A lone dwarf sat in the corner of the appropriately named Drowning Sorrows Inn. Five empty mugs sat in front of the Dwarf, who was half asleep and slumped against the wall. Hephaestas walked up to the intoxicated dwarf and put on a scolding look.
“You know, last time I saw you, you told me you were going to keep it down to three mugs at most.” he began at the dwarf.
The lump of hair and mass stirred and began to speak, slurring his words as he did.
“Ahh, you’s sound juss lik’ this Forge-Folk I once knew, he owes me a boat that he does! An’ ish wasssnt fiiive – I’s only had t-t-twwo!” the creature forcefully whispered, hiccuping small icy cold breaths as he slurred his way to the end of the sentence.
“Oh, is that so? Barri I did give…
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