<div class="floatright">(https://scontent-dfw5-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/fr/cp0/e15/q65/35089327_5247588728636540_6124479186338840576_o.jpg?_nc_cat=0&amp;efg=eyJpIjoidCJ9&amp;oh=927395e6e4b813113774c3a8bdcad73e&amp;oe=5BB699F4)</div><div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 16pt;"><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Rag “Ragsy” Stoutbrew  (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=291794.msg14326949#msg14326949)<strong></strong></strong></span></span></div><br/>One particularly loud table of four hunters slapped the old wood tabletop and clapped their hands in the middle of the high stakes drinking game, “Spittoon”. Four small glasses rested on the edge of a steel plate, half filled with a dark brown liquid. It was the same rich shade of malty brown as fine thick dwarven grog... or the contents of a spittoon. Which by coincidence was what was in them. Three tumblers of grog to one of spittoon juice.<br/><br/>A burly fellow upended his ale, taking it down gulp after gulp while the fellow on his left tried to make him laugh. Stoic as a tower guard, he finished his tankard and held it upside down with a triumphant roar. He nodded to the tall archer on his right, a lithe young woman.<br/><br/>She hefted her own tankard in both hands and began to drink. Despite her slender form, she had clearly seen the bottom of a few glasses before as she drank. The burly hunter didn’t even have time to finish his joke before she was slamming the empty tankard on the table with a hollow “Clop-clop!” sound.<br/><br/>The fellow at her left took his turn, slurping at the foam atop his ale. Loud enough that the tables around them could hear her over the bard, the archer sang out with a thick country accent,<em>”There was a young sailor from Triton, <br/>who remarked to his girl, “You’ve a tight one!” <br/>She replied, “Oh my soul, <br/>you’re in the wrong hole! <br/>There’s plenty of room on the right one!”” </em><br/><br/>The hunter sputtered and spewed foam as he tried to laugh while he was drinking. The table drunkenly roared and laughed, chanting, “Spittoooooon!” as they gently spun the plate of four tumblers like a gaming wheel. As it at last settled to a slow stop, the hunter reached out for the tumbler in front of him with no small amount of trepidation.<br/><br/>Steeling himself, he took a deep breath and in a single motion snatched the glass, brought it to his lips and swallowed. It became apparent almost immediately that he had chosen poorly, as the color drained from his face and he was up out of his chair in an instant. As he fled the table in search of a place to vomit, the three remaining hunters reached for the “safe” tumblers of grog.<br/><br/>The burly hunter and his friend got up, and he slapped a meaty paw on the woman’s shoulder, “Pitter-patter, Ragsy... had as much fun as we can stand! Give the kids our best!”<br/><br/>“Pitter-patter, ya’ll skee-datter! Next time it’s your treat!” Ragsy called across the room as they collected their green faced friend, who was clutching a bucket for dear life.<br/><br/>“It was my treat this time!” He shouted back, the conversation now louder than the bard’s song.<br/><br/>“Was it? Thanks again then! Safe travels!” Ragsy called back as the trio finally left the tavern. Despite having just won a drinking game, her first order of business was to order another tankard.<br/><br/>Obviously right handed, as that was her drinking arm, she was absolutely covered from shoulder to wrist in knotted bracelets fashioned of string and leather. They were adorned with assorted trinkets. A polished bit of quartz, a single tiny link of bright silver chainmail, a pressed and stitched leather rose, a Viol peg, a tiny wooden figurine, etc.<br/><br/>it looked like someone had raided the bottom of a very poor child’s toy chest and gifted the contents to the archer. The simplest explanations are most often the right ones, as that was exactly how she had managed to get the dozens upon dozens of bracelets on her shooting arm. The orphans had made them for her.<br/><br/>Otherwise, her garb was plain but well made. As a tanner she was apparently somewhat talented based on the uniform green stain across the hide and the pliability of the leather as it hugged her form closely. If the outspoken young archer had not ALREADY attracted the attention of the two men looking for a table, it was only a matter of time before they became fast friends!<br/><br/>... largely because the tavern was full and bustling and the only table with more than a single free chair open was Ragsy’s. There was nothing to fear though, she seemed friendly enough, if a bit inebriated.