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So Castulo was supposed to meet up with a foreign contact, Jerick Longsmith, here in the Pious Pint. But then some asshole threw a punch (maybe somebody said something nasty to him), and the man who got punched was too damn drunk to throw a decent punch back, his fist flew off target, walloped some other poor bastard who wasn't even involved, and before long Regel was weeping—woe to the beautiful Right Ordering! The whole damn Pious Pint got caught up in a good ole scuffle! Never let it be said that Gildans were above a nice brawl from time to time.
Only after most of the combatants in the dust-up had winded themselves, or decided there wasn't much to be gained by getting back up after having been knocked down, could the loud protests of the barkeep, Tabu Numenal, be heard: "Get out of here! All of you! BEGONE! Get your sorry asses out of my tavern 'fore I call for some Regulators to sort this out! Regel have mercy on the lot of you!"
Tabu had cause to be upset, of course. Look at the state of the Pint after the scuffle: chairs broken, tables overturned, sticky drink spilled everywhere, empty tankards littering the floor, plates busted and food gone to waste, and here and there little bits of blood knocked from mouths or noses to complete the mess.
Castulo was one of the brawlers left standing. But damn if he wasn't paying for it—he took a few good licks to the face during all that. Hey, good fun often didn't come cheap. One of Castulo's favorite things about traveling abroad was, by and large, ajams leaned more heavily into Castulo's personal sense of "a good time" than many of his fellow Gildans.
Presently though, Castulo—just a little tipsy—stumbled back a step and bumped into someone and managed to right his balance before he toppled over. He turned around, and saw it was a young lad he'd bumped.
"You alright? I didn't punch you, did I? I might've punched you."
The fight did get a bit wild in its full intensity.
Quaestor Farrell Leguin
Only after most of the combatants in the dust-up had winded themselves, or decided there wasn't much to be gained by getting back up after having been knocked down, could the loud protests of the barkeep, Tabu Numenal, be heard: "Get out of here! All of you! BEGONE! Get your sorry asses out of my tavern 'fore I call for some Regulators to sort this out! Regel have mercy on the lot of you!"
Tabu had cause to be upset, of course. Look at the state of the Pint after the scuffle: chairs broken, tables overturned, sticky drink spilled everywhere, empty tankards littering the floor, plates busted and food gone to waste, and here and there little bits of blood knocked from mouths or noses to complete the mess.
Castulo was one of the brawlers left standing. But damn if he wasn't paying for it—he took a few good licks to the face during all that. Hey, good fun often didn't come cheap. One of Castulo's favorite things about traveling abroad was, by and large, ajams leaned more heavily into Castulo's personal sense of "a good time" than many of his fellow Gildans.
Presently though, Castulo—just a little tipsy—stumbled back a step and bumped into someone and managed to right his balance before he toppled over. He turned around, and saw it was a young lad he'd bumped.
"You alright? I didn't punch you, did I? I might've punched you."
The fight did get a bit wild in its full intensity.
Quaestor Farrell Leguin