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Monday, 6 September 2010

For every wound, a balm...

For every sorrow, cheer.

For every storm, a calm.

For every thirst, a beer.

Anon.



Its been a long and weary road I've trudged since setting out on this venture to Orc's Drift and I think it high time that I pause a moment, take the weight off and treat myself to a well deserved beer!

As luck would have it there is a rather fine establishment in Linden Way - The Slann in Space!

 
Renowned for keeping a great pint of Bugmans XXXXXX and the formidable Troll-Breath Stout, The Slann in Space is definitely worth a visit. Stay away from the cocktails though - especially the green ones...

The secret behind a great pint is a great landlord - Arthur Bitte. His selfless devotion in the pursuit of good beer means that he feels honour-bound to taste his wares on a regular basis to ensure absolute freshness - that is about a pint every half hour...



As the bell is hardly ever rung to call time of an evening due to Arthur's debilitating alcoholism, the locals know a night's drinking is done when consciousness finally slips from his drunken grasp and he can't be raised to pull another pint!



Looking proudly on, when not bemoaning the state of the youth, roads, ruling classes, cot of beer, etc, is Arthur's dear old Dad - Aulden Bitte. Having built and run the place for many years the punters tolerate Aulden and his interminable yarns. These days he enjoys the same kind of status as the various stuffed animals and hunting trophies that bedeck the yellowed interior of the inn! Just don't get on the wrong side of his stick...



The final member of the family is the main reason why most of the male local and itinerant population of Linden Way don't leave to seek their fortune in one of the nearby towns! Business would surely be a lot slower for the old Slann if Arthur's young and unattached daughter, Fancia Bitte, wasn't around to pull in the punters...


Strangely though Fancia has rejected every drunken, lecherous advance, every sobbing plea for her hand in marriage, and could write a four volume set on put downs for would be Romeos!



Equally strange is the lack of amorous advances on the Slann's barmaid - Helga Fästman (Or when she's not around - Helga the unstoppable!). Sadly Helga would like nothing more than to be swept off her feet (a logistical nightmare in itself!) by a (very) tall, dark stranger - being something of a soft-hearted romantic deep down...



Village gossip buzzed about the reasons as to her great bulk when she first arrived - however, several concussions later the subject seemed to lose its interest and it would take a brave soul to conjecture now on the possibility of any Ogre heritage in her family!

And where would we be without a torrid and complicated love triangle! Cue bad lad, and general layabout - Elwin Presslay - EastEnders theme tune kicks in...

Busker by trade, Elwin virtually lives in the old Slann, dragging himself out onto the highway whenever his purse and consequently his glass is empty to beguile any passers-by out of the odd coin in return for a tune or two. Barnabuss, his faithful dancing monkey, and brains of the operation, often helps out the gullible and unobservant if their pockets appear to deep to show their appreciation for the performance!


Somehow this rogue has succeeded, with his slightly dubious tales of past adventures and general air of rakishness, in attracting the attentions of both Fancia and Helga. It is a life lived on a knife edge though - hell hath no fury like a Helga deceived...

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