Marcus pulled up a seat at the rapidly filling table and procured a cup from a passerby, filling his cup and waiting for the others to do so as well. A nod to Glodin welcomed him to the table, another nod to Argus had them all raising a cup. "To the defeat of Sar'than!" Marcus cheering in an unusually happy mood. As a group they all put back their mugs and drained the contents in one long swig, the dwarves likely having an easier time.
This process was repeated nearly 5 more times before Marcus felt the first tingle of alcohol.

===========================

Bartuc had returned to the party shortly after Ruinil and Karl began their bout. Seeing her hit her Brough his anger to a peak but he swallowed the notion of attacking. This was a friendly fight, nobody would harm anyone here. Not this group atleast. Say what you want of Sunderland, but her troops followed to the letter and were loyal beyond question.

As Karl and Ruinil squared up again Bartuc came forward for a closer look, arms crossed and a wide grin on his face. "Careful, Karl. She's quick." He chuckled to himself, remembering a spat they had. "I'll take the winner on."