Nic certainly found an appeal in exploring that rumored village, but at the moment his focus was upon the free drinks.  He swayed unsteadily as he was several shots into a competition against a man who was no better off than he.<strong>"Itsh yhor turn."</strong>Glass scraped along rough woodwork as the elf slid the emptied shot to join several other of its like.  The only thing more noticeable to his state of inebriation than the blatant slur would be the potent smell of alcohol that was on the breath carrying those words.  There were several patrons huddled around them with coin in hand, watching the competition and hoping the man the bet on remains standing.  The local man looked down at his filled shotglass with a mixture of resentment and uncertainty as his fingers wrapped around it.