second.
Suddenly his body caught up with him and a flood of sensation washed arrived in an unwelcome surge.
'Tunare! My head!'
He struggled to get up, then kicking, he cried,
'Get off me Brond!'

The slumbering dwarf seemed dead to the world. Roztov stood up and clutching his head walked to the bar, seemingly
the only bit of furniture left standing.
The barman's wife smiled at him as he approached and handed him a hot mug,
'Here, drink this, ' she said, 'Its a cure for too much drink.'
'Ye gods!', cried the druid as he drank it back, 'What's in it?'
'You don't want to know'
'I am sorry we ruined your bar, we will pay for the damage of course.'
'No need, the Dain will pay for it, or so I was told.'

Roztov looked around and said,
'Well, they all look mostly alive, no resurrection spells will be needed....'
His eyes rested on the robed figure of Assynt, who was lying prone under a bench, with only one shoe on his foot.
'...probably.'

Roztov hadn't noticed the slim figure of Azzamanya had crept slowly over to the bar and accepting a mug from the
barman's wife she said,
'If anyone was going to drink themselves to death last night it was him. Drinking all that rum from a boot can't
be good for you.'
'I don't remember that. I thought Assynt didn't drink?'
Azzamanya drank some of the hot toddy and shuddered. Looking at Roztov with bleary eyes she said,
'Flrugblizzlle..gah!.. I mean.. I dunno...'

Roztov smiled and looked at her, the cheeky smile she always wore was still there on her face although her eyes
were blood shot and barely open.
'I never asked, forgot about it. I know you have been away, but do you know an Erudin called Soora? I think she was
a wizard as well at some point?'
'No. Maybe she wasn't there when I was. What does she look like?'
'Like you, but taller, and her hair is wavy, not straight like yours. Er.. she is missing part of her left ear.'
'Oh yeah...', mumbled Azzamanya into her mug, 'There was a girl like that in my Advanced Thaumatic Studies class,
but she was called Bottom.. um, might have been a nickname I suppose.'
'Bottom?'
'Something like that.. bottom...frontside... summuthin...', Azzamanya was mumbling, obviously tired out from thinking
too much and slowly slumping on the bar.
Roztov patted her gently on the shoulder in thanks and looked around at the devastation again in wry amusement,
'So she was a wizard then. Perhaps I will pay her another visit sometime.'