icyvveins-deactivated20191230:
39.
Ro’liath turned to the fellow knight, holding his coin pounch in a taloned gauntlet and seemingly studying it’s contents. Except there were none. He looked at Tevruden, offering a sheepish grin, “Got any uh, spare change?” He asked before turning his gaze back to the vendor whom was by now, tapping their foot.
Tevruden nods “It is not exactly easy finding a good sparring partner. Feiyn is great, but she is still, you know, alive.“ He shrugs again, "Plus, our fighting styles are quite different. You don’t spar with Eroseth?”
“Unlikely. Unless I start spiking this with Lichbloom, I could down the whole bottle at once and only get more than a little tipsy. It would take far more than this to affect my combat skills.” Tevruden laughs. “Most of the baths I take are to wash everything off. No point in letting anything start to rot, even if blood magic will take care of it. There have been complaints on how long I stay in there.”
“Eroseth is ehh… Out of commission at the moment.” Ro’liath says rather somberly, looking down at his plate, “He lost his arm, still recovering. I’m looking into building him a robotic prosthetic. But…” He sighs through his nose, looking over at the bottle Tevruden was drinking from and pulling a weak smile.
“Lichbloom? I’d think it’d give you hallucinations before a buzz.” He sneers, leaning back in his chair. He seemed to be done for the moment despite his never-ending stomach, “On the respects of baths though, I’ll wash your wounds after I kick your ass. Now pass that bottle, I think I’ve made myself depressed enough to try a sip.”
“Ahh. Been there. Shame that there wasn’t enough of it left to reattach it.” Tevruden says between mouthfuls of roast. It turned out that the roast really was very good, and the alcohol he was drinking with it, enhanced the flavor.
“It works surprising well for getting you knocked on your ass drunk.” Tevruden grins “Assuming you win of course. Easier just to go out and slaughter something in the forest, and deal with my wounds that way, then wash up.” With that, he slides the bottle across the table. “Knock yourself out. Or well, don’t. I do not want to have to drag you through the streets of the city.”