Requested by anonymous.
You passed the tankard of water to Saltzpyre, who had his face buried in his hands where he was hunched over the map table. Bardin leant up against the wall, twiddling his beard between his fingers idly, and Kruber stood at the bar using the counter to keep himself stood upright.
You too felt like absolute crap. Your head hurt and your sight was blurry. You felt like you could keel over any second.
“Keep drinking water, lads.” You muttered through your hangover induced slurring, slumping down onto the stool opposite the Hunter since you felt like your legs could no longer support your weight. There was a chorus of disgruntled grumbles which made you shake your head, which you then rested on the parchment map in front of you.
The only noises to break up the silence were those of everyone taking the occasional sip from their cups - that was until the Dwarf brought up the question of the contest the night before.
“So, who won?” He asked, peering round to all of you. Kruber didn’t reply, he was far too busy keeping himself on his feet to hear the question.
“Definitely not Grimgi,” Bardin continued, to which Saltzpyre turned quickly to stare at him with half-shut eyes. He soon regretted it, though, when the pounding in his head thumped louder.
“Hardly,” he started in a tone far lower than usual. “For a dwarf you can barely hold your liquor - you were the first to go!”
You moved your hands over your ears as slurred arguing ensued.
