Doring looked around at the little group. Stay and find out? While Doring never really had a taste for adventure, he found himself wanting to stay. Mere curiosity? Or perhaps something more? "Hmm... yeah. Why not?" He set his pack against a tree and leaned up next to it, taking another swig of the sweet, fiery liquid in his bottle. A couple of hours and many bottles later, Doring was piss drunk. He wandered around the camp, drinking from his bottle. "Achemabs... adem factus... mephegh... " He mumbled nonsense as he staggered around camp. "Gotta... take a pissh..."<br/><br/>Doring did his business and staggered back to his designated sleep spot. "Dwarven ale... besht thing evah..." And just like that, he snorted and fell face first to the ground, sleeping soundly until the morning.