"Bwahahaa! Those are yer good ol' times, ain't ye?", bellowed Drurim Drumsbearer as he gulped down his fifth pint of Heineken. The good dwarf had long ago hung his battle-worn oaken shield that had been passed down from his bloodline and exchanged his trusty old battleaxe for his Louis Vuitton's leather briefcase, perfectly tailored pinstripe suit and a pair of brown, calf leather oxford. Drurim wasn't supposed to drink, but of course, Heineken isn't considered alcohol to him. They just don't brew like in the good old days now, you know. Drurim is well past his middle age, but dwarfs live longer than humans, especially now that less of them died from battle. His physician had told him long ago that he had to watch his blood pressure, given that his lifestyle is not longer as active as before. Considering that there are no longer Orcs around to bash, ......