The Drunken Dragon public house was a neighborhood bar in the city of Lomedor.

The sort of place where the population was nearly exclusively local tradesfolk and guilds persons- butchers, bakers, carpenters, weavers and so on- after a long work week seeking to cool their heels and converse over issues of passing interest. No large sign marked the establishment on the outside to draw tourists or random visitors. More affluent individuals passed the place in favor of more lively hotspots of the city, while adventurous lower echelon riffraff types found themselves run off by rock-throwing neighborhood kids and broom-wielding neighborhood women.

It was a dingy sort of place. Not dirty by any means, but clearly not the equal of the more well-known taverns. Smoke from the many long pipes of the patrons added a slight flavor of vanilla to the odor of stale beer and unwashed bodies that mixed with the stench of horse manure and trash that floating in from the street. Aside from the long, polished darkwood bar, which ran alongside the rear wall, a dozen benches and tables were located on either side of a long central aisle that led from the main door to the bar. The floor was wooden, the center aisle covered by a checkered rug.

The pub itself named after its mascot McMullen; a four feet tall cartoonishly proportioned wooden statue of a green dragon, which sat in the exact center of the bar, directly across the room from the entrance, thus greeting every new arrival. The dragon’s right arm was fully extended forward clutching a silver-colored flagon of what was undoubtedly supposed to be ale, while the left was clutched to it’s chest, the thumb of its left fist extending upwards in a sign of approval. McMullen’s face was contorted in an awkward grin, his tongue hanging down from a maw of triangular teeth, while large, circular eyes were dominated by clearly dilated pupils. Around McMullen’s neck hung a variety of different ornaments, including three sets of Ehtele’mele beads, a long-since-dried-into-a-fire-hazard Yenearsira wreath, and a pair of string necklaces possessing an ankh and a pentagram, respectively. On McMullen’s tail was a blue conical hat covered in crescent moons and yellow stars, and is was a widely whispered rumor that the cap had once been the apprentice cap of a mighty wizard. The wizard’s name and origin depended entirely on the prejudices of the individual telling the story and thus changed with each retelling.

The bartender, a large-nosed grizzly-bearded veteren of a dwarf by the name of Morris scrubbed glasses and poured drinks as fast as he cared to, spending most his time eyeing the patrons suspiciously and barking at drunks who passed out on the bar from the stool he stood on. It wasn’t that Morris was a bad guy or anything; his wife was known for commenting that he was the sweetest fellow she had ever met thoguht most people found this fact unsurprising given Dwarvenkind’s rather nasty disposition to begin with. It was merely the fact that he was, at the end of the day the owner of the bar, and dead beats, while perhaps nice people, didn’t contribute to the paying of bills at the end of the month. He was, in the end, a swell enough guy at heart, though one would have to look past his rugged exterior and often vociferous attitude.

The other employee of the Drunken Dragon was a charming young curly black-haired human woman named Isabelle. Of all of Isabelle’s many fine features, her most important was her patience, which enabled her to deal with both Morris and the nightly advances by drunken patrons. She often wore a green on white bodice that always seemed one size too small; it was a favorite among the locals as it left so little to the imagination in the upper chest region.



It was into this world that a half-elf ragamuffin named Jaz Verdek stormed on a warm Moonsday afternoon. Business at the Drunken Dragon was slow, but not unexpectedly so, given that it was, after all, the beginning of the afternoon. The disheveled, exhausted half-elf dropped heavily into the closest chair he could find. With a deep sigh he slumped across a table built for four.

“Look who it is,” Morris huffed as he pulled a long necked pipe from his mouth. Isabelle fired a mean-spirited look at Morris, who shrugged lightly in response before returning to his pipe and the stacks of coins that he had systematically piled on the counter.

Isabelle rose from her seat, where she had been reading a small romance novel to pass the day. Crossing over to Verdek, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “So what’s the deal, Luv? I thought y’ were long gone.”

Verdek rolled his eyes before turning to face Isabelle. “I was. But by the time we got to the first station, I had run out of money so they kicked me off the wagon train.”

Always in the mood for an adventure story, Morris asked, “Where’d you wind up?”

“Half Day station,” Verdek replied, running his fingers through his knotted, green hair. It had been several days since he’d had any time for serious grooming.

“How’d you get back?” Isabelle asked, walked over to the bar to fix a cup of ale.

“Walked.”

Morris’ deep booming laughter seemed to shake the mirrors. “You walked from Half Day station? Have you been walking since yesterday straight then?”

Verdek nodded in the affirmative.

“Hah, me boy. Yah got the spirit, kid, I’ll give you that. So much of adventuring is about having the tenacity to walk for miles just to get to the next possible treasure location. As long as you can put up with that, the rest of it -the fighting and jumping around and all that- is nothing.”

Pushing himself off the table, Verdek looked up at Morris. “I think I’ll need a room for the night, if it isn’t so much to ask.”

Morris’ eyes narrowed and darkened momentarily. “And I think I’ll need payment up front, if it’s not too much to ask.”

“Would it be possible to pay you tomorrow?” Jaz asked.

Morris shrugged dismissively. “Only if you’re interested in using the room tomorrow.”

“I’ll get the money by sundown,” Jaz finally conceded.

Morris smiled glowingly, “And it’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

**********************************************************
The living quarters above the Drunken Dragon Pub consisted of the second floor one room apartments, not counting Morris' own considerably larger personal apartment, and the cramped attic that formed an open bay. This space had historically been rented out for all manner of activities ranging from religious group meetings to storage for banana smuggling operations.

Jaz Verdek had managed to pay the modest cost of squatting in Morris' attic through the performance random taskings including sweeping, dishwashing and errand running. While this did pass the time and provided the half-elf with a basic subsistance living, it brought him no closer to achieving his dream of becoming a world reknowned swordsman. This resulted in a sinking idle depression by Shipday that week.

Jaz stirred his bowl of broth with his spoon, causing the bits of indiscernable animal meat bits to bob to the surface and cling to the soggy chunks of hard tack bread. He glanced up to watch Isabelle give another rendition of her "Hey, guy, my eyes are on my face" speech to a drunken blacksmith with a handlebar mustache. Morris stood behind the bar on his stool, glancing around the room with an eye out for anyone who seemed to be nursing beverages.

It was Bard's Night at the Drunken Dragon. Once a month or so, the tables at the southern end of the room were cleared to the side to make room for a stage, upon which wandering minstrels and local musicians would perform their skills for the audience. Often the resulting music was enjoyable. Just as often it resembled the sounds of a bag of cats being throttled against a brick wall. The current Bard on the stage, a Gnome named Welko Frewili, was thanking the crowd after finishing the lute version of "Three Green And Speckled Frogs."

"Thank you, thank you," Welko said, bowing repeatedly before repositioning himself with the lute, "Now I would like to pleasure you with a song I've been toying with for a while now.

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale A tale of a fateful trip
That started from Port Adúnë
Aboard a sailing ship
The Mate was a mighty magic man
The Skipper brave with a sword
Five passengers set sail that day
For a battle that's for sure
The weather started getting rough
The tiny ship was tossed
If they didn't make it to Helm's Deep
Then Middle Earth would be lost, then Middle Earth would be lost
The ship's aground on the shore of this heavily populated Isle
With Fiiighter, the Wizard too
A Druuuid and a Thief
A Paladin
The Cleric and Barbari-an
Here on Haudhiaur Island!!"

"Thank you again," Welko beamed, "It's a rough life to be a bard but it's always a pleasure to know our hard work is appreciated. You know what they say 'Barding ain't easy!'"

"Nonsense," Jaz snorted, "It can't be that rough. All you do is sing songs!"

The crowd fell silent and all eyes began to alternate between the two of them. "Oh, really? Perhaps you would like to give it a try? I forget what it is you do for a living, but I'm sure that given how much more awesome it is than being a bard it'll be a snap for you to show me a trick or two."

Jaz's face flushed with embarrassment. "Well, I..ah.."

"Go ahead, luv," Isabelle's voice sounded from behind him, "Show 'im a thing or two about how to play a lute."

Jaz turned his head, eyes flashing. Isabelle, moreso than any other individual in the pub knew he couldn't sing or play an instrument. "You're not helping."

Isabelle shrugged with a smile and waived her right hand at the stage, while the gnome jumped down and made his way across the floor to Jaz's position.

"Sing! Sing! Sing!" Chanted the chorus of drunken customers.

Although he intended to remain sitting, Isabelle pulled the chair out from beneath him, and he stood merely to avoid landing flat on the ground. The gnome slapped the lute into Jaz's stomach and took a seat.

"Sing! Sing!"

With no alternative, Jaz made his way to the stage. As he turned to face the audience, he could feel each and every eye in the bar staring blankly at him. He felt very much alone. He glanced down at the lute, which of course wouldn't do him any good seeing as how he didn't know how to play one.

"Um," He couldn't think of anything to sing about. The crowd's chanting slowly took on a hostile tone as he stood there motionless "Ahh.."

For the eternity of a second he found himself completely blank, but then his eyes drifted over the dragon statue with its crooked grin.

"McMullen...was...a big...um..dragon," he began, unsure of himself. The crowd nodded in approval. Appearently, they agreed that McMullen was a dragon. "And he..um..drank beer... from a big flagon..."

Jaz glanced around for either inspiration or support and found neither. "Um... Hey.... nany nany and... uh.. ho ho ho."

The gnome grinned with sadistic delight as he watched the half-elf choke. Jaz's mind was racing until he noticed the smile on Isabelle's face. He couldn't tell if the amusement came from watching her friend act like an idiot or if she enjoyed watching him fry. Regardless it was too late to do anything about it. But Dragons were always good things to sing about, so he stuck with that idea.

"Dragons, you know, breathe smoke and fire,
They ah...hoard lot's o' gold and then... retire
Hey nanny nanny and a ho ho ho."

For no appearent reason, perhaps mostly because they were drunk, the hostility of the crowd changed back into supportive. Isabelle began clapping in cadence with his song, and many of the other drunks were joining in. Suddenly, he had the jolt of inspiration he had been looking for. As long as he could rhyme fast enough, he could say just about anything he wanted too. The people in the bar were too drunk to notice the difference.

"Sir Owen was a big strong man
the strongest man in all the land..."

This time it was Isabelle who sang the supporting chorus. "Hey nanny nanny and a ho ho ho!"

"He rode up to McMullen's cave,
He musta been a hella brave..."

Increasing numbers of the bar's population, adding their own flavorful emphasis on the last three syllables of the refrain drowned out Isabelle. "Hey nanny nanny and a ho ho ho!"

"'Hey Dragon! Come on out,
So I can slay you!' he did shout..."

The whole of the bar, including the typically dour Morris sang along this time. "Hey nanny nanny and a ho ho ho!"

"McMullen performed on request,
Just to prove who was the best!"

"Hey nanny nanny and a ho ho ho!"

"Sir Owen leapt into the fight,
And swung his axe with all his might" Perhaps being drawn in by the flush of excitment, Jaz became increasingly animated, dancing along with the sing songy tune, which only solicited further hoots and hollers of support.

"Hey nanny nanny and a ho ho ho!"

"In Ten Seconds it was all done
The battle fought and was won"

"Hey nanny nanny and a ho ho ho!"

"McMullen went back to enjoy his drink,
Owen's corpse was left to rot and stink!"

"Hey nanny nanny and a ho ho ho!"

Jaz brought the crescendo to a sudden halt, and proceeded with a softer, more mellow tone.

"I hope you all think on this while you shoot your whiskey or your gin,
Keep your wits about you and..."

"Don't mess with the Drunken Dragin!!" The whole chorus erupted in exaltation.

Jaz Verdek stepped down from the stage amid thunderous applause, took a deep bow and handed the lute back to the exasperated gnome. "See, barding is easy!"

Isabelle smirked at him. "I knew you could do it."

He was about to offer a rebuttal when Morris' thick arms crashed down around his waist in a hearty bear hug. "Ya made a song fer ol' McMullen, laddie! How can I every repay you?" The dwarf exclaimed, a very uncharateristicly wide and toothy smile on his face.

"Well," Jaz speculated, "You could upgrade my living quarters..."

Morris' smile vanished. "Don't push your luck, kid."

*******************************************************

The crowd had long since cleared out, leaving a copious amount of trash behind them. The floor was a veritable mine field of hazards, ranging from puddles of spilled beer and vomit to shards of broken glass and pottery.

Jaz pushed the mop along the floor, sweeping the debris out into the street. Over time, assisted by rain, the filth would either seep into the mud or be washed further down the road but until then it made for a nice pile of garbage directly in front of the doorstep.

Isabelle wiped down the tables with her trusty blue towel, while Morris clinked away behind the bar counting the money earned over the busy Bards Night festivities.

"It was a nice song though," Isabelle said, breaking the deafening silence that had fallen over the room since the last patrons left.

"That it was, that it was," Morris said absently. Jaz blushed but kept on mopping. Another ten minutes of silence followed, a pleasant calm this time, until Morris spoke again.

"Are you going to be leaving us in the morning again, laddie?"

"That's the plan," Jaz shrugged, "But you know plans."

"Pssht." Isabelle hissed, "Stupid adventuring. They've got more than enough adventurers in this world. Cause more problems than they solve, if you want my opinion."

"Haven't you ever wanted to see the world, Isabelle?" Verdek asked, taking a break from his task. Morris disappeared into the back room.

"I did, a long time ago. Grew out of it though. You know what they do in other lands? I'll tell you. Basically the same stuff they do in our land. What does a poor guy on Haudhiaur island look like? The same as a poor guy in Lomedor. What does a house on Haudhiaur island look like? Well, its got walls and a roof and a front door, which makes it basically the same as a house in Lomedor. What does a horse look like out in the deepest part of the most remote desert? The same as a horse in Lomedor. What do the trees of the Great Forrest look like? Any other trees, only taller. What does the Great Desert look like? Any other desert, only with more sand. What does the Great Mountain look like? Every other mountain only larger. What do dwarves talk about in dwarf cities? Their families, jobs and current events. What do humans talk about in human cities? Their families, jobs and current events. What do Elves talk about in Elf cities? Their families, jobs and current events. Why should our people rush off to die in battles to ensure freedom for the oppressed people of... wherever... when we have poverty, inequality and starvation in our own city? In the end, I think that if anything needs to be done to improve a given society it can be done better and more efficiently by the people of that society than it ever can be done by an outsider. How can we possibly solve elvish social problems if we can't solve our own? If you travel to a foreign land, meet someone, fall in love and get married, where will you live? Either way you work it, someone is going to have to adapt to an entirely new culture, assuming that it even possible to change someone's way of life like that in any more than a superficial way. Wouldn't it just be better for everyone to stay in their own lands so they don't have to adapt? Are there no prospective people to marry in your own society? Of your own nationality, who wouldn't need to waste time adapting at all? It is nice to hear people talk about their adventures in foreign lands, but really, to me it just sounds like a big, unnecessary, exhausting hassle."

"Well. Touche, I guess." Verdek went back to mopping. The dirt seemed to cling to the floor more roughly than it did mere minutes ago.

Morris came back into the room, carrying a cage. "Laddie, come here," he commanded.

Jaz obeyed, leaving the mop leaning on the arm of a chair and walked over to the bar. Morris opened up the cage and drew a small reptilian creature.

"What the heck is that?" Jaz said, dumbfounded.

Morris smirked. "This, laddie, is McMullen Jr."

Morris handed the little lizard to Jaz, who fumbled with the thing, not sure how to hold it properly. It turned out to be a lot less slimy than it looked.

The creatures large circular eyes stared straight into Jaz's, as if challenging him. He stared back, not willing to loose. It flicked its tounge with such speed that Jaz blinked involuntarily. He lost. "McMullen Jr.? Is it a dragon?" Jaz asked.

"Doubt it," Morris said with a shrug, patting the lizard on its scaly head, causing it to turn and lick the air in the direction of the dwarf. "I found it in the outhouse about a month ago."

"Oh."

"I figure, since you gave McMullen his song, he would undoubtedly want to help you in your journeys ahead."

Jaz wondered how, exactly, such a small creature would actually assist in much of anything. It wouldn't even make for a small meal.

"Well, thanks, Morris. For everything. I mean it."

"Don't mention it. Remember, home is where you don't need to knock," Morris said, reaching across the bar to pat Jaz on the shoulder, "But don't think you're getting out of cleaning the outhouse."