Kann Day I

[Galein]

Galein glanced out through the kitchen door, seeing if anyone knew had walked in. When she saw that no one had, she went back to kneeding the dough. When the dough reached the right consistency, she placed the soon-to-be loaf of bread in the oven. Wiping away a bit of sweat with her apron, she tried to think of the next thing that needed to be done.

'With that loaf of bread done, I think that is all that is left. Let's take a look around out there, and see if I remember anything else.' And so she walked out of the kitchen into the slightly cooler air of the dining area. Pragnék, the gambling dwarf, walked down the stairs, rubbing his eyes. "The usual, Pragnék?" Galein asked. "Aye," replied Pragnék sleepily.

Galein grabbed a glass and filled it with Svaq, the sobering drink. Putting it on the counter in front of Pragnék, she went back into the kitchen and cut two pieces of Borwul bread. Putting them on a plate she walked back to Pragnék and set the bread next to the Svaq. "Pay now or later?" Galein asked him, knowing the answer. "Later," Pragnék said. Galein wrote the number down, then looked up as the door opened.

Walking in was Arhung Yegerinn, the stable boy. As he walked to the counter said, Buri, was loud this morn'. Galein chuckled and asked, "Isn't he always? As she said this she was bringing Arhung the same things he had just brought Pragnék, just substituting the Svaq for Hearth Berry Juice. The boy just smiled and just nodded at Galein's response.

Turning back to Pragnék she said, "You better hope some more travelers stop here today, all of ours left last night and you don't like doing the dishes to pay off your purchases." The gambler just smirked and nodded. Galein walked out from behind the counter and started bustling around pushing in chairs, stoking the fire, and just generally tidying up.

[Thorgas Ironforge]

Even before the sun was up, Thorgas can be found roaming around the second floor of the Kann. But he's not wearing his usual clothing. During the early hours of the morning he wears a shabby brown robe with an apron, and instead of his green cap and gray moleskin cloak, a dark brown hood and mask covers his face and hair. Usually he carries his staff with him all day, but at this particular time, he's holding a broom, and is sweeping the floors in each room to remove the dust and dirt accumulated by the previous customer.

In each quarter are the remnants of its occupants that tell a lot about the person. Blankets and pillows strewn about the floor, pieces of paper, fruit seeds, and the occasional san or two -- leftovers of a messy person. With a sigh the dwarf stooped down to pick the items up, pocketing the dropped coins, dusting off the pillows and blankets before folding them and putting them all on the bed. The tallfolk rooms are the hardest to clean. Why in Trum-Barol's hammer did they have to grow big like that? He kept wish that the stone father smash his hammer down on these people, and bring them down to the height of a dwarf.

Thorgas stooped down to pick up the basket containing the trash, and waddled towards the staircase. There were no customers yet, and that means he can still relax after cleaning the rooms. "Good mornin',", he called out to the dwarves below as he passed by them. He then turned to the stableboy and asked, "How is me Buri? Sleep well last night, he should."

"Aye, elder, but he squeals so much during the mornin'. Maybe ya should go an see him, like ye always do."

"Very well then, but ya keep in mind ta feed him an change the hay in his stall."

The mage walked towards the fireplace and threw the trash, mostly pieces of paper, in there. Then he placed the basket beside the counter and walked towards the stables.

[Thorin Broadfist]

Thorin leaned against his cart as he got off his knees. I really do have to notice those ruts more often. He had just finished replacing the front, left wheel, which had been broken while Thorin was lost in a memory of when he had first left his home, the Mithral Mountains.

It had been almost 50 years since he had last looked upon the splendor of those mountains. Normally he would have avoided them because of the memories they brought back. Memories of his life in the caves of his people, memories of the joy of pulling pranks with his friends, and memories of punishments for when they were caught.

He jerked a bit when Morden asked him if he was alright. “Hm? Oh, I’m alright my friend.” Thorin gave him a reassuring smile, “Just got caught up in some memories. I’m still having some doubts about being in Tyr Donian.” Thorin and Morden had run into each other on the road through Marcogg, Morden on his way to the Kann Kemruhnt and Thorin just coming from Strata. Having met before, befriending Morden quite easily despite his solitary attitude, Thorin offered to have him join him for awhile and rest his feet. He accepted and they had traveled on conversing every now and then to pass the time. Morden had told him of a good dwarven tavern in the city of Tyr Donian. At first, Thorin dismissed the idea, but after awhile the longing for some company, dwarven company, grew and he consented. Morden gave him the directions as he led Gregory along.

“Well, now that that’s taken care of, we can be on our way.” Thorin climbed up onto the driver’s seat of his donkey-drawn cart and waited until Morden had seated himself. They rounded the next bend and the tunnel leading to Tyr Donian loomed before them. It didn’t take long before they came upon the tavern, standing out as much as it does. Thorin pulled Greg to a halt to let Morden off and then headed towards the stables. He got down off of the cart and unhitched Greg, leading him to a stall. Time for a good dwarven brewed ale. Thorin brushed his hands off and headed off towards the door.

[Morden Peshirgolz]

Morden had been traveling through the countryside near the Mithral Mountains, satisfying his need for solitude under the pretext of completing a few errands. While he had been away from Tyr Donian for a little over a week, he had met a very amicable Mitharim dwarf, who had somehow managed to talk to Morden despite the sloemn dwarf's tendency to silence. They had become friends, not close ones, but had reached that state of friendship in between an acquaintance and a comrade. Morden convinced his new companion, Thorin, to come with him back to Tyr Donian, and they were now traveling along the road to the dwarven settlement.

There in that city, was the dwarf-run tavern known as the Kann Kemruhnt. Morden was eager to return to its friendly atmosphere, and its sense of sanctuary. It seemed in that place as if nothing of the outer world, or Morden's past, could trouble him. There he had met a friend or two, among the only race he could fully trust, the dwarves. As they traveled closer to the city, Morden's mood grew lighter and more relaxed. In contrast, he had noted that Thorin's mood had become brooding and worried. Morden had not questioned the dwarf about his aloof behavior, since Morden was wont to silence himself.

But as they were within sight of the cities entrance, the long tunnel boring into the depths of the vast mountains, Thorin became very restless and distracted. Morden finally inquired as to the reason for his friend's distress. “Hm? Oh, I’m alright my friend.” Thorin gave him a smile that attempted to be reassuring, but it seemed a little too stressed as he continued, “Just got caught up in some memories. I’m still having some doubts about being in Tyr Donian.”

They reached the tavern's door, and Thorin turned aside to stable his donkey. Morden strode into the tavern itself, feeling a sense of relief and tension at the same time. Relaxation - because here he was among other dwarves, tension - because once again he would have to live the noise of the tavern. The sense of acceptance amongst friends brought Morden to this place, drawing him with a thirst more potent than any sensation ale could produce. For a bit of peace for his heart, a little noise bothering his head was a sensible price to pay.

He passed the stableboy, who was on his way out, having heard the newcomer's arrival. A slight inclination of Morden's head, and a twinkling passing between their eyes was the only greeting necessary. Those who run the tavern, and most of its regular customers, understood Morden's economy of words, and respecting him. For looking upon Morden, people gathered the sense that he held within him a turbulent sea of emotions, deeply locked within the stout heart of a Thergerim. Only in his eyes could be seen his true emotions, and it took a practiced eye to read them clearly.

"Hail, Thorgas. Does your beard grow long and your fire burn bright this morn'?" Morden's eyes laughed as he greeted the fire mage, who had just turned away from tending to the fireplace. "Urtden, friend Galein," he said as he took up a seat at a table close to the counter. Nodding his head in recognition of the tavern's gambler, Pragnék, Morden asked Galein, "Where is Hragnúr? Has she not risen yet this morn'?"

[Hragnúr Pakthroon]

"Hragnúr! Hraaaaaagnúr!!!"

The voice drifted lazily into the dreams of a young girl waking to the smell of fresh breakfast cooking. She wished to remain in bed a while longer, her head aching, and tried to shut out the persistent voice calling to her through her half-sleeping consciousness. Breakfast, chores, the sunlight on the sand of Nybelmar - this could all wait today. She wished vaguely that she could will it all away, and command the night to return for a few minutes.

"Hragnúr!!!"

The dwarf jerked herself upright, and reality rushed back to her. She was lying in her bed, in her room, in the Kann Kemruhnt, in the city of Tyr Donian. Nybelmar, that voice, that breakfast, those chores - They were not only an ocean and a continent away, but in fact years apart from this present moment. Shaking the last remnants of her sleepy dreaming away, Hragnúr arose and began to dress herself.

"Where are you girl?!? Don't you care if I die!!?"

A voice, the torn remnant of the voice that had pervaded her dreams, shrieked from the room next to Hragnúr's. Continuing to dress, Hragnúr ignored her pounding headache, trying to brace herself against the pain of another day. Another day spent tending to her helpless mother, who was now only a shadow of what she had once been. Another day spent drinking in a poor attempt at washing away the horrid vision of that shadow.

Pulling on her last boot, Hragnúr strode a little uneasily down the halls a short way to her mother's room. Leaning on the staff she had brought with her from her bedroom, Hragnúr tried not to feel anger at the pestering shrieks that emanated from the room at the end of the hall. Entering the room just as another string of abuses reached their climax, Hragnúr began her usual morning routine of helping her mother. She measured out medications, raised her mother up on a few pillows, and began to absently ask her mother how she had fared the night. She did not pay any attention to the continuing railings of her mother, while her mother did not pay any attention to Hragnúr's lifeless inquiries.

Deep within her, Hragnúr felt a conflict of emotions - between a guilt that told her she should listen to her mother's pleas, and a hatred against the unfair torrent of abuse. "Mother, if you wish me to bring you some breakfast, you must quiet down." A faint edge escaped through Hragnúr's voice, despite her best efforts at calm. The wrinkled, slightly contorted face of the elder woman settled into a silent but glaring position, through a look of greatly exaggerated effort against an exaggerated anger.

Hragnúr turned and left the room quickly, avoiding the look of that face. Guilt and disgust continued to broil within her heavy heart, and she leaned on her staff in the hallway, trying to block out her physical and mental pain. She slowly descended the stairway, focusing on nothing but getting a mug of ale to steady herself with. As she reached the bottom of the steps, she heard Morden's voice, "Where is Hragnúr? Has she not risen yet this morn'?"

The sight of her friends and fellow workers in the tavern caused her inner mask to cover her heart. With a broad smile, she cheerily boomed out to the quieter dwarf, "I be right here in frunt of yer blind face, my friend! How fares yer morn', my shy one?" She had reached the counter, and walking behind it, quickly proceeded to draw a mug of ale, her own Hlarn variety. She drained the burning liquid in one draught, and when she had set down her mug her face had become a complete mask over her inner struggles. Her cheerful act and the mug even began to make her feel a bit more cheerful. She turned to the kitchen door, and shouted, "Can I get a bit o'breakfast for me dear old mother?"

[Thorgas Ironforge]

Thorgas cringed at the mindless screams of the old woman upstairs, calling her daughter every morning. She never stops, nor did she consider the feelings of her daughter. He shook his head sadly, wondering why such a fate should fall on a dwarf. Sometimes he pondered what it would be like when grew as old as Jynee. Would he forgot all his incantations - or worse - would he become like her? He shuddered. Surely years of training in the heart of Ximax would prevent his mind from decomposing into that of an animal!

He turned to Morden and nodded his head. "Aye friend. Me beard is fine, and a fire will be burnin' after a few while. I must go an see me pig first. Speakin' of yer lass Hragnur," Thorgas paused and cocked his head towards the staircase, "She should be up an a-movin' aboot. Poor lass has'ta tend ta her mother, ya know." A crooked smile crossed his face as he squeezed through the doors to reach the stables.

Just outside the door, only a few peds away, strode a dwarf intent on relaxing inside their tavern. "Oy, we haf a customer this part o' the mornin'! Best be gettin' yerselves ready." He called through the door. Then he sauntered towards the stables. "Urtden, chingu." He called out to the new comer. "Welcome to the Kann Kemruhnt." And with that he made his way to Buri's quarters, eager to spend a few moments with his 'son' alone.

[Buri]

Where is fluffy daddy?? He should have been here hours ago!!

These must have been Buri's thoughts whenever Thorgas came in late. He had succeeded in driving away the stableboy for the meantime with his squeals, glares, and his overgrown tusks, but it doesn't seem to be enough to draw his daddy's attention to him. He sniffed the air impatiently, trying to catch the unmistakable sulfur smell of Thorgas' clothes. He dug his hooves on the ground and stamped so hard that every flab of fat on his legs and buttocks shook defiantly. This behavior is not common to pigs of his kind, but Thorgas spoiled him so much that it practically grew right out of his fat head.

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Earlier this morning:
"Mornin' Buri. Don't be givin' me those angry eyes now, I got some of yer daddy's orders ta feed an' clean ya up."

The pig, obviously irritated by the sudden intrusion of the stable boy in the early hours of the morning, raised his head and looked at at him for one moment, and went off to sleep again.

"Don't ya be givin' me a hard time, fatty. There are droppins ta collect an hay to spread fer the mounts o' the customers."

Still the pig wouldn't budge.

The stable hand stared at the pig, wondering whether to push or force him up with a stick. Then he remembered the elder's warning, still ringing in his ears: Ya 'urt me pig and I meself will see ta it that yar hair be gone before yar Baregozar! He shuddered. The old mage can be scary sometimes. Shrugging his shoulders, he left the boar to sleep and went to the tavern to eat his breakfast first.
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After satisfying himself with sleep, the pig woke up, searching his trough for mashed fruits and grain. Luckily the food was there, which the stable boy had thoughtfully poured in before eating. His eyes squinted with delight. Warm gruel! His father really loves him! He raised his head to pause for a moment, and there he is! His obese daddy walking towards him in that peculiar waddle! He wagged his tail, all curled up like a pretzel, as he waited for the slow dwarf to reach him.

[Thorin Broadfist]

As Thorin strode towards the door, another dwarf dressed in green robes, came out."Urtden chingu, welcome to the Kann Kemruhnt." He called out as he walked past Thorin, who had just now noticed the mole skin cloak. "A mage? Well there's an interesting site." He gave the dwarf a nod and opened the door.

Inside, the tavern was much like most taverns, except for the fact that everything seemed scaled down towards those of smaller stature. Just from first glance, Thorin knew he would have at least a somewhat enjoyable time inside. He walked towards the table Morden had taken a seat at while he glanced around the room. There was a dwarven waitress standing behind the counter holding an empty mug who had just shouted something to whoever was in the kitchen. Seated at the counter was another dwarf, hunched over his drink and a plate. It had been so long since Thorin had seen more than one other dwarf that it almost brought tears to his eyes seeing the friendly looks of his fellow dwarves.

As he wiped a single finger under his eye as he sat down next to Morden. “This is a sight for sore eyes. I sure am glad you mentioned this place my friend, I really am.” Thorin had to rub his eyes once more as they moistened up, against his will. He hailed for a drink and leaned back for a moment, trying to recall the last time he had had a real dwarven ale.

[Leilani Nakai'ewalu]

The tips of her fingers ran along rough walls of the tunnel surrounding her. Her other hand held a leather leash attached to the collar around the neck of her guide dog Lucas. She stopped for a moment and bent at the waist to whisper something Styrásh in the dogs ear. Immediately he started walking forward, holding his nose while scenting the air. Leilani moved in line behind him with confidence, trusting her companion with her safety. It wasn't long before her own superior sense of smell caught the scent of the tavern close by, cutting sharply through the overwhelming smell of earth. First the thick and savory smell of food, then as she got closer the bitter smell of alcohol, almost as if she could taste it in the back of her throat.

A few moments later she approached the door at the entrance of the tavern. She noticed that the doorknob was significantly lower than usual, but what else was to be expected in this city. The door opened with enough headway for her to walk through without having to bend over. Lucas followed her in with Rocco the ferret stirring from his slumber atop the large canines back. Her hand glided along the top of a chair large enough to accommodate her size so she sat down, Lucas going to his stomach at her left. She lowered her head, her solid red eyes staring down at the top of the table, though her gaze was empty and focused on nothing. Slipping the large leather bag off of her shoulder, she set it on top of the table and removed the last bit of dried meat from inside. She offered it to Lucas who took it without hesitation, holding it between his paws as he gnawed on it.

For the first time all day she noticed the dryness in the back of her throat and she was suddenly very thirsty. The pale tip of her tongue slid between her lips and moved from one corner to the other before her teeth caught at her lower lip, pulling it into her mouth. Her lips glistened with moisture in the soft, flicking light of her fire. It was then she noticed the heat of the hearth burning to her right and she turned her face towards the warmth. It was at the opposite end of the tavern but she could smell the burning wood and here the soft crackling of embers as they fizzled and flew into the air. However, the scent of sweat and ale is what dominated the room and suddenly her senses were overwhelmed with the smell and the sound of people talking and bustling about. She heard every conversation, almost every word as if she were focusing on each one specifically, but her range of hearing caught it all just as clearly.

[Galein]

A loud yell came from upstairs. Galein paid hardly any attention at all to it, knowing it was Hragnúr's mother. Quickly, Galein chopped up some cucumber and threw together a Cucumber Ak-Ak. Just as she finished, she heard Hragnúr, "Can I get a bit o'breakfast for me dear old mother?" Galein picked the dish up and walked out to hand it to Hragnúr.

Galein hadn't heard Thorgas's warning of customers and was quite surprised to see 3 newcomers all in the bar. She greeted the dwarves first with a casual, "Urden." Then she greeted the elf sitting in the corner with a, "Welcome." "Would you like anything to wet your tongue, or something to quiet your stomach?" she asked all of them. "We have a fine assortment of drinks and foods here. Even a brew concocted by Hragnúr over here. Smiling she turned to Hragnúr.

In preparation for their orders she pulled out a large sheet of parchment and a stripped quill with one hand. With the other hand, she grabbed 3 glasses. All ready, she waited for them to place their orders.

[Airyn]

Please let there be rooms available... She prayed silently as she led the dog at her feet towards the door to the tavern.

The smell of freshly baked bread and a warm fire welcomed the elf as she walked quietly into the tavern, her stomach growling at the mention of food by the Dwarf across the room. Rather than taking a place near the small group of newcomers, Airyn found herself a seat at a table near the door.

She stifled a yawn as she watched the Dwarf hold a sheet of parchment and a quill at the ready, but found herself only half focused as she fought to keep her eyes open. Not a minutes sleep. Again. Sooner or later she was going to collapse in a heap of loud snores and the odd muffled sentence here or there.

Airyn raised her elbows to the table and rested her chin on her hands, leaning forward to take in her surroundings. It was comfortable and warm, and that was all the information she needed. Hopefully she could talk with the owner about a couple of night's sleep, but that would have to wait for later. The Rimrunner at her feet shifted restlessly, and groaned softly. He was hungry, but he'd chased a rat or two on the way to the inn. He was always hungry, but she couldn't blame him. She was starving, or so it felt.

The elf pulled her cloak away from her shoulders, exposing the modestly cut blue dress underneath. She pushed the long sleeves up her arm a little, wondering why she had ever agreed to have them in the first place, and leant against the back of the chair. The seconds barely passed, and the elf was soon dozing lightly with the dog nestled across her feet. He too had succumbed to the near silence and warmth of the room, and had begun a tune of airy snores.

***

She woke with a start, opening her eyes widely and gasping as she sat upright. The Dwarf with the scroll and quill was standing on the other side of the table, both eyebrows raised in an expression that was somewhere between confusion and alarm.

[Morden Peshirgolz]

Morden sat himself down at a table near the kitchen, stretching his stiff legs out in front of him. It was nice to enjoy a little relaxation for a while after traveling. Morden didn't really like taking long trips, and had only left this last time out of necessity, but a long trip always seem to make the return home better. Morden looked around the tavern for a moment to see what everyone was up to. Two elves had just entered the tavern, both of about average height, one a pale blue in color, the other the color of sand. How strangely colored elves were, thought Morden, who prefered the solid, earthen colors of dwarves. Though Morden was a bit odd for a dwarf, since he was probably taller than either of those elves. His height had been something he had been respected for among the Susilgerim dwarves, who were the tallest of the dwarf race. But here in Tyr Donian, he tended to get not a few stares around town. People had for the most part grown used to the sight of him, especially here in the tavern, but he still was considered something of an oddity.

Thorin, the dwarf who had given Morden a ride into the city today, sat down at the table. “This is a sight for sore eyes. I sure am glad you mentioned this place my friend, I really am,” the younger dwarf greeted him. Morden glanced at his new friend, and was glad to see him in what seemed to be better spirits. "Wherever there be fellow dwarves to drink with, any place can be a good sight for tired eyes. Let's enjoy an ale or two, to our successful trip and safe return, eh?" Morden turned from speaking to his friend and called to Galein, "Two ales over here please!"

As Morden leaned back to wait for their drinks, a tune began to play in his mind. He had long been skilled in music, and had been known to spontaneously think of new melodies. Now a particularly light and happy song, befitting his current mood, was floating in his head. With his one hand, Morden pulled his baroomith out of his cloak. It was a difficult task for him to balance the silver pipe and manage to play it with one hand. It stopped him for playing the more complex pieces of dwarven music, but there were not many complex songs written by the sons of earth. He began to play a lilting, dancing tune. It lifted his spirits, and as he played he thought of the harmony that would go with. Lots of drums, yes, would be nice, and the Krumhorn would sound beautiful with this melody. If he had been a hundred years younger, he might have danced, but age and loss restrained him to simply tapping his foot.

[Isei Fenrir]

Isei and Valric had been traveling for quite a while now, and it had been at least a fortnight since they had seen an inn.  Thus they were glad when they came across The Kann Kemruhnt, even though neither of them were very enthusiastic abot dwarves.  In Isei's opinion, they were rather vulgar creatures, but they were more than capable of making him laugh, and that was worth the fact that they were rather dirty.

The location of the tavern was interesting, situated in a tunnel leading ip to the city.  It was a smart idea, and whoever though of it should be congratulated on his or her intelligence, not something Isei would normally commend a dwarf for.  It was the first tavern a traveler would come across on their way to the city, and traveler's were often hungry and thirsty, and in need of a good night's sleep, in a bed.

Isei looked over to Valric and asked, "Do you want to stay here for a few nights?  We don't have to be in the city for a few days, and it's seems a good place to stay."  He knew Valric would be more than happy to get off his feet for a while, the boy was not used to journeys this far, his father had never put him through the typical conditioning for a Echiilianni warrior. 

"If you want to," Valric said quietly.  That was his way of saying yes to Isei, for he never wanted to make his master do anything on his account.  Isei never understood why the kid was so dedicated to him, but it made things easier.  In everything but blood, he was Valric's father.  He loved Valric as much as Valric loved him, the only people either of them could always rely on were each other.

"Alright," Isei said, a slight smile playing on his lips, "We shall stay here."  So they made their way over to the tavern, and entered the doors.  They instantly felt the warmth the fireplace emitted from their right, and they also noticed the furniture was mostly dwarf sized, this was a dwarven city though, you had to expect things like that.  "You go ahead and sit down," he told Valric, "I'll get us drinks."

He made his way over to the bar and, saw a dwarf in the kitchen who was taking orders.  He smiled and said, "I'll have the strongest drink you have that won't kill me, and a hearth berry juice if you have it, I would prefer my son not to be intoxicated."

[Galein]

 As she awaited orders another elven woman walked into the tavern. Everything she did conveyed the idea that she was extremely tired. As the elf sat down, Galein heard Morden say, "Two ales over here please!" The rest of the conversation before Galein had not heard while she watched the elf.  Galein turned back to the dwarves and nods. She pours the 2 their fresh dwarven ale and says, "If that isn't quite the flavor you are looking for you might also try Hragnúr's Hlarn Ale.

 As Morden started to play a song Galein had not heard before on his baroomith, a man and a child walked in. The man seemed well-built, and the child he brought with him seemed innocent.

 The child sat down at a table as the man walked up to the counter and said, "I'll have the strongest drink you have that won't kill me, and a hearth berry juice if you have it, I would prefer my son not to be intoxicated." Galein chuckled when she heard what he ordered. She poured out the Hearthberry juice first, then taking another glass poured out some of Hragnúr's Hlarn ale. As she did this she said, "Well if you want a strong drink, here is some Hlarn Ale, made by Hragnúr. This was made to be drank by dwarves, so don't be surprised by how it tastes to you." She pushed the glass over to him and began to pour out another drink. "I will also have this Shorr Brew here for you, if you can't take the 'Scorch Ale' and need to move down the the 'Child Brew'.

 Still laughing, Galein turned back to the elf that walked in earlier to find her asleep. A few moments past, and the elf sat up suddenly and gasped. Galein confused as to what made he wake in such a way, looked that the elf with a confused look.

[Isei Fenrir]

Well if you want a strong drink, here is some Hlarn Ale, made by Hragnúr. This was made to be drank by dwarves, so don't be surprised by how it tastes to you.  He smiled as she poured the two drinks for him, I will also have this Shorr Brew here for you, if you can't take the 'Scorch Ale' and need to move down the the 'Child Brew'. 

He layed out the appropriate number of sans on the table, adding an extra one for a tip.  He walked over to the table Valric had chosen and gave the boy his drink.  Valric put the glass to his lips almost before Isei had let go of the glass, and he drank quickly and thirstily.  He never understood why the boy didn't ask for a drink from the cantine while they were traveling.

He walked back over to the bar quickly, and picked up the scorch ale.  He smelled it first, and it burned his nostrils and lungs, but he put it to his lips and drank anyway.  It took everything he had not to cough the drink up.  He pulled himself together and took another drink, this time it wasn't as painful.  "This one will do," he said, his voice raspy from the left over burning sensation. 

"How much would it cost me to get a room for two for a few nights?"  He asked, ready to change in to his casual clothes and take off the heavy leather cloak.  His muscles were sore from there weeks of walking, and he still had a cut left over from their last job, and it needed to be cleaned again.
 

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