Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-28358106-20160714040922/@comment-25808351-20160719211737

I make my way to the bar, weaving in and out of the patrons at their crowded tables, covering my wound as best I can so I drip blood anywhere. Reaching the bar, I knock on the dark wood counter to gain the tender's attention. He's an older gent with a well trimmed mustache and a balding head.

"What'll it be sir?" He asks like seasoned pro-tender.

"Bottle of Dwarven Highlife.... and I mean the bottle." I say impatiently.

The bar tender sets the bottle down with a glass, but I have no intentions of drinking here. I place several marks down, grab the bottle and head back outside. Rounding the corner behind the tavern, I approach the firepit and set up a seat. Placing the bottle down next to me, I begin setting up wood in the pit. Meticulously I stack the wood and place tinder. Striking a match on my boot heel, I light the fire and swig from the bottle.