A Hanoverian officer quietly sits at his usual table near the far wall of the tavern. An open bottle of Jagermeister rests near his left hand, an empty shot glass nearby. He chuckles quietly to himself at the good, French Marechal's comments.
Allied infestation, indeed, he thinks to himself. Carefully laying his pen down, he rubs his face as if to wipe away the strain, after all, the duties of command can be a most responsible burden. Grasping the shot glass in his left hand, he carefully pours it full of Jagermeister with his right. Sliding back his chair, he stands and raises the shot glass to his fellow taverneers.
"A toast to Cadet Esteller! May he survive the perils of battle long enough to see his first promotion."
With that, the Hanoverian officer empties the shot glass in one gulp, and smacks it down onto the table with a resounding clack.
"And may his horse always be swift enough to overtake his panicked men each time they encounter the mighty Anglo-Allied Army on the field of battle."
Welcome to the NWC, Hugo! I hope you will frequent our fine tavern. There are a lot of good officers here lurking in the shadows of these four walls. Always listen to their grand stories with an impartial ear, for the greatness of each tale grows with the telling, and is often directly proportional to the amount of alcohol consumed prior to its beginning.
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