“Aye, yer mongrel!” Ezlan suddenly burst out in joyful realisation. With the friendly taunt he went up and slapped the dwarf on the shoulder. “Nearly didn’t recognise ya with those steady legs and an empty hand.” He pushed the near empty wineskin into the confused guild members hand. With a chuckle he carried on.
“T’is been a while, what hole were we at? The broken keel? Colonial Taphouse? The heavy hammer? Or was it The drunken whore? Ahh, anyway I’m sure they’re still light on booze after that night. You sure can drink my friend!”

Ezlan was vague at best of his description of the night, as could be expected of such an evening. Everything would sound plausible and most probably likely if Kolrim had ever been out drinking within the guilds town. Not to mention remembering this event fell in his favour as the large bare chested Caerbean had become overly friendly, with arm around his shoulder he leant down and lead him into the group, still reciting events and tall stories of that night and others, most of which pertained to himself and various women of vulgar descriptions all manner of different races.