07/06/2023 - 08/05/2023 | 11:59:59PM IST
Drink with a SailorAn inky, black storm rolled over Hongerige, it's flashes of lightning touching the angry waves.
Ships quickly tried to turn around and back towards the docks of Hearth, but the Hungry Wolf sloshed against their hulls with all her might. The groan of tearing wood could be heard all the way inland, ships threatening to be torn asunder as the rain pelted down relentlessly. The dock guards grew more and more nervous as the night stretched on, being mindful to count each fisherfel as they moored. Only one Felvarg remained - Noah
. The stubborn alpha had refused to return home until he hauled in his net, looking like a drowned rat when he finally landed in Hearth. His ship was missing half a mast, other bits floating on the angry waves behind him as he disembarked his vessel.
The pub was packed that night, everyfel doing their best to wait out the storm. A bard played loudly in the corner, the echoing sound of music and mirth shaking the rafters. In here, it was difficult to hear the din of the storm. Was it the crash of thunder, or the booming laughter of the Felvarg five meads in down the way that shook the pub? All that sound, however, came to an abrupt halt as the double doors were flung open. Noah stood between them, soaked to the bone, glaring into the establishment as a crack of lightning outlined his form. Nofel dared to speak as the alpha made his way to the bar, his soaked body flopping on the empty stool beside yourself.
Several heartbeats later and still all was quiet, only the hammering plop plop plop of water dripping off Noah and hitting the wooden floors. Finally, he slammed his paws on the bar, a mighty growl ripping from his throat. "Oh drink and be merry, you loudy slought. Don't let my most horrible o' nights drag ye lot down,"
he shouted. Several Felvargs glanced side long at each other, but slowly the merriment of before returned.
With a heavy sigh, Noah turned towards you, a weary look on his aging muzzle. "Come now, have a drink with an old sailor,"
he muttered in a gruff voice, waving the barkeep over. "Two claps o' thunder, if ye please,"
You were in no place to deny him, he had clearly had a rough night and was not about to give you the option of turning him down. In front of the both of you slid full mugs, an odd odour wafting up from the odd coloured drink. Your nose wrinkled upwards in disdain, but already Noah had downed half of his. Burping loudly, he swung his head towards you and squinted his eyes, putting his face close to your own. "Wha'r' yee waitin' for, drink up!"
Unable to deny the sopping wet alpha, you reluctantly turn towards your own mug, wondering just what on earth this concoction was. Not even a questioning look at the keep brought any answers, leaving you with no choice but to take a sip.
Objective:Depict or write
the after effects of your Felvarg having consumed the curious concoction. Noah failed to mention a mere sip could lay out the toughest of sailors and for weeks to follow the locals whispered about what the two of you had gotten up to during your impromptu adventure.
Fresh Fertilizer, 1x
Red Festive Christmas Present, 1x
Stack of Missing Pages, 1x
Hel's Blazefury, 1x
Noah's Hook Line N Sinker, and 50%
chance for 1x
Essence of Trickery