Cool! Does this mean Sartarite inns are back? Yay for proper drinking establishents again.
Lunar Soldier 1: Hail the Reaching Moon! Two beers, landlord. And sharpish, you unwashed savage.
Lunar Soldier 2: And a packet of duck scratchings. Oh, and Hail the Reaching Moon!
Sartarite: Hail, strangers! Who comes this way, to a place that is not allowed to everyone (*certainly not your kind*)? Do you come in friendship, or as a foe?
Lunar Soldier 1: Depends whether you get us those bloody beers, sunshine...
Lunar Soldier 2: And a pack of duck scratchings.
Lunar Soldier 1: ... and a pack of duck scratchings. Get a move on; we've not got all day.
Sartarite: Greetings, strangers. You speak to the master of this place. I am Dangmar Gorliborlisson, of the Damp Woodchucks, owner of many cows. Tell me your names if you are friends.
Lunar Soldier 1: I ordered two beers, you nonce; not your ^&$*ing life story. TWO. BEERS.
Lunar Soldier 2: And some duck scratchings, please.
Sartarite: You are welcome here... I offer you hospitality, and promise my protection to you and yours while inside. I offer you water, to quench your thirst.
Lunar Soldier 1: Water? WATER?! Is this guy taking the piss? TWO. BEERS. Not water, you simpleton. Dos $%£&ing cervezas, por favor.
Sartarite: Then you are welcome, guests. And I offer you more: a blanket to sleep under while your are my guests...
Lunar Soldier 1: Xaron wept! Are you a half-wit? We don't want a $%£*ing blanket, we want two beers! Two beers, or I'll have you crucified and give your wife and children over to the Broo.
Lunar Soldier 2: And some duck scratchings, please...
Sartarite: Then you are welcome, guests. And I offer you more: meat, to fill your belly. This is a thing...
Lunar Soldier 1: TWO! $%£&ING! BEERS! Not meat, you pillock. We'll get a kebab later...
Lunar Soldier 2: Shhh! This meat might be the duck scratchings...
Sartarite: Then your are welcome, guests. And I offer you more: salt, as a token of your honour...
Lunar Soldier 1: Hold me back! I swear, I'm going to bloody kill him...
Lunar Soldier 2: Hang on, backtrack a bit. Was the meat duck scratchings?
Sartarite: Then you are welcome, guests. And I offer you more: duty...
Lunar Soldier 2: Tax demons collect that, mate. Wait, no... don't kill him. You pillock.
Lunar Soldier 1: Sorry.
Lunar Soldier 3: Alreet fellas. We found some beer in the back. And the local skald knows some Golden Earring.
Luanr Soldier 1: Result!
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