I
Carltin Belldom sighed after downing his seventh mug of ale, oblivious to the loud conversations that were taking place all over the Lenlal Pub. After setting the empty glass onto the bar, he felt a numbing feeling go straight to his head. He slowly looked to his left, attempting to adjust his vision, which at the moment was making everything around the pub appear blurry and at an odd angle.
"That's it, I'm done for the evening," the young broad shouldered warrior whispered as he ran his hands through his dark brown hair.
"Oh come on lad," said a gruff voice from behind the warrior. "You've only had a dwarfling's serving of spirits this evening. You're as bad as the wizard over there."
Carltin turned his head back, seeing the black bearded dwarf named Sorbek Ironkegar, holding a Tallman's mug in each hand. Like all members of his stout race, the dwarf had a strong resistance when it came to ingesting ales and other alcohols.
After taking a long swig from the glass in his left hand, the dwarf pointed over to a small square table in the corner where a burly ork in dark blue robes appeared to be passed out. In front of the ork was a half-empty glass of thick Red-well wine.
"A disgrace to drinkers everywhere," the dwarf declared in a slurred speech. "I'm going outside." While Sorbek proceeded to walk towards the exit, the warrior shook his head, then slowly rose from his seat, taking small steps while also trying to keep the room from spinning.
After successfully avoiding any collision with the other patrons, Carltin reached the table. After unceremoniously planting himself next to his unconscious friend, the warrior gently shook his friend. "Rashil are you all right?"
"As okay as a disgrace can be," Rashil Firefingers mumbled as his yellow eyes looked up at his friend.
Carltin shook his head and gently patted the wizard on the back. "Don't...don't you listen to So..Sorbek, Rashil...you know how dwarves are about ales and owls...I mean alcohol...that wine looks delicious."
Smiling at his friend's words, Rashil's droopy eyes shifted to his drink. "It is all right...very, very smooth...the barkeep says that...a quarter of a glass can, it can knock out most humans for hours."
"Really?" questioned the human with a half-smile. "Well we will have to...just see...about that." Carltin reached out for the glass, but quickly drew back when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder.
"Can I help you?' asked the warrior as his head turned to face the stranger, a tall and slender gentleman with light gray hair. He wore a dark leather vest over a white silk shirt.
"I suppose you can," answered the stranger with a sly smile as be brushed some dirt off of the dark leather vest he wore over his white silk shirt. "You two look like a couple of strong able lads who could assist me in a task."
Carltin glanced at Rashil, who lay his head back on the table. The warrior then leaned towards the stranger. "My name is Carltin...so...so what is this task...and who are you for that matter?"
The man leaned back as the strong stench of alcohol from the warrior's breath brushed past his nose. "I am Broose Sandrellus, a bard. A historian if you will. I am planning to visit an old acquaintance at the docks this evening and I might need someone to accompany me and carry the goods I am acquiring."
Normally Carltin would question such an offer, especially since the task the bard was speaking of sounded similar to stealing. Yet due to his impaired state of mind, the merely shrugged at the bard. "I'm in…what about you Rashil?"
Carltin and Broose looked at the ork, who immediately responded with a thumbs up, followed by," We have to get my staff...your sword....your armor back from the inn down the street."
Broose looked at his two new friends with a wide smile. "Well then Carltin and Rashil, let us get your gear, and then we will be on our way."
Just as Broose stood up, the wizard's hand shot into the air. "Wait...what, what about that rat of a dwarf? Are we going...to leave him here?"
Carltin nodded. "Yeah...Broose, we also have our rat of a dwarf friend."
The bard shrugged his shoulders, but then noticed someone sleeping in the opposite corner of the room. "I am sure he will be fine gentlemen. He is sleeping right over there." Both Rashil and Carltin looked over in the indicated direction. Through their distorted perceptions, they weren't able to really see if it was their dwarven comrade the bard was speaking of. Nevertheless, they trusted the historian's words.
"All right," whispered Carltin. "Let's be on our...way."
*******
To read the rest of the story, just follow the link to my fiction page: Al Stover's fiction drawer
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