Returning to camp Tyr felt as though he left something behind, the mistake of not killing that orc captain weighed heavily on him and put him in a foul mood. Deciding to make the best of his time however, Tyr went over to the dining section of the camp and got himself a barrel of ale. Pouring himself his first pint of many Tyr sat down heavily at the table.

"If only I'd run just a wee 'ikkle bit fasser that blasted pig wouldn't a made et outta tha forrest wi' his head on his shoulders!"

Downing his pint of ale in a single swig Tyr poured himself another hefty helping of the firewater. Slamming his mug down on the table Tyr made everyone's dishes jump, some of which fell on those who were trying to eat. The more drunken members of the Order laughed at those who got dirtied while the drunk ones who were now wearing their food glared at Tyr and some began shouting. In short order a drunken brawl broke out with Tyr at the center. Flailing limbs and angry shouting that was so loud it could be heard across the camp. The reckless giant's laughter was the only thing that could be heard above the din.

"Come now lads! Is this 'ikkle clamour tha best ye ken do? Ma mother could beat ye all back into yer beds blindfolded an' not even break a sweat!"