The warrior, disguised in pilgrim clothes, easily walked past the New Ichamur guards. "Ok, now to scout the strengths and weaknesses of this city," Bryggan thought to himself as we walked towards the nearest tavern. The empress had ordered an edict to all the tavern keepers of the Holy chadzian Empire to report to her every time he had a drink, upon pain of death. Sneaking into enemy territory seemed the safest way to get a drink.
The tavern was empty, so he went to the barkeep and ordered an ale. He had just taken one sip of its frothy goodness when in walked another customer, heavily armed. "Ay mite! Eem jest waiting fear a battle ageenst the bleddy HCE. Keer to join may fear a dreenk?"
Dutchy, dammit! Bryggan's staff and robes would be no match against Dutchy's gear, even with the ping advantage. He had to play along. "Um, sure he said, and joined Dutchy's table.
"So weer you frem?" Dutchy asked.
"I'm just a simple pilgrim on a pilgrimage for some reason," Bryggan answered, "I'm from... from" He tried to think of a neutral fief. "from.. from... NOVA SHARIZ!" he exclaimed, triumphantly.
"Nova Shariz, eh?" Dutchy said, "so a pissy leetle wine sippah. Ay reckon ay could dreenk yeh under the table een five meenutes flat.
Bryggan's eyes hardened.
* * *
Fourteen hours later, Bryggan woke up, jammed in a tiny cell so small he could hardly move. Oh no, wait- he was stuck in an empty beer keg. His struggling to extricate himself woke Dutchy, who had been sleeping soundly on the bar counter. "chadz' bleedy balls!" Dutchy cursed, "Ay'm supposed to be at a beetle!" With that, he grabbed his sword and ran out of the tavern. "One more beer," croaked Bryggan to the barkeeper.