The Barkeeper welcomed the guest with a cheerful [color=gold]"evenings ser! How do you want to feel in the morning? Like knocked out by a sledge hammer or more like my daughter had wiped the tavern floor with your face?"[/color] The good willing man laughed cheerfully. Then he brought a glass and two bottles - one turning towards red and one more towards amber.

Muorra didn't pay attention to Clay coming in. He was focused on the Shoemaker's story about how the King himself had come to his small shop of all places to by a new strap for his fancy shoes. The climax of the story was when the King missed a step going out and fell face first out of the door. He was lucky - well kind of. Had the pile of horse crap not been where it was, the scene would've been much bloodier and not so funny for the town's people who happened to see the unlucky event.

Muorra was done with his pint and headed back to get some more. He took a couple of steps backwards while still talking to the men of the village who were gathered to the table. Without paying attention to his surroundings he was dangerously on a collision course with Clay. Muorra was about to turn towards the direction he was headed... [@Dark Light]