Pondering on the thought, he scratches his hairy cheek.
Well... we could do some work elsewhere for now till we save up and then open up our own place. Take in some big missions with big rewards.... You know of any at the moment?
Miroslaw pondered the question for a moment. He only ever took what stood out to him on the job boards. Lately, however, he was looking for something specific. A job that may lead him to the sewers and, potentially, to his saved up gold that was stolen from him under his own roof. He decided not to bring it up in his current state. Thinking about it made him angry enough without actually discussing it.
"Not really. I just take whatever I find on the bulletin boards around town. But, if I come across something, I'll definitely look you up."
He moved his head forward to place his mouth on his ale before picking it up. Immediately, he found out his head had suddenly gained a substantial amount of weight. He missed the glass and ended up just laying his head down on the counter in front of him. Nothing has spilled yet. That had always been his rule to when the night should be over. Whenever something was spilled, he, often quite abruptly, takes his leave and heads home.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
Zarr raised his head and then bumped his chest with his closed hand before a rather large burp came out. What a relief it was to let it out that way. When he looked back to his friend, he saw him laying his head on the counter. He paused for a minute to see if he would get back up or if he had fallen asleep. The old Soren was quite sleepy himself, but he did not want the night to end after having such a great time with Miro.
Miroslaw was most surely not asleep, just off balance, After a moment of finding his drunken center, he raises his head off the counter and takes another gulp of his ale. He picked right up as if his head never his the counter, "So, what will we call our business?" He ponders for a moment, "The Murky Giants!" he truly did not remember where he got that name, even if it was from the very tavern he was sitting in. The alcohol was in full effect.
Zarr's head was seen falling a few times as his eyes could not stay open. When Miro woke right back up, it caught the old Soren off guard and kind of scared him making him catch his balance to not fall of the stool he sat on. Having grabbed the bar with both arms, he then shook his head hard to try and wake himself up.
... The Mighty Murky Giants That Kick Arse for Money!.... No... maybe that one is a little too long.
Zarr stood up, still holding onto the bar to keep him on his feet. He had drank so much that it was time to release some of it.
"Nah! I like it!" Miroslaw stated without giving it too much thought. watching Zarr stand, he snorted out a bit of laughter, "You are drunk." he jested before waving his hand, gesturing to where Zarr needed to go. He really could only muster enough will to gesture in the general direction, but Zarr would probably fins it.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
He lets go of the bar and begins to try and walk straight towards the direction Miro pointed, but he walks as if he were on ice and grabbing onto everything he could before falling hard onto the ground with chairs and tables flying all over the place. Their was a loud ruckus and thump when he fell. Mostly everyone turned to look at what was going on, thinking that a bar fight had started, but only witness a large Soren sleeping on the floor.
Miroslaw's attention had left the old Soren after giving the direction of bathroom. He leaned down to take a drink of the half filled glass of ale he still had. As soon as he did, the Soren fell. It startled Miroslaw so much that he nearly threw his drink. It ended up splashing all over his lap and the counter.
Turning to see Zarr on the ground, he simply started to laugh. He did not even worry the Soren was injured, though he very well could of been. He just laughed as he thought about how the Soren was just claiming his sobriety not a minute before. Through his laughter, "You oaf!"
He rotated on his bar stool, stood up, and extended a hand to aid the travel back to his feet. He was not as intoxicated as Zarr. He figured it would be best to assist him to the bathroom before he soiled his trousers. He drew the line at holding dongs.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
Being helped over to the bathroom, he finished his business and did his best to stay awake. If it weren't for Miro, he probably would have peed in his pants. It had been a while since he drank that much and he knew that sleep was winning the battle within him, and he would not be able to stay awake for long.
Sorry about that, lad. I do believe it is time for my leave. Must get some sleep for a long day tomorrow.
Zarr would most likely have a killer headache the next day, but he was determined to find a job to get some gold and start a new life here in Wistvale.
The old Soren called the night at a good time. He really needed to relieve his bladder as well before he hit the hay. "Sounds like a plan. Remember, across the way. Bigger beds. Can you make it on your own?"
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
Giving Miro a smile and a thumbs up he then turns and begins to exit the tavern. As he walks away, Miro could still hear him speaking to himself.
Zarr.... Drunk?... Naaaah...
Zarr was indeed a little more than drunk. He would find it difficult to not bump into, trip over, or fall onto things that were along the road as he tried to find the place his friend had mentioned to rest. After about a few minutes, he just gave up and found the nearest lawn to lay down on until the sun would come up again.
Miroslaw slowly and carefully made his way to his home. He was also intoxicated, but not to the point Zarr was at. He was able to walk. Granted, it was no straight line, but he was able to make it to his shack without too much trouble. As he made it through his door, he carried himself to his very comfortable and cozy bed and immediately passed out.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.