A Morokanth, a Pamaltelan and two Orlanthi walk into a bar. The Pamaltelan goes up to the bar-keep and asks:
"Two ales for my Orlanthi friends, a fermented Cactus juice for
myself and seven shots of your strongest fire water for the Morokanth"
The bar-keep serves the Pamaltelan who carries the drinks to his strange group. The Orlanthis and the Pamaltelan sip their drinks carefully, while the Morokanth necks his recklessly.
When they all finish the Pamaltelan returns to the bar-keep and orders another round, exactly the same as before.
This continues for most of the evening, with the Morokanth getting steadily more paralytic until finally it gets up, staggers and collapses on the floor.
At this point the two Orlanthis and the Pamaltelan get up to leave the bar, at which the bar-keep call out to them (in a heavy Pavic accent)
"Are you goin' ta leave that lyin' on the floor" indicating the
prostrate Morokanth.
To which the Pamaltelan replies "Thats no Basmoli, it's a Morokanth"
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