[spoiler] Sorry for the delay! Forgot about this D: [/spoiler]

Jacques shook his head, having gotten distracted by the storyteller and the various clients of his demanding his attention. Now that things were for the most part fairly calm, he stepped back from the bar, leaning on the shelf behind him and sipping a tankard of some imported ale. The sweet yet pungent taste of the brew assaulted his mouth in a pleasant sort of way, hitting that sweet spot of perfect taste.

A man stumbled up to the counter, slamming down his empty tankard and dumping a handful of miscellaneous coins in front of Jacques. He shuddered, then swallowed down a mouthful of something foul-smelling. "Drink.. S'more ah tha' drink" the man slurred, wavering on his feet. His eyes were unfocused, and he looked almost as if he was about to vomit. Jacques pushed the coins back towards the man.

"Nah, no more for you. I may be here to serve drinks, but you're out for the night mate." Jacques said, jerking his chin towards the door. The drunk looked confused for a moment before scowling. "Out, out. Before I have to resort to more desperate measures." Jacques retorted, thumbing the rather imposing looking pommel of a knife resting on the counter behind the bar. The drunk cursed and spat in Jacques' direction before tripping his way to the door and stumbling out into the street. As the door swung shut, a retching sound could be heard, the acrid scent of bile spilling into the tavern for the briefest of moments before it was washed away once more by the scent of the smoke of the fires and the savory smell of stews and soup. Jacques huffed, shaking his head.

He glanced up, eyes wandering around the tavern, settling on the sight of the child and his... dog? The bartender chuckled. Whatever it was, it seemed friendly enough. The scholarly man had struck up a conversation with the boy and they seemed to be generally contented. John had been feeding the massive beast that followed the boy around. Jacques nodded, approving of all goings on. The dancing light of the oil lamps hanging above his patron’s heads reflected off the metal and varnished wood, illuminating the bar in a warm glow. Jacques smiled.

The bartender chuckled to himself as he thought of an idea. He grabbed a cord above his head and gave it a tug, ringing a bell hung up in the rafters. The clear, dull tone echoed through the room, calling the attention of everybody. As the tavern fell into silence, Jacques raised his voice.

“To those willing and daring, I present a challenge.” He held up two massive wooden tankards, wrapped with an iron band. “These tankards will hold their worth of ale. First to down it all wins drinks for a week, on the house! All are welcome, excluding certain ones of us who happen to be giants who casually down a bottle of whiskey in thirty minutes.” Jacques continued, pointedly staring at John.

“So come. Let’s see who’s up for it.”