The Kingdom's Capital

"I don't need frilly bullshit, I'm not going to taste it anyways" Stu grunts.

"Just alcohol."

Stu spends what seems like an eternity inspecting the beer before taking a small sip.

"Passable."

Vedrick looks at Stu, "The best dwarven beer is in the poor district of the city, just so you know."

Stu mutters something unintelligible and waits to be left alone.

Vedrick moves away and goes to sit down with Prince Fortesque.

Stu opens his cloak slightly and makes a small incision on his arm. He pours a small stream of the ale into the wound. He smiles.

"Arsefuck" Stu mutters with a grin.

Stu continues with his ritual.

A few minutes later, Stu stumbles toward the Prince. "Sooo", he says with a long drawn out slur. "I hear you have lots of" he pauses for some time. "Money" he blurts. Blood and alcohol drip from his arm.

"Yessss" he raves. "I killed all the guards". He waves his arms around while weaving his tale, Slinging blood from his arm.

Dmitri lifts the man over his shoulder and goes to find the nearest guard post where he can dump his sorry ass.

"Oh they may have" He slurs "Helped a wee bit." Pinching his fingers together for emphasis. "Perhaps... killing one or two guards I didn't see"

It appears Stu is having trouble staying upright.

Stu takes his seat with a thump. "Someone appears to have a stick up his arse!" Stu bellows.

"Jarguk" Stu mutters.

"What I need" Stu says drunkenly "Is a dragon."

He starts to smile.

"Fly away" He slurs, carrying the "y" sounds for what seems like an eternity.