27th of Spring 514 AV. Evening.
Mug tilted back. The golden brown liquid poured into his mouth and beard. With a loud and satisfied sigh of content the ale was swallowed. He put the empty mug down. He duly noted that he had reached the point where the ale didn't taste like shyke. On the bright side, the ale in Sunberth never tasted like kelp beer, that was a huge boon for the city. Bishop wiped his beard clean of the ale with the back of his sleeve. He wore his finest set of clothes for that day. It was also his only set of clothing, but that was beside the point, a black shirt and matching pants. His dark brown coat had been slung over the back of the chair he just raised himself from. The man needed more ale, so he staggered up to the bar. Almost colliding with a woman on the way. Automatically one hand went to his coinpurse. Old habits die hard and he felt no particular relief when the pouch was still there. The other hand reached out to steady him, feeling the sturdy wooden bar he felt confident he would not fall over. The hand on the pouch fished out a couple of coins of unknown value and slapped them on the table.
"Another ale!" Bishop slurred to the bartender on the other side. He looked around the rest of the tavern. Some asleep by their tables. Others engaged in jovial conversations. One man eyeing Bishop up. Who in return just picked his nose clean and turned to the bar again. Enough sight seeing, the same old patrons drinking away reality. But there on the bar, the mug had been refilled and the coins he had placed on the table had been removed. Quick service. He picked up the ale and greedily downed a quarter of it before moving again. Back to his comfortable seat by a small table with another chair on the other side. Bishop liked the scent in the tavern. A mix of tobacco and dreamsmoke. A pleasant odour, thought Bishop. He felt the cravings for a cigarette then, he had kicked the habit a year back, not because he wanted to, but because he had run out of tobacco and the funds to buy more - back then he had prioritized food and ale over tobacco. His lust for tobacco was partially sated by the pleasant smoke in the air.
But the tavern was a good place to get drunk and wait for fate to deal him a hand he might be interested in playing.
Mug tilted back. The golden brown liquid poured into his mouth and beard. With a loud and satisfied sigh of content the ale was swallowed. He put the empty mug down. He duly noted that he had reached the point where the ale didn't taste like shyke. On the bright side, the ale in Sunberth never tasted like kelp beer, that was a huge boon for the city. Bishop wiped his beard clean of the ale with the back of his sleeve. He wore his finest set of clothes for that day. It was also his only set of clothing, but that was beside the point, a black shirt and matching pants. His dark brown coat had been slung over the back of the chair he just raised himself from. The man needed more ale, so he staggered up to the bar. Almost colliding with a woman on the way. Automatically one hand went to his coinpurse. Old habits die hard and he felt no particular relief when the pouch was still there. The other hand reached out to steady him, feeling the sturdy wooden bar he felt confident he would not fall over. The hand on the pouch fished out a couple of coins of unknown value and slapped them on the table.
"Another ale!" Bishop slurred to the bartender on the other side. He looked around the rest of the tavern. Some asleep by their tables. Others engaged in jovial conversations. One man eyeing Bishop up. Who in return just picked his nose clean and turned to the bar again. Enough sight seeing, the same old patrons drinking away reality. But there on the bar, the mug had been refilled and the coins he had placed on the table had been removed. Quick service. He picked up the ale and greedily downed a quarter of it before moving again. Back to his comfortable seat by a small table with another chair on the other side. Bishop liked the scent in the tavern. A mix of tobacco and dreamsmoke. A pleasant odour, thought Bishop. He felt the cravings for a cigarette then, he had kicked the habit a year back, not because he wanted to, but because he had run out of tobacco and the funds to buy more - back then he had prioritized food and ale over tobacco. His lust for tobacco was partially sated by the pleasant smoke in the air.
But the tavern was a good place to get drunk and wait for fate to deal him a hand he might be interested in playing.
(Keep in mind I can be slow with replies sometimes due to my offspring still being such a young one.)
