[@pops]

Even more true to form would be that we had arrived the day before and held the mother of all booze ups at the Drunken Goose, during which we meet [@Torack] and decide he's not bad for someone not of noble blood after a few drinks and a lark about town. We then emerge from the tavern during the next day propped up against my retainers and nursing the mother of all hangovers. We all then realize we have somewhere to be, but where that is is promptly pushed from our minds by a mixture of the hangovers, the nearby fight, and the fact that the ogre in the crowd who was waving at us suggestively looks strangely simmilar to the extremely large woman we all hit on last night.