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There weren't nothing like ending off a day of hard-work and physical labor with a nice tall glass of - Well whatever the locals here drank and it was actually the start of the day, but it had an earthy taste to it that at first made even a true blue Texan like Clive squint hard after taking a swig from the old battered tin cup that the liquor what was served in. It sure wasn't no Lone Star Original that was for certain, but it was good all the same after you got over the first sip kinda like whisky for weaker folk.

The southerner was relaxing, enjoying the familiar yet strange atmosphere of the Mended Drum in the morning. As he leaned back in his chair, about to down the last few drops of his drink there came a loud crash that echoed from upstairs followed by the familiar voices of his companions shouting "[color=F1B338]Confound it all,[/color]" spilling the mead on his shirt Clive cursed, instinctively he rolled up his sleeves getting up from his seat "[color=F1B338]What in god's name is going on up there?[/color]" shirt wet from the alcohol he spilt on himself, his freckled face bore a serious expression as he made his way up the stairs.

"[color=F1B338]Whoa there, fellas![/color]" he exclaimed, his Texan drawl slicing through the tension like a "[color=F1B338]Why were ya'll fighting? What happened?[/color]" Clive crossed his brawny arms and adjusted his shirt now likely stained from his drink.